He went forward, much dejected, to find Bill Hudson; for this was but small consolation to him. How could he learn to read and write, when all his strength would be required to obtain food for his subsistence? So he thought.
Bill heard his account of what had happened.
“If you had said that you couldn’t read and write, I could have told you what would happen. But, don’t be cast down, Ned. Little more than three years ago, I couldn’t read nor write, and hadn’t shoes to my feet, and scarce a rag on my back. I was a poor outcast boy, without father or mother—no shelter for my head, and often no food to eat. I picked up a living as I could, holding horses, running errands, when anybody would trust me. I didn’t steal, but I was often and often very near doing so, as I passed the butchers’, and fruiterers’, and bakers’ shops—just to fill my empty stomach. It wasn’t so much because I wouldn’t do it, as because I knew that they kept a sharp look-out, and I should have been caught. At last I thought I would try it on; and I didn’t care if I was sent to prison, for I should have been fed, at all events: but that very day a gentleman passing, saw me watching a stall, the owner of which had just left it, as if I was going to take whatever I could grab; and so I was. And he asked me if I was hungry; and he gave me a roll from his pocket, and then he asked me where I lived, and I said ‘Nowhere;’ and then he told me that if I would follow him he would show me where I could get food and shelter, and, might be, clothing and instruction, and means, too, of gaining my livelihood. Though I didn’t much credit him, I went; and he took me to the Field Lane Ragged School, as it is called; and there I found all he told me, and more. I soon showed them that I didn’t want to eat the bread of idleness, and they got me employment in the day, and in the evening I used to go regularly to the school, and sleep in the Refuge, till I earned enough, by working four days, to go to the day-school for two days; and I soon learned to read and write; and more than that, Ned, I learned what made me a Christian, which I wasn’t before I went there. For, I tell you, Ned, I was a heathen; I knew no more about God and his love for man than a block of stone; and I thought that he hated poor people, and sent them all to hell, and that there was no use being good. I did not know that it was sin brought the misery I saw around me into the world, and that God hates sin, but loves sinners; for if he doesn’t, he’d never have sent his only Son into the world to save them. At last I was asked what trade I would be, and I said, ‘A sailor;’ for I had been reading about the sea, and thought I should like to live on it. So they sent me down here, and I do like it, Ned, right well. And now I’ve told you all this, because I want to ask you if you’d like to go to Field Lane. I tell you it is a blessed place; and a blessed moment it was to me when I entered it. You’d learn to read and write, and be looked after, and learn to gain your daily bread, and be told about God and Jesus Christ, and how to be happy; and if you don’t know about them, you can’t be happy, that I tell you.”
Ned had been much surprised with all he had seen on board ship, but he was more surprised at what Bill told him, though in a different way. He said, certainly that he should like to go there, but how could he? Bill replied that “where there’s a will there’s a way.” Many of his shipmates had heard Ned’s history, and were interested in him; and he would speak to the first lieutenant and to some of the officers, who were kind, Christian men, and see what could be done.
Bill Hudson did do his best, and very effectual that was. He had acted as officer’s servant, and saved up some money; and he went round the ship and told Ned’s story; and all who heard it subscribed—some more and some less; and the officers, when they heard his proposal, subscribed very liberally. Ned was invited down to Bill’s mess, and never had he eaten so hearty a dinner.
“No wonder the sailors on board here grow stout and strong, if they have so good a dinner as this every day,” he observed.
“It’s the same every day. No banyan days with us, now, in the navy,” was the answer.
At last Bill Hudson’s plan was matured, and the power granted him for carrying it into execution. Ned was told he must stop on board for tea. In the evening Bill came to him triumphant.
“It’s all settled,” he exclaimed. “You see, Ned, it would never do for you to go up to big London all by yourself, and to wander about, not knowing your way; so I’ve got leave from the first lieutenant to go with you.”
“You—you go up to London with me; that will be good!” exclaimed Ned, delighted.