“Well, then,” said the captain, coolly, as he turned on his heel and walked aft, “you must keep your eyes open, and not get in any body’s way.”
Tom was astonished to find that the skipper did not sympathize with him; but, believing that he did not fully understand his complaint, he started to follow him, intending to state his case more clearly, when he was roughly jostled by the second mate, who was hurrying forward to execute some order.
“Look here!” shouted Tom. “Don’t you know that this is my father’s vessel? I want you to be a little more careful about pushing me around this way. You are nothing but a mate.”
“Ay ay, my hearty!” interrupted the sailor. “I know all about that. But now, just take my advice and keep out of the way, or you’ll go overboard.”
“I will, will I?” exclaimed Tom. “I’ll tell the captain! Look here!” he continued, as he approached the skipper, who was standing beside the man at the wheel. “What do your men mean by pushing me about? I want you to remember that my father owns this vessel. I won’t stand such treatment; and I want you to put a stop to it; that’s all about it.”
Tom certainly stated his case plain enough this time, and he fully expected that the captain would at once punish the men who had treated him so disrespectfully; but what was his surprise and disappointment when that gentleman turned on his heel and walked off whistling. Tom was more than surprised at this; as the sailors would have expressed it, “he was taken all aback,” and, for a moment, he stood looking after the retreating form of the captain, as if he was utterly unable to understand what had caused this sudden change in him. Undoubtedly he had been sadly mistaken in the man. While on shore, he was good natured, and had always appeared to take great interest in every thing Tom had to say; but now, he was exactly the reverse. He not only did not offer to protect him from the men, but he seemed anxious to keep as much as possible out of his way. Tom, who was not dull of comprehension, began to realize the fact that he had got himself into a most unpleasant situation. He had built his hopes high upon the captain only to be disappointed; and, with his mouth twisted on one side, as if he were on the point of crying, he went down into the cabin to arrange his bed. He went to the room he had picked out for his own use, and was astonished to discover that it had already been taken. A bed was made up in the bunk, and in one corner stood a large sea-chest, with the name J. H. Robson painted on it, showing that the room was in the possession of the second mate. His own bed-clothes where nowhere to be seen. Almost too angry to breathe, Tom was about to start in search of the captain, when he met that gentleman coming down the companion-way.
“Look here, captain!” exclaimed Tom, pointing to the bed, “your second-mate has taken possession of my room.”
“Your room!” repeated the captain. “That room doesn’t belong to you.”
“Why, captain!” said Tom, in surprise, “I picked it out for my own use, and told you to lock it up, and to allow no one in it. Don’t you remember?”
“Yes, I recollect. But I told you, at the same time, that sailors sleep in the forecastle.”