True Blue | Page 4

the style of life they had to lead, to have had too refined characters on board.
"Bless you, Freeborn--take care of the baby, of course we will!" added Nancy, looking up from some occupation about which she had been engaged. "We'll both be mothers to him, and all the ship's company will act the part of a father to him. Never you fear that. As long as the old ship holds together, he'll not want friends; nor after it, if there's one of us alive. Set your mind at rest now."
"Yes, that we will, old ship," exclaimed Paul Pringle, taking Freeborn's hand and wringing it warmly. "That's to say, if the little chap wants more looking after than you can manage. But come along now. There's no use staying here. Bet and Nancy will look after the child better than we can, and you must turn in. Your hammock is the best place for you now."
The gale at length ceased; the ship was put on her proper course for the West Indies, whither she was bound; the sea went down, the clouds cleared away, and the glorious sun came out and shone brightly over the blue ocean. All the officers and men assembled on the upper deck, and then near one of the middle ports was placed a coffin, covered with the Union-Jack. There ought to have been a chaplain, but there was none; and so the Captain came forward with a Prayer-book, and in an impressive, feeling way, though not without difficulty, read the beautiful burial service to be used at sea for a departed sister; and the two women stood near the coffin, one holding a small infant; and there stood William Freeborn, supported by Paul Pringle, for by himself he could scarcely stand; and then slowly and carefully the coffin was lowered into the waves, and as they closed over it, in the impulse of the moment, the bereaved widower would have thrown himself after it, not knowing what he was about, had not Paul Pringle held him back. Down sank the coffin rapidly, and was hid to sight by the blue ocean--the grave of many a brave sailor, and of thousands of the young, and fair, and brave, and joyous, and of the proud and rich also, but never of a more kind-hearted honest woman than was Molly Freeborn. So all on board the Terrible declared, and assuredly they spoke the truth.
CHAPTER TWO.
Onward across the Atlantic, as fast as her broad spread of white canvas filled by the wind could force her, glided the staunch old "seventy-four," which bore our hero and his fortunes, though at that time they did not look very prosperous; nor was he himself, it must be acknowledged, held in much consideration except by his own father and his two worthy nurses. His fare, too, was not of the most luxurious, nor suited to his delicate appetite. Milk there was none; and the purser, not expecting so juvenile an addition to the ship's company, had not provided any in a preserved state,--indeed, in those days, it may be doubted whether such an invention had been thought of,--while a round-shot had carried off the head of the cow in the last action in which the Terrible had been engaged. As she furnished fresh beef to the ship's company, they would not have objected to a similar accident happening again.
Poor Molly's child had, therefore, to be fed on flour and water, and such slops as the doctor and the nurses could think of. They could not have been unsuitable, for it throve wonderfully, and was pronounced by all the ship's company as fine a child as ever was seen.
"Have you been and had a look at Molly Freeborn's baby?" asked Dick Tarbrush of his messmate, Tom Buntline. "Do now, then. Such a pretty young squeaker. Bless you, it'll do your heart good. He's quite a hangel."
Similar remarks were made, one to the other, by the men; and one by one, or sometimes a dozen of them together, would come into the women's cabin to have a look at the baby, and then they would stand in a circle round him, with their hands on their hips or behind them, afraid to touch it, their pigtails stuck out as they bent down, their huge beards, and whiskers, and pendent lovelocks forming a strong contrast to the diminutive, delicate features of the infant, who might, notwithstanding, one day be expected to grow up similar in all respects to one of them.
After the gale, the Terrible encountered head winds, and light winds, and calms, and baffling winds of every description, so that her passage to the station was long delayed. It gave time, however, for the baby to grow, and for the discussion of several knotty points connected