Archie accordingly picked up his dishes, and started—­he knew not whither, for he had no idea to which part of the vessel he should go in order to find the berth-deck.  But he had often boasted that he would have no difficulty in getting along in the world while he had a tongue in his head; so he made inquiries of the first man he met, who told him to go up to the captain, who was always ready to send the executive officer to show landlubbers over the ship.  If there was any joke in this, Archie was too angry to notice it, and he was about to make a suitable rejoinder, when a voice close behind him said: 

“Now, shipmate, what’s the use of being so hard on the boy?”

Archie turned, and found Simpson at his side.

“The youngster hain’t been to sea as long as you and I have,” continued the latter.  “If we were ashore, he would stand a better chance of gettin’ along than you nor me.”

“Then, shiver his tim’ers, why didn’t he stay ashore, where he belongs?” asked the man, gruffly.

“Oh, he’s got the right stuff in him, and will soon learn the ropes,” answered Simpson.  “Come, now, my little marlinspike,” he continued, turning to Archie, “follow in my wake, and I’ll show you where our mess-chest is;” and the kind-hearted sailor led the way to the berth-deck, and showed Archie the mess-chest, which had “No. 25” painted on it.  Archie put all his dishes into it, with the exception of the mess-kettle and two plates, which, according to Simpson’s directions, he took back to the store-room, to put his rations in.  The steward then gave him a large piece of salt beef, some coffee, sugar, butter, and sea-biscuit.

“Is this all we have to eat?” inquired Archie, as he picked up his rations and followed Simpson back to his mess-chest.

“All!” repeated Simpson; “yes, my hearty, and you may thank your lucky stars that you have got even this.  You’ll have to live on worse grub nor this afore your year is out.  But I see you don’t like the berth of cook, so I’ll take it off your hands.  Give me the key of the chist.”

Archie accordingly handed it over, and then went in search of his cousin, whom he found perched upon a coil of rope, engaged in writing a letter.

“Well,” exclaimed the latter, as Archie came up, “how do you get along?”

“I don’t get along at all,” said Archie; “I tell you, we’ve got ourselves in a fix.  What do you suppose we are going to have for dinner?”

“I don’t know,” answered Frank.  “Well, we will have a chunk of salt beef, coffee without any milk, butter strong enough to go alone, and crackers so hard that you couldn’t break them with an ax.  I tell you, the navy is played out.”

“Well, it can’t be helped,” said his cousin.  “We are in for it.  But we’ll soon get accustomed to the food; we are seeing the worst of our year now.”

“I certainly hope so,” said Archie; “but I know I can stand it if any one else can; and when I fairly get started, I won’t ask favors of any one.”