I was not disappointed, for when I told my story I was fully believed, and I often got help where I least expected it.
At length I reached Cork, where I found a vessel just sailing for Liverpool. The captain agreed to give me a free passage, and at last I safely landed on the shores of old England. I must confess that I had more difficulty after this in making my way homeward, and by the time I reached the neighbourhood of my father’s house my outer clothing, at all events, was pretty well worn to rags and tatters.
Story 1—Chapter 8.
It was the early summer when one evening I came in sight of my home. The windows and doors were open. Without hesitation I walked up the steps, forgetting the effect which my sudden appearance might produce on my family. One of my youngest sisters was in the passage. I beckoned to her.
“What do you want?” she asked; “you must not stop here; go away.”
“What! don’t you know me?” I asked.
“No,” she answered; “who are you?”
“Jack—your brother Jack,” I answered. On this she ran off into the drawing-room, and I heard her exclaim, “There’s a great big beggar boy, and he says he is Jack—our brother Jack.”