A youth who can fabricate a falsehood so unblushingly as John did the foregoing is already on the road to ruin. The reader will not be surprised to learn, before the whole story is told, that he became a miserable, reckless sort of a man. This lie proved that he was destitute of moral principle and would do almost any thing to carry his point.
That the captain should have been taken in by such a ruse is inexplicable. But, no doubt, the thought of receiving good pay for his passage led him to receive the passenger. It was so much gain to receive a few dollars from an unexpected source.
"The bargain is made, and your passage to New York is assured," exclaimed John to Benjamin, when they met, at the end of two hours.
"Have any trouble to accomplish it? You did not awaken his suspicion, did you?" replied Benjamin, evidently relieved of considerable anxiety by the announcement.
"No trouble, of course; I did not mean to have any, if lying would prevent it."
"Then you had to resort to falsehood to carry your point, did you? How was that, John?"
"Well, you see, he questioned me pretty closely, and seemed to be suspicious that you might be a pauper or criminal. He wouldn't want to carry you if you were a pauper, for he would get no pay for it; and he would not carry a criminal, for fear of getting into trouble with the authorities. So I had to originate a little love story, in which you are represented as fleeing from a girl and her parents, who are determined that you shall marry her."
"You are more original than I thought you were, John. You might write a novel out of the affair."
"Yes; and it would be no worse than half the novels that are written," rejoined John. "I had a plot to get you to New York, and the novel writer often has a plot that is not half so important, nor half so much truth in it."
"How soon will the sloop sail?"