Captain Brandon entered the cabin, carrying under his arm a cabin-boy’s suit.

“It’s time you entered upon your duties,” he said. “Put on these clothes.”

He expected a renewal of Harry’s remonstrances; but our hero had made up his mind what to do. It was no use crying over spilt milk. Since he was on board the Sea Eagle, however much against his will, he would make the best of a disagreeable position. He had confidence in the judgment and friendship of the supercargo, whom he liked, notwithstanding their brief acquaintance, and he resolved to accept the situation, and do his best in it. When, therefore, the captain held out the cabin-boy’s suit, Harry took it quietly, asking:—

“Where shall I put it on?”

“You can put it on here,” said the captain, looking at him curiously. Remembering the state of fiery indignation which our hero displayed a few minutes before, he was not prepared for this quiet acquiescence.

“So you’ve changed your mind, have you?” he asked.

“No, Captain Brandon,” answered Hurry, firmly. “I have been treacherously entrapped on board this vessel, and I remain here against my will; but as long as I stay I may as well have something to do. I will act as cabin-boy, and shall expect to receive a cabin-boy’s wages.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ve turned sensible,” said Brandon. “It would have been the worse for you if you hadn’t.”

“I don’t intend to deceive you as to my intentions, Captain Brandon,” continued Harry, boldly. “I mean to leave this ship the first chance I get.”

“That won’t be very soon,” sneered Brandon; “as I don’t expect to stop anywhere till I reach China. If you want to leave me there, I shan’t take any great pains to catch you.”

By this time Harry had changed his clothes, and had all the appearance of a young sailor.

“Now go and report yourself to the mate,” said Captain Brandon.

Harry left the cabin, and went up on deck. He saw and recognized the man to whom the captain had spoken the day before, and walked up to him.

“I believe you are the mate, sir,” he said.

“Well, my lad, and who are you? The new cabin-boy?”

“Yes, sir. The captain ordered me to report to you.”

“Tom Patch!” said the mate, calling one of the sailors near by.

Tom Patch came forward, hitching up his pants, as he advanced with a regular sailor’s roll. He had a short, square-built figure, and a face bronzed by exposure to the suns of every clime. But his expression was honest and intelligent, not brutish and stupid, as is the case with many who have followed the sea for years without rising above the position of a common sailor.

“Show him his bunk. Patch, and break him in.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” said Patch, turning to Harry, whom he surveyed with interest.

“Come with me, my lad,” he said.

They descended into the forecastle, where Harry was assigned a bunk near that of the sailor under whose care he had been placed.

“You’re a green hand, I reckon, my lad,” said Tom.

“Yes,” said our hero.

“Well, I’m glad you’re going to sea. I don’t see how folks can be contented to live on shore.”

“Do you mean that?” asked Harry, rather amused.

“Of course I do.”

“Then I don’t agree with you. I’d rather be on land.”

“Mayhap you’ve been sea-sick. You’ll get over it soon, and then you’ll find it jolly.”

“No, I have not been sick; but I don’t like the sea.”

“Then what brought you here?” said Tom, in natural wonder.

“Captain Brandon. He served me a mean trick.”

“Avast there, my lad!” said Tom, lowering his voice, and looking around him significantly. “It aint best to talk ag’in the cap’n, leastways so he can hear.”

“I’m not afraid,” said our hero, firmly. “I told him so myself.”

“What’s that?” asked Tom, incredulously.

“I told Captain Brandon he had served me a mean trick.”

“And he knocked you down with a belaying-pin?” suggested Tom.

“No, he didn’t,” said Harry, quietly.

“Then you got off easy. Better not say it ag’in, my lad.”

“It’s true.”

“Never mind that. It aint best to tell the truth at all times. You shall spin me the yarn some time when we are snugly stowed away out of earshot, my lad. Now we must go to work.”

Harry accompanied Tom to the deck, and his experience as a sailor commenced.

I do not propose to give a detailed account of what these duties were, as this does not profess to be a sea-story, and will touch the sea only so far as it may prove necessary to make Harry’s position understood. Days passed away, and in accordance with the resolution he had formed our hero attended strictly to duty. Being a smart boy, he very soon mastered the details of his duties, and discharged them in such a manner that no fault could justly be found with him. But Captain Brandon continued to view him with an eye of suspicion. He had not forgotten nor forgiven the bold and defiant manner in which Harry had expressed himself when he first realized that he had been entrapped on board the Sea Eagle. He blamed himself now that he had not inflicted a humiliating punishment upon Harry at the time, and he carefully scrutinized his conduct in order to find a pretext for paying off the old score.

But Harry thus far gave him no opportunity. He had not made any complaints against the captain to any one except Tom Patch, to whom he told his whole story, winning the stout-hearted sailor’s sympathy and friendship. Thus Harry felt that he had one friend on the vessel; nay, two, for the supercargo, of whom mention has already been made, had by no means forgotten the promise he made to our hero to be his friend. He frequently approached him when at work, and conversed with him in a pleasant manner, as with an equal, never putting on an air of condescension, as some in his position would have done.

This intimacy and evident good feeling between the supercargo and our hero, Captain Brandon saw with dissatisfaction. He had tried to cultivate an intimacy with Mr. Weldon himself, from motives of policy, on account of his relationship to the owner of the ship, and the probability that he would some day be himself a member of the firm; but it had not taken the supercargo long to ascertain the real character of the captain, in which he found very little to attract him. So, though he treated Captain Brandon with scrupulous civility, there was a coolness in his manner which effectually precluded any degree of intimacy. The captain saw this and chafed at it. It humiliated him, yet he could not resent it. The young man was studiously polite and respectful, and gave him no cause for complaint. But he saw that his ceremonious politeness melted away when he spoke to Harry Raymond whom he addressed in a cordial, kindly manner which bespoke friendship. Captain Brandon brooded over this, being of a jealous, suspicious temper, and resolved, on the first occasion that presented itself, to take vengeance upon Harry, and thus at once gratify his dislike for our hero and the supercargo.

There was another member of the ship’s crew whom it will be necessary to introduce.

This was Jack Rodman, a boy somewhat older than Harry, and as different from our hero as can well be imagined. He was coarse, ignorant, and vicious, and could swear with as great fluency as any sailor twice his age. He made at first some approaches to intimacy with our hero, but Harry was too disgusted with what he had seen of him to care much about striking up a friendship. On this account Jack bore a grudge against our hero, and would have played some mischievous trick upon him but for Tom Patch’s evident friendship for Harry. Jack was afraid of the stout sailor, and felt compelled to effect his object in an underhand manner.

Among the peculiarities of Captain Brandon’s appearance was a very long nose, which, however useful it might be to the owner, was far from ornamental. Brandon was aware of the prominence of this feature, and felt sensitive about it. As a boy he had been annoyed by the jocose allusions of his school-fellows to it, and nothing disturbed his temper more now than any reference to it, or even a significant glance at it. Jack Rodman had observed this peculiarity in the captain, and determined to take advantage of it in order to get Harry into trouble.

One night, unobserved as he supposed, he drew with a piece of chalk a rude caricature of the captain’s face, in a part of the vessel where it would be likely to be seen by Brandon. The size of the nose was exaggerated, but there was also in the other features a general resemblance to the captain, so that it was quite evident who was meant.

Jack supposed that he was unobserved, and so he might have been but for the accidental approach of the supercargo.

Mr. Weldon glanced at what Jack was doing, and a smile came to his face. He was rather amused by the caricature, and, having no very particular regard for the captain, passed on in silence, not feeling called upon to interfere.

The next morning Captain Brandon, in pacing the deck, suddenly came face to face with the caricature, which had not been effaced.

Instantly the blood rushed to his face. He could see the resemblance himself; and that made the matter worse. He felt that it was an insult to him, and he determined to visit condign punishment upon the perpetrator of the insulting joke, if he could find him out.

“Who did this?” he roared out, at the top of his voice.

The vehemence of his tone attracted general attention. The sailors looked at one another, and exchanged sly glances indicative of amusement.

“Who did this?” exclaimed the captain, again, stamping in rage.

Nobody answered.

“Why don’t you answer, some of you?” continued the angry captain. “Point out the man, and I’ll flog him till he can’t stand.”

Even this inducement was not sufficient to extract the name of the culprit.

Captain Brandon resolved to use other means.

“I’ll give five dollars to the man who’ll tell me who drew this figure.”

Jack Rodman came on deck just as this offer was made. His eyes sparkled with joy. He not only had it in his power to get Harry into trouble, but he would be rewarded for doing it. This was more than he had bargained for, but Jack reflected that the money would be very acceptable to him when he got on shore.

“I know who did it, Captain Brandon,” he said, touching his hat.

“Ah!” said the captain, turning towards Jack. “Tell me at once, then.”

“He did it,” said Jack, pointing out Harry, who, like the rest, was an interested spectator of the scene.

“Did he do it?” growled Brandon, looking menacingly at our hero.

“Yes, I saw him do it.”

“When did he do it?”

“Last evening.”

By the time Harry, who had been struck dumb by the suddenness of the accusation, and the evident malice of Jack, recovered himself, and said boldly:—

“Captain Brandon, that is a lie, and Jack Rodman knows it is. I know nothing of the figure, and had nothing to do with it.”

“I saw you do it,” said Jack, with a malicious grin.

“I have no doubt he did it,” said the captain, furiously. “Strip him, and well give him a taste of the lash.”