BY MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL.
Jenks, the master-at-arms, otherwise known as Jimmylegs, was the best Jimmylegs in the naval service of the United States. His countenance was usually as stolid as a mummy's, and his voice as steady as the Sphinx's might have been. He would have announced "The magazine is on fire, sir," in precisely the same tone as "John Smith has broken his liberty, sir." Therefore when Mr. Belton, First Lieutenant of the training-ship Spitfire, in his first interview after coming aboard, detected a rudimentary grin upon Jimmylegs's usually impassive face, he stopped short in the perilous operation of shaving while the ship had a sharp roll on, and asked:
"What is it, master-at-arms? Out with it!"
"Just this, sir," replied old Jenks, crossing his arms and tugging at his left whisker with his right hand. "Along o' that 'prentice boy, Hopkins—the other boys call him Crying Tommy, because he's always blubbering about something or 'nother. That boy'd be worth good money to a undertaker, he's got such a distressful countenance. Well, sir, I brought him down, with a batch o' other boys from the training-station, and he didn't half seem to like going aboard ship. Howsomedever, I never misdoubted as how he'd jump the ship. But after them boys was landed at the dock, I looked around, and there wasn't no Crying Tommy. I brought the rest of 'em along, and reported on board ship, and then I started out on a quiet hunt for that there boy. I didn't have no luck, though; but about dark that evening there come over the for'ard gangway a great strappin' red-headed girl about fifteen, holdin' on to Crying Tommy like grim death, and he scared half out of his wits. She marches him up to me, and she says, 'Here's that dratted boy'—dratted was the very word she used, sir—and she kep' on, 'He won't run away no more, I think—not if my name is Mary Jane Griggs.' And I says to her, bowin' and tryin' to keep from grinnin', for the girl had as honest a face, sir, as I ever clapped eyes on, 'Miss Griggs, may I ask what relation you are to Mr. Hopkins here?' And she snapped out: 'Not a bit; only after his mother died we took him in our house, and he paid his way—when he could. Then one day I read in the paper about naval apprentices, and I said to Tommy, "That's the place for you." So he went and signed the articles. That was six months ago. And this afternoon, when I come home from the box factory where I works, there was this great lummux.' Well! how her eyes did flash! Mr. Belton, I'm afraid o' red-headed women and girls, sir—that I am—and Crying Tommy, I saw, was in mortal fear of Mary Jane Griggs. And she says, 'I marched him straight back; he bellowed like a calf—he's the greatest crier I ever see; but I want you to take him and make him behave himself.' 'I will endeavor to do so, Miss Griggs,' says I, and then she gave her flipper to the boy, and went off home, I suppose, and we sailed that night."
"Well, what sort of a boy is he?" asked the Lieutenant.
Jimmylegs tugged at his whiskers harder than ever.
"Well, sir," he said, presently, "the boy ain't no shirk. He's a foretopman, and the captain of the foretop says he's the smartest boy he's got aloft. But he keeps on crying, and I'm mightily afraid he'll start some of the other boys to crying, and they'll think the ship is a penitentiary. Low spirits is ketchin','specially in the foc's'l', and I wish that blessed brat would stop his bawling. I'd like you to speak to him, sir; you've got such a fine way with boys, sir." Which was true enough.
"Send him here," said the Lieutenant, wiping his face after his shave.
Presently there came a timid knock at the door, and Crying Tommy appeared. He was a sandy-haired boy of sixteen, ill-grown for his age, and of a most doleful countenance.
"Well, my lad," said the Lieutenant, cheerily, "I hear that you are always piping your eye. What's that for?"