ell as you can. I suppose you will find plenty to amuse
yourself."

Mark said, "Oh, yes!" but he felt as if there was going to be very
little that was amusing; and as he saw his father go toward the gangway
and speak to the first-mate, who seemed to reply with a surly nod, the
office of captain seemed of less account than ever.

The scene was not inspiriting. It was a dull, cold, cheerless afternoon
in May; the deck was one chaos of bales, packages, and boxes. Ropes
were lying about as if there was no such thing as order on board a ship.
Forward there was a pile of rusty chain, and if the new-comer stirred a
step he was sure to be in somebody's way; and when, in response to a
hoarse "by yer leave," he moved somewhere else, it was to find himself
in a worse position still.

Bruff quite shared his feelings, and showed it by shivering from time to
time, and, after getting behind Mark, trying to drive his head between
his master's legs, an attempt that was always met by a rebuff, for Mark
had not yet gained his sea-legs and taken to walking with his feet very
wide apart.

But all the same there was a deal to notice, and by degrees the lad grew
interested as he wondered how it was possible for the yawning hatch in
the middle of the deck to swallow up such an endless number of crates
and boxes, bales and packages, of all kinds. While what seemed more
astonishing was the fact, that as fast as the cargo disappeared more was
brought aboard from the quay, where it was unloaded from vans and carts.

"Here, hi! young Strong!" cried the mate suddenly. "Come here."

Mark walked up to him hastily as he stood near the gangway, talking to a
custom-house officer.

"Oh, there you are! Look here, which is it--wasp or bee!"

"Wasp or bee, sir--which?"

The customs-officer laughed, and Mark coloured up, but Mr Gregory stood
with his red nose shining and his pimply face as hard and cold as a
statue's.

"Which? Why, you--come aboard to idle or work?"

"I don't know, sir. Can I do anything?"

"How should I know? I should say not, by the look of you. Will you
try?"

"Yes, sir. I should be glad to," cried Mark.

"Come, that's better. Take that piece of chalk, and tally."

"I--I don't know how."

"Bah! what do they teach boys at schools nowadays? Do you mean to tell
me you can't make a mark and keep count of those barrels of beer they're
going to bring on board?"

"Why, of course I can, sir."

"Then why did you