“And they would be out of harm’s way,” mused my aunt.
“We’ll have strict discipline, Miss. They must not leave the ship without my permission.”
“There would be no objection to your having the boys, I suppose?”
“I know the old admiral well, Miss; sailed with him for five long years, and blew the Russians about a bit. No, I went straight to him before I wrote to you.”
“And what did he say?”
“‘Do what you please with the old Thunderbolt,’ he said, ‘only don’t set her on fire.’ These are his words, Miss.”
“Well, then, Mr Moore, I think you may consider the matter as settled. The boys will not be far away, they will be under control and discipline, they will know something beforehand about ships, and they can come home, I suppose, now and then to go to church on a Sunday?”
“Oh yes, Miss, and I’m sure my wife and I will be delighted if you and dear Mattie will come and see us all regularly. We’ll always call these our red-letter days.”
Auntie smiled and promised. There is no doubt about it. Mr Bill Moore knew what ladies’ hearts are made of.
So it was all arranged that very day, and in a fortnight after we started and took up our quarters on board the saucy Thunderbolt.