Now it chanced that the captain of this schooner was a friend of Terry's, having taken some interest in the bright, energetic boy whom he had seen at Long Wharf; and he happened to be sitting on the cabin deck when Terry came along, looking very downcast. "Hollo, Terry!" he cried cheerily. "You seem to be in the dumps. What's the matter?"
Terry had no inclination to tell him the reason of his dejection, so he evaded the question by responding—
"Nothin' much;" and then adding in a tone of decided interest, "Where are you going? you seem near ready to start."
"So I am, Terry," replied the captain. "I'll be off for Boston inside of an hour. Would you like to come?"
Terry's heart gave a sudden leap. Here was a way out of his difficulties. If he stayed in Halifax, he might have the police after him at any moment, and of the police he had a most lively dread; while, if he slipped away to Boston, he would be rid of the whole trouble.
"Do you mean it, captain, or are you after foolin' me?" he asked, peering eagerly into the mariner's honest countenance.
"I mean it right enough, Terry," was the reply. "I'm wanting a cabin-boy, and you'll do first-rate. Can you come aboard at once?"
Terry reflected a moment. He ought to tell his mother before he went. She would be sure to worry about him. But then if he did tell her she'd make a fuss, and perhaps stop him altogether. No; if he were going, his best plan was to say nothing about it, but just go on board.
Noting his hesitation, the captain said,—
"I'll not be sailing for an hour yet, so if you want to get anything you'll have time to if you'll be sharp about it."