and got the steward to give him some
food. He then sent him to wash himself.

"I must see about rigging you out," he said. "The clothes you have on
are not fit for the work you will have to do."

Archy felt grateful to old Andrew, and thanked him warmly.

"Don't speak about that, boy," remarked Andrew. "It's not that you
deserve what I may do for you; but you are poor, and helpless, and
wretched, and that's just the state man was in when Christ came down
from heaven to help him; and so I have a notion that it becomes His
disciples, who desire to be like Him, to assist the helpless and
miserable."

The crew generally did not treat Archy as kindly as old Andrew had done.
They attacked him, as soon as he got among them, with all sorts of
questions, laughing and jeering at his folly. No one laughed at him
more than Max Inkster. Archy felt inclined to retort, but he remembered
his promise to Max, and gave him no sign of recognition, he was treated
as one of the ship's boys, and was put to do all sorts of drudgery and
dirty work. Often and often he wished that he had remained at home, to
look after his mother's farm, and help Maggie in attending to her.

Several days passed by--Archy was beginning to find himself at home
among the crew--Max at length spoke to him as if to a stranger.

"We must make a sailor of you, boy, as you have chosen to come to sea,"
he said, when the order had just been given to reef topsails. "Lay out
on the yard with me, and I'll show you what to do."

Archy had several times been aloft, but had never assisted in reefing.
He now followed Max up the rigging. There was a heavy sea running, and
the ship was pitching violently.

"Now, don't be afraid--come out on the yard," said Max. "There--lean
over, and catch hold of those reef points. Cling tight though, with
your knees and elbows, or you will pitch down on deck, and have your
brains dashed out."

Archy did as he was bid. He felt very nervous, though, and was thankful
when he was safe off the yard. It was coming on to blow harder and
harder, and the canvas was still further reduced. Max did not again
invite him to go aloft--none but practised seamen could have ventured on
the yards. At length, all the canvas was taken off the ship, except a
close-reefed main-topsail, when the helm was put down, and she was
hove-to. The wind whistled shrilly through the bare poles and rigging.
It was blowing a perfect hurricane. All around app