“Yes, you do; and I don’t care either. If you want to desert me while I am in trouble, do it. I don’t ask any odds of you. All I want you to do is to keep away from me from this time forward. Don’t speak to me, or even look at me. But bear one thing in mind—we must both struggle for an existence now, and I’ll come to the top of the heap first.”
As Guy said this he snatched the bundle from Bob’s hand, pitched it, with the valise, into one of the empty bunks, and turning square about left the steerage.
CHAPTER VIII.
GUY FINDS A FRIEND.
POOR GUY! his misfortunes were following close upon the heels of one another. He had looked upon the loss of his money as the greatest of calamities, but now a worse had befallen him. He was at swords’ points with Bob Walker, and he did not see how he could get on without him. Bob was so self-reliant, and could so easily adapt himself to circumstances that Guy had already learned to lean upon him. Fully sensible of his own lack of courage and independence, he wanted somebody to advise and sympathize with him. Longing to get away by himself where he could brood over his sorrows to his heart’s content, he hurried out of the steerage, and was making his way aft, when he ran plump into the arms of some one. It was the steward.
“Ah! this will never do,” said the officer. “Steerage passengers are not allowed abaft the waist.”
“Eh?” exclaimed Guy.
“Come here,” said the steward, “and I will explain what I mean. Do you see this gangway that runs athwartships? Well, you mustn’t come any nearer the stern than that. Go for’ard now.”
Guy started in obedience to his command, and just then the supper-bell rung. The first to answer the summons was Bob Walker, who went into the wash-room and tucked up his sleeves preparatory to performing his ablutions. Guy went in also, and followed his movements.