He was quite at home on the sea, having already had several trips along the coast through the kindness of captains who had taken a fancy to him. Seasickness had no terrors for him. He might have undertaken to sail round the world without missing a meal; and at supper that evening he showed so keen an appetite that Captain Afleck, who had allowed him to sit down with him for the sake of hearing him talk, said jestingly,—
"Why, Terry, my boy, you eat so hearty that I ought to have laid in an extra stock of food, so we mightn't run short before we get to Boston."
Not a bit disconcerted by this chaff, Terry went on busily munching the food, which was much better than he got at home, and which he proposed to enjoy thoroughly while he had the chance.
"Ah, you young monkey!" laughed the captain, shaking his knife at him, "you know when you're well off, don't you, now?"
"It's yourself says it, captain," responded Terry, as well as he could with his mouth full. "I'm thinking I would like to hire with you for a year, if ye'll always give me as good food."
"And is it only the food you care for, Terry?" asked the captain, the smile on his face giving way to a serious look. "You're not such a poor creature as that, are you?"
Terry's countenance crimsoned, and his head dropped upon his breast, while he worked his hands together nervously. At last he managed to stammer out,—
"Faith, captain, I didn't say so."
"No, Terry, you didn't," said the captain, in a soothing tone. "Nor did you mean it either. I'm only testing you a bit. Look here, Terry, listen to me now. What do you intend to do with yourself as you grow older? Do you think of following the sea?"
Once more the colour mounted high in Terry's face. The question was a home-thrust which he knew not how to parry, and so he simply kept silence; while Captain Afleck began to wonder why his question, asked in such an offhand way, should have so marked an effect upon the boy. Getting no answer, he sought to ease the situation by saying kindly,—