A dozen or more catlike sailors
assisted the crew of the tug, and Ralph made himself useful.
When the tug sheered off, the boy leaning over the side of the
schooner, beheld the pilot shake his head in a doubtful way as he
answered Ralph's farewell wave of the hand.
"So I must look out for squalls, must I?" he reflected. "I wonder what
the man meant. Never mind. I am young, stout, and I'm not afraid. So
I guess I won't worry. So nice a man as Captain Gary won't see a boy
put upon, I know."
A heavy hand came down on his shoulder.
"Come now! We don't want no idlin' or staring over the side on this
craft. Come along and stow your kit and sling your hammock. Then
we'll eat a bite--you and me."
Thus roused, he followed Tom Bludson into the forecastle, where a low
but roomy apartment was lighted both by a swinging lamp and the
daylight streaming through the narrow companionway. There was a double
row of bunks on either hand and overhead were hooks to swing hammocks
in the space between.
Bludson unslung a hammock from the wall and tossed it to Ralph. There
was a blanket inside.
"Wrap your clothes in that blanket and give the hammock a turn or
two--so." The boatswain accompanied his words by showing Ralph how a
hammock is folded and slung to the hooks overhead when not in use.
"Now," he added, "it's stowed for the day. When bedtime comes you must
unsling and hang it as the rest do. You see there's not enough bunks
for the crew, so some has to use hammocks.
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