A hulking form came down from the gloom to the air-ship’s rail. A grimy hand clutched the tobacco.
“Ugh! that’s good terbacker. Reckon you ain’t found no gold yet.”
“Not a bit,” returned the darky; “don’ keer much fer sich stuff mahself.”
“Jest my sentiments presactly. I wouldn’t give thet terbacker fer the hull of it. Any objections if I sit up thar wid ye? I’m powerful lonesome an’ wish I was back in Charleston.”
“You from Charleston, eh?”
“Yes.”
Pomp hesitated a moment. Yet he could see no harm after all. He was armed, the other was not. Neither did he believe any treachery was intended.
So the fellow, who gave his name as Jack Bowler, able seaman, came over the rail, and the two had a social chat. An hour drifted by.
Pomp had waxed real friendly with his new companion and was pleased to be able to have some one to help him while away the night hours and help keep guard as well.
The fellow told many entertaining stories of life upon the high seas, and all went smooth as a marriage bell for a time.