“And you’re a horphin, are ye, my little ’un? Got neyther father nor mother?”
“Neither,” I replied.
“A pity it are! I was once a horphin myself. Well, yer a spunky little chap to be wantin’ to go to sea, and ye deserve somethin’ for it. If I were captain I’d take you along; but ye see I’m only afore the mast, and kin do nothin’ for ye; but I’ll be back some day again, and maybe you’ll be bigger then. Here, take this anyhow for a keepsake, and by it you’ll remember me till sometime when you see me in port again, and who knows but then I may find a berth for you. So good-bye now! Go home again, like a good boy, and stay there till you’ve growed a bit.”
As the kind-hearted sailor said this, he handed me his knife, and turning away, walked back on board his ship, leaving me alone upon the wharf.
Wondering at his unexpected kindness, I stood gazing after him till he disappeared behind the bulwarks; and then, mechanically putting the knife in my pocket, I remained for a while without stirring from the spot.
Chapter Seventeen.
Not big enough.
My reflections were anything but pleasant, for never had I been so mortified in my life. All my fine dreams of reefing topsails, and seeing foreign lands, had been dissipated in a period of less than ten minutes. All my plans completely frustrated.