on the Mister, just to show the Old Man he knew his place. The master
noted that; also, the slurring of the sir as only a sailor can slur
it.

"I shouldn't wonder if you'd do," he remarked as Matt passed him on
his way to the forecastle for his dunnage.

On his way back he carried his bag over his shoulder and his framed
license in his left hand. Two savages were following with his sea
chest.

I do declare!" the skipper cried. "If that lubberly boy hasn't got
some sort of a ticket! Let me see it, Mr. Peasley." And he snatched
it out of his grasp.

"So, you're a first mate of sail, for any ocean and any tonnage, eh?"
he said presently. "Are you sure this ticket doesn't belong to your
father?"

"Sir," declared the exasperated Matt, "I never asked you for this job
of third mate; and if I've got to stomach your insults to hold it down
I don't want it. That's my ticket and I'm fully capable of living up
to it."

"I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Peasley, because if you're not I'll be the
first one to find it out--and don't you forget it! I'll have no
marine impostors aboard my ship. Where do they ship little boys
before the mast, Mr. Peasley?"

"On the Grand Banks, sir."