"Do you belong to her?" he continued. "You have not much the look of a seaman." He was right; for I was still dressed in my mocassins and hunting costume, with my rifle in my hand, and my other worldly property slung about me, so I must have cut rather a curious figure. I replied that I was to have belonged to her, and explained how it had happened that she had sailed without me. By degrees I told him more of my history; and finally, without my intending it, he drew the whole of it from me. "You are a likely lad," he observed, with an approving nod. "The fact is, I sail to-morrow for the Havanah, in the schooner you see out yonder; and if you like to ship on board, you may, that's all." He pointed, as he spoke, to a large square-topsail schooner which lay out in the stream, at a single anchor. She will not take long to get under weigh, I thought, as I looked at her. Eager as I was to reach the Havannah, I jumped at his offer. "I have not been accustomed to a craft like yours," I replied, "but I will do my duty on board her, to the best of my power." "That's all we require; and perhaps, if you find your friend gone, you will like us well enough to remain with us," he observed, with a laugh. "We are constantly on the wing, so you will have no time to get weary of any place where we touch, as is the case in those big ships, which lie in harbour for months together. If you want to become a seaman, go to sea in a small craft, say I." I told him that I did wish to become a seaman; but I did not say that it was for the sake of sailing with Captain Dean, nor did I mention his daughter. Indeed, I had kept her name altogether out of my narrative. The arrangement being concluded, he advised me to go and get a sea-rig, remarking that my present costume was not exactly suited for going aloft in. There were several outfitting shops, such as are to be found in all seaports, and towards one of them of the most inviting appearance I bent my steps. Before going, however, I inquired of my new friend his name, and that of the schooner. "The English and Americans call me John Hawk, and my craft the _Foam_," he answered. "Captain John Hawk, remember. The name is not amiss; so you may use it, for want of a better." "Are you neither an Englishman nor an American?" I asked. "No, youngster, I belong to no nation," he replied; and I observed a deep frown on his brow as he spoke. "Neither Spain, France, Portugal, England, nor even this free and enlightened country, owns me. Are you afraid of sailing with me, in consequence of my telling you this? If you are, you may be off your bargain." "No," I answered, "no; I merely asked for curiosity, and I hope you won't consider me impertinent." "Not if you don't insist on an answer," he replied. "And now go and get your outfit."