"
The beginning of this speech he had learned from his mother; and the
misty antiquity of the loss his own childish imagination suggested.
The captains, hearing it, would wink at each other, swallow down
their grins, and gravely inform him of the sights he would see and
the lands he would visit when the time came for him, too, to be a
ship's captain. Often and often I have seen him perched, with his
small legs dangling, on one of the green posts on the quay, and
drinking in their talk of green icebergs, and flaming parrots, and
pig-tailed Chinamen; of coral reefs of all marvellous colours, and
suns that burnt men black, and monkeys that hung by their tails to
the branches and pelted the passers-by with coco-nuts; and the rest
of it. And the child would go back to the cottage in a waking dream,
treading bright clouds of fancy, with perhaps a little carved box or
knick-knack in his hand, the gift of some bearded, tender-hearted
ruffian. It was pitiful.
Of course he picked up their talk, and very soon could swear with
equal and appalling freedom in English, French, Swedish, German, and
Italian. But the words were words to him and no more, as he had no
morals. Nice distinctions between good and evil never entered the
little room where he slept to the sound only of the waves that curved
round Battery Point and tumbled on the beach below. And I know that,
one summer evening, when the scandalised townsmen and their wedded
wives assembled, and marched down to the cottage with intent to lead
the woman in a "Ramriding," the sight of Kit playing in the garden,
and his look of innocent delight as he ran in to call his mother out,
took the courage out of them and sent them home, up the hill, like
sheep.
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