"And as to a room, I don't mind it's bein' fixed up with fiddle-de-dee work and sich. Ef it's only comfortable—that'll suit me."
"Then I think you'll be able to get along cheap, Mr. Tarbox."
"That's what I calc'late. Likely I'll see you over there. What's that bell for?"
"Lunch."
"Let's go down. Fact is, I've been so tarnal sea-sick I'm empty as a well-bucket dried in the sun. I guess I can eat to-day."
They went down to the saloon, and Mr. Tarbox's prophecy was verified. He shoveled in the food with great energy, and did considerable toward making up for past deficiencies. Frank looked on amused. He was rather inclined to like his countryman, though he acknowledged him to be very deficient in polish and refinements.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE LONDON CLERK.
Jonathan Tarbox seemed to have taken a fancy to our hero, for immediately after lunch he followed him on deck.