Harper's Young People, September 13, 1881 / An Illustrated Weekly

by Various

"But I am afraid of him, an' so would you be if he was to beat you once the way he has me;" and then he started for the deck again.

This time he did not attempt to enter the wheel-house, but stood by the rail outside, where the Captain could see him, and leaned over the side until it seemed to him that everything he had eaten for the past month was thrown to the fishes.

It was impossible for him to have waited on the Captain at the table that day, even if he had been called upon so to do; but Mr. Rankin had told him that he need not come into the cabin until he had recovered, and he was truly thankful for that permission to remain away.

The steamer had sailed at eleven o'clock in the fore-noon, and by two o'clock Tim was so sick that the very worst punishment Captain Pratt could have devised would not have troubled him in the least.

The vessel tossed and plunged as if she were bent on going to the bottom of the sea at the first opportunity, and Tim, in his berth, with the faithful Bobby at his side trying to cheer and comfort him, felt that he would not raise his hand to help himself even though he knew the Pride of the Wave was foundering.

During the remainder of that day, and all the night, Tim lay in his berth wondering why it was he did not die, since he was so sick, and expecting each moment that the steamer would go to the bottom. He almost forgot Tip, save once or twice when he asked Bobby to see whether the dog was feeling as badly as he was, and when he was told that Tip was apparently enjoying very good health, he felt a sense of injury because his pet did not share his sickness with him.

When Tim awakened on the following morning—for he did get some sleep that night—the steamer was yet pitching around wildly as though she was mad, but he had recovered from his sickness, and felt weak and hungry. He looked as pale as though he had been confined to his bed for a week, and he imagined that he was so thin the sun would shine right through him; but in this he was mistaken.

Of course his first visit was to Tip, and after he had petted him to his heart's content, given him a hearty breakfast—thanks to old Mose's generosity—he went below to report to Mr. Rankin for duty.

There was plenty of work to be done, and now that he had paid his "tribute to the sea," the steward showed that while he could be kind when there was reason for it, he also believed in making boys useful.

During the morning he had not once caught a glimpse of his friend Bobby Tucker, nor, indeed, had he had time to look for him. He had asked old Mose where Minchin's Island was, and when the steamer would arrive there; but although Mose could give him very little geographical information, he knew certainly that the Pride of the Wave was due at the island about noon.