The Powder Monkey | Page 5

business to run away from home. Watcher run away for?"
"He used to beat me so."
"Beat you--a little un like you?" cried Jack, with a look of disgust. "What with?"
"Walking stick."
"Thick un?" said Jack, and the boy nodded. "And didn't nobody stop him?"
"Yes," said the little fellow quickly. "Aunt did."
"Who's aunt?" said Jack, sharply.
"Why, my aunt. She said it was a shame."
"Ha! I like her," said Jack, and he rubbed his hands. "But what did he beat you for?"
"He said I was always crying," said the boy, piteously. "But I couldn't help it."
"Course you couldn't," said Jack, softly. "You cried a-cause o' them being took away, didn't you?"
The boy nodded sharply--he did not dare to speak.
"Ha!" sighed Jack Jeens, as he rubbed his hands softly together. "I wish I'd been there. But I say, look here. And so you run away because he whipped you?"
The boy nodded.
"And went on walking till I run again' you?"
"Yes," came like a sigh.
"Well, you see, you'll have to go back."
The little fellow dropped the piece of biscuit he held, and it fell with a rap upon the deck, as he started to his feet, glanced out of the open port-hole, and took a quick step or two towards it, darted off into the darkness of the 'tween decks, the sailor catching a glimpse of him as he passed the light shed by the lanthorns.
"Scared, that's what he is," muttered Jack. "Why, I do believe that in his fright he'd ha' jumped into the water and swum for it sooner than be sent back. Well, I must find him again; and it don't seem easy in a great ship like this. Poor little chap, he was 'most ready to jump out of his skin!"
Jack took a few steps cautiously in the direction followed by the little fellow, but he had hardly started before the sound of a shrill whistle rang out, and he and some ten more pressed men were ordered on deck to be examined by the first lieutenant and some of the other officers, before being informed that they were now King's men, and ordered to receive their kits, after which they were distributed amongst the crew according to whether they were land or sea men, the latter having little to learn.
Jack uttered a grunt as he learned his destination, which was to be under the order of the captain of one of the big guns on the main deck, and the meaning of that grunt was that he determined to make the best of it. But his grunt sounded deep, because he had little Phil Leigh upon his mind, so he addressed one of the officers, and stated his case.
"Eh? The boy brought aboard with you when you were pressed?"
"Yes, sir," said Jack. "Run away from home, he did. Uncle thrashed him. Young gen'leman he is, and I want you to put him in a boat and set him ashore."
"Oh! do you, my lad?" said the officer, gruffly. "Run away from home, did he?"
"Yes, sir, because--"
"That'll do, my lad; no more talk. If he has run away from home he has run into the very best place to learn how to be a good boy."
"But--"
"That'll do, sir. I've no time to listen to you. We want boys."
"But he's such a little un, sir," pleaded Jack.
"Then we'll feed him well and make him grow big. Where is he?"
"Dunno, sir. He run away again this morning."
"What, again?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ah, well, he can't run far, and we shall find him soon. Set him ashore, eh? Next shore we shall see will be somewhere on the coast of Portugal or Spain, I expect."
The officer said the last words to himself as he tramped away, leaving Jack Jeens to stand scratching his head and muttering.
"Pore little chap!" he said. "They'll make a powder monkey on him? Well, and a fine thing too. Better than being a boy at home with an uncle who gave him the stick for crying after his father and mother who are dead. Here, Phil, messmate, where are yer?" he said softly, and his voice sounded as if somehow he had a soft place in his rough, honest heart. "Where are yer, little un? I want to tell you that you're going to be powder monkey aboard Admiral Lord Nelson's ship."
CHAPTER FOUR.
Jack Jeens found himself at last piped down below, swinging his hammock and turning in like the rest, to lie listening to the wash of the waves against the rolling sides of the great man-of-war, whose timbers creaked and groaned, for a stiff breeze had sprung up as the fleet began to run down channel. A rough night at sea did not trouble Jack, but he lay thinking about little Phil and wondering whether he could do any good by getting out of his