Raynor smiled faintly.
“Well, I got bounced off my ship on to that iceberg and came nearly being a meal for the bear if it hadn’t been for your captain, Terror Carson, as he calls himself.�
“An’ he’s a Terror, all right, all right, take dat right frum yer Uncle Dudley,� said Noddy, sinking his voice mysteriously. “I feel kind er sorry fer youse, fer youse ain’t ther sort as belongs aboard this wind-jammer. But take it frum me, kid, if yer follers my advice you’ll git along all right. An’ now let’s put youse ter woik.
“I see old Terror lookin’ this way. Jes’ trim them murphies uv their packets an’ then I’ll think up suthin’ else fer yer ter do. Gee! I’m reg’lar Fi’t Averner style all right, wid me valley an’ all.�
Raynor determined to make the best of a bad job. At least Noddy, as he was called, seemed to be friendly and kind-hearted under his odd exterior. The young engineer turned up his sleeves and went valiantly to work. In a few moments Noddy, who had been busy over a big pan of “scouse,� came to inspect his handiwork.
“Gee!� he exclaimed with scorn, “youse has got a lot ter learn erbout peelin’ spuds. Youse cut off more pertater than yer do skin. Do it dis way. Watch me.�
Raynor did better after this lesson, and before long had a big bucket-full of peeled potatoes that passed even Noddy’s critical examination.
“We’s ull put ’em on ter cook now,� said Noddy, “one bell has jus gone and ther old man wants the gang ter git their scoff by five er clock.�
At this juncture an aged colored man entered the galley. He wore a white cook’s cap on his head, on which he had scrawled, with ink, Pompey James, Chief Cook of the Polly Ann. Noddy introduced him with a flourish.
“Pompey, old top,� he exclaimed, “this is der new deputy assistant bottle washer.�