‘We have just come here, and mother does not know any one.’
‘Why did you come here, boy?’
John thought this was a foolish question, but he answered, ‘Father was drowned, and mother couldn’t fish, and she was afraid we should starve in the village; but I am more afraid of it here.’
The gentleman smiled and said, ‘I do not think there is much danger of that.’
But John looked in his face with a serious countenance, and said, ‘People are obliged to starve when they have no money. I asked the shopkeeper for one biscuit for the baby, and he said he would whip me.’
‘The hard-hearted fellow!’ said the stranger to himself; then, looking at his watch, ‘I am hurried now, but bring your mother here this evening.’ As he spoke he rode away; but checking his horse, he called to John, ‘My little lad, have you had your breakfast? Ah! he is gone; I should have thought of that before.’ But happy John was already half way home. As he passed he saw Captain Sam seated before his door, lighting his pipe; and he determined to stop and speak to him. John began to think better of the towns-folk, as he called them; and the thought of having some money in his pocket gave him more confidence, in which our fisherman’s boy resembled people much older and wiser than himself.
When John came near to the captain, his heart began to beat quickly, and he made the best bow that his country education had taught him. It would have been a hard heart that could not feel for him, as he stood with his straw hat in his hand, his brown curling hair setting off his honest countenance, which, young as it was, wore an expression of care. It is sad to see trouble clouding the brow of childhood; but He who sends affliction, will send strength to bear it, if we ask Him. Though John’s father had been dead but a few weeks, he had thought more in that short time than in his whole life before. While he read God’s precious promises to his mother, he learned to pray to that merciful God, and love the kind Saviour.
No doubt it was the Lord’s kindness which turned the heart of the old captain toward the little fatherless boy. No sooner did he see John’s modest bow and serious face than he felt an interest in him.
‘Sit down on the steps, my little man, and tell me your name. I suppose you live in one of these cottages?’
John’s simple story was soon told. When he mentioned his father’s name, the old sailor called to his wife, ‘I say, Sally, come here; this is Richard Leddam’s son: many’s the job your father has done for me, child. Wife, give him something to eat; I suspect the locker at home is empty.’