“One of our seamen, whose leave I obtained with my own. He is a Maya from Yucatan.”
“Bring him along, sir,” said my father, heartily; “it’s all the same to us.”
“Thank you,” he returned, and then sat silent, swinging his cap between his hands. Allerton had a thin, rather careworn face, for so young a man, for he could not be more than thirty at most. He was of medium height, of athletic build, and carried himself erect—a tribute to his training at the Naval Academy and his service aboard ship. There was something in the kindly expression of his deep-set, dark eyes and the pleasantly modulated tones of his voice that won our liking, and I am sure we were sincere in declaring he would be a welcome guest on the ensuing voyage.
“I—I have several boxes—chests,” he said, presently.
“We’ve room for a cargo, sir,” responded Uncle Naboth.
“At what hour do you sail?” inquired Allerton, seeming well pleased by our consideration for him.
“Daybreak, sir.”
“Then may we come aboard to-night?”
“Any hour you like,” said I. It was Joe’s watch, so I introduced him more particularly to our second mate, as well as to the other members of our party.
“Shall we send for you, Mr. Allerton?” asked Joe.