“And now I find you a midshipman with warm friends; in a few years you will be a lieutenant, then a commander, and next a post-captain, I hope, and at length a British admiral, and you will have gained your promotion without the interest of relatives or born friends, simply by your own good conduct and bravery.”
“I don’t know what I may become, ma’am,” said Bill, inclined to smile at Mrs Crofton’s enthusiasm. “At present I am but a midshipman, but I will try, as I always have, to do my duty.”
This conversation made Bill feel perfectly at home with Mrs Crofton. Indeed, it seemed to him as if he had known her all his life, so that he was willing to confide in her as if she were his mother.
He was equally willing to confide in Mary. Indeed, all the reserve he at first felt quickly wore off, and he talked to her as if she had been his sister. If he did not say to himself that she was a perfect angel, he thought her what most people would consider very much better—a kind, good, honest, open-hearted girl, with clear hazel, truthful eyes, and a sweet smile on her mouth when she smiled, which was very frequently, with a hearty ring in her laughter. She reminded him, as she did Pierre, of Jeannette, and Bill felt very sure that, should she ever have the opportunity of helping any one in distress, she would be ready to take as much trouble and run as many risks as the French girl had in assisting Jack and him.
“Do you know, Mr Rayner, I like midshipmen very much?” she said, in her artless way. “My brother Oliver is a midshipman, and as I am very fond of him, I like all midshipmen for his sake. At first I was inclined to like you because you were a midshipman, but now I like you for yourself.”
“I am much obliged to you,” said Bill; “and I like you for yourself, I can tell you. I didn’t know before that you had a brother Oliver. Where is he serving?”
“On board the Ariel corvette in the West Indies,” answered Mary.
“Perhaps some day we may fall in with each other,” said Bill; “and I am very sure, from what you say about him, we shall become good friends, for I shall be inclined to like him for your sake.”
“Then I’m sure he will like you; he could not help doing so. He is only three years older than I am; just about your age I suppose. He went to sea when he was a very little fellow with poor dear papa, who was killed in action. Oliver was by his side at the time, and wrote us home an account of the sad, sad event, saying how brokenhearted he was. The people were very kind to him. Papa was lieutenant of the ship, and was loved by all the men, as I am sure he would have been, remembering how good and kind and gentle he was with us.”
The tears came into Mary’s bright eyes as she spoke of her father.