And so they rested for a few moments looking in each other’s eyes, till Jack’s slowly closed, and he uttered a low groan.
“I hoped it was a dream,” he said, “and all fancy. But tell me now, Phil, boy; is it true?”
“Yes,” said the little fellow, softly, and there was a choking sound in his fresh young voice as he whispered the words in the wounded sailor’s ear: “Yes; Lord Nelson is dead.”
Chapter Eight.
It was about a fortnight after the Victory had returned to port, that a lady in deep mourning came off in a shore boat asking for the captain, but in his absence having to see the first lieutenant instead.
This officer listened to her rather impatiently at first; but after a minute or two he began to take a good deal of interest in the statement she made.
“Oh, yes,” he said, at last; “we have such a boy on board. He came with one of the men who were pressed; but it was just at a time when everyone’s attention was taken up by our sailing. There was some talk of the little fellow having been left an orphan and then being so ill-used that he ran away. Was this so, madam?”
“There is, I am sorry to say, a good deal of truth in it, for though well-meaning, my brother was so stern and harsh that the poor little fellow was afraid of him, and took that very foolish step. It was long enough before I was able to trace him, and found the woman who kept the inn from which he was taken.”