The Powder Monkey | Page 2

and with the darkness thickening fast, began to trot beside his new friend as he strode off, but only to totter breathlessly at the end of a few minutes and then stumble, ready to fall but for the strong arm which dragged him up.
"Why, hillo!" cried the man. "What's this here?"
"I--I don't know," said the boy, feebly. "I'm so tired--and my feet hurt--and--and--and I can't go any farther, please. Don't be cross with me, sir; I can't help it--I'm obliged to cry."
His legs sank beneath him as he spoke and doubled so that he naturally came down upon his knees, and raising the hand that was not held, to join the other, the boy seemed in the gloom to be praying for mercy to the big, rough man.
"Why, matey, I didn't know you were on your beam ends like this here," he growled, softly. "Here, I'll help yer. Let me lift yer on to this 'ere bank. That's the way. Steady, now, while I turn round. Give's t'other fin. There you are. Heave ho! and you're up and on my back. Now, then, I'll tow you into port where I'm going, and you an' me'll have a bit o' supper together, and after that--well, look at that now!"
As he spoke the sailor had got the boy up on his shoulders, pig-a-back fashion, and began to tramp steadily along the road, not feeling the light weight, and talking pleasantly to the little fellow all the while, till, in his surprise, he uttered the last words in a low tone, and followed them up by exclaiming:
"Tired out, poor bairn. I'm blessed if he ain't fast asleep!"
The sailor stood in the middle of the road thinking and talking aloud to himself as if he were someone else.
"This here's a pretty set-out, Jack Jeens," he growled softly, so as not to awaken his load. "Here you are, my lad, just finished your holiday, spent half your arnings along with your friends, and give t'other half to yer old mother to help her along till you come back from sea again-- bless her old heart! On'y I wish when she kisses yer and says, `good-bye, and bless you, my dear boy!' she wouldn't cry quite all over yer. But as I was a-saying, Jack, here you're going back quite comfy to join the Sairy Ann schooner, lad, with nothing to do but join your ship, when down upon you comes this here boy, tired and hungry, and crying as bad as your old mother, my lad. You didn't want a boy, Jack, and now you've got him you don't know what to do with him, nor who he is, nor where he's going, nor where he comes from. Strikes me he don't know himself. Take him aboard the Sairy Ann, my lad, and show him to the skipper. `Now, then,' says you, `here's a boy.' `So I see,' says the skipper. `Well, what's to be done with him?' says you, and he turns it over in his mind, and 'fore you know where you are he's settled it all and told you what to do and where to put him.
"That's the way to do it," said Jack Jeens, with a low, soft chuckle. "Poor little bairn! The skipper has got a wife and little uns of his own, and understands these sort o' things. Shouldn't wonder if he finds a new father and mother for him."
Jack's messmates said nothing, for they never knew, though the rough sailor began to carry out his plan, going onward with the boy fast asleep upon his back, too much wearied out to heed where he was going or to think of the troubles which had befallen one so young. For his sleep grew deeper and deeper till the lights of Torquay came into sight round about the port at the bottom of the hill; and he did not stir when Jack, stopping short at the door of a shabby-looking little inn upon the Strand--a place much frequented by seamen--and the boy did not heed Jack Jeen's voice when he cried, "What cheer?" to the landlady, and asked for a room and bed for the night with supper to be ready directly.
The simple supper was soon placed upon the table of the mean-looking room; but the boy could not eat.
"Tired out?" said the landlady, sourly.
"Ay, ay; that's it," said Jack. "Here, missus, I'll carry him up and put him to bed."
And this the rough fellow did, carrying his young companion as carefully as if he were afraid that he would break, and then without attempting to undress him, he laid him down, covered him up, and then went back to have his supper. After which, weary enough himself, and thinking about his work in the early morning, he looked out