At this, the first word of kindly sympathy the poor boy had heard since his mother died, he hid his face in her lap, and sobbed aloud. Sally flung her apron over his head, and patted him, and in a few moments, worn out with all he had passed through that day, he fell asleep. As they had but two bedsteads in the house, one in the corner of the kitchen, where Ben and his wife slept, and the other a spare bed in the front room, which was partly filled with shingles and staves, and was parlor, bedroom, and workshop, Sally had made a bed for him in the garret, and Ben, taking him carefully in his arms, carried him up and placed him on it.
“It’s my opinion, Ben,” said John, “that is a good boy, and that it will be a good thing for you and him both that he has fallen in here; that boy never was brought up on a dunghill, I know; he’s smart, too. Did you see how handy he takes hold of an oar? Why, he can dress a fish as quick as I can.”
“I took him at first,” replied Ben, “for one of these Liverpool wharf-rats, that are rotten before they are ripe; but his story holds together well, and he tells it right; he don’t make out that he belongs to some great family, or call upon God Almighty, as such ones generally do when they are going to tell some great lie.”
“He looks you right in the face, too,” said John; “I like that; yes, and then he didn’t begin to pour out blessings on your head; perhaps he’ll show his gratitude in some other way.”
Sally had made a piece of nice fulled cloth that summer, and from it she soon made Charlie breeches and a long jacket. She also made him a shirt from some cloth, part linen and part woollen; and as the weather was coming cool, and she had no time to knit a pair of stockings, she made him a pair from some of Ben’s old ones. She then cut his hair, and knit him a pair of mittens, and Ben made him a pair of shoes.
He almost worshipped Sally, calling her mother, and being every moment on the watch to oblige her, and anticipate her wishes. But in respect to Ben, he seemed timid, always calling him Mr. Rhines, or captain, and starting nervously oftentimes when he spoke to him. He evidently could not forget the terrible impression made upon his mind when he supposed Ben would kill him.
Sally felt grieved at this, and she saw that it worried her husband.
One evening, when he patted him on the head, and praised him for something that he had done that day, Sally made a sign to Ben that he should take the boy on his knee, which he did, when Charlie put his arms around his neck (that is, as far as they would reach), and ever after that called him father.
When John came to bring the net home, Charles met him at the shore.
“Good morning, Captain Strout!”