He stood alone on the little pier, a pathetic figure in his loneliness—a boy without a home or a friend in the world. There was only one thought dominating his mind, the purely animal desire for sustenance, for his bodily needs lay heavily upon him. Yet it never occurred to him to ask for food—employment for which he should be paid such scanty wages as would supply his bare needs was all he thought of; for, in spite of years of semi-starvation, he had never yet eaten bread that he had not worked for—the thought of doing so had never shaped itself in his mind. But he was now very hungry, and as he watched the vigorous preparation for departure in full swing on board the smart rakish-looking fishing schooner near him, he felt an intense longing to be one of the toilers on her decks, with a right to obey the call presently to a well-earned meal. Whether by any strange thought-transference his craving became known to the bronzed skipper of the Rufus B. or not, who shall say? Sufficient to record that on a sudden that stalwart man lifted his head, and looking steadily at the lonely lad, he said, “Wantin’ a berth, sonny?” Although, if his thoughts could have been348 formulated, such a question was the one of all others he would have desired to hear, the lad was so taken aback by the realization of his most fervent hopes that for several seconds he could return no answer, but sat endeavouring to moisten his lips and vainly seeking in his bewildered mind for words with which to reply. Another sharp query, “Air ye deef?” brought his wits to a focus, and he replied humbly—  
“Yes, sir!”
 
“Well, whar’s yer traps, then?” queried the skipper; “‘kaze we’re boun’ ter git away this tide, so it’s naow er never, ef you’re comin’.”
 
Before answering, the boy suddenly gathered himself up, and sprang in two bounds from his position on the quay to the side of the skipper. As soon as he reached him, he said, in rapid disjointed sentences—
 
“I’ve got no close. Ner no boardin’ house. Ner yet a cent in the world. But I ben to sea for nearly three year, an’ ther ain’t much to a ship thet I don’ know. I never ben in a schooner afore, but ef you’ll take me, Cap’n, I’ll show you I’m wuth a boy’s wages, anyhow.”
 
As he spoke the skipper looked down indulgently at him, chewing meditatively the while, but as soon as he had finished, the “old man” jerked out—
 
“All right. Hook on ter onct, then;” and almost in the same breath, but with an astonishing increase of sound, “Naow, then, caest off thet guess warp forrard there,’n run the jib up. Come, git a move on349 ye—anybody’d think you didn’t calk’late on leavin’ Gloster never no more.”
 
Cheery “Ay, ay, cap’s,” resounded from the willing crowd as they obeyed, and in ten minutes the Rufus B. was gliding away seawards to the musical rattle of the patent blocks and the harmonious cries of the men as they hoisted the sails to the small breeze that was stealing off the land.
 
The grey mist of early morning was slowly melting off the picturesque outline of the Massachusetts shore as they departed, and over the smooth sea before them fantastic wreaths and curls of fog hung about like the reek of some vast invisible fire far away. It was cold, too, with a clammy chill that struck through the threadbare suit of jeans worn by the new lad, and made him exert himself vigorously to keep his blood in circulation. So hearty were his efforts that the mixed company of men by whom he was surrounded noted them approvingly; and although to a novice their occasional remarks would have sounded harsh and brutal, he felt mightily cheered by them, for his experienced ear immediately recognized the welcome fact that his abilities were being appreciated at their full value. And when, in answer to the skipper’s order of “Loose thet gaff taupsle,” addressed to no one in particular, he sprang up the main rigging like a monkey and cast off the gaskets, sending down the tack on the right side, and shaking out the sail in a seamanlike fashion, he distinctly heard the skipper remark to the chap at the wheel, “Looks ’sif we’d struck a useful nipper at last, Jake,” the words were350 heady as a drink of whisky. Disdaining the ratlines, he slid down the weather backstays like a flash and dropped lightly on deck, his cheek flushed and his eye sparkling, all his woeful loneliness forgotten in his present joy of finding his services appreciated. But the grinning darky cook just then put his head outside his caboose door and shouted “Brekfuss.” With old habit strong upon him, the boy bounded forrard to fetch the food into the fo’c’sle, but to his bewilderment, and the darky’s boisterous delight, he found that in his new craft quite a different order of things prevailed. Here all hands messed like Christians at one common table in the cabin, waited upon by the cook, and eating the same food; and though they looked rough and piratical enough, all behaved themselves decently—in strong contrast to the foul behaviour our hero had so often witnessed in the grimy fo’c’sles of merchant ships. All this touched him, even though he was so ravenously hungry that his senses seemed merged in the purely physical satisfaction of getting filled with good food. At last, during a lull in the conversation, which, as might be expected, was mostly upon their prospects of striking a good run of cod at an early date, the skipper suddenly looked straight at the boy, and said—
 
“Wut djer say yer name wuz, young feller?”
 
“Tom Burt, sir,” he answered promptly, although he was tempted to say that he hadn’t yet been asked his name at all.
 
“Wall, then, Tom Burt,” replied the skipper, “yew shape ’s well ’s yew’ve begun, and I’m doggoned351 ef yew won’t have no eend of a blame good time. Th’ only kind er critter we kain’t find no sort er use fer in a Banker ’s a loafer. We do all our bummin’ w’en we git ashore, ’n in bad weather; other times everybody’s got ter git up an’ hustle fer all they’re wuth.”
 
Tom looked up with a pleasant smile, feeling quite at his ease among men who could talk to him as if he, too, were a human being and not a homeless cur. He didn’t make any resolves to do his level best—he would do that anyhow—but his heart beat high with satisfaction at his treatment, and he would have kept his end up with any man on board to the utmost ounce of his strength. But meanwhile they had drawn clear of the land, and behind them dropped a curtain of fog hiding it completely from view. To a fresh easterly breeze which had sprung up, the graceful vessel was heading north-east for the Grand Banks, gliding through the long, sullen swell like some great, lithe greyhound, and yet looking up almost in the wind’s eye. In spite of the breeze, the towering banks of fog gradually drew closer and closer around them until they were entirely enveloped therein, as if wrapped in an impenetrable veil which shut out all the world beside. The ancient tin horn emitted its harsh discords, which seemed to rebound from the white wall round about them, and in very deed could only have been heard a ship’s length or so away. And presently, out of the encircling mantle of vapour, there came a roar as of some unimaginable monster wrathfully seeking its prey, the352 strident sounds tearing their way through the dense whiteness with a truly terrific clamour. All hands stood peering anxiously out over the waste for the first sight of the oncoming terror, until, with a rush that made the schooner leap and stagger, a huge, indefinite blackness sped past, its grim mass towering high above the tiny craft. The danger over, muttered comments passed from mouth to mouth as to the careless, reckless fashion in which these leviathans were driven through the thick gloom of those crowded waters in utter disregard of the helpless toilers of the sea. Then, to the intense relief of all hands, the fog began to melt away, and by nightfall all trace of it was gone. In its stead the great blue dome of the heavens, besprinkled with a myriad glittering stars, shut them in; while the keen, eager breeze sent the dancing schooner northward at a great rate to her destined fishing-ground, the huge plateau in the Atlantic, off Newfoundland, that the codfish loves.
 
But it was written that they should never reach the Virgin. The bright, clear weather gave way to a greasy, filmy sky, accompanied by a mournful, sighing wail in the wind that sent a feeling of despondency through the least experienced of the fishermen, and told the more seasoned hands that a day of wrath was fast approaching, better than the most delicately adjusted barometer would have done. When about sixty miles from the Banks the gale burst upon the staunch little craft in all its fury, testing her powers to the utmost as, under a tiny square of canvas in the main rigging, she met and coquetted with the gathering353 immensities of the Atlantic waves. No doubt she would have easily weathered that gale, as she had done so many others, but that at midnight, during its fiercest fury, there came blundering along a huge four-masted sailing-ship running under topsails and foresail that, like some blind and drunken giant staggered out of the gloom and fell upon the gallant little schooner, crushing her into matchwood beneath that ruthless iron stem, and passing on unheeding the awful destruction she had dealt out to the brave little company of men. It was all so sudden that the agony of suspense was mercifully spared them, but out of the weltering vortex which swallowed up the Rufus B. only two persons emerged alive—Tom Burt and Jem the cook. By a miracle they both clung to the same piece of flotsam—one of the “dorys” or flat little boats used by the Bankers to lay out their long lines when on the Banks. Of course she was bottom up, and, but for the lifeline which the forethought of the poor skipper had caused to be secured to the gunwale of every one of his dorys, they could not have kept hold of her for an hour. As it was, before they were able to get her righted in that tumultuous sea, they were almost at their last gasp. But they did succeed in getting her right way up at last, and, crouching low in her flat bottom, they dumbly awaited whatever Fate had in store for them.
 
A mere fragment in the wide waste, they clung desperately to life through the slowly creeping hours while the storm passed away, the sky cleared, and the sea went down. The friendly sun came out in his354 strength and warmed their thin blood. But his beams did more: they revealed at no great distance the shape of a ship that to the benumbed fancies of the two waifs seemed to behave in most erratic fashion. For now she would head toward them, again she would slowly turn as if upon an axis until she presented her stern in their direction, but never for five minutes did she keep the same course. Dimly they wondered what manner of ship she might be, with a sort of impartial curiosity, since they were past the period of st............