“Get out of my way and get to work,” said a hard-looking, burly fellow, jostling me as he said it. He was an American of almost repulsive countenance, and a man for whom then and there I conceived a strong dislike. Well, I couldn’t work, for I didn’t know how to, and I noticed that all the greenies seemed stupid, like myself, and were at a loss what to do. The old sailors were handling the ship, and in a couple of hours we reached the offing, the pilot boat came up, and my good friend, the shipkeeper, shook me by the hand, and he and the pilot stepped aboard the little craft and were soon far astern. On our port were the islands, on one of which Gosnold made a temporary settlement eighteen years before the _Mayflower_ anchored in Provincetown Harbor. While the islands bear the name of Gosnold’s Queen, their individual Indian names are still retained, and furnish a curious and interesting rhyme: Naushon, Nonamesset, Onkatonka and Wepecket, Nashawena, Pasquinese, Cuttyhunk and Penikese. CHAPTER II AT SEA When we were well out at sea the vessel began to pitch and roll so that I found it difficult to keep on my feet. I would find myself in the lee scuppers only to be thrown back again like a piece of rubber. I noticed how the old sailors tipped their bodies to avoid disaster, and I tried to get my sea legs on and partially succeeded. Even then I slid at times, and at last I got hold of a pin and held on. The man who had come to my help in the boat, when the sailors were making fun of me, came up and said: “You greenies are not much use until you have learned the ropes. We don’t look to you at all the first day out. Now, boy, let me tell you that the chances are you are going to get sick before long, and, if you go down into the close, stuffy forecastle, you’ll be a great deal worse. I’m the first mate, and there’s no objection to your sleeping on deck the first night out. If you do, you may sleep off the sickness and be all right in the morning.”