"Jes now. I jes come ashore. I were a-sittin' on this 'ere werry identical pier a-lookin' fur my trunk."
The two boys gazed at their old friend in silent wonder, for they were sure that behind that trunk there lay some mystery.
"Where is it?" asked Henry at length.
"Down there," answered the Old Sailor, pointing at the water. "Under hatches, stove in an' sunk. I wouldn't 'a' parted with that trunk fur a good hogshead o' baccy. 'Cos w'y; I got that there trunk in Noo Yawk the day I shipped, an' I had her loaded right to her hatches with things to bring home to ye. Howsumever, it were drownin' or losin' 'em, an' so me an' the trunk got ashore—leastways I did; an' that's wot."
With these words the Old Sailor once more sat down on the end of the pier, and the boys sat beside him. He sent one of his long searching glances around the horizon, indulged in one of his peculiar silent laughs, and then suddenly said,
"S'pose I was to go fur to ask ye wot kind o' wessel are that out yonder?"
"It's an ocean liner," answered Henry.
"An' s'posin' I was to say wot are them three yonder?"
"Schooners," said George, "under all plain sail, close-hauled on the starboard tack."
"My son," said the Old Sailor, solemnly, "you are growin' werry salt. An' s'posin' I were to ask ye wot are that high-sided one loaded with?"