“Then you are not fit to live. If you stay in this ship, you must wash every day, and more than that when you do dirty work.”
“Can I stay in the ship if I do that?” asked Ole, earnestly.
“I don’t know anything about it.”
“I will wash all the time if they will only let me stay in the ship,” pleaded the waif.
“You must talk with the principal on that subject. I have nothing to do with it. Now, go on deck. Hold up your head, and walk like a man.”
Ole left the bath-room, and made his way up the forward ladder. The second part of the starboard watch were on duty, but nearly every person belonging to the ship was on deck, watching the distant light, which assured them they were on the coast of Norway. The waif stepped upon deck as lightly as a mountain sylph. The influence of his new clothes pervaded his mind, and he was inclined to be a little “swellish” in his manner.
“How are you, Norway!” shouted Sanford, one of the crew.
“How are you, America,” replied Ole, imitating the slang of the speaker.
“What have you done with your dirt?” added Rodman.
“Here is some of it,” answered Muggs, the steward, as he came up the ladder, with Ole’s rags on a dust-pan, and threw them overboard.