“Because, my son,” he replied affectionately, “I know that boys, like girls, frequently change their minds, and I was anxious that you should make no mistake in such a vital matter as that of your life’s calling; for, even at the last hour, if you had told me you preferred being a clergyman or a doctor or a lawyer to going to sea, I would cheerfully have sacrificed the money I have paid to the brokers and for your outfit. Aye, and I would willingly do it now, for your mother and I would be only too glad of your remaining with our other chicks at home.”
“And why won’t you, Allan?” pleaded mother, throwing her arms round me and hugging me to her convulsively. “It is such a fearful life that of a sailor, amid all the storms and perils of the deep.”
“Don’t press the boy,” interposed father before I could answer mother, whose fond embrace and tearful face almost made me feel inclined to reconsider my decision. “It is best for him to make a free choice, and that his heart should be in his future profession.”
“But, Robert—” rejoined mother, but half convinced of this truth when the fact of her boy going to be a sailor was concerned.
“My dear,” said father gently, interrupting her in his quiet way and drawing her arm within his again, “remember, that God is the God of the sea as well as of the land, and will watch over our boy, our youngest, our Benjamin, there, as he has done here!”
Father’s voice trembled and almost broke as he said this; and it seemed to me at the moment that I was an awful brute to cause such pain to those whom I loved, and who loved me so well.
But, ere I could tell them this, father was himself again, and busy comforting mother in his cheery way.
“Now, don’t fret, dear, any more,” he said; “the thing is settled now. Besides, you know, you agreed with me in the matter at Christmas-tide, when, seeing how Allan’s fancy was set, I told you I thought of writing to London to get a ship for him, so that no time might be wasted when he finally made up his mind.”
“I know, Robert, I know,” she answered, trying to control her sobs, while I, glad in the new prospect, was as dry-eyed as you please; “but it is so hard to part with him, dear.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” said he soothingly; “I shall miss the young scaramouch, too, as well as you. But, be assured, my dear, the parting will not be for long; and we’ll soon have our gallant young sailor boy back at home again, with lots of—oh! such wonderful yarns, and oh! such presents of foreign curios from the lands beyond sea for mother, when the Silver Queen returns from China.”