“Come down to the cabin with me, Billy,” said the captain, with increasing excitement. “I want to have a chat with you about your mother.”
Our little hero, although surprised, at once complied with the invitation, taking the opportunity, however, to wink at Zulu in passing, and whisper his belief that the old gen’l’man was mad.
Setting Billy on a locker in front of him, Captain Bream began at once.
“Is your mother alive, Billy,—tut, of course she’s alive; I mean, is she well—in good health?”
Billy became still more convinced that Captain Bream was mad, but answered that his mother was well, and that she had never been ill in her life to the best of his knowledge.
While speaking, Billy glanced round the cabin in some anxiety as to how he should escape if the madman should proceed to violence. He made up his mind that if the worst should come to the worst, he would dive under the table, get between the old gentleman’s legs, trip him up, and bolt up the companion before he could regain his feet. Relieved by the feeling that his mind was made up, he waited for more.
“Billy,” resumed the captain, after a long gaze at the boy’s features, “is your mother like you?”
“I should think not,” replied Billy with some indignation. “She’s a woman, you know, an’ I’m a—a—man.”
“Yes—of course,” murmured the captain to himself, “there can be no doubt about it—none whatever—every gesture—every look!”
Then aloud: “What was her name, my boy?”