So saying, he took out the book in which he kept the crew list and the wages account, ran his finger down to Kit’s name, and took up his pen.
“I see there is seven dollars and a half due you,” he went on, “but we will call it ten dollars on account of the extra work you have been doing. So now I erase your name, and you are no longer a member of the crew;” and he ran his pen through Kit’s name with a big, broad mark.
For a moment Kit felt as if a flash of lightning had come into the stateroom and struck him.
“I hope you will tell me what I have done, to be sent away, Captain,” he said, in a voice that was not altogether steady.
“Well, sit down, Christopher, and I will tell you,” the Captain said, swinging his chair around as Kit took a seat. “I could not well invite my cabin boy to sit down here for a talk, but as you are my cabin boy no longer, I can invite you now. I see you take it very much to heart, so I will tell you in few words.”
It seemed to Kit at first as if a judge were about to pronounce sentence upon him; but something in the Captain’s face gave him a little hope.
“The North Cape has been chartered by the big firm of Hunter & Hitchley for a long voyage. She is to go first to Barbadoes with a general cargo, there take on a cargo of sugar for London, and return from London to New York with another general cargo. Such a voyage requires a supercargo; and when the firm asked me to recommend one I recommended Christopher Silburn. So it means that instead of being the cabin boy you will be the supercargo as soon as you go over to Hunter & Hitchley’s office and sign the contract.”
“Oh, Captain!” Kit exclaimed; he did not see how he could say anything more at the moment.
“Your pay will be only eighteen dollars a month for the present, on account of your youth; and that is small pay for supercargo; but it is better than six dollars as a cabin boy.”
“I should think so, sir!” Kit declared; “and I don’t know how I can ever thank you for such a kindness.”