Harry awoke next morning cold and shivering; his companion, Harold, the mastiff, had left him. He started up. It was broad daylight, and the men were having breakfast, and chaffing and laughing, and all as happy as sailors can be.
It was not long before he noticed his friend the second mate coming below, so he started up and went to meet him.
“What cheer, my sonny!” said Wilson—for that was his name.
“Come along through to the half-deck,” he continued, “and have some coffee. That’ll put you straight.”
He led Harry on deck.
The sea seemed mountains high. Great green waves, with combing, curling tops, that every moment threatened the good ship with destruction, so it seemed to Harry.
“What an awful sea?”
“Awful sea, sonny?” laughed Mr Wilson. “Call that an awful sea? Ha! ha! Wait a bit, my boy.”
They went down another ladder into the second officer’s quarters. Here also lived the spectioneer or third mate, the carpenter, and the cooper, and an extra gunner.
A rough kind of a cabin, with a table in the middle a stove with a roaring fire in it, and bunks all round.