“Never mind,” said the sailor kindly, seeing that Guy’s eyes were rapidly filling with tears. “I’ve known many a man in my time in the same fix. Why, bless you, when I was your age I used to think no more of it than I did of eating my regular allowance of salt horse or standing my trick at the wheel. Haven’t had any supper, have you?”
“No; nor I can’t get any, either.”
“Yes, you can. Walk up to that table and call for what you want. We’ve four darkey waiters, but they’ve all gone out to the galley after the plum-pudding. They’ll be in directly. When you have greased your jaw-tackle with some of our turkey and other fine fixings, tell us how you come to be out here so far from shore without a cent in your pocket for ballast.”
Guy understood the invitation thus conveyed, and did not hesitate to accept it. He did not wait for the darkies to come in with the plum-pudding, and neither did he find “turkey and other fine fixings” on the chest; but there was an abundant supply of good, wholesome food, and Guy having found an empty plate helped himself most bountifully. His spirits rose a little as his appetite became somewhat appeased, and in compliance with the wheelsman’s repeated request he related the story of his loss, to which everybody listened with interest. When he came to tell that the steward had taken his room from him, and that the captain had ordered that he must go ashore at the steamer’s first landing-place, he could scarcely restrain his tears.
After he had finished his narrative some of the sailors questioned him in regard to his history, but when they got through they knew no more than when they begun, for Guy gave anything but truthful answers. The wheelsman said nothing. He seemed to be thinking busily. When he had laid aside his plate and filled a short, black pipe, which he drew from his pocket, he beckoned to Guy, who followed him to the main deck.
“Now, then,” said the wheelsman as he and the runaway seated themselves beside an open gangway, out of earshot of everybody, “you say your name is John Thomas. Mine’s Dick Flint, and I’m glad to see you. How are you?”
“Well enough in body, but rather uncomfortable in mind,” replied Guy as he took the sailor’s hand and shook it cordially. “But, after all, I feel better than I did an hour ago, for I’ve had something to eat.”
“I know how it seems to be hungry,” said the wheelsman. “Now, maybe you wouldn’t lose nothing if you was to tell me your plans. What are you going to do when you reach the Western country? Got any folks there?”
“I have an uncle, as I have already told you,” replied Guy, “but I don’t know where he is. Indeed, I don’t much care; for since I left Syracuse I have changed my mind about trying to find him. I am going to be a hunter and trapper.”
“You are!” exclaimed Flint, measuring the boy with his eye.