“Your female curiosity will probably be gratified to-morrow, when he is able to give an account of himself,” replied the lieutenant; “but it matters very little as far as we are concerned. I suspect he’ll thank us for doing what it was our simple duty to do, and after he has gone his way we shall probably hear no more of him. Had he been a seaman, without a copper in his pocket, we should have treated him in the same fashion I hope. Remember, Ned, the meaning of having no respect for persons. It is not that we are not to respect those above us, but that we are to treat our fellow-creatures alike, without expectation of reward, and to pull a drowning man, whether a lord or an ordinary seaman, out of the water when we can.”
Chapter Two.
The next morning Ned went off to summon the doctor from the neighbouring town, for their guest still remained in an apparently dangerous state. Several days passed before he was able to rise. He was evidently, from his conversation and manners, a man of education; but he did not speak of himself, except to mention that his name was Farrance, and that he was on a voyage from the Mediterranean in the “Champion” brig, when she had been cast away; and he again also expressed his gratitude to Miss Sarah Pack for the kindness he was receiving, and to the lieutenant and his companions for preserving his life. He made minute inquiries as to the occurrence, he only remembering that he was clinging to a portion of the wreck after she had struck, when he felt himself washed into the foaming breakers. He appeared to be interested in Ned, whom he drew into conversation, inquiring particularly what profession he intended to follow.
“I wish to enter the navy, as my father and uncle did,” answered Ned; “but my uncle says that he has no interest, and that I should have little chance of promotion. Indeed, his means are so limited that I cannot ask him to provide the necessary funds, so I conclude I shall have to go into the merchant service.”
“Well, well, you are right in desiring not to be an expense to your uncle. Every man should endeavour, as far as he can, to depend upon his own exertions; however, you have still some time to think about the matter, and you will, I hope, succeed in whatever profession you follow,” remarked the stranger.
There was another inmate of the house who appeared to interest him even more than Edward. A little girl of some ten or twelve years of age—a fair-haired, blue-eyed damsel, with a sweet, gentle expression of countenance, yet full of life and spirits. Edward had told him that she was not his sister, although he loved her as much as if she were. The first evening he came into the sitting-room the lieutenant heard him ask her name.
“I am called Mary,” she answered; “Uncle John gave me my name when he first found me.”
She shortly afterwards left the room. The stranger watched her as she went out with a look of much surprise.