“He will soon learn better than to behave in this violent manner. We can cure him in ten minutes after you have left the ship.”
“What! whip him?” exclaimed the mother, with horror.
“No, madam; we never strike a student under any circumstances, unless it be in self-defence; but if a boy won’t go when ordered, we carry him. We always have force enough to do this without injury to the person.”
“But see the poor boy struggle!”
“It will do him no harm.”
“He says now that he will not go in the ship.”
“If I were his parent, it would be as I said, not as he said, after he had ceased to be reasonable. I would consult the wishes and opinions of a boy of mine, as long as he behaved properly—no longer. You have only to leave him, and I assure you he shall be treated as kindly as he will permit us to treat him. I do not wish to influence you, but I am confident that ruin lies in that boy’s path, unless he is reformed.”
Mrs. Blacklock actually wept. She loved the boy with a blind affection in spite of the disrespect and even abuse that he heaped upon her. It was a terrible struggle to her, but she finally decided to leave him on board of the ship, perhaps satisfied that nothing else could ever save him from himself, and her from the misery his reckless conduct constantly occasioned her.
“You wished to go to sea, Clyde, and I have decided to leave you in this ship,” said the poor mother, trembling with emotion.
“But I tell you I won’t stay in this ship,” roared Clyde, as Peaks, at a signal from the principal, released his prisoner.