So, when the court opened for the admission of the public, Mr. Consett went in with the rest, and happened to stand near the boatman who had come to state the charge against Eric.
"It ain't the first time I have been set to row some young fool round the harbour, and then when it came to paying they had got no money," grumbled the man, as he told one of the crowd how cruelly he had been served.
"Then you mean to make this one pay, if possible?" said his friend.
"I do; I mean this one shall pay for himself and the rest too, if there is any justice to be had in Boston. Two or three hours and more was I rowing agin the tide a-looking for the Osprey. He knowed there was no such ship in port, of course."
"What did you say was the name of the vessel you went in search of?" asked Mr. Consett at this point.
"The Osprey, and the young rascal knew she had left the port a day or two before," answered the man angrily.
Mr. Consett would not enter into an argument about this, but asked what he thought the lad owed him for his boat fare.
The man stated the sum, and to his astonishment the farmer said, "I will pay you at once, if we can find an officer of the court who will take a note of the matter and order the lad's release."
This was done with very little difficulty, and when Eric was fetched, he heard to his surprise that he would not be taken before the justices after all, for the debt had been paid, and so he was free.
The next minute he saw his friend standing near, waiting for him, and knew at once who had paid his debt and obtained his release. But an overwhelming sense of shame and contrition seized him as he recognised Mr. Consett.