“You said yourself we might have to weigh out our food with a bullet like Admiral Bligh, next week.”

“He must have had something, or he couldn’t have weighed it,” retorted Fred; “and how do we know if they’ll ever give us anything to eat on board this ship?”

“I dare say we can buy food at first, till they find us something to do for our meals,” said I.

“How much money is there left?” asked Fred.

I put my hand into my pocket for the canvas bag—­but it was gone!

There could be little doubt that the bad boy had picked my pocket at the gate, but I had a sense of guiltiness about it, for most of the money was Fred’s.  This catastrophe completely overwhelmed him, and he cried and grumbled till I was nearly at my wits’ end.  I could not stop him, though heavy steps were coming quite close to us.

“Sh! sh!” muttered I, “if you go on like that they’ll certainly find us, and then we shall have managed all this for nothing, and might as well have gone back with old Rowe.”

“Which wind and weather permitting, young gentlemen, you will,” said a voice just above us, though we did not hear it.

“I wish we could,” sobbed Fred, “only there’s no money now.  But I’m going to get out of this beastly hole any way.”

“You’re a nice fellow to tell me about your grandfather,” said I, in desperate exasperation; “I don’t believe you’ve the pluck for a common sailor, let alone a Great Discoverer.”

“You’ve hit the right nail on the head there, Master Charles,” said the voice.

“Fiddlesticks about my grandfather!” said Fred.

In the practical experiences of the last three days my faith in Fred’s tales had more than once been rather rudely shaken; but the contemptuous tone in which he disposed of our model, the Great Sea Captain, startled me so severely that I do not think I felt any additional shock of astonishment when strong hands lifted the tarpaulin from our heads, and—­grave amid several grinning faces—­we saw the bargemaster.

How he reproached us, and how Fred begged him to take us home, and how I besought him to let us go to sea, it would be tedious to relate.  I have no doubt now that he never swerved from his intention of taking us back, but he preferred to do it by fair means if possible.  So he fubbed me off, and took us round the docks to amuse us, and talked of dinner in a way that went to Fred’s heart.

But when I found that we were approaching the gates once more, I stopped dead short.  As we went about the docks I had replied to the barge-master’s remarks as well as I could, but I had never ceased thinking of the desire of my heart, and I resolved to make one passionate appeal to his pity.

“Mr. Rowe,” I said, in a choking voice, “please don’t take me home!  I would give anything in the world to go to sea.  Why shouldn’t I be a sailor when I want to?  Take Fred home if he wants to go, and tell them that I’m all right, and mean to do my duty and come back a credit to them.”