There was only one other passenger in his compartment, and he was
asleep, but his presence was quite comforting to Bob, for he was a
sailor, who had placed his canvas bag in a corner for a pillow, and was
snoring loudly, with his mouth open, and his hat had fallen on the
floor.

The Skipper sat watching the man for a few minutes, as the train
rattled along, and then, got softly down, picked up the hat, and placed
it on the seat in front of the man, noticing as he did so, that it bore
on the riband "H.M.S. Taurus."

This was comforting too, and the boy felt as if he had met a friend;
but the man slept on till the train slackened speed, and then pulled up
with a jerk, while Bob was looking out, to read the name of the
station.

Then he started round, for from the far corner the sailor shouted
fiercely: "This Portsmouth?"

"No, sir, it's Pately," said the Skipper, in alarm.

"Ho!" grunted the man. "Mustn't miss my station," and he was settling
himself down to sleep again, when, as he glanced at his
fellow-traveller, he caught sight of the Skipper's rig-out.

"What cheer, messm't!" he cried boisterously. "Whither bound?" and his
features expanded into a broad grin.

"Portsmouth," said the Skipper.

"Right you are, messm't. So'm I. What ship? 'Flash,' eh! My stars! You
aren't a middy, are yer?"

"Not yet," said the boy; "but I'm going to be some day."

"Right you are," cried the man again; and Bob felt as if he should like
to tell the man he ought to say, "You are right;" but the man went on,
still looking him over from head to foot: "Then you aren't going to
jyne the 'Flash'? she's a-lying out yonder."

"No," said the Skipper, "I am only going to see my father. He's the
Captain."

To Bob's astonishment the man jumped up, pulled his forelock, and
kicked out his right leg behind.

"Why didn't you say you was a orficer afore?" he cried. "Going to see
your father, eh! Well, now, that is rum. I've just been to see my old
mother at Ringwood, and going back to my ship--_Old Bull_."

"The what?" said Bob, who felt puzzled.

"_Old Bull_," said the man, picking up his cap and pointing to the
letters on the riband; "_Tore--hus_ means 'old bull,' you know."

"Oh, yes; I know now."

"That's your sort. How yer going to get aboard--boat waitin' for you?"

"Oh, no!" said Bob, looking at the man wistfully.

"Then you'll have to take one, and they're reg'lar sharks."

"Are they, sir?"

"Ay! that they are, my la