We pulled on board in the gig, and Peggy was soon in the arms of her husband. As Pearson embraced her at the gangway—for he could not help it—the first lieutenant very kindly said, “Pearson, I shan’t want you on deck till after dinner: you may go below with your wife.”
“Now, may God bless you, for a cross-looking, kind-hearted gentleman,” said Peggy to the first lieutenant.
Peggy was as good as her word to me; she gave such an account of my courage and presence of mind, of her fears and at last of her getting tipsy—of my remaining at the helm and managing the boat all night by myself, that I obtained great reputation among the ship’s company, and it was all reported to the officers, and worked its way until it came from the first lieutenant to the captain, and from the captain to the port admiral. This is certain, that Peggy Pearson did do me a good service, for I was no longer looked upon as a mere youngster, who had just come to sea, and who had not been tried.
“Well, sir,” said Bob Cross, a day or two afterwards, “it seems, by Peggy Pearson’s report, that you’re not frightened at a trifle.”
“Peg Pearson’s report won’t do me much good.”
“You ought to know better, Master Keene, than to say that; a mouse may help a lion, as the fable says.”
“Where did you learn all your fables, Cross?”
“I’ll tell you; there’s a nice little girl that used to sit on my knee and read her fables to me, and I listened to her because I loved her.”
“And does she do so now?”
“Oh, no; she’s too big for that—she’d blush up to the temples; but never mind the girl or the fables. I told you that Peggy had reported your conduct, as we say in the service. Now do you know, that this very day I heard the first lieutenant speaking of it to the captain, and you’ve no idea how proud the captain looked, although he pretended to care nothing about it; I watched him, and he looked as much as to say, ‘that’s my boy.’”