“Well, Jacob,” said the captain, sitting down, “I suppose you’re a teetotaller, from what I saw and heard to-day.”
“Yes, to the back-bone,” was the reply.
“Well, so am I. Now will you mind telling me, Jacob, what has brought you to Liverpool. I am not asking questions just for curiosity, but I’ve taken a liking to you, and want to be your friend, for you don’t seem to have many friends here.”
Jacob hesitated; at last he said,—
“Captain, you’re just right. I’ve no friends here, nor am like to have. I can’t tell you all about myself, but there’s nothing wrong about me, if you’ll take my word for it. I’m not a thief nor a vagabond.”
“Well, I do believe you,” said the other; “there’s truth in your face and on your tongue. I flatter myself I know a rogue when I see one. Will you tell me, at any rate, what you mean to do in Liverpool?”
“That’s easier asked nor answered,” replied Jacob. “Captain, I don’t mind telling you this much—I’ve just run away to Liverpool to get out of the reach of the drink. I am ready to do any honest work, if I can get it, but that don’t seem to be so easy.”
“Exactly so,” said Captain Merryweather. “Now, what do you say, then, to going a voyage to Australia with me? I’m in want of a cabin-boy, and I think you’d suit me. I’ll feed and clothe you, and I’ll find you a situation over in Australia if you conduct yourself well on board ship; or, if you like to keep with me, I’ll give you on the return voyage what wages are right.”
The boy’s eyes sparkled with delight. He sprang from his seat, grasped the captain’s hand warmly between his own, and cried,—
“Captain, I’ll go with you to the end of the world and back again, wage or no wage.”