That I am ready to distrust mine eyes,
And wrangle with my reason that persuades me
To any other trust,”
exclaimed Jack, as he swung himself from his mule and clasped his strong arms about the brother he had never thought to see again. “How are you, conscript?”
“O Jack!” was all Marcy could say in reply.
“She’s pretty well,” said the sailor, who knew that Marcy would have asked about his mother if his heart hadn’t been so full, “and has grown ten years younger since she heard you were safe among friends.”
He shook hands with Rodney, whom he addressed as “Johnny,” and then walked up to Bowen and fairly doubled him up with one of his sailor grips.
“You are the man I have to thank for saving my brother’s life, are you?” said he in a trembling voice. “I don’t know that I shall ever have a chance to show how grateful I am to you, but if you ever need a friend you will always find him in Jack Gray.”
It was a happy meeting altogether, and if one might judge by the way he acted, Sailor Jack himself didn’t know whether he was awake or dreaming. Marcy’s hands still showed the effect of his unmerited punishment, and when his big brother looked at them, an expression came upon his face that might have made Captain Denning a trifle uneasy if he had been there to see it.
“My orders are to bring you home with me, young man,” said he. “And, Bowen, you must go, too.”