During the ride on the cars Captain Pratt took very little notice of Tim, and when they arrived at the depot he simply said:
“Here boy, go down to Pier 43, and tell the steward of the Pride of the Wave that I’ve hired you, and get to work.”
Tim had no more idea of where Pier 43 was than he had of the location of the Cannibal Islands, but he started out with a great show of pluck, yet with a heavy heart.
With Tip following close at his heels, Tim walked some distance without seeing either wharves or water, and then he inquired the way.
The first gentleman to whom he spoke was a stranger in the city, and knew no more about it than he did; the second directed him in such a confusing way that he went almost opposite to where he should have gone; but the third one gave him the directions so clearly that he had no farther trouble in reaching the desired place.
The Pride of the Wave was not a large boat, and to any one accustomed to steamers would have seemed very shabby; but to Tim she appeared like a veritable floating palace, and it was some time before he dared to venture on board of her.
Finally he saw one of the deck hands, who, despite his dirty clothes, did not appear to be awed by the magnificence of the boat, and Tim asked him where he should find the steward.
The man told him to go below, and, with Tip still close at his heels, he went down the brass-covered stairs to the cabin, which was lined with berths on either side, wondering at all he saw, until he almost forgot why he was there.
He was soon startled out of this state of wonderment, however, by hearing a gruff voice shout: