Tim struggled manfully to keep back the tears that would come in his eyes as he stood behind the Captain's chair, but they got the best of him, as did also the little quick sobs.
The Captain appeared to grow more cheerful as he ate, and although he called upon Tim for several articles, he managed to get along without striking any more blows, contenting himself by abusing the poor boy with his tongue.
It was a great relief to Tim when that meal was ended, and Mr. Rankin told him he could eat his own breakfast before clearing away the dishes.
Tim had not the slightest desire for food then, but he did want some for Tip. Hastily gathering up the bones from Captain Pratt's plate, he ran with them to the bow, where Tip was straining and tugging at his rope as if he knew his master was having a hard time, and he wanted to be where he could help him.
Tim placed the bones in front of Tip, and then kneeling down, he put his arms around the dog's neck as he poured out his woes in his ear, while Tip tried in every way to get at the tempting feast before him.
"I'm the miserablest boy in the world, Tip, an' I don't know what's goin' to become of us. You don't know what a bad, ugly man Captain Pratt is, an' I don't believe I can stay here another day. But you think a good deal of me, don't you, Tip? an' you'd help me if you could, wouldn't you?"
The dog had more sympathy with the bones just then than he had with his almost heart-broken master, and Tim, who dared not stay away too long from the cabin, was obliged to let him partake of the feast at last.
When Tim returned from feeding the dog, Mr. Rankin said all he could to prevent him from becoming discouraged on the first day of service; but he concluded with these words: "I can't advise you to stay here any longer than you can help, for you ain't stout enough to bear what you'll have to take from the Captain. It'll be hard work to get off, for he always looks sharp after new boys, so they sha'n't run away; but when we get back here again, you'd better make up your mind to show your heels."
These words frightened Tim almost as much as what the Captain had said to him, for he had never thought but that he could leave whenever he wanted to. Now he felt doubly wretched, for he realized that he was as much a captive as he had ever been when he lived with Captain Babbige, whose blows were not nearly as severe as this new master's.
The Pride of the Wave made but two trips a week, and each one occupied about two days and a half. This second day after Tim had come on board was the time of her sailing, and everything was in such a state of confusion that no one had any time to notice the sad little boy, who ran forward to pet his dog whenever his work would permit of such loving act.