He glanced into the steerage as he walked by the door, but could not make up his mind to enter. It looked gloomy in there, and the occupants stared at him so rudely that he hurried on, anxious to get out of their sight.
“A man is no man unless he has money in his pocket,” said the runaway to himself. “Everybody is down on me now, because I am broke. It beats me where that purse could have gone so suddenly. I know it was in my pocket last night when I hung up my clothes, for I heard it strike against the bulk-head. If it were not for that safe scrape I’d work my way home on some vessel, take the whipping I know I’d get, and settle down with the determination to behave myself. But I shall never see home again, for I shall starve to death. I brought no provisions with me, and I can’t raise the money to buy a seat at the second table. I sha’n’t get a bite to eat until I reach Saginaw, and then I shall have to beg it.”
A bright prospect this for the boy who had so confidently expected to find nothing but fair weather and plain sailing before him! Instead of leaving all his troubles at home, he was running into others that he had never dreamed of.
“Here you are!” exclaimed a cheery voice at his elbow. “Come in and take a bite with us.”
Guy, who had been walking along with his eyes fastened thoughtfully on the deck, looked up and found himself in front of an open door that led into the quarters occupied by the crew of the propeller, who were engaged in eating their supper. In one corner of the room was a huge mess-chest, which did duty as a table, and the sailors sat around it, holding their plates on their knees.
Guy stopped and took a good look at the man whose voice had aroused him from his reverie, and recognized him at once as one of the wheelsmen. He was a man rather past the prime of life, with grizzly hair and whiskers, and hands and face as brown as an Indian’s. Although he was somewhat better dressed than the majority of his companions, and had doubtless bestowed a little pains upon his toilet before sitting down to supper, he was a rough-looking fellow, but still there was something in the mild blue eye which beamed from under his shaggy brows that won Guy’s heart at once.
“You’re the lad who lost his money, ain’t you?” continued the sailor.
“Yes, I am,” replied Guy, almost ready to cry again.
“Haven’t you nary shot in the locker?”
“Not one. I’m dead broke.”