“I think, Charley, you should say your prayers,” said Dick, who had taught the boy those he had himself learned in his childhood. “Ask God to take care of you, Charley; for I am sure if He does not no one else will, either here or anywhere else. He hears your prayers as well as big people’s, so don’t be afraid of asking Him for what you want; and just now I have a notion we want Him to send a ship this way to pick us up.”
Charley turned round, and kneeling up in his basket, lifted his small hands towards the blue sky, and asked the kind Father he believed dwelt there to take care of him and Dick, and send a ship to pick them up.
Dick gazed affectionately at the child as he prayed.
“That’s done me good,” he said to himself. “I am sure He who lives up there will do what that innocent little cherub asks. What He would say if a rough wild chap like me was to pray, is a different matter; and yet I mind that mother used to tell me He will hear any one who is sorry for what they have done amiss, and trust to His Son who died for sinners. But it’s a hard matter to mind all the bad things a man like me has done, and I hope He ain’t so over particular with respect to poor sailors.”
Dick at length, mustering courage, knelt by the side of the child, the calm sea allowing him to do so without the danger of falling off. His prayer might not have been, as he expressed it, very ship-shape; the chief expression in it was, “Lord be merciful to me a sinner, and take care of little Charley here and me, if such a one as I am is worth looking after.”
At length Dick resumed his seat by the side of his charge. The sun came down with intense heat, but he managed, by turning the raft round with his paddle, and lifting the lid of the basket, to shelter Charley from its burning rays. The child sat up and looked about him, prattling away frequently in a lingo Dick could not understand: sometimes also he spoke a little English, which he seemed to have known before he came on board the Laurel, but since then he had picked up a good many words. Dick now tried to amuse him and himself by teaching him more, and as the child learned rapidly whatever he heard, he already could sing—
“Cease, rude Boreas, blustering railer,
List ye landsmen all to me.”
and—
“One night it blew a hurricane,
The sea was mountains rolling,
When Barney Buntline turned his quid,
And cried to Billy Bowlin—”
right through without a mistake.