CHAPTER XIV.
A LONG WAY HOME.
Chase remained in his concealment for a long time, trying to make up some plausible story to tell the captain in reply to the rigid cross-examination which he knew he would have to undergo when he first appeared before that gentleman. The captain would, of course, want to know how he came to be in Cuba, and why he was in so great a hurry to leave it, and Chase did not expect him to believe the story he had to tell. The captain of the revenue cutter had refused to believe it when Walter told it to him; Don Casper had pronounced it false; and it was reasonable to suppose that the master of the ship would do the same. But it was all true, no matter whether people thought so or not; and Chase finally making up his mind that truth would hold its own with falsehood any day, abandoned the idea of making up a story, and resolved to tell just what had occurred, leaving the captain to do as he pleased about believing it. He would do it at once, too. The sooner it was over and he knew what was to be done with him, the better he would feel.
With this thought in his mind Chase arose quickly from his concealment, bumping his head against the side of the boat as he did so, and when he got upon his feet, found himself standing face to face with the second mate, who started back and looked at him, being too surprised to speak. Believing that when the officer recovered himself the first words he uttered would be a volley of oaths, Chase hastened to account for his presence by saying:
“You told me that if I didn’t go ashore I would have to sail with you, and I thought, from the way you said it, that you wouldn’t be very angry if I should go with you. I want to work my passage home.”
“Well, here’s a go,” said the officer, looking all around the vessel and then fastening his eyes on Chase again.
“I shan’t be any expense to you,” continued the boy, “for I am able to earn the food I eat. I don’t know anything about square-rigged vessels, but I know something about schooner-rigged yachts, and I can stand my trick at the wheel with almost anybody.”
While Chase was talking the mate had time to collect himself. He walked to the side of the vessel, threw out his quid of tobacco, and then came back. His words were not very reassuring, but the tone in which they were uttered delighted Chase, for it satisfied him that if all the officers of the ship were like this one, he had nothing to fear.
“I suppose I ought to throw you overboard,” said the mate. “You ran away from home to be a sailor, did you? And you’re sick of your bargain too, are you? It serves you just right,” he added, with a glance at the boy’s white hands and broadcloth suit, the latter beginning to show the effects of the hard treatment it had received during the last few days. “You’ll stay at home with your mother when you get there again, won’t you?”
“I didn’t run away,” said Chase, as soon as he saw a chance to speak. “I have a good home, and I am anxious to get back to it.”