“Never was off land but once on a steamer,” replied the man. “Always thought as how I’d like to go a voyage, too. Kind of hard work, though, isn’t it?”
“A sight easier than farming,” answered Artie Jenkins. “Easiest in the world, if you get the right captain. Funny how you happened along. Why, it wasn’t but a few hours ago that I met a captain I know, that wanted a man. He’ll pay twenty-five a month, and everyone says Captain Bill feeds his men like aldermen. Fresh meats and vegetables and a bit extra on Sundays and holidays.”
“He does that, eh, this ere Cap’n Bill you speaks of?” said the stranger.
“That’s his reputation,” assured Artie Jenkins.
The man turned his head away, to hide a grin.
“I guess I’ll try it,” he said, “if you’ll go along and fix it up for me.”
“Sure,” said Artie Jenkins. “I like to oblige a man when I see he’s in hard luck. You wait down there at the store for me, till I get my big coat. I’ll be along soon. By the way, what’s your name?”
“Sam Black,” replied the stranger.
Sam Black, seating himself discreetly outside the store, on a step, not to be observed from within, allowed his grin to expand and give vent in a hoarse guffaw, as Artie Jenkins was lost to view.
“Reckon I’ll like them extras on Sundays and holidays,” he muttered, and roared again. “And p’raps somebody else will like ’em too—if he gets ’em.”