"Are you an able seaman, my hearty?" asked Sanderson, the man who had been chosen second in the port watch with me.
"No, I am not. The mate is down upon me, and rated me as an able seaman, because I did not know enough to rate myself," I replied.
"But we want the able seamen equally divided in the watches."
"The mate knows very well that I am not an able seaman," I added.
"Beg your pardon, Mr. Waterford, but this youngster says he's not an able seaman," said Sanderson, stepping up to the mate.
"He shipped as such, and we take him at his word. You must do the same."
"That will never do, my hearty," growled Sanderson to me.
"I can't help it."
"You are honest, my lad," said the old sailor, who was at least fifty years old. "I don't see why the mate should make his first choice of a youngster like you, though."
"I know something about a vessel, but not much. I am willing to do what I can to learn; but I don't pretend to be what I am not."