rst person he encountered was an old man with weather-beaten
features, but a kind expression of countenance, Andrew Scollay by name,
a boat-steerer, who was at that moment about to descend.

"Why, lad, where do you come from?" asked old Andrew, putting his hand
on the boy's shoulder.

"I wanted to come to sea; so I hid myself away," answered Archy. "I
hope I have not done wrong."

"You have not done right, boy, or you would not have needed to hide
yourself away," said Andrew, scanning his features. "I think I have
seen you before. What is your name?"

Archy told him.

"What, widow Hughson's son? Oh, boy, boy, you have acted a cruel part
towards your poor mother. Anyhow, I would we had found you out two days
ago. However, come along with me to the captain--you'll hear what he
has to say."

Andrew led Archy aft, where Captain Irvine was standing, and explained
in a few words what he knew of him. Captain Irvine, looking sternly at
him, inquired how he had managed to conceal himself so long on board?
On that point Archy gave a truthful reply.

"How did you know you could find a place where you could hide yourself?"
asked the captain.

"I have often before been on board whalers, and knew how the casks were
stowed," answered Archy, hoping that he should avoid further questions
which might implicate Max Inkster.

"You are deserving of severe punishment for coming on board without my
leave," said the captain. "I must consider how I shall treat you. If
we fall in with a homeward-bound ship, I shall put you on board. If
not, see how you behave yourself. Had your mother asked me to take you
I would have done so, and you would have come in for a share of profits;
but you have done more wrong to her than you have to me; and though I
might flog you, as you deserve, I shall let your own conscience punish
you. I hope you have got one, which will make you mourn for your fault.
Now go for'ard. You must not eat the bread of idleness, and Mr
Scollay will put you to some work or other. I must speak to you again
about this, and let me see, as you have chosen to come on board, that
you do your best to learn your duty."

Archy's conscience was not aroused. He went forward, well pleased at
having, as he thought, got off so cheaply; yet he did not feel at his
ease. He looked, indeed, very pale and sick, and miserable. Old
Andrew's kind heart was touched, as he remarked his woe-begone
appearance. He took him below,