The idea of anybody deriving comfort from a sight of him so tickled Gunter that he only replied with a sarcastic laugh, nevertheless he followed his mate sulkily and, as it were, under protest.
On entering the humble dwelling they found Spivin, Trevor, and Zulu already there. Mrs Bright arose with tearful eyes to welcome the new guests. Billy rose with her. He had scarcely left his mother’s side for more than a few minutes since the dark night of the wreck, though several days had elapsed.
It was a great era in the life of the fisher-boy—a new departure. It had brought him for the first time in his young life into personal contact as it were, with the dark side of life, and had made an indelible impression on his soul. It did not indeed abate the sprightly activity of his mind or body, but it sobered his spirit and, in one day, made him more of a man than several years of ordinary life could have accomplished. The most visible result was a manly consideration of, and a womanly tenderness towards, his mother, which went a long way to calm Mrs Bright’s first outbreak of sorrow.
These rough fishermen—rough only in outward appearance—had their own method of comforting the widow. They did not attempt anything like direct consolation, however, but they sat beside her and chatted in quiet undertones—through which there ran an unmistakable sound of sympathy. Their talk was about incidents and events of a pleasant or cheering kind in their several experiences. And occasionally, though not often, they referred to the absent David when anything particularly favourable to him could be said.
“We’ve got good news, Joe,” said Billy, when the former was seated.
“Ay, Billy, I’m glad o’ that. What may the good news be?”
“Another ‘Evening Star’ has been raised up to us by the Lord,” said Mrs Bright, “but oh! it will never shine like the first one to me!” The poor woman could go no further, so Billy again took up the story.
“You know,” he said, “that our kind friend Miss Ruth Dotropy has been greatly taken up about us since father went—went home, and it seems that she’s bin writin’ to Lun’on about us, tellin’ all about the wreck, an’ about our mistake in goin’ to sea, last trip, without bein’ inspected, which lost us the insurance-money. An’ there’s a rich friend o’ hers as has sent her a thousand pound to buy mother another smack!”
“You don’t say that’s true, Billy!” exclaimed Joe, with a look of surprise.
“That’s just what I do say, Joe. The smack is already bought, and is to be fitted out at once, an’ mother has made you her skipper, Joe, an’ the rest have all agreed to go—Zulu as cook—and Gunter too. Won’t you, John?”