All eyes were turned at once on Nigel, some boldly, others with a shy inquiring look, as though to say, “Can you tell stories?”
“Come, now,” said Nigel, advancing, “Since you are all so fond of my father, I must shake hands with you all round.”
The hearty way in which this was done at once put the children at their ease. They admitted him, as it were, into their circle, and then turning again to the captain continued their clamour for a story.
“No, no—about old friends first. How—how’s old mother Morris?”
“Quite well,” they shouted. “Fatterer than ever,” added an urchin, who in England would have been styled cheeky.
“Yes,” lisped a very little girl; “one of ’e doors in ’e house too small for she.”
“Why, Gerchin, you’ve learned to speak English like the rest,” said the captain.
“Yes, father make every one learn.”
“Well, now,” continued the captain, “what about Black Sam?”
“Gone to Batavia,” chorused the children.