“What, no father and mother?”
“No, sir,” said Peter. “Mother is dead, and father, they say, is dead, too.”
“Then you will do for me. As it happens, I do want a boy. Here, Jim,” he said, turning round, and addressing a sailor as rough-looking as he was himself, but much dirtier, who appeared at the companion-hatch; “here’s a lad for you. You had better keep an eye on him, as maybe he will change his mind, and run off again. Go aboard, boy,” he added, turning to Peter, “Jim will look after you, and show you what you have got to do.”
The captain went into the town, and old Jim, who proved to be the mate, took charge of Peter.
Old Jim asked him several questions. The answers which Peter gave appeared to satisfy him.
Peter inquired the captain’s name.
“Captain Hawkes; and our brig is the Polly,” answered Jim. “You won’t find a finer craft between this and ‘No man’s land,’ if you know where that is.”
Peter saw that she was the largest vessel in the harbour, and so readily believed what the mate said.
The old man asked him if he was hungry, and Peter acknowledging; that such was the case, he took him down into the cabin, and after giving him some bread and ham, offered him a tumbler of rum and water. Peter, who had never tasted spirits, said he would rather not take the rum, whereon old Jim laughed at him and drank it himself.
“We shall all get under weigh with the evening tide if the wind holds fair, for it’s off the land you see, and will take us out of the harbour,” he observed. “You had better lie down till then on the locker and get some sleep, for may be you will find your first night at sea rather strange to you.”