“Guess I’d better not stay,” thought the stowaway nervously. “But I must have a drink.”
He turned back into the cook’s galley, and took a deep draught from a bucket he found there. Just as he was about to leave the place he was electrified by hearing a voice say,
“What are you doing here?”
Brandon wheeled about like a flash. There framed by the cabin doorway was a young girl—the girl whose voice he had heard more than once since his incarceration in the hold of the Success—the captain’s daughter!
“Who are you? What do you want!” she repeated, eying him fearlessly, though with a puzzled expression of countenance. “I never remember having seen you before.”
Brandon was suddenly conscious that his long captivity in the vessel’s hold had not improved his personal appearance, and with his feeling of fright at being discovered, there was also considerable vexation at being seen in such a plight by a lady.
The girl was bright looking and intelligent, with a face which attracted the boy greatly; in fact, he was almost tempted to believe that he had seen her somewhere, so familiar did she appear.
Dressed in a simple blue flannel yachting suit, trimmed with white braid, which set off her plump figure to great advantage, she was a pleasing picture.
“Why don’t you answer me?” she demanded in vexation, as Brandon continued silent.
“Sh! don’t give me away,” begged the boy, taking a step nearer. “I’m a stowaway, I’ve been in the hold ever since we left New York.”