"Have no fear of him," the little sailor said, as if the subject was not worthy of consideration. "When he comes, if he ever does, it isn't to this part of the ship that he'll pay a visit. Officers spend their time aft, an' small blame to 'em. It may be, Teddy Dunlap, that he'll see you; but the chances are dead against it, so take all the comfort you can—"
"I ought to be huntin' for daddy."
"Well, you can't, leastways, not while we're aboard this craft, but you can count on comin' across him before this little scrimmage is ended off Santiago, an' then I warrant there'll be all the chance you need."
"But what am I to do on board here?" Teddy asked, anxiously. "It don't stand to reason that we'll be allowed to loaf around as if we owned the whole vessel."
"That's the way you look at it; but my idees are different. Uncle Sam will keep us for a spell, that's certain, an' until he gets tired of the job we needn't worry our heads. You might live to be a thousand years old without strikin' another job as soft as the one we've got on our hands this blessed minute, so I say, make the most of it."
"It's different with you; but I'm only a stowaway, an' stand a good show of gettin' into a heap of trouble when the officers of this ship find out that I've no business to be here."
"I don't figger that way," Bill Jones replied, with a light and airy manner. "It doesn't stand to reason you should have been left aboard to go down with the steamer, eh?"
"They might have set me ashore."
"An' had a precious good job doin' it. Look ye, Teddy Dunlap, are you countin' yourself of so much importance that a battle-ship is to leave her station for no other reason than to put you ashore?"
"I didn't mean it that way. You see they ought to do somethin' with me—"