“Ah! yes,” said the mate, with a nod that spoke volumes. “Home looks very comfortable and pleasant after one has been away from it a while, don’t it? Well, the old man’s turned in, and you can’t see him till to-morrow. I don’t know what to do with you, so you had better go below, and if you can find an empty bunk, turn in and go to sleep.”
“Thank you,” said Chase, gratefully. “I shall be very glad to do it.”
The boy made his way to the forecastle, feeling as if a heavy burden had been removed from his shoulders. Like most people who get their ideas of men and things solely from books, he had formed some very erroneous opinions. He had believed that all sailors, and especially all mates, were brutes, who asked no better amusement than swearing at somebody or knocking him down with a handspike. But here was a mate who was a very different sort of person, and he was glad indeed that he had fallen in with him.
The forecastle—a dark, badly-ventilated apartment in the forward part of the vessel, smelling of tar and bilge-water, and dimly lighted by a smoky lantern—was not quite as inviting a place to sleep as his airy room at home, or even the cosy, nicely-furnished cabin of the Banner; but it was better than no shelter at all, and Chase thought he could stand it during the five or six days that would probably elapse before he reached New Orleans. Several of the bunks were occupied by the men belonging to the watch below, and the beds that were made up in the others showed that they belonged to the sailors who were on deck. There were two empty ones, however, in the lowest tier and in the farthest corner of the forecastle, and of one of these Chase took possession, blessing his lucky stars that at last he had an opportunity to rest his tired limbs. The pine boards that composed the bottom of the bunk were rather hard, but he was among his own countrymen, and Mr. Bell and Cuba were being left farther behind every moment. Of course he had no bedding, that being something that every sailor is expected to furnish for himself. He had his hat for a pillow, and while he was arranging it under his head, and trying to find a board in the bottom of the bunk soft enough to sleep upon, he became aware that a sailor in the opposite berth was greatly interested in his movements. Indeed, when he came to look about him, he found that the eyes of all the men in the forecastle were directed toward his bunk.
“Well, mates,” said Chase, in an off-hand, easy manner, which he thought becoming to a sailor, “is this the first time you ever saw a stowaway?”
“That’s how you came aboard, is it?” said one of the men. “I thought I hadn’t seen you before.”
“Yes, I have stolen my passage,” replied Chase. “I wanted to ship, but they told me they had all the men they needed. I was bound to leave Cuba, however, so I hid under the long boat till the ship was well out to sea. The mate sent me down here till the captain gets ready to see me.”
Chase expected to be the butt of a good many jokes and smart remarks from the sailors, so when they began upon him he was prepared to submit. But, after all, they had nothing very aggravating to say, and finding that he received their pleasantries very good-naturedly, they finally desisted and left him to sleep in peace—all except the sailor in the opposite bunk, who seemed to have a larger share of curiosity than his companions, and showed a desire to know something of the boy’s history. He smiled and nodded his head, just as the mate had done, while he listened to Chase’s account of his recent adventures, and when the boy finished his story, asked him where he lived.
“In Bellville, Louisiana,” replied Chase.
“Well, seems to me you’re taking a long way to get home,” said the sailor, as he pulled the blankets over his shoulders and turned his face to the bulkhead preparatory to going to sleep.