The sight of the big jam-pot, however, presently attracted a crowd of sympathisers around us, whose affability and kindly attentions, nay, even respectful demeanour, was something wonderful.
Mick and I never knew till then what dear friends we had aboard; any boy with whom we might have exchanged a chance word appearing as delighted to see us again as if we had risen from the dead.
Amongst these, Larrikins was prominent.
“Lor’, Tom Bowling,” he whispered to me, as he sidled up near, “yer knows I tuk a fancy to yer when I see’d yer first.”
“So you did, my joker,” said I, of course seeing through his ‘little game,’ as well as that of ‘Ginger,’ the other first-class boy who had been told off to attend to us novices, and had, it may be remembered, acted as ‘Ugly’s’ second. “You cut me down when I was in my hammock the first night I was aboard. That was a strong proof of your friendship towards me, eh, Larrikins?”
“Ah, Tom, that were only a little joke, don-cher-no,” he replied, with a grin and a wink of the most expressive character, “Lor’, yer don’t bear no mallerce, I knows!”
What could I say?
He was not half a bad fellow either; and so, having experienced many a little kindness from him as a new hand, in spite of his strong propensity for practical-joking at my expense, which I do not believe he could have possibly resisted under any circumstances, I passed the word to Mick to make him free of the jam-pot.
So, too, with the rest of those that hung round us, sailors and sailor-boys generally being generous alike by nature and inclination; and the end of it was, that the supply which mother thought would have lasted Mick and me till we saw her again, vanished the same night!