Ben was very glad to move.
“What’s your name?” asked the boy.
Ben told him.
“Mine is Tom Martin,” said his companion; “I’m the boatswain’s son. Mr Charlton says I’m to look after you, and tell you what you want to know. But you’ve been to sea before, haven’t you?”
“Only in fishing-boats,” answered Ben; “and I shall be much obliged to you for telling me what I ought to know.”
“As to that, you’ll soon pick it up; for you don’t look like one of those chaps who come aboard with the hay-seed still in their hair,” said Tom. “Here we are at the gun-room door.”
Mr Charlton’s voice and eye were as kind as ever, though he spoke in rather a stiffer manner than was his custom on shore. He told Ben that he had had his name entered on the ship’s books, and that the boatswain would look after him, and give him instruction with his own son; besides this, that he was to be one of the boys employed in attending on the gun-room officers, which was an advantage, as it would give him plenty to do, and some little pay besides.
“You may go forward now,” said Mr Charlton. “The gun-room steward will tell you what to do when he comes on board. And remember, Martin, I shall depend on you to show Hadden everything he ought to know, and all about the ship.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” said Tom, pulling a lock of his hair, as of course he held his hat in his hand. Then he gave Ben a nudge, to signify that he was to come away with him.
“You are a lucky chap to have the first lieutenant for your friend,” observed Tom, as they went forward.