“It was near the close of the American war. The frigate I belonged to was in action with a French seventy-four. I was wounded and flung overboard for dead. The cold water revived me, and I clung to the wreck of our spars, which were shot away. The French vessel won the battle, being a much heavier ship. I was picked up, brought ashore at Toulon, and lay a long time in the hospital, wishing for death; but I recovered, and since then have, though feeble, made a living by my trade. The people here are very kind.”
“What is your name, my friend?”
“Bell—John Bell, sir.”
“Why, that is the name of the man who built this vessel, and is part owner.”
“Indeed, sir, I hope he is a happier man than I am.”
“He is a happy man, and deserves to be, for he tries to make others happy.”
The captain bought a good many articles of the basket-maker, and then sent him forward among the crew, who purchased so largely that there remained but very little to carry away. Peterson bought a work-basket for Captain Rhines’s wife, and Enoch Hadlock another for old Mrs. Yelf.
Walter was away, for, as he could speak French, the captain had sent him to make some purchases for him. Walter, indeed, had plenty of business in this way, being spokesman for all hands.
The captain insisted upon the basket-maker stopping to supper; but something in his appearance prevented him from offering him money as a gift,—he felt it might wound his feelings,—but he gave him a cordial invitation to come on board and eat or sleep, whenever his business led him in that direction. The next night, when Walter went over to see Ned, he mentioned the circumstance of the basket-maker’s coming on board, showed him his purchases, and told him he was an Englishman, and that his name was Bell. This excited Walter’s curiosity. He inquired further about it, and Ned, who had been deeply touched by the man’s pitiful story, repeated the whole conversation between him and the captain, word for word. When he concluded, Walter sat for a few moments, with his hands clasped over his knees, as though striving to recall something.
At length he said, “Ned Gates, as sure as you are lying on that bed, the basket-maker is our Charlie Bell’s father.”