"I think you will be better at engineering?" suggested the officer, with a shrewd look.
"No, sir," says Alick simply.—"There's few can beat me at a lie," was his engaging commentary to me as he recounted the affair.
"Have you been to sea?" again asked the captain.
"I've had a trip on a Clyde steamboat, sir, but no more," replied the unabashed Alick.
"Well, we must try and find some work for you," concluded the officer.
And hence we behold Alick, clear of the hot engine-room, lazily scraping paint and now and then taking a pull upon a sheet. "You leave me alone," was his deduction. "When I get talking to a man, I can get round him."
The other stowaway, whom I will call the Devonian—it was noticeable that neither of them told his name—had both been brought up and seen the world in a much smaller way. His father, a confectioner, died and was closely followed by his mother. His sisters had taken, I think, to dress-making. He himself had returned from sea about a year ago and gone to live with his brother, who kept the "George Hotel"—"it was not quite a real hotel," added the candid fellow—"and had a hired man to mind the horses." At first the Devonian was very welcome; but as time went on
