"Stow that 'ere nonsense," said the other bluntly; "welcome aboard, my little lad, and if any man in the Amethyst can make a sailor of you, I am he."
Then Joe Grummet shook Derval's hand very cordially indeed.
"Take him aft to the captain," said Mr. Bitts; "but before you go, youngster, hand over all the cakes and jam-pots the old woman at home gave you."
"I have none, and if I have, why should I give them to you?" asked Derval, beginning to resent the other's offensive tone.
"Because you might be a naughty boy and get so sea-sick—so hand them over, and I'll find fellows to eat them for you."
"I have none, I tell you," replied Derval, with sparkling eyes; "and who do you mean by the 'old woman'?"
"Your mother, of course."
"I have—none!" replied Derval, in a changed voice that Joe Grummet was not slow to detect, and taking up Derval's portmanteau and bag, he desired him to follow, whispering as they went:
"Look 'ee, Hampton lad, there isn't a saucier fellow in the ship than Paul Bitts, but he is senior to you, and you won't gain anything by running foul of his hawse, so give him a wide berth always."
And now, by a very handsome companion-way and mahogany stair, they descended to the cabin of the ship, which was plainly and neatly furnished, the chief features, to Derval's eyes, being a rack or two of arms and a brass tell-tale compass, that swung in the square skylight.