“Ay, ay, sir,” said Patch, turning to Harry, whom he surveyed with interest.
“Come with me, my lad,” he said.
They descended into the forecastle, where Harry was assigned a bunk near that of the sailor under whose care he had been placed.
“You’re a green hand, I reckon, my lad,” said Tom.
“Yes,” said our hero.
“Well, I’m glad you’re going to sea. I don’t see how folks can be contented to live on shore.”
“Do you mean that?” asked Harry, rather amused.
“Of course I do.”
“Then I don’t agree with you. I’d rather be on land.”