“Pierre Lamont,” answered the French boy.
“We shall be friends,” said David. “You don’t hate the English, I hope, like the captain?”
“Oh no, no,” answered Pierre, “I love the English; my poor mother was English, but she is dead, and so is my father, but he was French.”
“Then have you no one to look after you?” exclaimed David, in a tone of commiseration.
“No, I am all alone in the world, no one to care for me,” said Pierre.
“Are you happy here on board this ship?” asked Harry.
“Oh no, no. Sometimes I am pretty well off; but often our cruel men order me about, and beat me with the rope’s-end if I do not do quickly what they command.”
“You see, Harry,” said David, “there’s one on board this ship worse off than we are. We have some dear friends on shore, and though they don’t know what has become of us, we hope that they are are safe, and that we shall get back to them some day.”
“Do you know where we’re going, Pierre?” asked Harry. “I wanted to look at the compass; but I’m afraid of going aft, lest I should meet the captain.”
“You are right to keep away from him,” answered Pierre. “If he knew even that I spoke English he would treat me worse than he does. But you ask where are we going. I believe that we’re bound out to the West Indies to take as many English merchant-vessels as we can find.”