“What do you want, Pillgarlic?” said he.
“I’ve shipped to sail in this ship,” I replied, assuming a little dignity, to chastise his familiarity.
“What for? a tailor?” said he, looking at my shooting jacket.
I answered that I was going as a “boy;” for so I was technically put down on the articles.
“Well,” said he, “have you got your traps aboard?”
I told him I didn’t know there were any rats in the ship, and hadn’t brought any “trap.”
At this he laughed out with a great guffaw, and said there must be hay-seed in my hair.
This made me mad; but thinking he must be one of the sailors who was going in the ship, I thought it wouldn’t be wise to make an enemy of him, so only asked him where the men slept in the vessel, for I wanted to put my clothes away.
“Where’s your clothes?” said he.
“Here in my bundle,” said I, holding it up.