Mr. Weldon was a young man, not over twenty-five, a nephew of the owner of the vessel, and had been sent out as supercargo, with the intention of remaining in China for two or three years in a branch establishment of his uncle’s house. On account of his connection with the firm by whom he was employed, Captain Brandon found it prudent to treat him with more respect than in ordinary circumstances he would have paid to the supercargo.
“Good-morning, Captain Brandon,” said the young man.
“Good-morning, Mr. Weldon,” said Brandon, smoothing his face, and lowering his arm, which had been raised to strike Harry. “How do you feel this morning?”
“Not sea-sick as yet; but I don’t know how soon it may be on. I am in no hurry for it, I can assure you. But who is this young gentleman?”
“You are joking, Mr. Weldon,” said the captain. “We don’t usually address cabin-boys as young gentlemen on board ship.”
“Is he your cabin-boy?” asked Weldon, in surprise; for Harry was not, it will be remembered, dressed in sailor rig.
“No, I am not,” said Harry, boldly.
“Shut up!” said the captain, sharply, with a threatening look. “He’s a headstrong young rascal, whom his friends have placed in my charge, with intentions to make a sailor of him.”
“That is not true. I was trapped on board this vessel,” said our hero.
“I used a little stratagem, knowing that I would have trouble otherwise,” said the captain, who would not have deigned any explanation to any other than the nephew of his employer, in whose estimation he wished to stand well. “But now he’s on board, I shall carry out the wishes of his friends, and he will find it for his interest not to make any trouble,” he added, with a significant look directed towards our hero.