"What do I look like?" he inquired anxiously, as he finished.
"Six foot an' a half o' misery," piped the shrill voice of Billy
promptly, as he thrust his head in at the fo'c'sle. "You can't go to
church in those clothes."
"Well, they'll do for the ship, but you can't go ashore in 'em," said
Joe, as he edged towards the ladder, and suddenly sprang up a step or
two to let fly at the boy, "The old man wants to see you; be careful
what you say to him."
With a very unsuccessful attempt to appear unconscious of the figure he
cut, Smith went up on deck for the interview.
"We can't do anything until we get to London," said the skipper, as he
made copious notes of Smith's adventures. "As soon as we get there, I'll
lend you the money to telegraph to your friends to tell 'em you're safe
and to send you some clothes, and of course you'll have free board and
lodging till it comes, and I'll write out an account of it for the
newspapers."
"You're very good," said Smith blankly.
"And I don't know what you are," said the skipper, interrogatively; "but
you ought to go in for swimming as a profession--six hours' swimming
about like that is wonderful."
"You don't know what you can do till you have to," said Smith modestly,
as he backed slowly away; "but I never want to see the water again as
long as I live.
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