“And now, madam,” said the first lieutenant, “I presume that your visit means that you have come to claim the boy?”
“Oh, yes,” cried the lady, eagerly. “He is my little nephew, my dear dead brother’s child.”
“Exactly; but he is quite happy and settled down with our men, and I don’t know that we should be justified in giving him up.”
“You don’t mean,” cried the lady, indignantly, “that you would keep him here to become a common sailor?”
“I beg your pardon, madam,” said the officer, stiffly, “but I was not aware that there was anything common about a sailor.”
“Oh, I did not mean that,” said the lady, flushing.
“And what is more, I feel sure that our captain would not allow our little powder monkey—”
“Powder monkey!” cried the lady, aghast.
“Only a sailor’s playful term, madam,” said the lieutenant. “I say our captain would not give up our brave little fellow to go back to a life of ill-treatment.”
“He would come back to no ill-treatment,” cried the lady, with the tears brimming in her eyes. “I love my dead brother’s son. He would be with me, as his father expressly desired in his will. My other brother would have nothing whatever to do with him. Pray, pray let me see the little fellow, and I can prove to you that he would be happy.”