I have had all nonsense about dignity and position knocked out of me long since!" "Well, perhaps, that's all for the best--though mind, Master Leigh, being your father's son, you mustn't ever forget you've been born a true gen'leman, and don't you ever do an action that you'll have cause to be ashamed on! That's the only proper sort o' dignity a gen'leman's son need ever be partic'ler about, to make people recognise him for what he is; and, with this feeling and eddication, you'll take your proper place in the world, never fear! Now, what do you think about doing, my lad?
for the day is getting on, and it's time to see after something." "I'm sure I don't know," I replied.

"I should like to go to sea, as I've told you.

Not in a coasting vessel, like the coal brig, but really to pea, so as to be able to sail over the ocean to China or Australia; and, bye-and-bye, after awhile, as soon as I am old enough and have sufficient experience, I hope to command a ship of my own." He had shown such sympathy towards me, that I couldn't help telling him all the wild dreams about my future which had been filling my mind for the last two years, although I had not confided them even to Tom, for I thought he would make fun of my nautical ambition.
Instead of laughing at me, however, my new friend looked highly delighted.
"I'm blessed if you aren't a reg'ler chip of the old block," he said admiringly, gazing into my face with a broad smile on his weather-beaten countenance, that made it for the moment in my eyes positively handsome.
"There spoke my old lieutenant, the same as I can fancy I hear him now, the morning we rowed up the Niger to assault the nigger stockade where he met his death.

`Pengelly,' sez he, in the same identical way as you first said them words o' yourn, `I mean to take that prah,' and, take it he did, though the poor fellow lost his life leading us on to the assault! I can see, very plain, you've got it all in you, the same as he; and, having been a seafaring man all my life, first in the sarvice, and then on my own hook in a small way in the coasting line, in course I honours your sentiments in wishing to be a sailor--though it's a hard life at the best.

Howsomedevers, `what's bred in the bone,' as the proverb says, `must come out in the flesh,' and if you will go to sea, why, you must, and I'll try to help you on to what you wish, as far as Sam Pengelly can; I can't say more nor that, can I ?" "No, certainly not, and I'm much obliged to you," I answered; for he made a pause at this point, as if waiting for my reply.
"Well, then, that's all settled and entered in the log-book fair and square; but, as all this can't be managed in a minute, and there'll be a lot of arrangements to make, s'pose as how you come home along o' me first?
I'm an orphan, too, the same as yourself, with nobody left to care for or to mind me, save my old sister Jane, who keeps house for me; and she and I'll make you as welcome as the flowers in May!" I demurred for a moment at accepting this kind proposal, for I was naturally of a very independent nature; and, besides, the lessons I had received in my uncle's household made me shrink from incurring the obligation of any one's hospitality, especially that of one with whom I had only such brief acquaintanceship, albeit he was "an orphan"-- a rather oldish one, I thought--"like myself." But my new friend would not be denied.
"Come on, now," he repeated, getting up from the seat, and holding out a big, strong hand to me, with such a beaming, good-natured expression on his face and so much genuine cordiality in his voice, that it was impossible for me to persist in refusing his invitation; the more particularly as, seeing me hesitate, he added the remark--"leastways, that is, unless you're too high a gen'leman to consort with an humble sailor as was your own father's coxswain!" This settled the point, making me jump up in a jiffey; when, without further delay, he and I went off from the Hoe, hand in hand, in the direction of Stoke, where he told me he lived.
It was now nearly the middle of December, six weeks having passed by since the memorable Sunday on which I and Tom had made a Guy Fawkes of Dr Hellyer, and run away from school--the intervening time having slipped by quickly enough while on board the coal brig at Newcastle, and during our voyage down the coast again--but the weather, I recollect, was wonderfully mild for the time of year; and, as we walked past the terraces fronting the Hoe, the sun shone down on us, and over the blue sea beyond in Plymouth Sound below, as if it had been a summer day.
Indeed, no matter what the weather might have been, I think it would have seemed fine and bright to me; for, I don't believe I had ever felt so happy in my life as I did when trudging along by Sam Pengelly's side that morning.
"You're a pretty strong-built chap for your age," said Sam, as we went along.