"That's what he did. He come aboard and et his breakfast and then snuk off. And we was short handed at that."
"I ain't surprised. He was drunk last night."
"Well, he won't do it again. Captain Bagley won't stand for that kind of cattle. Don't know where we could get another hand, do you? We're awful short of men."
"No, I don't. Everybody around here that's willin' to work was snapped up long ago. I got to get aboard. I'm late myself. Good-bye."
The sailor hurried on down the pier and swung himself aboard the ship at its end.
Sailor Bishop turned on his heel and started along the pier again, to pursue his search for the missing deck-hand. But hardly had he taken a step before the pile of burlap bags stirred strangely. The topmost rose in air and a human figure crawled out from under them.
"Hello!" called this figure after the hurrying form of Sailor Bishop. "Do you want another hand? I'm looking for a job."
Sailor Bishop turned sharply and stared in astonishment at the person before him.
"Who are you? And where did you come from?" he demanded.
"My name's Alec Cunningham, and I come from Central City, in Pennsylvania."