“I have no relatives or friends, nor any one to care for me that I know of,” said Bill, in a quiet voice.
“Then Mr Saltwell and I must settle the matter,” said Captain Martin. “Should you like to be placed on the quarter-deck? If you go on as you have begun, and let duty alone guide you on all occasions, you will, if you live, rise in the service and be an honour to it.”
Bill almost gasped for breath as he heard this. He knew that the captain was in earnest, and he looked at him, and then at Mr Saltwell, but could not speak.
“Come, say what you wish, my lad,” said Captain Martin, in an encouraging tone.
Still Bill was silent.
“You will have opportunities of improving your education, and you need not fear about being well received by the young gentlemen in the midshipmen’s berth,” observed Mr Saltwell. “Captain Martin and I will make arrangements for giving you an outfit and supplying you with such funds as you will require, besides which you will come in for a midshipman’s share of prize-money.”
The kind way in which the captain and first lieutenant spoke greatly assisted Bill to find his tongue and to express himself appropriately.
“I am grateful, sirs, for your offer, and hope that I always shall be grateful. If you think that I am fit to become a midshipman, I will try to do my duty as such, so I accept your offer with all my heart.”
Bill, overpowered by his feelings, could say no more.
“The matter is settled, then,” said the captain; and sending for the purser, he at once entered the name of William Rayner as a midshipman on the ship’s books, the only formality requisite in those days, though his rank would afterwards have to be confirmed at the Admiralty.