Chapter VII.
TIP’S HURRIED LANDING.
During the remainder of that day, and all the night, Tim lay in his berth wondering why it was he did not die, since he was so sick, and expecting each moment that the steamer would go to the bottom. He almost forgot Tip, save once or twice when he asked Bobby to see whether the dog was feeling as badly as he was; and when he was told that Tip was apparently enjoying very good health, he felt a sense of injury because his pet did not share his sickness with him.
Bobby remained with him nearly all the afternoon; but toward night his newly-formed friendship was not strong enough to keep him in the ill-smelling place, and he went on deck to enjoy what was to him simply a glorious sail.
When Tim awakened on the following morning—for he did get some sleep that night—the steamer was yet pitching around wildly as though she were mad, but he had recovered from his sickness, and felt weak and hungry.
He looked as pale as though he had been confined to his bed for a week, and he imagined he was so thin that the sun would shine right through him; but in this he was mistaken.
Of course his first visit was to Tip, and after he had petted him to his heart’s content, and given him a hearty breakfast, thanks to old Mose’s generosity, he went below to report to Mr. Rankin for duty.
There was plenty of work to be done; and now that he had “paid his tribute to the sea,” the steward showed that while he could be kind when there was reason for it, he also believed in making boys useful.
Tim carried dishes, cleaned knives, ran with cups of hot coffee or tea at imminent danger of scalding himself, until all the passengers had breakfasted, and then for at least an hour Captain Pratt kept him going from the wheel-house to the cabin, and from the cabin to the wheel-house, on one errand or another, until he thought he was sufficiently exercised.