Then he stooped to Mr.Powell's ear--I suppose he imagined he was whispering, but I heard him well enough.
"Looks very respectable." "Certainly," says the shipping-master quite calm and staring all the time at me.

"His name's Powell." "Oh, I see!" says the skipper as if struck all of a heap.

"But is he ready to join at once ?" "I had a sort of vision of my lodgings--in the North of London, too, beyond Dalston, away to the devil--and all my gear scattered about, and my empty sea-chest somewhere in an outhouse the good people I was staying with had at the end of their sooty strip of garden.

I heard the Shipping Master say in the coolest sort of way: "He'll sleep on board to-night." "He had better," says the Captain of the _Ferndale_ very businesslike, as if the whole thing were settled.

I can't say I was dumb for joy as you may suppose.