The Hands Had "Knocked Off" For Dinner, And Were Standing About The
Forecastle, When Ben Came Forward And Told His Story.
I could see
plainly that it made a great excitement, and that, unless I explained
the matter to them, the feeling would be turned against me.
Ben was a
poor English boy, a stranger in Boston, and without friends or money;
and being an active, willing lad, and a good sailor for his years,
was a general favorite. "Oh, yes!" said the crew, "the captain
has let you off, because you are a gentleman's son, and have got
friends, and know the owners; and taken Ben, because he is poor,
and has got nobody to say a word for him!" I knew that this was too
true to be answered, but I excused myself from any blame, and told
them that I had a right to go home, at all events. This pacified
them a little, but Jack had got a notion that a poor lad was to be
imposed upon, and did not distinguish very clearly; and though I
knew that I was in no fault, and, in fact, had barely escaped the
grossest injustice, yet I felt that my berth was getting to be a
disagreeable one. The notion that I was not "one of them," which,
by a participation in all their labor and hardships, and having no
favor shown me, had been laid asleep, was beginning to revive.
But far stronger than any feeling for myself, was the pity I felt
for the poor lad.
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