“Hello,” said the man with the rings in his ears. He peered at the boy through the candle-light. “And who might you be?”
“My name is Prentiss,” answered the lad. “I am the son of James Prentiss, one of the ‘Champion’s’ owners.”
The man thrust out a great broad hand.
“Young gentleman,” said he, “if you’ll do me the honor, I’d like to shake your hand.”
Ezra smiled and gripped the big paw.
“Your father,” continued the other, “was the finest man in this colony. I’ve sailed for many owners, but he was the best of them all. Your grandfather now,” and the ex-sailor’s expression of admiration greatly changed, “was a most excellent merchant. But he expected much and gave but little. That little was, to be sure, regularly and promptly paid; but that is the best I can say.
“But James Prentiss was different. He had a heart in his body for a sailorman. And if one went out of his way to serve him, he’d see to it that he was properly rewarded.”
“A good quality,” commented Scarlett, approvingly. “It is a proof of appreciation and also encourages effort.”
“Quite so, comrade,” replied the host. “It does that very thing; and I can prove it to you. On the last voyage of the ‘Champion,’ she had for her master a Hingham man named Pickering. I was her first mate and she carried a mixed cargo for trading among the islands. Pickering was a man who believed in handspikes and belaying pins in his treatment of the crew, and he was not long out before they were all but in a state of mutiny.
“This proved a fortunate thing for Prentiss & Son,” continued the landlord. “We ran on the reef one moonlight night with a light wind blowing and Pickering at the wheel. So when he proposed to abandon ship and cargo without an effort to save either, I objected.”