“I shall be glad to be friends with you,” I answered, “but I don’t suppose it will be for long, as I expect we shall leave the ship to-night or to-morrow morning.”
“That may or may not be,” he remarked, with a laugh. “Have you been long at sea?”
I told him that I had been brought up to it from my boyhood.
“Well, you have the advantage of me, for this is my first voyage; and Esdale didn’t know the stem from the stern when he first came on board. Now come along to the half-deck; he and I are going to dinner; I suppose you’ll join us?”
Jim and I were beginning to feel hungry, and willingly accepted Horner’s invitation.
The savoury whiffs which came out of the caboose as we passed made me feel more eager than ever for something to eat.
Horner took us down to the half-deck, where we found Esdale, of whom he had spoken, seated on a chest reading. He was a pale, sickly-looking youth, taller a good deal than Jim.
He put down his book and held out his hand to shake ours.
“It’s your turn to go for the dinner,” he said to Horner, “and it must be ready by this time, but I’ll go if you wish it.”
“Well, you may go,” said Horner; “I want to do the honours to these fellows. Take care that you don’t capsize with the things as you come along the deck.”