And behind him lay the odious city of New York, with its great bridge
and high buildings, and before him the open sea. The chief engineer
crawled up from the engine-room and came towards him, rubbing the
perspiration from his face with a dirty towel.

"Good-morning," he called out. "You are feeling pretty well?"

"Yes."

"It is Christmas day. Do you know where you are going? You are going to
Italy, to Genoa. It is over there," he said, pointing with his finger.
"Go back to your bed and keep warm."

He picked Guido up in his arms, and ran with him down the companion-way,
and tossed him back into his berth. Then he pointed to the shelf at one
end of the little room, above the sheet-iron stove. The plaster figure
that Guido had wrapped in his breast had been put there and lashed to
its place.

"That will bring us good luck and a quick voyage," said the chief
engineer.

Guido lay quite still until the fat engineer had climbed up the
companion-way again and permitted the sunlight to once more enter the
cabin. Then he crawled out of his berth and dropped on his knees, and
raised up his hands to the plaster figure which no one would buy.