Dick Driver, who among others had been seen to come aboard with a bundle, was ordered aft.
“Please, sir,” said Dick, as he presented himself, holding a fine child in his arms of about four years old, “it ain’t any booty, but a lawful gift. I was axed to take care of it, and I promised I would, and so I have.”
“I do believe it’s a little girl,” exclaimed the captain, examining the delicate features and somewhat feminine appearance of the child, which had long fair locks hanging down over its shoulders.
“Lord bless you, no, sir! If it had been a she I shouldn’t have known what to do with her—but it’s as fine a youngster as I ever set eyes upon, barring his curls: and we will soon dock them, seeing they will be in his way, and not suited for the smart little tarpaulin I am going to make for him.”
“What, my man, you don’t expect to keep the child?” exclaimed the captain. “We must send him on shore with the rest of the property brought away.”
“But, sir, he was given to me to look after by his dying mother,” exclaimed Dick, forgetting for the moment that the child was white, and that the woman who had given it to him was as black as his shoe. “He is not like the rest of the booty, and if I may make so bold, I would like to keep him, and bring him up as one of the ship’s company. We are all agreed that we will take precious good care of him, and he will be a greater favourite among us than either Quacho, or Jocko, or the old goat that went overboard in the last gale, or the pig as was killed when we were short of fresh provisions. Do, sir, let us keep him? We wouldn’t part with the little chap for all the prize-money we have made this cruise.”
Dick, in his anxiety to keep the child, had become desperate, and spoke with greater freedom than he would otherwise have ventured to do when addressing his captain. “If he were to be sent ashore there’s no one might own him,” he continued; “then what would become of the poor little chap? he might be taken to the workhouse, or just brought up nohow.”
The captain, however, was not to be moved by all Dick’s arguments.
“You did very rightly, my man, in saving the child’s life, and you deserve a reward,” he observed; “but we cannot turn the ship into a nursery, and he must run his chance of finding his friends. However, as you seem to have made a good nurse, you may take charge of him till we can send him away.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Dick, as he touched his hat, glad of even this short respite, and hoping that something might turn up to induce the captain to allow the child to remain on board. “We will take good care of him—that we will; and if he has to go back to his friends, we will see that he is in proper trim, so that they won’t be nohow ashamed of him.”