“I dare say you are right, sir,” said Tom thoughtfully. “I will remember what you say. But there is one thing I cannot give up.”
“What is that?”
“I mean to stand up for my rights. I won’t let anybody bully over me.”
“Be sure you don’t make any mistake about your rights. Some claim more than they are entitled to. You see I speak plainly.”
“Thank you, sir. I have no doubt you speak for my good. I will remember what you say.”
A week later Tom was a passenger on a steamer bound for California. He had got over his first feeling of seasickness, and was in a condition to enjoy his meals.
The steamer was full, but not crowded, and as usual contained in its passenger-list representatives of different social grades.
Tom was bright and active, and prepossessing in his appearance, and became known to all. He even penetrated at times into that part of the ship occupied by the steerage passengers.
His attention was particularly drawn to one poor fellow, a young Irishman of twenty-two, who was seasick through the entire voyage. Now, seasickness is scarcely tolerable if one has the best accommodations; in the steerage it must be perfect misery.
Tom carried from the table some fruit almost daily to poor Mike Lawton, whose stomach revolted from the coarse food to which he was entitled, and cheered up the poor fellow not a little.