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Now Frank, being a boy of keen observation, felt a great dislike to this man at once, but something told him to be careful, and so he answered politely, “Frank Brown, sir. I’m an apprentice.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” sneered the man. “Well, I’m your captain, I’ll make a sailor of you, but if I catch you skulking or coming any of your school games here I’ll make you wish you’d never been born. Now get on with your work.”

And turning to the pilot, who stood looking gravely on, the captain said, “Nothin’ like puttin’ these youngsters in their place at the first go off, is there, pilot?”

“No, I suppose there isn’t, Captain Swainson,” replied the pilot, and then checked himself suddenly as if he intended to say more, but felt it best not to do so.

Undoubtedly Frank began to feel that things were not at all up to his expectations. He did not realise how vague those expectations were, but they had all been of a high order, and didn’t embrace a coarse bully of a mate and a red-nosed skipper who smelt very strongly of stale drink, and who began to threaten at the first interview. However, he did the best thing he could, went on with his coiling up of ropes, and descended from the poop as quickly as possible.