“You mentioned the name of Billy just now,” said Captain Bream, drawing Joe Davidson aside. “Is he a man or a boy?”
“He’s a boy, sir, though he don’t like to be reminded o’ the fact,” said Joe with a laugh. “He’s the son of our skipper who was drowned—an’ a good boy he is, though larky a bit. But that don’t do him no harm, bless ye.”
“I wonder,” returned the captain, “if he is the boy some lady friends of mine are so fond of, who was sent up to London some time ago to—”
“That’s him, sir,” interrupted Joe; “it was Billy as was sent to Lun’on; by the wish of a Miss Ruth Pont-rap-me, or some such name. I never can remember it rightly, but she’s awful fond o’ the fisher-folks.”
“Ah, I know Miss Ruth Dotropy also,” said the captain. “Strange that I should find this Billy that they’re all so fond of in the new Evening Star. I must pay your smack a visit soon, Davidson, for I have a particular interest in her.”
“I’ll be proud to see you aboard her, sir,” returned Joe. “Won’t you come after service? The calm will last a good while, I think.”
“Well, perhaps I may.”
The conversation was interrupted here by a general move to the vessel’s hold, where the usual arrangements had been made—a table for a pulpit and fish-boxes for seats.
“Do you feel well enough to speak to us to-day, Captain Bream?” asked the skipper of the mission-ship.
“Oh yes, I’ll be happy to do so. The trip out has begun to work wonders already,” said the captain.