“Well?”
“Well, last evening a couple of men came to sort some of the timbers, and I lay hid on top the pile and listened to their talk. They spoke of the Seagull, and how it was to sail far away into the Mediterranean, and was the best built ship that ever left this port.”
“That’s true enough, my lad.”
“And they said Cap’n Steele was the best man to work for in the merchant service, and his son, Sam Steele—that’s you, sir—was bound to make as good a sailor as his dad, and had been in some queer adventures already, and was sure to find more of them before he was much older.”
I had to smile at that evident “taffy,” and my smile left the boy embarrassed. He hesitated a moment, and then continued:
“To a poor devil like me, sir, such a tale made me believe this ship a floating paradise. I’ve heard of captains who are not as cruel as old Marrow; so when the men had gone I decided to get to you in some way and beg you to take me aboard. You see, the Mexican is waiting to hunt me down, and I’d die sooner than go back to his terrible ship. If you’ll take me with you, Mr. Steele, I’ll be faithful and true, and work like a nigger for you. If you won’t, why, just say the word, and I’ll jump overboard again.”
“Can you swim?”
“No.”
I thought a moment.
“What’s your name?” I asked, finally.