Now, Dicky knew very well what a press gang was—a body of sailors who went ashore at night with an officer and authority to seize and press men into the naval service. This set Dicky to thinking, and he began to wonder if Jack would not be very well pleased if he were seized and forcibly taken on board the Raleigh and made to work and fight. The very next night Dicky got his first liberty on shore, and going to his mother’s cottage found Jack there, as usual, smoking his pipe.
The Widow Stubbs was delighted to see her boy, and he looked so clean and smart and bright in his sailor’s rig that she could not but see that he had improved in the little while that he had been aboard ship. Jack showed his usual interest in everything that happened on the Raleigh, but Dicky saw that the old sailor was much depressed.
“Mr. Bell,” said Dicky after a while, “Mr. Jenkins, the boatswain’s mate, says, as if there was a press gang ’lowed in the American navy, we could get some mighty good men; we’d like to have—you, sir, for one.”
Jack shook his head forlornly.
“There ain’t no press gang, more’s the pity. If there was, and they knowed there was a able-bodied sailor man like me ’round about, I’d ha’ been nabbed long ago; and Cap’n Forrester couldn’t say as how I’d broke my word when I was took by force aboard a American ship and made to jine.”
“Well,” persisted Dicky, “would you be glad or sorry if there was a press gang and you was took?”
“Boy,” said Jack sorrowfully, “you’re axin’ me a mighty foolish question. In course I’d be glad. I’d run the risk of bein’ swung up if we was captured and I was found out—but there ain’t no chance at all. I’ve give my word to Cap’n Forrester, an’ I can’t break it; and it ain’t likely that I’ll be lucky enough to be took by force.”
Dicky said no more, but an idea had evidently taken possession of his mind. His eyes began to sparkle, he whispered to himself as he sat in the chimney corner, and his mother saw that something was up. Jack Bell saw nothing, but sat and smoked gloomily. The widow gave Dicky a good supper, and a basket of apples to take on board with him; and about eight o’clock he started to leave. He motioned to his mother to come outside with him when he left.
“Mammy,” said he, “don’t you be scared if a gang from the Raleigh busts in on you some night. I won’t tell you what it’s for, but you needn’t think I’ve been in any harm; so just don’t you be scared about me;” and without another word Dicky dashed down the rocky path to where he was to meet the boat.
Next day, after the men had had their morning exercise, Dicky went and stood by the mast as he had seen men do who wished to speak to the officer of the deck. The officer, Lieutenant Dobell, advanced to speak with him. Dicky had rehearsed exactly what he meant to say to the lieutenant, but when he was actually to say it, his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. At last, though with much stammering and stuttering, he managed to get out that “Mr. Bell could be took.” At first Mr. Dobell could not make head or tail of Dicky’s meaning, but in a little while it was cleared up. Mr. Dobell, too, had heard of Jack Bell, and the idea of having such a steady, reliable man-o’-war’s-man on board was very agreeable to him. He merely told Dicky, though, to say nothing of what he had told, and he would think over the matter.