“Finest country in the world,” observed that gentleman.
“Such chances to make money,” suggested the agent.
“Never saw the beat,” said the landlord. “Been up there myself, and that’s the way I got my start in the world. Went out cabin-boy, and came back sailing my own vessel.”
“Do you hear that?” exclaimed the agent, triumphantly. “Didn’t I tell you so? Come with me, and I’ll put you in the way to make a man of yourself.”
Before Guy could reply the agent assisted him to shoulder his bundle, and gently forcing him into the street, locked arms with him and led him away, talking rapidly all the while, and giving the boy no chance to put in a word. In a few minutes more he found himself seated in a small, dark room, which the agent called his office; and the latter, having placed before him on the table a large sheet of ruled paper, which contained several names—taking care, however, to keep his hands spread out over the top of it—nodded his head toward a pen that was sticking in an inkstand close by, and told Guy to put down his name.
As the boy was about to comply it occurred to him that it might be a good plan to find out what sort of a paper it was that he was expected to sign. But just as he was on the point of asking some questions concerning it, he was checked by the thought that by such a proceeding he would show his ignorance, and beside, it would look too much as though he doubted his gentlemanly friend, the shipping agent. So he said nothing, signed a name to the paper, and was held for a voyage to—well, it was to some place a long way from the shores of the Mediterranean.
“John Thomas; that’s all right. You are a good penman, and ought to be something better than a foremast hand. When your ship comes back to this port, if you don’t tell me that you have made yourself rich by the voyage, and that you are at least a second mate, I shall be ashamed of you. Now, then,” said the agent, laying his pocket-book on the table and taking the pen from the boy’s hand, “what shall I put after your name—A. B.?”
“What’s that?” asked Guy.
“Why, you’re an able seaman, are you not!”
“No—that is, yes; of course I am. But I want to go as cabin-boy. I like that better.”