George's mother grew alarmed.
"Who knows," said the good woman, "whether the same Frenchman may not
still be on the watch, and seize the _Ouseburn Lassie_ and her cargo;
and, worse than all, my dear boy on board of her?"
Her husband was not without his fears either, but George laughed at
the notion of capture by a French vessel.
"I'll go and have a talk with old Abbott, the skipper," he said, "and
see what he thinks about it."
"Well, George, my lad," the old salt said when the boy questioned him
on the point, "it's like this. It's not impossible we may get a
Frenchy down on us. But we shan't strike our colours if there's the
least chance of doing anything by a bit of fighting. The master's a
man of peace, but between you and me"--the old fellow sank his voice
to a whisper--"I've got stowed away, unbeknown to him, four tidy
little guns; real beauties they are, if small. You shall help me to
use 'em on the Mounseers, if they won't leave us alone."
To a lad of George Fairburn's stamp such a prospect was glorious.
"I'm quite ready to go, mother," he announced, "on the brig's very next
trip." Mother and father made no reply, but the former turned away to
hide her tears. The lad must go and begin his new life. For a few days
all was bustle and preparation, George in the seventh heaven of
delight.
Pages:
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46