No sooner said than done.
Fritz stepped on to the gangway; and, quickly gaining the vessel, asked one of the deck hands he saw forward where she was going to.
“Ha-o–ow?” repeated the man—meaning “what?”
“Where are you bound for?” said Fritz again.
“Providence, Rhode Island, I guess, mister. Can’t ye see it writ up?”
“And where’s that?” further inquired Fritz.
“New England way, I reckon, whar I wer raised.”
“Any ships or shipping trade there?”
The man laughed out heartily.
“Jerusalem, that’s prime, anyhow!” he exclaimed. “Any ships at Providence? Why, you might as well ask if thar wer any fish in the sea! Thar are heaps and heaps on ’em up to Rhode Island, mister, from a scoop up to a whaler; so I guess we can fix you up slick if you come aboard!”