"Mind, if you as much as wave a hand, or do anything to bring an eye on us, down you go into the hold again, and when you come up next time it will be to go overboard. Now just put your head over the rail, and I will pour a few buckets of water over it. I agreed to get you out of the way, but I have got no grudge against you, and don't want to do you harm."
Getting a bucket with a rope tied to the handle, he dipped it into the river, and poured half-a-dozen pailfuls over Cyril's head. The lad felt greatly refreshed, and, sitting down on the deck, was able to look round. The craft was a coaster of about twenty tons burden. There were three men on deck besides the man who had spoken to him, and who was evidently the skipper. Besides these a boy occasionally put up his head from a hatchway forward. There was a pile of barrels and empty baskets amidship, and the men presently began to wash down the decks and to tidy up the ropes and gear lying about. The shore on both sides was flat, and Cyril was surprised at the width of the river. Behind them was a small town, standing on higher ground.
"What place is that?" he asked a sailor who passed near him.
"That is Gravesend."
A few minutes afterwards the boy again put his head out of the hatchway and shouted,—
"Breakfast!"
"Can you eat anything, youngster?" the skipper asked Cyril.
"No, thank you, my head aches too much; and my mouth is so sore I am sure I could not get anything down."
"Well, you had best lie down, then, with your head on that coil of rope; I allow you did not sleep much last night."
In a few minutes Cyril was sound asleep, and when he awoke the sun was setting.