“Stan’ from un’er!” Pete Le Maire or “French Pete,” captain of the Dazzler and lord and master of ’Frisco Kid, threw a bundle into the cockpit and came aboard by the starboard rigging.

“Come!  Queeck!” he shouted to the boy who owned the bundle and who now hesitated on the dock.  It was a good fifteen feet to the deck of the sloop, and he could not reach the steel stay by which he must descend.

“Now!  One, two, three!” the Frenchman counted good-naturedly, after the manner of captains when their crews are short-handed.

The boy swung his body into space and gripped the rigging.  A moment later he struck the deck, his hands tingling warmly from the friction.

“Kid, dis is ze new sailor.  I make your acquaintance.”  French Pete smirked and bowed, and stood aside.  “Mistaire Sho Bronson,” he added as an afterthought.

The two boys regarded each other silently for a moment.  They were evidently about the same age, though the stranger looked the heartier and stronger of the two.  ’Frisco Kid put out his hand, and they shook.

“So you ’re thinking of tackling the water, eh?” he said.

Joe Bronson nodded and glanced curiously about him before answering:  “Yes; I think the bay life will suit me for a while, and then, when I ’ve got used to it, I ’m going to sea in the forecastle.”

“In the what?”

“In the forecastle—­the place where the sailors live,” he explained, flushing and feeling doubtful of his pronunciation.

“Oh, the fo’c’sle.  Know anything about going to sea?”

“Yes—­no; that is, except what I ’ve read.”

’Frisco Kid whistled, turned on his heel in a lordly manner, and went into the cabin.

“Going to sea,” he chuckled to himself as he built the fire and set about cooking supper; “in the ‘forecastle,’ too; and thinks he ’ll like it.”

In the meanwhile French Pete was showing the newcomer about the sloop as though he were a guest.  Such affability and charm did he display that ’Frisco Kid, popping his head up through the scuttle to call them to supper, nearly choked in his effort to suppress a grin.

Joe Bronson enjoyed that supper.  The food was rough but good, and the smack of the salt air and the sea-fittings around him gave zest to his appetite.  The cabin was clean and snug, and, though not large, the accommodations surprised him.  Every bit of space was utilized.  The table swung to the centerboard-case on hinges, so that when not in use it actually occupied no room at all.  On either side and partly under the deck were two bunks.  The blankets were rolled back, and the boys sat on the well-scrubbed bunk boards while they ate.  A swinging sea-lamp of brightly polished brass gave them light, which in the daytime could be obtained through the four deadeyes, or small round panes of heavy glass which were fitted into the walls of the cabin.  On one side of the door was the stove and wood-box, on the other the cupboard.  The front end of the cabin was ornamented with a couple of rifles and a shot-gun, while exposed by the rolled-back blankets of French Pete’s bunk was a cartridge-lined belt carrying a brace of revolvers.