Time reconciles a man to almost anything. In the course of time Martin
Rattler became reconciled to his fate, and went about the ordinary duties
of a cabin-boy on board the _Firefly_ just as if he had been appointed to
that office in the ordinary way,--with the consent of the owners and by
the advice of his friends. The captain, Skinflint by name, and as surly
an old fellow as ever walked a quarter-deck, agreed to pay him wages "if
he behaved well." The steward, under whose immediate authority he was
placed, turned out to be a hearty, good-natured young fellow, and was
very kind to him. But Martin's great friend was Barney O'Flannagan, the
cook, with whom he spent many an hour in the night watches, talking over
plans, and prospects, and retrospects, and foreign lands.

As Martin had no clothes except those on his back, which fortunately
happened to be new and good, Barney gave him a couple of blue striped
shirts, and made him a jacket, pantaloons, and slippers of canvas; and,
what was of much greater importance, taught him how to make and mend the
same for himself.

"Ye see, Martin, lad," he said, while thus employed one day, many weeks
after leaving port, "it's a great thing, intirely, to be able to help
yerself. For my part, I niver travel without my work-box in my pocket."

"Your work-box!" said Martin, laughing.

"Jist so. An' it consists of wan sail-maker's needle, a ball o' twine,
and a clasp-knife. Set me down with these before a roll o' canvas and
I'll make you a'most anything."

"You seem to have a turn for everything, Barney," said Martin. "How came
you to be a cook?"