As far as the eye could see there was a tumult and an uproar.
The ship was tossed about like a cockle shell. But the sailors went about their work unruffled. It was no new sight for them.
Though his head did not feel exactly right, the strong wind entered Dodger’s lungs, and he felt exhilarated. His eyes brightened, and he began to share in the excitement of the scene.
Pacing the deck was a stout, bronzed seaman, whose dress made it clear even to the inexperienced eyes of Dodger that he was the captain.
“Good-morning, Master Grant,” he said, pleasantly. “Are you getting your sea legs on?”
The name was unfamiliar to Dodger, but he could see that the remark was addressed to him.
“Yes, sir,” he answered.
“Ever been to sea before?”
“No, sir.”
“You’ll get used to it. Bless me, you’ll stand it like an old sailor before we get to ’Frisco.”