I went down, snatched a swallow of lukewarm water at the pump, and leaned against the side of the ship. Too hungry to be greatly terrified, I had already taken new heart at the mate’s words. “Colombo,” he had said. Until then I had feared that the Worcestershire, like most ships bound for East India, would put in at Aden in Arabia, and that I would be set ashore there.
An hour, two hours, three hours, I stood in the waist, returning the stares of everybody on board, Hindu or English, who passed by me. With the sounding of eight bells a steward came by with a can of coffee. Once started, an endless procession of bacon, steaks, and ragoûts filed by under my nose. It was almost more than I could bear. To snatch at one of the pans would have been my undoing. I thrust my head over the railing, where the sea breezes blew, and stared at the sand billows on the Arabian coast. Not until the last of the dishes had passed by did I dare to turn around once more.
“Peggy,” the steward’s cook, peered cautiously out upon me. “Eh, mite,” he whispered; “’ad anything to eat yet?”
“Not lately.”
“Well, come inside. There’s a pan o’ scow left to dump.”
Very little of it was dumped that morning.
I had barely returned to my place when four officers came down a ladder to the waist. They were led by the mate, carefully dressed now in a snow-white uniform. His language, too, had improved. A “sir” falling from his lips showed me which of his companions was the captain. My hopes rose at once at sight of the latter. He was a very different sort of man from his first officer. Small, neat, and quick of movement, his iron-gray hair gave setting to a face that showed both kindliness and strength. I knew I should be treated with fairness.
The officers pretended they didn’t see me. They mounted the ladder and strolled slowly along the deck, examining as they went. Peggy came to the door of the kitchen with the dish-cloth in his hands.
“Morning h’inspection,” he explained in a husky whisper. “They’ll be back here directly they’ve looked over the other side. The little feller’s the captain. ’E’s all right.”
“Hope he lives out the voyage,” I muttered.