‘This is a fine forecastle,’ said Captain Butler. ‘Few crews get better parlours.’
The interior was empty. Rows of bunks on both sides ran ghostly in the obscurity of the bows.
‘What hatch is this?’ said I, pointing to a small, covered square in the deck close to where I stood.
‘That’ll be the way to the fore-peak,’ said Captain Butler.
‘What sort of a place is that?’ said I.
‘The rats’ nursery,’ he answered, laughing.
‘Have you been into it, Will?’ said I.
‘No. They keep coal and broom-handles there; odds and ends of stores, cans of oil, and everything that’s unpleasant. I find things out by asking.’
‘Right, Johnstone,’ said Captain Butler. ‘Keep on asking on board ship. That’s the way to learn. How would you like to be an able seaman, Miss Johnstone, and sail before the mast and sleep in a place like this?’
‘This would not be my end of the ship if I were a man,’ said I.