The jibs were run up, the courses and topsails shaken out and braced, and the Paramatta began to steal through the water again, for the second portion of her voyage. Mr. Hudson and his friend very soon made their way forward, and the ship was scarcely under way when Reuben, who was gazing over the bulwark at the shore, felt a hand laid on his shoulder.
"How are you today, Reuben? Better, I hope? It was too bad of you to run off in that way, this morning."
"I am all right now, thank you, sir," Reuben answered. "I felt just a little shaky at first, but the captain gave me a cup of cocoa when I came on board, and I feel now as if I were fit for duty again."
"Oh, nonsense," Mr. Hudson exclaimed, "you mustn't think of work, for days yet. No, you must come aft with me. My daughter and Miss Furley are most anxious to see you; and my wife, too, is longing to add her thanks to mine."
"You are very good, sir, but really I would rather not, if you will excuse me. It is horrid being thanked and made a fuss about, just because, on the spur of the moment, one did one's duty."
"That's all very well, Reuben; but you see, it wouldn't be fair to my daughter. If anyone did you a great service, you would want to thank them, would you not?"
"Yes, I suppose so, sir," Reuben answered reluctantly; "but really, I hate it."
"I can understand your feelings, my lad, but you must make up your mind to do it. When anyone puts others under a vast obligation to him, he must submit to be thanked, however much he may shrink from it. Come along, it will not be very dreadful."
Reuben saw that there was no getting out of it, and followed Mr. Hudson along the deck; feeling, however, more ashamed and uncomfortable even than he did when standing in the dock, as a criminal. Captain Wilson walked beside him. Hitherto he had not spoken, but he now laid his hand quietly upon Reuben's shoulder.
"My lad," he said, "I am not a man to talk much; but believe me that, henceforth, I am your friend for life."