“What is your name?” asked Mollie, when the arrangements for the night were completed.

“Noddy Newman.”

“Noddy?  What a queer name!  That isn’t your real name ­is it?”

“Yes, I never knew any other.”

Mollie was certainly a very pleasing young lady, and Noddy had become quite interested in her, as we always are in those to whom we are so fortunate as to render needed assistance.  She had a pretty face, and her curly hair might have challenged the envy of many a fair damsel who was wicked enough to cherish such a feeling.  There was nothing rough or coarse about her, and one would hardly have expected to find so lady-like a person in such a situation in life.

We make this statement in apology for the interest which Noddy took in the little maiden.  The service he had rendered her was quite sufficient to create a kindly feeling towards her; and then she was so pretty, so modest, and so gentle, that his sympathy grew into admiration before she went to her little state-room.  Mollie asked him a great many questions about his past life, and Noddy told her all he knew about himself ­about Bertha, Fanny, and others at Woodville.  He did not tell her about the affair of the boat-house, though he determined to do so at some future time, if he had the opportunity.

In return for all this information, Mollie told him that the schooner in which they then were was called the Roebuck; that she belonged to her father, and that they were bound to the Sandwich Islands, where the vessel was to run as a packet between certain islands, whose names she had forgotten.  Captain McClintock belonged in the State of Maine, where Mollie’s mother had died two years before.  Her father had some property, and learning that there was a good chance to improve his fortunes at the Sandwich Islands, he had built the Roebuck for this purpose.

As these distant islands were to be his future home, he was to take his only child with him, and he had fitted up a state-room in the cabin, next to his own for her special use.  Mollie told Noddy how much pleased she was with all the arrangements, and how happy she had been on the passage to Boston, where the Roebuck was to pick up an assorted cargo for the port of her destination.  Then she wept when she thought of the terrible scenes through which she had just passed in the streets.  She said her father did not often drink too much; that he was the very best father in the whole world; and she hoped he never would get intoxicated again as long as he lived.

Noddy hoped so too; and when the little maiden had finished her story, he thought she was almost equal to Miss Bertha; and he could not think of such a thing as parting with her in the morning, again to buffet the waves of disappointment on shore.

“Does your father want a boy on board of the vessel?” asked he.

“I don’t know.  Do you want to go with us?” said Mollie, with a smile which spoke the pleasure the thought afforded her.

“I should like to go with you first-rate,” replied Noddy.  “I want to do something, and earn some money for myself.  I want to work.”

“Then you shall go with us!” exclaimed Mollie.  “Out where we are going is a nice place to get rich.  My father is going to get rich out there, and then we are coming home again.”

Poor child!  She knew not what the future had in store for them.

The bells of the city rang for nine o’clock, and Mollie said she went to bed at this time.

“Can you read, Noddy?” asked she.

“Yes, some.”

“I always read my Testament before I go to bed; I promised my mother, years ago, that I would; and I like to do it, too.  I suppose you read your Testament every night ­don’t you?”

“Sometimes; that is, I did once,” replied Noddy, in some confusion, for he could not help recalling the teachings of Bertha on this subject.

“Well, we will read it together.  You would like to ­wouldn’t you?”

“Yes; I don’t care if I do.”

There was a want of enthusiasm on his part which was rather painful to the little maiden; but she got the Testament, and when she had read a few verses aloud, she passed the book to Noddy, who stumbled through his portion, and she then finished the chapter.  She bade him good night, and retired to her state-room, leaving her new-made friend to meditate upon the singular events of the evening.

He did not meditate a great while ­he never did.  His thoughts were disposed to stray from one subject to another; and from the little maiden, he found himself wondering whether Mr. Grant had finished searching for him in Albany, and whether Miss Fanny had “let the cat out of the bag” yet.  Noddy was too tired and sleepy to think a great while about anything; and he turned into his berth, and went to sleep.

Early in the morning Noddy was on his feet.  He went on deck, and found that the Roebuck was a beautiful vessel, almost handsome enough to be a gentleman’s yacht.  He went upon the wharf, where he could obtain a fair view of her bow, and he was sure she would make good time with a fair breeze.  When he had satisfied himself with the examination, he was more than ever inclined to go out in her.

When he went down into the cabin again, Mollie was there, setting the table for breakfast.  She looked as fair and as fresh as a country maiden.  She gave him a very friendly greeting.

“Do you do these things, Mollie?” asked he.

“O, yes; I always work, and do what I can.  I like to do something.”

“How old are you, Mollie?”

“Eleven last May.”

“But you can’t do this work when you are out at sea.”

“O, yes, I can.”

“You will be seasick.”

“I never was sick, and I have been to sea a great deal with my father.”

“How is the captain this morning?”

“I don’t know; I haven’t seen him yet,” replied she, looking very sad, as she thought of her kind father’s infirmity.

Captain McClintock soon came out of his state-room.  He looked pale and haggard, and seemed to be thoroughly ashamed of himself for what he had done the evening before, as he ought to have been.  Mollie sprang to him, as he stepped out of his room, and kissed him as lovingly as though he had never done a wrong thing in his life.  He glanced at Noddy, as he entered the main cabin, and with a look of astonishment, as though his connection with the events of the previous evening were a blank to him.

The captain did not say a word to Noddy, which made the boy feel as though he was an intruder in the cabin; and when he had the opportunity, he went on deck, leaving Mollie to say whatever the circumstances required in explanation of his presence.

“I will never do it again, Mollie,” said the fond father, as he kissed his daughter.  “I am very sorry, and you must forgive me, my child.”

He was a penitent man, and felt how great was the wrong he had done the poor child.  He had taken her out to walk, and to see the sights of the city, and had become intoxicated.  He remembered the whole scene, when the boys had chased him; and to Mollie, whom he loved with all his heart, he was willing to own his fault, and to make her happy by promising never to do the wrong again.

Mollie then told him about her conversation with Noddy, and of the boy’s desire to go to sea with them.  Captain McClintock remembered in part what the boy had done for them; and Mollie supplied what he had not seen, or had forgotten.

“Why, yes; we want a cabin-boy.  I should have shipped one at home, if I could have found the right one,” replied the captain.  “You say he is a good boy?”

“I know he is.  He wants to work.”

“Does he know anything about a vessel?  I want one who can go aloft, and shake out the top-gallant sail.”

“He is used to boats and the water.”

“Well, we will see what he is good for, after breakfast.”

“I hope you will take him, for we have become fast friends.”

“If he is good for anything, I will, Mollie.  Call him down.  Here comes the doctor with the grub.”

The “doctor” was the black cook of the Roebuck, who was now descending the companion-way with the morning meal.  Noddy was called, and Captain McClintock spoke very kindly to him.  He inquired particularly into his knowledge of vessels, and wanted to know whether he would be afraid to go aloft.  Noddy smiled, and thought he should not be afraid.  He ate his breakfast with a boy’s appetite, and then the captain took him on deck.

“Do you see that fore-top-gallant yard?” asked the captain.

“Yes, sir, I see it,” replied Noddy, who had been thoroughly instructed in these matters by the old man-of-war’s-man of Woodville, though he had no practical experience in seamanship, even on as large a scale as a topsail schooner, which was the rig of the Roebuck.

“Well, my boy, that’s a pretty high place.  Should you dare to go up there?”

“I think I should,” answered Noddy.

“Let me see you do it.”

“Now?”

“Yes.  I want to see what you are good for.  If we can’t make a sailor of you, it won’t be worth while to take you out to the Pacific.  Let me see how long it will take you to run up to that fore-top-gallant yard.”

Noddy started.  Captain McClintock was evidently satisfied that it would make the boy dizzy; and that, perhaps, if he had to do this kind of work, he would not care to make a voyage.  Mollie stood by her father’s side, deeply interested in the experiment, and fearful that her heroic friend would fail to meet her father’s expectations, thus depriving her of a pleasant companion on her long voyage.

The candidate for a position on the Roebuck skipped lightly forward to the fore-shrouds of the vessel, ran up, as chipper as a monkey, to the mast head, then up the fore-topmast rigging to the yard.  Planting his feet in the foot-ropes, he danced out to the port yard-arm.  At this point he astonished the spectators below by performing certain feats which he had seen at the Great Olympian Circus.  Descending from the yard, he grasped the main-topmast stay, and ran over upon it to the main-topmast, and then made his way to the deck by the main-topmast back-stay.

“You’ll do, my boy!” said the captain, emphatically.  “You will make a smart sailor.”

“Am I to go with you, sir?” asked Noddy.

“Yes, if you like.”

“What will you give me?”

This was a more difficult question; but the captain finally agreed to give him eight dollars a month, and to advance money enough to buy him an outfit.  Mollie actually danced about the deck with joy when the terms were arranged, and it was certain that Noddy was to go on the voyage.

The boy’s work had been carefully stated by the captain.  He was to take care of the cabin, wait upon the captain and his daughter at table, and do duty forward when required.  He was to have a berth in the cabin, and was not to be in either watch, unless the vessel became short-handed.

“Now we shall be happy!” exclaimed Mollie, who had already formed many plans for the long and lonely cruise.

“I think we shall.  Do you know when we sail, Mollie?”

“Perhaps to-day; perhaps not till to-morrow.”

“I want to write a letter to Miss Bertha before we go.”

“That’s right, Noddy; never forget your friends.  I will give you pen, ink, and paper, by and by.”

In the forenoon Captain McClintock took the young sailor ashore, and purchased for him a supply of clothing.  Noddy always dressed like a sailor at Woodville.  This was Ben’s idea, and it was quite proper, as his work was in the boats.  His new garments were not strange to him, therefore, though they were much coarser than those he wore.

After dinner the captain went on shore alone to do his business, and Noddy wrote his letter.  About five o’clock he returned, and poor Mollie was dreadfully grieved to find that he was partially intoxicated.  He immediately gave the order to get under way, and went down into the cabin, leaving the mate to haul the vessel out of the dock.

Noddy made himself as useful as possible, and in a short time the Roebuck was clear of the wharf.  The captain came on deck again, when the jib was hoisted, and the sails began to draw.  The voyage had actually commenced, and Noddy did not believe that Mr. Grant and the constables would be able to catch him.