nd that their
parents would willingly pay him for any trouble he might take on their
behalf.

"I'll keep 'em on board and make 'em work their passage," he said to his
mate, a mean chap by the name of Slog. "We are rather short of hands."

A night's rest did wonders for the boys.

By morning the storm cleared off, and the _Golden Cross_ proceeded
swiftly on her way, favored by a good breeze.

Mont found himself in the ill-smelling forecastle. He was awfully
hungry, and the first thing he did was to make his way to the cook's
galley. The cook smiled as Mont appeared. "Got around, eh?" he said.
"Good for you. I thought you would be sick for the rest of the trip
after such an adventure."

"I am pretty tough," answered Mont.

"You look a bit like a sailor."

"Oh, I know a thing or two about the water," replied Mont modestly.
"But tell me," he went on, "what sort of a captain have you?"

"Oh, he's a caution, and so is Slog, the first mate," laughed the cook.
"The captain is the toughest man this line of ships ever had."

"Humph! That's not encouraging," mused our hero. "Why do the owners keep
him?"

"Because he's clever. He may be out in all weather, but he's never lost
a ship."

"This seems like an old tub," observed Mont, looking around him.

"Yes, she isn't worth much. She pitches and tosses in a gale awful. It's
the oldest ship the firm's got."

"Is it insured?"

"Yes. I know the insurance is very heavy, and it wouldn't be a bad job
for the owners if she went down," replied the cook.

"Bad job for us, though," remarked Mont. "I don't want to be drowned."

"Have you had any breakfast?" asked the cook good-naturedly.

"Not a bit."

"I don't expect the regular hands will give you a chance of getting
much. There's Sam Holly and Jerry Dabble. One's a bully and the other's
a sneak."

"I haven't seen them yet."

"Fight shy of both of them. They're no good. They'll make you and your
chums do all the work, now you've come on board."

"I'll bet a dollar they won't get a stroke of work out of me," returned
Mont decidedly.

"You will?"

"Yes."

"Well, you're a plucky lad," exclaimed the cook admiringly, "and from
your size and looks I should think you could box."

"Just a little bit," answered Mont smilingly.

"The captain favors Jerry Dabble, and listens to all he says. He's a
regular sneak. You look out for him."

"I will."

"Will you have a bit of breakfast along with me? I can give you a nic