The Little Hero, A TALE OF THIS ATLANTIC, As TOLD BY OLD BAN.

Cromwell Argus, Volume I, Issue 20, 30 March 1870, Page 7

The Little Hero, A TALE OF THIS ATLANTIC, As TOLD BY OLD BAN.

Now, lads, ( a short yarn l"I just spin you, As kapp'd on our very lust run, 'Bout a boy as a man's soul had in hiin, Or else I'm a son of a gun ! From Liverpool port out three days, lads, The good ship floating over the deep, rho skies bright with sunshine above us, The waters beneath us asleep. Not a bad-tempered lubber among us— A jollier crew never sailed—'Oept the first mate, a bit of a savage, But good seaman as ever was hailed. Regulation, good order, his motto ; Strong as iron, and steady as quick ; With a couple of bushy black eyebrows. And eyes fierce as those of Old IS iek ! One day he comes up from below deck, A graspin a lad by the, arm— A poor little ragged young urchin, As ought to bin home with his marm ! An' the mate asks the boy pretty roughly, " How he dar'd for to he stowed away ? A cheating the owners and captain, Sailiu', eatia', and all without pay I" The lad had a bright face and sunny, An' a pair of blue eyes, like a girl's, An' likdsa up at the scowling first mate, boys, An' shakes back his long shining curls ; An' says he, in a voice clear and pretty, " My stepfather brought me aboard, \ n 1 hid me away down the stairs there, For to keep me he couldn't afford. " And be told nio the big ship would take me Co Halifax tovvn—oh, so far ! And he said, ' Now the i-.ord i 3 your Father, Who lives where the good angels are !''' " It's a lie !" says the mate ; " not your father, But some o' these big skulkers here : Some milk-hearted, soft-headed sailor. Spjak up ! teil the truth ! d'ye hear?" " 'lVarn't us," growled the tars as 3tood round 'em. " Wnat's your age ?" savs one son of the brine; " And your name ?" says anotliar old saltiish. Says the small chap, " I'm Frank—just turned nine." " Oh, my eyes !" savs another bronzed seaman. To the mate who seamed staggw'd hisself. " Let him go free to old Navy Seoshy, An' I'll work out his passage myself." '•Belay!" says the mate, ''shut your mouth man; I'll sail this here craft, bet your life ; An' I'll fit the lie on to ye somehow, As s juare as a fork fits a knife !" Then knitting his black brows with anger, Ha tumb'es the poor slip below ; An' says he, " P'raps to-morrow 'll change you If it don't, back to England you go !" I took him some dinner be sure mates ; Just think, only nine years of age ! \n' next day, just a3 soon as sis belis tolled, The mite brings hiin out of his cage. \ri he plants him afore ua amidships, ' His eyes like two coals all a-light; An' he says through his teeth—mid with passion,. An' his hand lifted, ready to smite—"Tell the truth, lad, and then I'll forgive you ; But the truth 1 will have—speak it out ; It wisu't your father as brought you, But some of these men here about'?" Chen tint pair o' blue eyes, bright and winning, Oleir and steady with i.inocont youth, Looks up at the mate's bushy eyebrows, An' says he. "Sir, I've told you the truth !" 'Twarn't no use—the mate didn't believe him, Though every one else did aboard ; With rough hand by the collar ha seized him, Aud cried, " You shall hang, by the Lord 1" In' he snatched his watch out of his pockot, Just as if he'd been drawing a knife : " If in ten minutes more you don't apeak, lad, There's the. rope, and good-bye to dear life." There—yon never did see sneh a sight, mates, As that boy, with his pale, pretty face ; Proud, though, and steady with courage— Never thinking of asking for grace !; Eight minutes went by, all in silence; Says the mate then,'' Speak lad, say your say !'" His eye 3 slowly filling with tear-drops, He, faltering, says, " May I pray ?" I'm a rough and a hard old tarpaulin As any blue-jacket afloat, But the salt-water springs to mv eyes, lads, And I felt' my heart rise in my throat; The mate kind o' trembled and shivered, ■ But nodded his bead in reply, And his cheek went all white of a sudden, While the hot light was quenched in his oyo. He stood like a figure of marble, With his wateh tightly grasped in his hand, And the passengers all still around him— Ne'er tho like wa3 on sea or on laud ! An' the little chap kneels on the dock there. An' his hinds he clasps over his breast, As he must ha' done often at h'vao, lads, At night-time, when goin' to rest. And soft comes the words, " Our Father," Low and soft from that dear baby lip ; But, low a3 they was, heard like trumpet By every true man aboard o' that ship. Every bit o' that prayer, mates, ho goes through, To " For ever and ever. Amen." Aud for all the bright gold o' the Indies I wouldn't ha' heard him agon ! An' says he, when he'd finished, uprising, An' lifting his blue eyea above, " Dear Lord Je3iis, oh, take me to heaven,. Back again to my own mother's love." For a minute or two, like to magic, We stood every man like the doad, Then back to the mate's face comes running The life-blood again, warm and red. Off his feet was that lad sudden lifted, Aud c'rtspe 1 to tho mite's rugge 1 breMt ; An' hi 3 husky voiee muttered ' Go.l bless you■!" As his lips to his forehead he pressed Like a man, says the mate, " God forgive me. That ever I used you so hard ; It's myself as had ought to be strung up Taut and sure to that ugly old yard." " Yon believe me now ?" thou said tho youujjta?: "■Believe you ?" —be kisse I him once more ; " You have laid down your life for the tru !i. lid Beliove you? From now evermore I" An' p'rhaps, mates, he wasn't thought much on, All tint day, and the rest of the trip : P'rhaps he paid, after all, for bis pnsi." ! P'rhaps he wasn't tko.pes of the s'.iiji ! And if that little chap ain't a mode! For all. young or old, short or ball, Aud if that ain't tho stuff to mako men of. Old Bon he known nought after nIL [ Afrrno^.VATTUiaou.