ed the mate angrily; and as Steve
reached the top he paused to rest a moment, and looked down to see that
the cook had come out of the galley and presented himself before his
officers.

"Here!" cried the mate, "take this boy, cook, and set him to peel
potatoes and scour your pots. He'll never make a sailor."

"Na," whimpered the lad, "I didna come to sea to peel potatoes. My
mither said--"

Steve did not hear what Watty's "mither" had said, for the cook made a
rush at him, caught him by the scruff of the neck, and ran him into the
galley, closely followed by Skene-dhu, the dog, snapping and barking at
their heels in a way which hastened Watty's pace and stopped all
resistance.

Half laughing, half pitying the boy, but with a blending of contempt,
Steve resumed his climb, till, looking up, he found the Norwegian sailor
just above him.

"So you've come, eh, my lad?" he said in perfect English.

"Yes, I've come."

"Don't you feel scared?"

"No, not yet. I say, what's your name?"

"Johannes, sir. Well, are you going to help me?"

"Yes, if you show me what to do."

"Hand me the rails, my lad, one by one, shortest first, while I lash
them across from side to side."

"But what for?"

"What for, my lad? So that we can get into the crow's-nest when she's
hauled right up and made fast yonder."

"But why won't the ratlines do?"

"Because they wouldn't be handy, my lad. There, you'll soon see. Get
the shortest one ready," he continued, as he opened his big Norwegian
knife by pressing on a spring at the side, and holding it upside down,
when the long keen blade which lay in the handle dropped out to its full
length, and the removal of the thumb from the spring fixed it in its
place.

Then the man climbed a little higher up the shrouds, so that he could
reach to where they came to an end on the main topgallant mast, about
one-fourth of its length below the truck and halyards, thrust one leg
through between the ratlines, so as to twist it round and get a good
hold, leaving his hands free; and Steve at once followed his example,
and then loosened the shortest lath-like piece of wood. This done, and
the piece held ready, he had time to look about him, while the sailor
untwisted some of his stout tarred twine and cut it into short lengths
ready for use.

Steve's first look was, naturally enough, down at the deck, which now
seemed to be at a terrible depth below him, looking quite a hundred
feet, though it