“Well, young gentlemen,” said the gold-laced man, whom we took to be the Captain; “where did you spring from?”
“We came on board this morning, sir,” said Percy, “and we’ve been asleep ever since.” Then, seeing that the man looked serious, he hastily added, “We are ready to pay for our passage, sir.”
“And, if you please, sir,” I asked, “shall we be able to get something to eat before we land?” For I was ravenously hungry.
At this the big man broke into a big laugh. “Well, yes,” said he. “You will be more than hungry if you don’t. Where do you suppose you are going to?”
“France,” we both answered together.
At this the big man’s countenance fell again. Telling the attending Steward to leave the bedding, he shut the door, and said:
“Boys, I’m afraid you have made some grievous mistake. This boat is not going to France. We are bound for New Orleans.”
It was our turn to look grave. Instead of a passage of six or eight hours, we were in for a sea-voyage of two or three weeks. Added to this, if we should give up all our money it would hardly suffice to pay our way, and moreover we should on landing be stranded, penniless, in a strange city in what was, to me at least, a foreign land. The situation was decidedly serious.
“How did you ever come to make such a mistake?” our interlocutor went on. “And why didn’t you take a ticket before coming on board? A pretty mess you’ve made of it.”
“I’ll tell you the truth, sir,” replied Percy, with a glance at me which I answered with a nod. “We ran away from school last night and intended to go over to France for a time; but we were afraid to offer to pay our passage beforehand lest you should refuse to take us; so we slipped on board and hid in this cabin.”