“Halloa, boy, what do you want?” cried the skipper, catching sight of him.
“Want my father, sir—Sam,” replied the youth, who had kept his ears open.
The skipper got up from his seat and eyed him curiously; Messrs. Legge and Green, drawing near, explained the situation. Now the skipper was a worldly man; and Samuel Brown, A.B., when at home, played a brass instrument in the Salvation Army band. He regarded the boy kindly and spoke to him fair.
“Don’t run away,” he said, anxiously.
“I’m not going to, sir,” said Master Jones, charmed with his manner, and he watched breathlessly as the skipper stepped forward, and, peering down the forecastle, called loudly for Sam.
“Yes, sir,” said a worried voice.
“Your boy’s asking after you,” said the skipper, grinning madly.
“He’s not my boy, sir,” replied Mr. Brown, through his clenched teeth.
“Well, you’d better come up and see him,” said the other. “Are you sure he isn’t, Sam?”
Mr. Brown made no reply, but coming on deck met Master Jones’s smile of greeting with an icy stare, and started convulsively as the skipper beckoned him aboard.