A sympathetic look from every one and a sudden cessation of merriment followed the question, for poor little James Young, the only invalid on Pitcairn, was afflicted with a complaint somewhat resembling that which carried off his father.
“Of course,” continued Adams, “I know that my old ’ooman an’ Mainmast are with him, but I mean who of the young folk?”
“May Christian,” said Sally, who had come down to see the water-party start. “Two or three of us offered also to stay, father, but Jim wouldn’t hear of it, an’ said he would cry all the time if we stayed. He said that May was all he wanted.”
“Dear little Jim,” said Adams, “I do believe he’s got more o’ God’s book into him, small though he is, than all the rest of us put together. An’ he’s not far wrong, neither, about May. She’s worth a dozen or’nary girls. Now then, lend a hand wi’ the canoe. Are you ready, Mistress Toc?”
“Quite,” replied the heroine of the day, with a pleased glance in Thursday’s somewhat sheepish face.
“An’ Dumplin’, is he ready?” said the seaman.
The hero of the day was held up in the arms of his proud father.
“Now then, lads, shove off!”
In a few minutes the canoe, with its precious freight and Thursday at the steering-paddle, was thrust through the wild surf, and went skimming over the smooth sea beyond. Immediately thereafter another canoe was launched, with John Adams and a miscellaneous cargo of children, women, and girls, including graceful Bessy Mills and pretty Sarah Quintal.
“Now then, here goes,” cried Matt Quintal, wading deep into the surf. “Are you coming, Dan?”