These meditations were interrupted by a hail from the schooner. It was the dark man himself who spoke, in a quiet voice that sounded kind.
"Good-morning, sir! Will you come aboard this morning?"
John was not used to being called "Sir," and the word fell pleasantly on ears that shrank from the detested syllable "Bub," with which strangers were wont to greet him.
"Yes, if you please," he answered, with some dignity. It is, perhaps, difficult to be stately when one is only five feet tall, but John felt stately inside, as well as shy. The stranger turned and made a sign to the other men, who came quickly, bringing a gang-plank, which they ran out from the schooner's deck to the wharf. The Skipper, for such the dark man appeared to be, made a sign of invitation, and after a moment's hesitation, John ran across and stood on the deck of the white schooner. Was he still dreaming? Would he wake in a moment and find himself back in the garret at home, with Mr. Scraper shaking him?
"Welcome, young gentleman!" said the Skipper, holding out his hand. "Welcome! the first visitor to the schooner. That it is a child, brings luck for the next voyage, so we owe you a thank. We arrived last night only. And what is my young gentleman's name?"
"My name is John," said the boy, standing with down-cast eyes before this wonderful person.
"And mine!" said the Skipper,—"two Johns, the black and the red. You should be called Juan Colorado, for your hair of red gold."
The boy looked up quickly, his cheek flushing; he did not like to be laughed at; but the Skipper's face was perfectly grave, and only courtesy and hospitality shone from his dark eyes.
"I wonder what the schooner's name is!" John said, presently, speaking low, and addressing his remarks apparently to the mast, which he kicked gently with his foot.
"The schooner is the 'Nautilus,' young gentleman!"