“What’s tick?”
“You’ll soon find out what tick is, after you have been a week in the bumboat,” replied the lad, laughing. “Nine o’clock, my hearty; good-bye.”
So saying, the young sailor caught up his new clothes, and hastened down to the beach.
The room was crowded with seamen and women, but they were too busy talking and laughing to pay any attention to Joey and his comrade. Our little hero sat some little time at the table after his new acquaintance had left, and then walked out into the streets, telling the people of the house that he was coming back again, and requesting them to take care of his bundle.
“You’ll find it here, my little fellow, all right when you ask for it,” said the woman at the bar, who took it inside and put it away under the counter.
Joey went out with his mind more at ease. The nature of his new employment, should he succeed in obtaining it, he could scarcely comprehend, but still it appeared to him one that he could accomplish. He amused himself walking down the streets, watching the movements of the passers-by, the watermen in their wherries, and the people on board of the vessels which were lying off in the stream. It was a busy and animating sight. As he was lolling at the landing-place, a boat came on shore, which, from the description given by his young sailor friend, he was convinced was a bumboat; it had all the articles described by him, as well as many others, such as porter in bottles, a cask probably containing beer; leeks, onions, and many other heterogeneous matters, and, moreover, there was a fat woman seated in the stern.
The waterman shoved in with his boat-hook, and the wherry grounded. The fat personage got out, and the waterman handed to her a basket, a long book, and several other articles, which she appeared to consider indispensable; among others, a bundle which looked like dirty linen for the wash.
“Dear me! how shall I get up all these things?” exclaimed the woman; “and, William, you can’t leave the boat, and there’s nobody here to help me.”
“I’ll help you,” said Joey, coming down the steps: “what shall I carry for you?”
“Well, you are a good kind boy,” replied she; “can you carry that bundle? I’ll manage all the rest.”