"Here I am," said Archie.

"Well, you ought to be somewhere else," said the mate, sharply. "Why don't
you go and draw your rations?"

"I don't know where I should go," answered Archie.

"Then fly around and find out;" and the mate turned on his heel and
walked away.

"Now, that's provoking," exclaimed Archie. "Why couldn't he tell a fellow
where to go? I'll tell that officer that I didn't ship for a cook; I
shipped to fight. I wish I was at home again."

But regrets were worse than useless, and Archie began to look around to
find some one who could tell him where to go to draw his rations. At
length he met one of the men who belonged to his mess, whose name was
Simpson, who told him that he must go to the paymaster's store-room, and
offered to show him the way; and, as he saw that Archie was entirely
unacquainted with life on shipboard, Simpson told him to come to him
whenever he wanted any advice.

As Archie entered the store-room, the paymaster's steward, a boy about his
own age, who was serving out the provisions, after inquiring the number of
his mess, said:

"It's lucky that you came in just as you did, for I have sent the
master-at-arms after you. If you don't attend to your business better than
this, I shall have you put on the black-list for a week or two."