The Skipper sat watching the man for a few minutes, as the train rattled along, and then, got softly down, picked up the hat, and placed it on the seat in front of the man, noticing as he did so, that it bore on the riband "H.M.S. Taurus."
This was comforting too, and the boy felt as if he had met a friend; but the man slept on till the train slackened speed, and then pulled up with a jerk, while Bob was looking out, to read the name of the station.
Then he started round, for from the far corner the sailor shouted fiercely: "This Portsmouth?"
"No, sir, it's Pately," said the Skipper, in alarm.
"Ho!" grunted the man. "Mustn't miss my station," and he was settling himself down to sleep again, when, as he glanced at his fellow-traveller, he caught sight of the Skipper's rig-out.
"What cheer, messm't!" he cried boisterously. "Whither bound?" and his features expanded into a broad grin.
"Portsmouth," said the Skipper.
"Right you are, messm't. So'm I. What ship? 'Flash,' eh! My stars! You aren't a middy, are yer?"
"Not yet," said the boy; "but I'm going to be some day."