He's Misther Gray-ham, sorr; jist come down to jine the Silver Quane, sorr, as foorst-class apprentice," replied the boatswain with a sly wink to the other, which I was quick enough to catch.

Adding in a stage whisper, which I also could not help overhearing: "An' it's foorst-class he is entoirely--a raal broth av a bhoy, sure." "Indeed," said Mr Mackay, smiling at the Irishman's irony at my expense, in return no doubt for my whimsical assumption of dignity when telling him who I was.

"I suppose he's come to fill the place of young Rawlings, who, you may remember, cut and run from us at Singapore on our last voyage out ?" "I s'pose so, sorr," rejoined Tim laconically.
"I'm very happy, I am sure, to see you on board and make your acquaintance," said the pleasant-faced young officer, turning to me in a nice cordial way that increased the liking I had already taken to him at first sight.

"Have you got your traps with you all right, Mr Graham ?" "My father sent on my sea-chest containing all my clothes and things last night by the goods train from our place, addressed to the brokers in Leadenhall Street, as they directed, sir; so I hope it will arrive in time," I replied, quite proud of a grown-up fellow like Mr Mackay addressing me as "Mister." "You needn't be alarmed about its safety, then, I suppose," observed he jokingly.

But, of course, although he might have thought so from my manner, I had really no fears respecting the fate of my chest, and of its being forthcoming when I wanted it.