"How was he drowned, poor fellow?" responded Joey.

"Why, you see, his aunt is a good old soul, who keeps a b.u.mboat, and goes off to the shipping."

"What's a b.u.mboat?"

"A boat full of soft tommy, soldiers, pipes, and backey, rotten apples, stale pies, needles and threads, and a hundred other things; besides a fat old woman sitting in the stern sheets."

Joey stared; he did not know that "soft tommy" meant loaves of bread, or that "soldiers" was the term for red-herrings. He only thought that the boat must be very full.

"Now, you see that little Peter was her right-hand man, for she can't read and write. Can you? but of course you can."

"Yes, I can," replied Joey.

"Well, little Peter was holding on by the painter against a hard sea, but his strength was not equal to it, and so when a swell took the boat he was pulled right overboard, and he was drowned."

"Was the painter drowned too?" inquired Joey.

"Ha! ha! that's capital; why, the painter is a rope. Now, the old woman has been dreadfully put out, and does nothing but cry about little Peter, and not being able to keep her accounts. Now, you look very like him, and I think it very likely the old woman would take you in his place, if I went and talked her over; that's better than going to sea, for at all events you sleep dry and sound on sh.o.r.e every night, even if you do have a wet jacket sometimes. What d'ye think?"

"I think you are very kind; and I should be glad to take the place."

"Well, she's a good old soul, and has a warm heart, and trusts them who have no money; too much, I'm afraid, for she loses a great deal. So now I'll go and speak to her, for she'll be alongside of us when I go on board; and where shall I find you when I come on sh.o.r.e in the evening?"

"Wherever you say, I will be."

"Well, then, meet me here at nine o'clock; that will make all certain.

Come, I must be off now. I'll pay for the breakfast."

"I have money, I thank you," replied Joey.

"Then keep it, for it's more than I can do; and what's your name?"

"Joey."

"Well then, Joey, my hearty, if I get you this berth, when we come in, and I am short, you must let me go on tick till I can pay."

"What's tick?"

"You'll soon find out what tick is, after you have been a week in the b.u.mboat," replied the lad, laughing. "Nine o'clock, my hearty; good-bye."

So saying, the young sailor caught up his new clothes, and hastened down to the beach.

The room was crowded with seamen and women, but they were too busy talking and laughing to pay any attention to Joey and his comrade. Our little hero sat some little time at the table after his new acquaintance had left, and then walked out into the streets, telling the people of the house that he was coming back again, and requesting them to take care of his bundle.

"You'll find it here, my little fellow, all right when you ask for it,"

said the woman at the bar, who took it inside and put it away under the counter.

Joey went out with his mind more at ease. The nature of his new employment, should he succeed in obtaining it, he could scarcely comprehend, but still it appeared to him one that he could accomplish.

He amused himself walking down the streets, watching the movements of the pa.s.sers-by, the watermen in their wherries, and the people on board of the vessels which were lying off in the stream. It was a busy and animating sight. As he was lolling at the landing-place, a boat came on sh.o.r.e, which, from the description given by his young sailor friend, he was convinced was a b.u.mboat; it had all the articles described by him, as well as many others, such as porter in bottles, a cask probably containing beer; leeks, onions, and many other heterogeneous matters, and, moreover, there was a fat woman seated in the stern.

The waterman shoved in with his boat-hook, and the wherry grounded. The fat personage got out, and the waterman handed to her a basket, a long book, and several other articles, which she appeared to consider indispensable; among others, a bundle which looked like dirty linen for the wash.

"Dear me! how shall I get up all these things?" exclaimed the woman; "and, William, you can't leave the boat, and there's n.o.body here to help me."

"I'll help you," said Joey, coming down the steps: "what shall I carry for you?"

"Well, you are a good kind boy," replied she; "can you carry that bundle? I'll manage all the rest."

Joey tossed the bundle on his shoulder in a moment.

"Well, you are a strong little chap," said the waterman.

"He is a very nice little fellow, and a kind one. Now, come along, and I'll not forget you."

Joey followed with the bundle, until they arrived at a narrow door, not eighty yards from the landing-place, and the woman asked him if he would carry it upstairs to the first floor, which he did.

"Do you want me any more?" said Joey, setting down the bundle.

"No, dear, no; but I must give you something for your trouble. What do you expect?"

"Nothing at all," replied Joey; "and I shall not take anything; you're very welcome; good-bye;" and so saying, Joey walked downstairs, although the woman halloed after him, and recommenced his peregrination in the streets of Gravesend; but he was soon tired of walking on the pavement, which was none of the best, and he then thought that he would go out into the country, and enjoy the green fields; so off he set, the same way that he came into the town, pa.s.sed by the school of little Emma, and trudged away on the road, stopping every now and then to examine what attracted his notice; watching a bird if it sang on the branch of a tree, and not moving lest he should frighten it away; at times sitting down by the road-side, and meditating or the past and the future. The day was closing in, and Joey was still amusing himself as every boy who has been confined to a schoolroom would do; he sauntered on until he came to the very spot where he had been crying, and had met with little Emma Phillips; and as he sat down again, he thought of her sweet little face, and her kindness towards him--and there he remained some time till he was roused by some one singing as they went along the road. He looked up, and perceived it was the little girl, who was returning from school. Joey rose immediately, and walked towards her to meet her, but she did not appear to recognise him, and would have pa.s.sed him if he had not said, "Don't you know me?"

"Yes, I do now," replied she, smiling, "but I did not at first--you have put on another dress; I have been thinking of you all day--and, do you know, I've got a black mark for not saying my lesson," added the little girl, with a sigh.

"And, then, it is my fault," replied Joey; "I'm very sorry."

"Oh, never mind; it is the first that I have had for a long while, and I shall tell mamma why. But you are dressed as a sailor-boy--are you going to sea?"

"No, I believe not--I hope to have employment in the town here, and then I shall be able to see you sometimes, when you come from school. May I walk with you as far as your own house?"

"Yes, I suppose so, if you like it."

Joey walked with her until they came to the house, which was about two hundred yards farther.

"But," said Joey, hesitating, "you must make me a promise."

"What is that?"

"You must keep my secret. You must not tell your mother that you saw me first in what you call gentleman's clothes--it might do me harm--and indeed it's not for my own sake I ask it. Don't say a word about my other clothes, or they may ask me questions which I must not answer, for it's not my secret. I told you more this morning than I would have told any one else--I did, indeed."

"Well," replied the little girl, after thinking a little, "I suppose I have no right to tell a secret, if I am begged not to do it, so I will say nothing, about your clothes. But I must tell mother that I met you."

"Oh, yes; tell her you met me, and that I was looking for some work, and all that, and to-morrow or next day I will let you know if I get any."

"Will you come in now?" said Emma.

"No, not now; I must see if I can get this employment promised for me, and then I shall see you again; if I should not see you again, I shall not forget you, indeed I won't--Good-bye."