"No; who is he?"
"Who is he? you ignorant crokidile! why, he 's the capting of the Great Eastern, the commander o' the Big Ship, the Great Mogul o' the quarter-deck, the king o' the expedition. But, of course, you 'aven't bin introdooced to him. He don't associate much with small fry like us—more 's the pity, for it might do 'im good. But come, I 'll take you under my wing for the present, because your partikler owner, Ebbysneezer Smith, ain't come aboard yet—ashore dissipatin', I suppose,—an' everybody 's so busy gettin' ready to start that nobody will care to be bothered with you, so come along."
There was some truth in this eccentric youths' remarks, for in the bustle of preparation for an early start every one on board seemed to be so thoroughly engrossed with his own duty that he had no time to attend to anything else, and Robin had begun to experience, in the absence of his "partikler owner," an uneasy sensation of being very much in people's way. As he felt strangely attracted by the off-hand good-humoured impudence of his new friend, he consented to follow him, and was led to a small apartment, somewhere in the depths of the mighty ship, in which several youths, not unlike Slagg, were romping. They had, indeed, duties to perform like the rest, but the moment chanced to be with
