It seemed to Tim that Captain Pratt changed as soon as they started. Instead of keeping up the idea of fatherly benevolence, which he had seemed to be full to running over with, he spoke sharply, and did not try to avoid hurting the boy's feelings.
If, when the wagon jolted over the rough road, the boy's head came in contact with his arm, which was thrown across the back of the seat, he would tell him to keep down where he belonged; and if he heard Tim's heels knocking against the axle, he would scold him for not holding them up.
Between this sudden change in the kind captain's ways and his fear that Tip would not be able to keep up with the wagon, Tim was feeling rather sad when the dépôt was reached.
During the ride on the cars Captain Pratt took very little notice of Tim, and when they arrived at the dépôt he simply said:
"Here, boy, go down to Pier 43, and tell the steward of the Pride of the Wave that I have hired you; he'll set you to work."
Tim had no more idea of where Pier 43 was than he had of the location of the Cannibal Islands, but he started out with a great show of pluck and a heavy heart.
With Tip following close at his heels, Tim walked some distance without seeing either wharves or water, and then he inquired the way.
The first gentleman to whom he spoke was a stranger in the city, and knew no more about it than he did; the second directed him in such a confusing way that he went almost opposite to where he should have gone; but the third one gave him the directions so clearly that he had no further trouble in reaching the desired place.
The Pride of the Wave was not a large boat, and to any one accustomed to steamers would have seemed very shabby; but to Tim she appeared like a veritable floating palace, and it was some time before he dared to venture on board of her.
Finally he saw one of the deck hands, who, despite his dirty clothes, did not appear to be awed by the magnificence of the boat, and Tim asked him where he should find the steward.