Tom had even
been invited personally to the flag-ship, and was to have
been presented at Court, but that they sailed too soon.
To tell the whole truth, the Commodore was not
overpleased to see his protege hanging about the bar
and billiard-room on Christmas Day. For himself, his
whole family were living at Willard's, but he knew Tom's
father was not living there, and he thought Tom might be
better employed.
Perhaps Tom guessed this. Perhaps he was in despair.
Anyway he knew "Old Benbow," as the boys called him,
would be a good counsellor. In point of statistics "Old
Benbow" was just turned forty, had not a gray hair in his
head, could have beaten any one of Tom's class, whether
in gunning or at billiards, could have demonstrated every
problem in Euclid while they were fiddling over the
forty-seventh proposition. He was at the very prime of
well-preserved power, but young nineteen called him "Old
Benbow," as young nineteen will, in such cases.
Bold with despair, or with love for his father, Tom
stopped "Old Benbow" and asked him if he would come into
one of the sitting-rooms with him. Then he made this
venerable man his confidant. The Commodore had seen the
slurs in the "Scorpion" and the "Argus" and the "Evening
Journal." "A pity," said he, "that Newspaper Row, that
can do so much good, should do so much harm.
Pages:
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220