Having thus satisfactorily fulfilled his mission he disappeared.
“Sit down, boy, and make yourself at home,” said an oldish man with grey hair, from the other end of the table.
“Thank you, as soon as I can see where to sit,” said I; “but you don’t indulge in an over-abundance of light down here.”
“Ha, ha, ha! Make room for Marmaduke, some of you youngsters there,” exclaimed the old mate, for such I found he was, and caterer of the mess, “Remember your manners, will you, and be polite to strangers.”
“But he is not a stranger,” said a boy near me. “Yes, he is, till he has broken biscuit with us,” said old Perigal. “That reminds me that you are perhaps hungry, youngster. We’ve done tea, but we shall have the grog and the bread on the table shortly. We divide them equally. You youngsters have as much to eat as you like of the one, weevils and all, and we drink of the other. It’s the rule of the mess, like the laws of the Medes and Persians, not to be broken. However, we will allow Merry a small quantity to-night, as it is his first on board ship, but after that, remember, no infraction of the laws;” and old Perigal held up a weapon which he drew from his pocket, and with which, I found, he was wont to enforce his commands in the berth.
His system worked pretty well, and it kept the youngsters from falling into that most pernicious of practices, spirit drinking, and the oldsters were too well seasoned to be injured by the double allowance they thereby obtained.
Altogether I was pleased with my reception, and I fancy my new shipmates were pleased with me. My great difficulty at first was finding my way about, for as to which was the head or after part of the ship I had not the slightest notion, and the direction I received to go aft or go forward conveyed no idea to my mind.
As I was groping my way about the lower-deck, I saw what I took to be a glimmering light in a recess, when a roaring voice said, “Ho, ho! Mr Merry, what—have you come to see me? Welcome aboard the Doris.” The light was the nose, and the voice that of Jonathan Johnson the boatswain.
I thanked him, and, guessing it would please him, told him that I should hold him to his promise of recounting his adventures.
“Time enough when we get into blue water, Mr Merry. Under present circumstances, with every thing to do, and nobody fit to do it but myself; for you see, Mr Merry, the gunner and carpenter are little better than nonentities, as you will find out some day; I have barely time to eat my necessary meals, much less to talk.”