, Harvey could not remember, for he lay back
terrified at the sight of the smoking swells. He fancied he heard a gun
and a horn and shouting. Something bigger than the dory, but quite as
lively, loomed alongside. Several voices talked at once; he was dropped
into a dark, heaving hole, where men in oilskins gave him a hot drink
and took off his clothes, and he fell asleep.

When he waked he listened for the first breakfast-bell on the steamer,
wondering why his state-room had grown so small. Turning, he looked
into a narrow, triangular cave, lit by a lamp hung against a huge
square beam. A three-cornered table within arm's reach ran from the
angle of the bows to the foremast. At the after end, behind a well-used
Plymouth stove, sat a boy about his own age, with a flat red face and a
pair of twinkling gray eyes. He was dressed in a blue jersey and high
rubber boots. Several pairs of the same sort of foot-wear, an old cap,
and some worn-out woollen socks lay on the floor, and black and yellow
oilskins swayed to and fro beside the bunks. The place was packed as
full of smells as a bale is of cotton. The oilskins had a peculiarly
thick flavor of their own which made a sort of background to the smells
of fried fish, burnt grease, paint, pepper, and stale tobacco; but
these, again, were all hooped together by one encircling smell of ship
and salt water. Harvey saw with disgust that there were no sheets on
his bed-place. He was lying on a piece of dingy ticking full of lumps
and nubbles. Then, too, the boat's motion was not that of a steamer.
She was neither sliding nor rolling, but rather wriggling herself about
in a silly, aimless way, like a colt at the end of a halter.
Water-noises ran by close to his ear, and beams creaked and whined
about him. All these things made him grunt despairingly and think of
his mother.

"Feelin' better?" said the boy, with a grin. "Hev some coffee?" He
brought a tin cup full and sweetened it with molasses.

"Isn't there milk?" said Harvey, looking round the dark double tier of
bunks as if he expected to find a cow there.

"Well, no," said the boy. "Ner there ain't likely to be till 'baout
mid-September. 'Tain't bad coffee. I made it."

Harvey drank in silence, and the boy handed him a plate full of pieces
of crisp fried pork, which he ate ravenously.

"I've dried your clothes. Guess they've shrunk some," said the boy.
"They ain't our style much--none of 'em. Twist round an' see if you're