Joey accepted the offer, went back for his bundle, and returned to Mrs Chopper in a quarter of an hour; she was then preparing her supper, which Joey was not sorry to partake of; after which she led him into a small room, in which was a small bed without curtains; the room itself was hung round with strings of onions, papers of sweet herbs, and flitches of bacon; the floor was strewed with empty ginger-beer bottles, oakum in bags, and many other articles. Altogether, the smell was anything but agreeable. "Here is poor Peter's bed," said Mrs Chopper; "I changed his sheets the night before he was drowned, poor fellow! Can I trust you to put the candle out?" "Oh, yes; I'll be very careful." "Then, good night, boy. Do you ever say your prayers? poor Peter always did." "Yes, I do," replied Joey; "good night." Mrs Chopper left the room. Joey threw open the window--for he was almost suffocated--undressed himself, put out the light, and, when he had said his prayers, his thoughts naturally reverted to the little Emma who had knelt with him on the road-side. CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. IN WHICH OUR HERO GOES ON DUTY. At five o'clock the next morning Joey was called up by Mrs Chopper; the waterman was in attendance, and, with the aid of Joey, carried down the various articles into the boat. When all was ready, Mrs Chopper and Joey sat down to their breakfast, which consisted of tea, bread and butter, and red herrings; and, as soon as it was finished, they embarked, and the boat shoved off. "Well, Mrs Chopper," said the waterman, "so I perceive you've got a new hand." "Yes," replied Mrs Chopper; "don't you think he's the moral of poor Peter?" "Well, I don't know; but there is a something about the cut of his jib which reminds me of him, now you mention it. Peter was a good boy." "Aye, that he was, and as sharp as a needle. You see," said Mrs Chopper, turning to Joey, "sharp's the word in a bumboat. There's many who pay, and many who don't; some I trust, and some I don't--that is, those who won't pay me old debts. We lose a bit of money at times, but it all comes round in the end; but I lose more by not booking the things taken than in any other way, for sailors do pay when they have the money--that is, if ever they come back again, poor fellows. Now, Peter." "What! is his name Peter, too?" "Yes, I must call him Peter, William; he is so like poor Peter." "Well, that will suit me; I hate learning new names."