The eyes of young Benjamin Trench sparkled. He was a tall, thin, rather quiet lad of eighteen.
“I can be ready to-night if you wish it, Captain Samson,” he said, with a flush on his usually pale face.
Beside Mrs Trench there sat a sturdy little boy. He was the bosom friend of Ben—a bright ruddy fellow of fourteen, overflowing with animal spirits, and with energy enough for three lads of his size. This youth’s countenance fell so visibly when Ben spoke of going away, that Mrs Trench could not help noticing it.
“Why, what’s the matter, Wilkins?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing!” returned the boy, “only I don’t like to hear Ben speak of leaving us all and going to Australia. And I would give all the world to go with him. Won’t you take me as a cabin boy, Captain Samson?”
“Sorry I can’t, lad,” said the captain, with a grin, “got a cabin boy already.”
“Besides, your father would not let you,” said Mrs Trench, “and it would never do to go without his leave. Only misfortune could come of that.”
“Humph! it’s very hard,” pouted the boy. “I wanted him to get me into the navy, and he wouldn’t; and now I want him to get me into the merchant service, and he won’t. But I’ll go in spite of him.”
“No, you won’t, Watty,” said Ben, laying his hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Yes, Ben, I will,” returned little Wilkins, with such an air of determination that every one except Ben laughed.