Looking astern, he saw that the native who was steering the boat had hauled her up close up under the stern.
“Yes,” he answered, taking a box of matches out of his pocket and throwing them to the native sailor. “Are you tired of steering that boat, Tommy?”
“No, not yet; but I wanted to smoke. When four bell strike I come aboard, Mr. Williams say.”
Two bells struck, and then Proctor heard Williams, who was sitting down at the break of the poop, say, “Hallo, young shaver, what do you want on deck?”
“Oh, Mr. Williams, it is so hot below, and my father said I could come on deck. See, I've got my rug and pillow.”
“All right, sonny,” said the mate good-naturedly; “here, lie down here on the skylight.”
The child lay down and seemed to sleep, but Proctor could see that his eyes were wide open and watched the stars.
Four bells struck, and Proctor was relieved by a white seaman, and another native came to relieve the man who was steering the boat, which was now hauled up under the counter. Just then, as the mate called out, “Ready about,” Proctor touched the child on the arm.
“Allan, would you like to come in the boat with me?”
The boy laughed with delight. “Oh, yes, Peter, I would like it.”