The boy, who was somewhat excited by the news he had to tell, frankly held out his hand to Gunter, and that worthy, grasping it with an unwonted display of frankness on his part growled—“I’m with ’ee, lad.”
“Yes, it’s all arranged,” resumed Billy, “and we’ll not be long o’ being ready for sea, so you won’t be left to starve, mother—”
Up to this point the poor boy had held on with his wonted vivacity, but he stopped suddenly. The corners of his mouth began to twitch, and, laying his head on his mother’s bosom, he sobbed aloud.
It did the widow good to comfort him. The fishermen had an instinctive perception that their wisest course lay in taking no notice, and continuing their low-voiced intercourse.
“Well, now,” said Joe, “I have read in story-books of folk bein’ as lib’ral sometimes as to give a thousand pounds, but I never thought I’d live to see ’em do it.”
“Why, Joe, where have your eyes and ears bin?” said Luke Trevor. “Don’t you know it was a lib’ral gentleman, if not two, or p’raps three, as lent the Ensign, our first gospel-ship, to the Mission?”
“That’s true, Luke; I forgot that when I spoke, an’ there’s more gospel-smacks comin’, I’m told, presented in the same way by lib’ral folk.”
“It’s my belief,” said Luke, with emphasis, at the same time striking his right knee with his hand, “it’s my belief that afore long we’ll have a gospel-ship for every fleet on the North Sea.”
“Right you are, boy,” said Joe, “an’ the sooner the better. Moreover, I’ve heard say that there’s a talk about sellin’ baccy on board of the mission-ships cheaper than what they do aboard o’ the copers. Did any of ’ee hear o’ that?”
“I heard somethin’ about it,” answered Luke, “but it’s too good news to be true. If they do, it’ll drive the copers off the sea.”