"She's bound for Rio, so the old man told me this morning; and on the way, she's going to stop at Havana," said the young sailor, as he and Tony fell in behind a couple of longshoremen, who were rolling a heavy cask down the gang-plank.
"To Rio Janeiro!" exclaimed Tony. "Why, that's in Brazil. This little brig can't go there."
"This is a schooner," replied the young sailor, with some contempt in his tones.
"She has two masts, just like yours."
"She's got two masts, I know, but she ain't like my vessel. Can't you see that she is a fore-and-after, while mine is square rigged?"
This was all Greek to Tony, who could only gaze about the vessel and look bewildered.
"Avast, there!" suddenly cried his companion, seizing him by the arm and pulling him away from an open hatch, into which he would have walked in a moment more. "Don't fall into the hold and break your neck before you sign articles. Say, captain," he added, as he and Tony approached a short, broad-shouldered, red-faced man, who had just ascended the companion-ladder. "You told me this morning, that you wanted a cabin-boy. How do you like the looks of this fellow?"
The captain run his eyes over Tony's face and figure, took one or two pulls at his pipe, and said in a hoarse voice:
"He looks well enough, but can he do anything?"
"Nary thing," replied the young sailor, with refreshing candor. "Can't you see for yourself that his mouth is always gaping like a contribution box for dimes? He don't know a schooner from a brig. You'll have to break him in."