“No doubt of that—no doubt of that,” rejoined the merchant, beaming upon him benignantly. “But to talk isn’t enough for Adoniram Pepper; I want to do something for you, my boy.”
“I—I don’t know just what you can do for me, sir,” said Brandon doubtfully.
“Don’t know? Why, you want to go to sea, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir; I think I do.”
“Then I can help you,” declared the merchant. “I’ve several vessels—three are in port at the present time—and it will be strange indeed if I can’t find a berth on one of them for you.”
“But I’m no sailor yet; I’ve got to learn,” objected Don.
“So I suppose; but I’ll risk your learning fast enough. Now, where would you like to go, and what position shall I give you?” and Mr. Pepper settled himself deeper into his chair, and looked as though he was prepared to offer Don any position he craved, from cook’s assistant to captain.
Brandon felt just a little bewildered by all this, and probably showed his bewilderment on his face.
“I’ll tell you what I have now,” went on Mr. Pepper. “There’s the brig Calypso, loading for Port Said—she sails tomorrow; and the clipper ship Frances Pepper (my sister’s name, you know) unloading from Rio, and bound back there and to Argentine ports in a fortnight; and then there’s the whaleback, Number Three.”
“The whaleback?” queried Brandon in perplexity.