"Well, it aint an easy one—not by no means."
"Then why don't you quit it and go at something else?"
"Me? O, I can't. There's nothing else I could do. I have been to sea ever since I was eight years old, and I am now seventeen."
"You ought to be a first-class sailor," said Tony.
"I can hand, reef and steer as well as the rest of them, if that's what you mean," replied the young sailor, rather proudly. "I am an able seaman, and I should think I had ought to be. I made three voyages as second mate of a little coaster."
"Are you an officer of this ship?" inquired Tony.
"This aint a ship, you lubber. She's a brig." "You see," he added, in a little milder tone, "a ship has three masts, and this has only two. No, I am not an officer. I always have to go before the mast on long voyages, such as the one we have just made, but then I like them better than I do short ones. If you have got any book-learning you might get to be an officer in a few years. If you want to ship I know where there is a chance for you."
"Do you?" exclaimed Tony, eagerly. "I am ever so much obliged to you for telling me of it. I do want to ship."
"All right! Come on. There's a berth for somebody aboard my old vessel, the Princeton," said the young sailor, as he and Tony sprang out upon the wharf. "She's the one I was second mate of, you know. I was down there this morning, and the old man told me, if I heard anybody say he wanted to ship, to send him along; but I guess I had better go with you, for you might not be able to find her. If the captain takes you, you will have the same berth I did when I first went to sea."
"What was it?" asked Tony.