“You see I know your name,” continued Captain Forrester, looking at him keenly.
“Yes, sir,” replied the old sailor slyly, with something suspiciously near a smile; “Bell ain’t a uncommon name, and I once knowed a midshipman named Forrester, sir; a mighty smart little reefer he was, too, sir.”
This time it was the captain’s turn to smile when he spoke.
“The man Bell that I knew was an American, but he had spent most of his life in His Majesty’s service—Jack Bell he was—captain of the mizzentop when I was midshipman on the Indomptable, and captain of the maintop when I was sailing master on the old Colossus.”
Jack Bell’s eyes gleamed as the captain spoke, and there was an answering gleam in the captain’s eyes. The tie that unites good shipmates is a strong one, no matter how great the difference in rank; and the old sailor’s delight at being recognized, although it might mean trouble for him, was evident.
The captain remembered that in his reefer days, when as a mere lad he was ordered to command a boat’s crew, that Jack Bell had always been orderly, respectful, and sober, and had helped him out of not a few scrapes, and had occasionally got him into some.
“The first time I ever went aloft,” said the captain, smiling involuntarily, “Jack Bell was in the mizzentop, and I recollect my feelings when I was ready to go down, and Jack held on to me, insisting I should pay my footing.”
“Ten shillings it were, sir,” chimed in Jack with a broad grin. “That’s what was axed reg’lar of the reefers on the old Indomptable, and many’s the shilling you’ve give me besides—I—I mean—you give that ’ere Jack Bell.”
Jack stopped, wholly confused.
“And that Jack Bell was a famous singer. Many a night when the ship was going along under easy sail with a fair wind, I have sat for hours listening to Jack’s sea songs, like ‘Tom Bowline,’ ‘When the Wind at Night Whistles o’er the Deep,’ and all those fine old catches. I never heard anybody sing them so well as he.”