"We generally have lots of things for Christmas dinner," said little Jacob, in a stifled little voice, "goose and apple sauce, and potatoes and squash and——"
"I don't mean at home, Jake," said little Sol, gently. "I mean here. We always have good things at home, too. But we haven't any goose or anything else except salt junk and plum duff. I s'pose it'll be that."
But little Jacob didn't say anything because he couldn't speak. He tilted his hat over his eyes and thought how nice it was at home at Christmas time, and how sorry Lois, his mother, would be that he wasn't there, and how sorry his little sister Lois would be. He didn't know about his father, Captain Jacob, but he thought that perhaps he would be sorry, too; and he knew that his grandfather, Captain Jonathan, would be sorry. He was very fond of his grandfather because Captain Jonathan was always nice and kind and gentle and he seemed to understand little boys. And, at last, little Jacob jammed his hat on straight and got up and ran down into the cabin to write his mother a letter. Captain Solomon would leave the letter in Java for some ship to take home. When he had written the letter he felt better.
When the two little boys came out on deck the next morning, they went forward among the sailors; and they wished each man a Merry Christmas and they gave each one some little thing that they had found. The things were some things that Captain Solomon had brought to give away, although he did not expect, when he brought them, to give them to the sailors. And the men seemed very much pleased, and they wished little Jacob and little Sol a Merry Christmas, too, and some of the men had presents for the boys. These presents were usually something that the men had whittled out of ivory or bone or ebony. And little Jacob and little Sol hadn't expected that the men would give them any presents, and they were delighted; and, by the time they had got through giving the men presents their jacket pockets bulged out with all the things the men had given them.
But one thing little Jacob didn't put in his pocket, for fear that he would break it. That was a little model of the brig Industry, about three inches long. The hull of the model was cut out of ebony, and the masts and spars were little ebony sticks stuck in, and the sails were of ivory, scraped thin, and the ropes were silk thread. And the sails were bulging, as if the wind was filling them and making them stand out from the yards. Altogether, it was a most beautiful model, and little Jacob was so surprised and pleased that, for some time, he couldn't say anything to the sailor who had given it to him.
"Is this for me?" he said, at last. "For me?"
"'YES, LITTLE LAD,' HE SAID. 'FOR YOU—IF YOU WANT IT.'"
That sailor was an old man. The little crinkles came around his eyes as he smiled down at little Jacob.
"Yes, little lad," he said. "For you—if you want it. And with a Merry Christmas!"