“Very well,” continued True Blue, “if you don’t, I’ll just jump into bed again, and there I’ll stay. The only clothes I’ll put on are my own. They were brand new only last week, and I’ve not done with them.”
John, seeing that the young sailor was in earnest, went and brought back his clothes. True Blue was soon dressed, and considerable disappointment was expressed on the countenances of the ladies as they entered the breakfast-room, when, instead of the gay-looking midshipman they expected to see, they found him in his seaman’s dress. He looked up frankly, and not in the slightest degree abashed.
“My lady,” he said, “I know what you and Sir Henry intended for me, and there isn’t a part of my heart that doesn’t thank you; but d’ye see, my lady, I was born a true sailor, and a true sailor I wish to be. I have old friends—I can’t leave them. I know what I’m fitted for, and I shouldn’t be happy in a midshipman’s berth. I know, too, that it was all done in great kindness; but it’s a thousand limes more than I deserve. I shall always love you, my lady, and the young ladies, and Sir Henry; and if ever he gets a ship, it will be my pride to be with him and to be his coxswain. There’s only one favour more I have to ask—it is that Sir Henry will set to rights the order about my having a midshipman’s rating aboard the Ruby. It’s a great favour, I’ll allow; but it’s one I don’t deserve and don’t want. I’ve made up my mind about it, and, my lady, you will let me be as I was—I was very happy, and shall not be happier as an officer.”
“I think very likely not,” said Lady Elmore, taking his hand. “But, Freeborn, we are all anxious to show our gratitude to you. Can you point out how it may best be done?”
“That’s it, my lady!” exclaimed True Blue vehemently. “I have done nothing to speak of, and I do not wish for anything. Let me just think about you all, and how kind you’ve been to me, and that’s all I want. If I serve with Sir Henry, I’ll always be by his side, and I’ll do my best to keep the Frenchmen’s cutlasses off his head.”
“Thanks, thanks, my boy. Your love for my son makes me take a double interest in you,” said Lady Elmore warmly; and then she added, “still I wish that you would allow us somewhat to lighten the load of obligation we owe you.”
As True Blue had not the slightest notion what this meant, he made no reply.
Everybody in the house was sorry to part with the frank-spoken young sailor. Even the butler and footman begged him to accept some token of remembrance; and Mrs Jellybag, the housekeeper, put him up a box containing all sorts of good things, which, she told him, he might share with his friends down at Emsworth. He reached Emsworth in the evening, and right hearty was the welcome he received from all the members of the Ogle and Bush families, though not more kind than that old Mrs Pringle and Paul bestowed on him.
The whole party assembled to tea and supper at Mrs Pringle’s, and he had not been many minutes in the house before he unpacked his chest and produced his box of good things for them. He insisted on serving them out himself, and he managed to slip the largest piece of cake into Mary’s plate, and somehow to give her a double allowance of jam.
Then there were a couple of pounds of tea,—a rare luxury in those days, except among the richer classes,—and some bottles of homemade wines or cordials, which served still more to cheer the hearts of the guests. The pipes were brought in and fragrant tobacco smoked, and songs were called for. Paul and Abel struck up. True Blue sang some of his best, and, as he every now and then gave Mary a sly kiss, suiting the action to the words of his songs, he never felt so happy in his life.