“Jack,” expostulated one of his companions, “let the poor lad alone; he hasn’t a mind for the drink, perhaps he ain’t used to it, and it’ll only make him top heavy. You can see he wants ballast; he’ll be over on his beam-ends the first squall if he takes the ale and grog aboard.”
“Avast, avast, Tom,” said the other, who was just sufficiently intoxicated to be obstinate, and determined to have his own way. “If I take him in tow, he must obey sailing orders. Grog first, and bread and cheese afterwards; that’s what I say.”
“And I’d die afore I’d touch a drop of the drink,” said the poor boy, setting his teeth firmly. “I’ve seen enough, and more nor enough, of misery from the drink; and I’d starve to skin and bone afore I’d touch a drop of it.”
“Bravo, my lad, bravo!” cried Captain Merryweather, who had listened to the conversation with the greatest interest. “Come hither, my poor boy; you shall have a good meal, and something better than the grog to wash it down with.”
“Oh, never heed Jack, captain,” cried one of the other sailors; “he’s half-seas over just now, and doesn’t know which way he’s steering. I’ll see that the poor lad has something to eat.”
“Thank you kindly, my man,” replied the captain; “but he shall go with me, if he will.”
“Ay, sir,” said the boy thankfully, “I’ll go with you, for I’m sure you speak gradely.”
The whole party soon reached a temperance hotel, and here the captain ordered his young companion a substantial breakfast.
“Stay here, my lad,” he said, “till I come back; I want to have a word with you. I am going with these gentlemen to the docks, but I shall be back again in half an hour. By the way, what’s your name, my boy?”
A deep flush came over the other’s face at this question. He stared at Captain Merryweather, and did not answer.