“No, sir, I am not; and I don’t think you are,” added Ole, again glancing at Captain Cumberland from head to foot.
The young tars all laughed at the waif’s retort, and the captain was not a little nettled by the remark. He pressed Ole rather sharply for further information in regard to his antecedents; but the youth was silent on this point. While the crowd were anxiously waiting for the stranger to declare himself more definitely, eight bells sounded at the wheel, and were repeated on the large bell forward by the lookout. From each vessel of the fleet the bells struck at nearly the same moment, and were followed by the pipe of the boatswain’s whistle, which was the signal for changing the watch. As the officers of the ship were obliged to attend to their various duties, Ole Amundsen was left alone with the captain. The waif still obstinately refused to explain how he happened to be alone in a water-logged boat, asleep, and out of sight of land, though he promptly answered all other questions which were put to him.
Mr. Lowington, the principal of the Academy Squadron, was in the main cabin, though he had been fully informed in regard to the events which had transpired on deck. The young commander despaired of his own ability to extort an explanation from the waif, and he concluded to refer the matter to the principal.
“How long have you been in that boat?” asked Captain Cumberland, as he led the way towards the companion ladder.
“Eighteen hours,” answered Ole, after some hesitation, which, perhaps, was only to enable him to count up the hours.
“Did you have anything to eat?”
“No, sir.”
“Nothing?”
“Not a thing.”
“Then you are hungry?”