“He daren’t go to the railway station, and he dursen’t go outside in his uniform,” continued Dan. “My ’art bled for the pore young feller, an’ I’ve promised to give ’im a little trip to London with us. The people he’s staying with won’t have him no longer. They’ve only got one bed, and directly he sees any sojers coming he goes an’ gits into it, whether he’s got his boots on or not.”
“Have you told the skipper?” inquired Joe sardonically.
“I won’t deceive you, Joe, I ’ave not,” replied the old man. “He’ll have to stay down here of a daytime, an’ only come on deck of a night when it’s our watch. I told ’im what a lot of good-’arted chaps you was, and how—”
“How much is he going to give you?” inquired Joe impatiently.
“It’s only fit and proper he should pay a little for the passage,” said Dan.
“How much?” demanded Joe, banging the little triangular table with his fist, and thereby causing the man with the antimacassar to drop a couple of stitches.
“Twenty-five shillings,” said old Dan reluctantly; “an’ I’ll spend the odd five shillings on you chaps when we git to Limehouse.”
“I don’t want your money,” said Joe; “there’s a empty bunk he can have; and mind, you take all the responsibility—I won’t have nothing to do with it.”
“Thanks, Joe,” said the old man, with a sigh of relief; “he’s a nice young chap, you’re sure to take to him. I’ll go and give him the tip to come aboard at once.”
He ran up on deck again and whistled softly, and a figure, which had been hiding behind a pile of empties, came out, and, after looking cautiously around, dropped noiselessly on to the schooner’s deck, and followed its protector below.