Bernard made the acquaintance of one of the sailors, Jack Staples, who was a stout, good-humored man of thirty. He possessed a shrewd intelligence that interested Bernard, and he often chatted with him about his Vermont home.
“How came you to go to sea?” asked Bernard one day.
“Well, you see, my father died and my mother married again. You never had a stepfather, I take it.”
“No; my mother died when I was a baby, and my father when I was five years old.”
“That was bad luck.”
“Yes,” answered Bernard gravely.
“I think,” said Jack, shifting his quid of tobacco from one cheek to the other, “that I was about fifteen when my mother told me that she had decided to marry Mr. Stubbs. Stubbs kept a grocery store in the village, and passed for a man well to do. My mother had about two thousand dollars, left by my father, and she did some dressmaking, while I did chores for the neighbors, and sometimes worked on a farm, so that between us we made a comfortable living, and always had enough to eat. When mother told me that, I felt very much upset, for I didn’t like Mr. Stubbs, who was a mean, grasping man, and I tried to get her off the notion of marrying him. But it was of no use. She said she had given her word.
“‘Besides,’ she added, ‘we haven’t got much money, Jack, and Mr. Stubbs says he will support, us both in comfort.’
“‘Are you going to give him your money, mother?’ I asked.
“‘Well, yes, Jack. Mr. Stubbs says he can use it in his business, and he will allow me interest on it at the rate of six per cent. You know I only get five per cent in the savings bank.’