“Not so very much,” and the man pulled up his trousers to show two ugly bruises on his leg. “That’s where he caught me before I could get on to my feet.”
“Did you say anything?”
“It don’t pay to do very much chinnin’ when the captain is around,” was the sage reply; “but he’s got to carry sail different from this, or the Evening Star won’t have a cook on board when she leaves port.”
“He can hunt for another cabin-boy mighty quick,” Ned said angrily. “I’m willin’ to do my work or stand a flogging, but he shan’t knock me down when I’m trying my best.”
“I don’t see how you can help yourself now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothin’ except that you’ve shipped, an’ it won’t be so easy to get away, for the police would arrest you on his complaint.”
“But I haven’t reg’larly shipped.”
“Oh, yes, you have. The minute you received what they handed out from the slop-chest you was one of the crew. It’s a case now of makin’ the best of it, and if you take my advice you’ll show up bright and smilin’ when he sends for you.”
It was only natural Ned should be very angry because of the cruel and undeserved treatment; but before the cook finished giving him good advice he realized that there was nothing left but to make the best of a bad job, since without money or friends it would be very difficult to avoid going to sea in the Evening Star, in case the captain insisted on his remaining aboard.