“Satisfied! My dear boy, I should have been satisfied if you had done half as well. There’s not a shipmaster in the country but would be proud of much less than you have done.”
“Mr. Bell and your sons are satisfied?”
“Why, to be sure they are. I don’t know what they could be made of, if they are not.”
“Well,” said Arthur, laying both his hands on the captain’s shoulders, “I have brought home in this vessel that which will afford greater satisfaction to Mr. Bell, yourself and family, than all the money I have made this passage. I have brought home Mr. Bell’s father.”
“You must be jesting, or have been deceived. His father has been in his grave for years.”
“No; he was not killed, as was supposed, but carried a prisoner to France. He has told Eaton and Peterson the whole story of his impressment, just as they say Charlie told it; told his son’s age, looks, and the scar on his face. There’s no mistake—can’t be. You’ll say so when you see him.”
“God ‘a mercy! Well, this is news indeed. But you didn’t mention it in your letter.”
“His father didn’t want me to.”
“Where is he?”