“I crawl in between the chairs and the wall and get under that piece of tarpaulin.”
“Well, you’re sure of being caught, for the first fine day all these chairs will be taken out and the deck steward can’t miss you.”
The man sighed as I said this and admitted the chances were much against him. Then, starting up, he cried, “Poverty is the great crime. If I had stolen some one else’s money I would have been able to take cabin passage instead of—”
“If you weren’t caught.”
“Well, if I were caught, what then? I would be well fed and taken care of.”
“Oh, they’d take care of you.”
“The waste food in this great ship would feed a hundred hungry wretches like me. Does my presence keep the steamer back a moment of time? No. Well, who is harmed by my trying to better myself in a new world? No one. I am begging for a crust from the lavish plenty, all because I am struggling to be honest. It is only when I become a thief that I am out of danger of starvation—caught or free.”
“There, there; now, don’t speak so loud or you’ll have some one here. You hang round and I’ll bring you some provender. What would you like to have? Poached eggs on toast, roast turkey, or—”
The wretch sank down at my feet as I said this, and, recognising the cruelty of it, I hurried down into the saloon and hunted up a steward who had not yet turned in. “Steward,” I said, “can you get me a few sandwiches or anything to eat at this late hour?”
“Yessir, certainly, sir; beef or ’am, sir?”