position as the Vulcan of such an undertaking as he was then engaged
in. "You'll find him not a bad feller if you only don't cross him."
He added, with a wink, "His only fault is that he's given to spoilin'
good victuals, being raither floored by sea-sickness if it comes on
to blow ever so little."

"Hold your clapper, lad," said the smith, who was at the moment
busily engaged with a mess of salt pork, and potatoes to match.
"Who's your friend?"

"No friend of mine, though I hope he'll be one soon," answered the
steward. "Mr. Stevenson told me to introduce him to you as your
assistant."

The smith looked up quickly, and scanned our hero with some interest;
then, extending his great hard hand across the table, he said,
"Welcome, messmate; sit down, I've only just begun."

Ruby grasped the hand with his own, which, if not so large, was quite
as powerful, and shook the smith's right arm in a way that called
forth from that rough-looking individual a smile of approbation.

"You've not had breakfast, lad?"

"No, not yet," said Ruby, sitting down opposite his comrade.

"An' the smell here don't upset your stummick, I hope?"

The smith said this rather anxiously.