“Bless me, you must be hungry,” he said. “I’d clean forgotten you. Now come along, and you shall have a blow-out.”
We followed the man down to a sort of kitchen in a cellar, where three or four women were at work, and he told them to give us something to eat.
A tin dish full of broken victuals was given to us, and we were told to sit in a corner and eat it.
Whilst we were doing so, the women occasionally came and laughed at us for the way we devoured our food; but seeing how hungry we were, when the first dishful was finished they gave us more.
At last our hunger was appeased; and then we were made to help as best we could these women, who told us they were the cooks of the place, which was one of the largest seamen’s lodging-houses in the place, and was kept by the man in the red waistcoat, whose name was Crump.
In the kitchen we passed the day, but about dusk we were sent for to Mr. Crump’s sanctum, where we found him and a decently-dressed, sailor-like man whom he called Captain Haxell, but whose face looked like some bird of prey, his eyes were so sharp and dark and his nose so hooked and pointed.
“There are the lads now, captain,” said Mr. Crump, as the kitchen wenches had told us to call him, “and I think you’ll find them smart and handy.”
“Stand up, and let’s see you,” said the captain. “So you wish to go to sea? Where are your friends? Got none, d’ye say? Stow that. Now, your names.”
We told him our names, and he answered, “Pursers’ names both, you young rascals; but, come now, I admire spirit in lads, and though there’s some risk, I’ll take you as ’prentices.—Got any ’prentice forms, Crump?”
“Yes, captain,” answered that worthy, and produced two sheets of paper on which was some writing, which Captain Haxell told us to sign, and which he put in his pocket.