He turned round in some surprise, and inquired what I wanted with him.
In as few words as I could manage it, I made known my wishes. The only
reply he made me was a laugh; and then turning round, he cried out to
one of the men--
"Here, Waters! Hoist this urchin upon your shoulders, and set him
ashore. Ha! ha! ha!"
Without saying another word, he stepped down the companion ladder, and
disappeared out of my sight.
In the midst of my chagrin, I felt myself lifted in the strong arms of
"Waters," who, after carrying me across the staging-plank, and some
yards over the wharf, deposited me upon the pavement, and thus addressed
me:--
"Now, my little sprat! take Jack Waters's advice, and keep out o'
salt-water as long as you can, else the sharks may get hold on you."
And then, after a pause, during which he seemed to reflect about
something, he inquired--
"And you're a horphin, are ye, my little 'un? Got neyther father nor
mother?"
"Neither," I replied.
"A pity it are! I was once a horphin myself. Well, yer a spunky little
chap to be wantin' to go to sea, and ye deserve somethin' for it. If I
were captain I'd take you along; but ye see I'm only afore the mast, and
kin do nothin' for ye; but I'll be back some day again, and maybe you'll
be bigger then. Here, take this anyhow for a keepsake, and by it you'll
remember me till sometime when you see me in port again, and who knows
but then I may find a berth for you. So good-bye now! Go home again,
like a good boy, and stay there till you've growed a bit."
As the kind-hearted sailor said this, he handed me his knife, and
turning away, walked back on board his ship, leaving me alone upon the
wharf.
Wondering at his unexpected kindness, I stood gazing after him till he
disappeared behind the bulwarks; and then, mechanically putting the
knife in my pocket, I remained for a while without stirring from the
spot.