was stowed, and the hatches put on. The landsmen who had been employed went on shore, and Frank went forward to the forecastle, with the men, to dinner.
"Not the sort of grub you have been accustomed to, lad," one of the men said.
"I have eaten worse," Frank said carelessly, "and don't care if I never eat better. How long do you suppose we shall be before we get to New Orleans?"
"It all depends upon the wind," the sailor answered, "may be a month, may be three. Are you going to leave us there?"
"Yes," Frank said, "I am only working my passage out."
"It's a roughish place is New Orleans," the sailor said; "the sort of place where you want to have a knife or pistol ready at hand. Lor', I have seen some rum doings there; it's a word and a blow, I can tell ye."
"Ah! well," Frank laughed, "I suppose I shall do as well as the rest."
The voice of the mate was now heard calling to all hands to prepare to cast off. The men had hurried through their dinner, for they knew that the time allowed them would be short, and began casting off hawsers, coiling down ropes, and preparing for a start. The bell was ringing, and the friends of the passengers were saying good-bye. The capstan was manned, and the vessel moved slowly away from the quay.
Five minutes later she was at the dock gates; these swung open, and the vessel slowly made her way through them, and was soon in the river.
As the men ran aloft to loosen the sails, Frank placed himself next to the sailor who had spoken to him at dinner, and followed him up the shrouds, and, imitating his actions, he was soon out on the yard hauling away with the others. When the sails were all set he returned below.
"Wall done, youngster," the mate said; "I reckon you are about as spry for a green hand as any I have come across; I had my eye on you, and you'll do. You go on like that, and you will make a first-rate hand afore long."
There was plenty of work to do as they went down the river. The sails had to be braced round as the wind took them on different sides in the winding reaches; the decks were sluiced down, to get rid of the first coat of dirt which they had acquired in the docks; ropes had to be coiled and tidied up, and the many articles lying loosely about the deck to be put in their places and lashed in readiness for sea work. The tide met them just as it was getting dark, and as the wind dropped, and was not sufficiently strong to carry the ship against it, the anchor was dropped a few miles below Gravesend.
The men were divided into two watches, but all were told that, with the exception of two stationed as an anchor watch, they could turn in till tide turned. Frank threw himself at once into the bunk which had been allotted to him. He had not closed an eye the night before, and was worn out by emotion and fatigue, and scarcely had he lain down than he was sound asleep. He had been placed in the starboard watch, and slept till he was roughly shaken at four o'clock in the morning.
"Get up, mate, your watch is called."
Frank leapt out and made his way on deck. The vessel had been now three hours under weigh. She had passed the Nore, whose light shone brightly over the stern.
"The wind is freshening a bit," one of the men said, "we shall be out round the Foreland by dinner-time."
The voyage was an uneventful one; Frank escaped the first fight in which new-comers generally have to take part before they settle down in their new sphere. He was thoroughly good-tempered, and fully a match for any of his messmates in chaff, and he soon became a favourite in the fo'castle. He was always ready to take his share of the work, and was soon as much at home on the yards as the rest. The change and the newness of the life were very good for him; he was never alone, and had no time to think or brood over his troubles, and he was almost sorry when the end of the voyage approached.
"Not a lively-looking shore," the mate said to him as he leaned against the bulwark, looking at the low banks of the river a few miles below New Orleans. "No, even an American may confess that there ain't much beauty about this river. It's a great river, and a mighty useful one, but it ain't beautiful. Now, what are you thinking of doing when you get ashore?"
"I was thinking to begin by getting employment on board a boat of some sort. What I shall do afterwards of course I do not know; but if I can earn my living on the water for a few months, till I have time to look round and see what is best to be done, I shall be well satisfied. I have got a few pounds, but I don't want to touch them; they will come in useful if I want to move, or to buy a horse, or anything of that sort."
"You will do," the mate said. "You have shown yourself a right-down sharp fellow on board this ship, and I expect you will make your way whatever you try a hand at. I have taken a fancy to you, and should be glad to do you a good turn if I can. I have been in and out of this port for some years, and know Orleans pretty tidy, and I can tell you that there ain't a port on this side of the water or the other where a fellow can be put out of the way more promptly than here; there are parts of New Orleans which, I tell you, are a sort of hell on earth.
"There are places you couldn't go into without some one picking a quarrel with you afore you have been in there two minutes, and a quarrel here means knives out afore you have time to think. On the other hand, Orleans is a place where a steady industrious fellow, with his head screwed on right, has a good chance of getting on. The trade up the river is immense, and will be far greater than it is now; and there's pretty well a continent to the west, with openings of all sorts, land and cattle, houses and mining, and trade with Mexico. But I don't see as you can do better than to follow out your own idea.
"I know a score of men here who own boats trading up the river, and the first time I go ashore I will take you with me and put you in good hands. The rate of pay ain't high, for it's looked on as easy work; still, a few months at it will open your eyes and put you into the ways of the country, and, once at home, I tell you there's money to be made on the river, heaps of it, and when it's seen that you are steady, and willing, and 'cute, you will find plenty who will give you a helping hand. There's no greater place for loafers than New Orleans, and a chap who will really work will soon make his mark."
Frank warmly thanked the mate for his offer. The moment the ship cast anchor off the town a crowd of negroes came on board and unloaded her, and the crew had comparatively little to do; the three or four passengers who had come out in her went on shore at once, but it was not until the third afternoon after her arrival that the mate was able to leave the ship.
"Now, lad," he said to Frank, "jump into the boat along with me, and I will see if I can't put you into the groove."
Keeping along the wharves for some distance, the mate presently entered a small wooden office, telling Frank to wait outside.
On entering he accosted the only occupant of the place, a man of some forty years of age, who was dressed entirely in white, and was sitting smoking a huge cigar, with his chair tilted back and his feet on the table.
"How are you, Ephraim?" he said, as the mate entered. "I saw your ship had arrived. Had a good voyage?"
"First-class," the mate replied; "not very fast, but quiet and comfortable," and he took a cigar from an open box on the table and lighted it. "I haven't come round for a talk with you now, I have only just come ashore for the first time; but I wanted to speak to you about a young chap as came out with us. He has worked his passage out, and is about the smartest young fellow I ever shipped, and has the makings of a first-class seaman in him, but he doesn't care about stopping at sea. He's of good family in the old country, as one can easily see. I expect he has got into some scrape, and has had to make a bolt of it; however, that's no business of mine. He's as strong as a horse, and as active as a squirrel; he can handle an oar and sail a boat. I didn't like the thought of his landing here and getting into bad hands,
