The new hand’s sleeping quarters were in the “fo’c’sle,” but he did not sleep much the first night, for everything was strange. So far, the ship was very steady, only giving a roll occasionally. When the boy turned out next morning they were far out to sea and running to the south, the coast-line of New Jersey looming up in the distance on the starboard beam. Dave soon discovered that he was to lead a strenuous existence on board. With only one pair of hands, he was to do all sorts of odd jobs for the cook, help the steward to wait on the captain, who had his meals alone, obey orders from any one who took it into his head to issue commands, and make himself generally useful. He got a good many hints from Barnes when that queer individual was in the mood to be communicative, though Dave had to sort out the hints from a maze of contradictory statements. “It’s a reg’lar dog’s life at sea,” said the cook, while Dave was stirring a mysterious compound in a large basin. Barnes seemed to have a fondness for that expression. “I dunno why kids like you want to come on a ship. An’ yet it’s all right at times, such as when you get ashore. The best part of bein’ at sea is goin’ ashore, I allus says. Didn’t I see you runnin’ your legs off for Oleson this morning?” he demanded ferociously, without the slightest warning. “Who’s Oleson?” Dave asked. He had been performing a variety of duties for so many people. “Oleson is that great, lumbering, Swedish seaman who looks like a one-eyed mule.” Dave recognized the vague description by the fact that one man wore a patch over his left eye. “Yes, he asked me to――” “Never mind what he asked you to do,” the cook snapped. “You’ve got to learn to look after yourself, kid, or nobody on this ship won’t be doin’ nothing soon. You’ll be doing it all. Oleson wants a couple of valets to run about after him, and somebody to carry his breakfast to him in the morning so that he can have it in bed nice and comfortable. Don’t tell him so or he might screw your neck round five times, but I’m just puttin’ you wise, see? Hi, there!” he added quickly, Dave having stopped stirring to listen. “I’ll break every bone in your body if you spoil that puddin’.” Mr. Quick, who was reputed to have eyes in the back of his head, took no notice of the new hand except to give him an occasional sharp order. Dave, being new to ship’s discipline, disliked the chief mate’s manner, but made a mental resolve not to incur that officer’s wrath. The third day out, however, an incident occurred which made a permanent enemy of Mr. Quick.