“Yes,” said the boy, nodding, “all of you live there, don’t you?”
It was an innocent enough remark in all conscience, but there was that in Master Jones’s eye which caused Mr. Legge to move away hastily and glance at him in some disquietude from the other side of the deck. The boy, unconscious of the interest excited by his movements, walked restlessly up and down.
“Boy’s worried,” said the skipper, aside, to the mate; “cheer up, sonny.”
Billy looked up and smiled, and the cloud which had sat on his brow when he thought of the coldblooded desertion of Mr. Brown gave way to an expression of serene content.
“Well, what’s he going to do?” inquired the mate, in a low voice.
“That needn’t worry us,” said the skipper.
“Let things take their course; that’s my motto.”
He took the wheel from Harry; the little town came closer; the houses separated and disclosed roads, and the boy discovered to his disappointment that the church stood on ground of its own, and not on the roof of a large red house as he had supposed. He ran forward as they got closer, and, perching up in the bows until they were fast to the quay, looked round searchingly for any signs of Sam.
The skipper locked up the cabin, and then calling on one of the shore hands to keep an eye on the forecastle, left it open for the convenience of the small passenger. Harry, Charlie, and the cook stepped ashore. The skipper and mate followed, and the latter, looking back from some distance, called his attention to the desolate little figure sitting on the hatch.
“I s’pose he’ll be all right,” said the skipper, uneasily; “there’s food and a bed down the fo’c’s’le. You might just look round to-night and see he’s safe. I expect we’ll have to take him back to London with us.”