"Perhaps the Gazette will say that the editor of the Courant has run away," suggested John, in a vein of pleasantry. "There will be considerable more truth in that than I told the captain. It is rather of a singular occurrence, however, Ben, that so popular an editor as you have been should be running away from the editorial chair."
By this time the sloop was boarded, and the captain was almost ready to sail.
"My friend," said John to the captain, presenting Benjamin. "You will find him good company; he is no fool or knave."
"He might be a goner if that girl should be after him before we get under way," suggested the captain. "However, we'll soon be off."
"Good luck to you, old friend," said John, as he shook hands with Benjamin. "We shall be nigh each other, though three hundred miles apart."
"Good-bye, John; a thousand thanks for what you have done for me," replied Benjamin, with a heavy heart, just beginning to feel that he was going away from home. "Good-bye."
Thus they parted, and the sloop sailed for New York. Benjamin avoided conversation with the captain as much as was possible, lest he might ask questions it would be embarrassing to answer. The captain, too, refrained from too much freedom with his youthful passenger, lest he might make it painful for him, now that he was running away from a girl.
The sloop was becalmed off Block Island for several hours, when the sailors resorted to catching cod for a pastime, and slapping them down one after another on the deck.
"Cruel! Inhumanity!" cried Benjamin, who entertained the singular idea that it was murder to take the life of any harmless creature; and for this reason he would not touch animal food.
"What is cruel?" inquired one of the crew.