"I ax your pardon, captain; my name's Jacob Poole."
"Well, Jacob, you just wait here half an hour, and I shall have
something to say to you when I come back, which may suit us both."
When Captain Merryweather returned he found the boy looking out of the
window at the streams of people going to and from the docks. His head
was resting on his two hands, and it appeared to the captain that he had
been weeping.
"Jacob," he cried, but there was no answer.
"Jacob Poole," again cried the captain, in a louder voice. The other
turned round hastily, his face again flushed and troubled.
"Well, Jacob," said the captain, sitting down, "I suppose you're a
teetotaller, from what I saw and heard to-day."
"Yes, to the back-bone," was the reply.
"Well, so am I. Now will you mind telling me, Jacob, what has brought
you to Liverpool. I am not asking questions just for curiosity, but
I've taken a liking to you, and want to be your friend, for you don't
seem to have many friends here."