By the time that Rollo and Jennie had been two days at sea, they had become accustomed to their novel position, and they began to feel quite at home on board the ship.  They formed acquaintance with several of the passengers, and they went to and fro about the cabins and decks, and visited their friends in their state rooms quite freely, sometimes alone and sometimes together.  The sky was clear, and the water was comparatively smooth.  It is true that there was a long swell upon the surface of the sea, which produced a continual, though gentle, rocking of the ship, that made many of the passengers sick and uncomfortable.  Rollo and Jane, however, felt for the most part quite well.  Sometimes, for a short period, one or the other of them looked pale, and seemed dispirited.  At such times they would lie down upon the couch in their state room, or upon a sofa in one of the saloons, and remain quietly there an hour at a time.  Jennie usually in such cases was accustomed to lie on the couch in her state room, on account of the seclusion of it; while Rollo, on the other hand, seemed to prefer the saloon.  He, being a boy, did not care so much about the seclusion.  On the contrary, it amused him to see the people going to and fro, and to watch the reflections of their forms in the mirrors about him.  Sometimes, also, it would happen that there were two or more of the passengers seated near him and engaged in conversation, that it entertained him to hear; especially when it related, as it often did, to adventures and incidents that they had met with at sea on former voyages.  It was necessary, however, that persons thus conversing should be seated very near, in order that Rollo should hear them; for the ship kept up a continual creaking in all its joints, from the rolling of the sea, which made it very difficult to hear what was said across the cabin.

The mirrors, however, and the reflections in them, produced the most singular illusions, and were a source of continual interest to Rollo’s mind, as he lay upon the sofa surrounded by them.  There were so many of these mirrors that the saloon, and all that pertained to it, were reflected a great many times, and thus produced the most wonderful effects.  Long passages were seen running off in all directions, and cabin beyond cabin, in an endless perspective.  So bright and distinct, too, were the reflections, that it was difficult to tell whether what you were looking at was real, or only an imaged reflection of it.  Sometimes Rollo would see, apparently at a great distance, a man walking along among carved columns in some remote passage way, and then, in an instant, the man would pass directly by his sofa.  He had been near all the time, and it was only some third or fourth reflection of him that Rollo had seen.

On the afternoon of the second day of Rollo’s voyage, just before eight bells, which would be the time for dinner, as Rollo was lying on a sofa in the saloon, feeling very miserably, and extremely disinclined to speak or to move, two young men came along, talking in a loud and somewhat noisy manner.  They stopped opposite to him, and one of them began punching Rollo with the curved head of his cane, saying, ­

“Well, Rollo, what’s the matter with you?  Sick?  O, get up, boy, and drive about.  Don’t lie moping here like a landlubber.  Get up, and go and eat some dinner.  It is almost eight bells.”

Rollo wished very much that these visitors would leave him alone.  He made very little reply to them, only saying that he did not wish for any dinner.  In fact, he felt sure that, if he were to go to the table, he could not eat any thing.

The men, after laughing at him, and punching him, and teasing him a little longer, went away.

A few minutes after this, Maria and Jennie came into the saloon.  They were ready to go to dinner, and so they came into the saloon to wait there till the gong should sound.  When they saw Rollo lying upon the sofa, they went up to him, but did not speak.  Rollo opened his eyes and looked at them.  Maria smiled, but still did not speak.  Rollo smiled in return, though somewhat faintly, and then shut his eyes again.  Then Maria led Jennie away, gently.

“You see,” said Maria to Jennie, when they had gone out of Rollo’s hearing, “he feels a little sick, and when persons feel seasick they do not like to talk.  I am going to get him a bowl of broth.”

“Well,” said Jennie, “let me go and ask him if he would like some.”

“No,” said Maria.  “If you were to ask him, he would say no.  He would think that he could not eat it; and yet, if I bring it to him, without saying any thing about it, when he tastes it perhaps he will like it.  In fact, when people are sick, it is always better not to ask them too much about what they would like.  It is better to consider what we think they would like, and bring it to them, without saying any thing about it beforehand.”

So saying, Maria rang the saloon bell.  The chambermaid came in answer to the summons.  Maria then sent the chambermaid to the dining saloon to bring a bowl of chicken broth to her.  The chambermaid went out, and presently returned, bringing the broth, just as the gong was sounding for dinner.  Maria carried the broth to Rollo.

When she offered it to him, Rollo thought at first that he should not be able to take but two or three spoonfuls of it, but on tasting it he found that he liked it very much.  He ate it all, and, as he lay down again upon his sofa, he said that he felt a great deal better.

Maria then told him that he might lie still there as long as he pleased; adding, that she and Jennie were going to dinner.  Maria and Jennie then went away, leaving Rollo alone again.

Rollo felt so much better for the broth that he had taken, that pretty soon he rose from his recumbent position, and began to sit up.  Presently he said to himself, “How much better I do feel.  I believe I will go and get some dinner.”

So he rose from the sofa, and began to stagger along toward the door of the saloon.  He found, however, that after all he felt somewhat giddy and light headed; and he concluded, therefore, that, instead of going to dinner, he would go up on deck and see how the wind was.  He accordingly turned to the staircase which led up to the main deck, and steadying himself by the hand rail as he ascended the steps, he went up.

At the head of the stairs was a passage way, and at the end of the passage way there was a space upon the deck, which was half enclosed; it being shut in by an awning on the windy side, and open on the other.  This place was often resorted to by passengers who were sick, and who wished for more fresh air than they could have below.  There was a row of settees on one side of this space, and, at the time that Rollo came up there, there was a lady lying on one of these settees, apparently in a very forlorn condition.  She looked very pale, and her eyes were shut.  She was lying upon a mattress, which had been put upon the settee for her, and was covered up with blankets and shawls.

A gentleman, who seemed to be her husband, was standing before her, attempting to persuade her to get up.  He did this, however, as Rollo thought, in rather a rough and heartless manner.

“O, get up! get up!” said he.  “You never will be well if you lie here.  Come, go with me and get some dinner.”

The lady said, in a mournful tone, that she could not get up, and that she had no appetite for dinner.

“Well,” said her husband, “I am going.”

“I wish you could tell me something about Hilbert,” said the lady.  “I feel very anxious about him.  I am afraid that he will get into some trouble.  He is so careless.”

“O, no,” said her husband.  “Don’t disturb yourself about him.  He’s safe enough somewhere, I dare say.”

So saying, the gentleman went away.

Rollo immediately conceived the idea of performing for this lady the kind service which Maria had so successfully performed for him.  So, without speaking to her at all, he went immediately down into the cabin again, and thence followed the long passages which led to the dining saloon, until he came to the door of it.  He looked in, and saw that the people were all seated at the table, eating their dinners.  He went to one of the waiters, and asked him if he would bring him a bowl of chicken broth, to carry to a lady who was sick.

The waiter said that he would do so, and immediately went to get the broth.  When he came back with it, he said to Rollo, ­

“You had better let me take it to the lady.”

“No,” said Rollo, “I can take it myself.  I know exactly where she is.”

So Rollo took the bowl, and began to carry it along.  He did this without much difficulty, for it was not by any means full.  Bowls of broth intended to be carried about ship at sea are never entirely full.

When, finally, he came to the place where the lady was lying on the settee, he stood there a moment holding the bowl in his hand, without speaking, as he thought the lady was asleep; for her eyes were shut.  In a moment, however, she opened her eyes.  Rollo then said to her, ­

“Would not you like a bowl of broth, lady?  I have brought some for you.”

The lady gazed at Rollo a moment with a sort of bewildered look, and then, raising herself up upon the settee, she took the broth, and began to eat it with the spoon.  At first, she seemed to take it cautiously and with doubt; but presently, finding that she liked it, she took spoonful after spoonful with evident pleasure.  Rollo was extremely delighted at the success of his experiment.  The lady said nothing to him all the time, though she looked up at him repeatedly with a very earnest gaze while she was taking the broth.  At length she finished it, and then gave Rollo back the bowl, saying, as she did it, ­

“Did my husband send you with that bowl of broth to me?”

“No,” said Rollo, “I brought it myself.”

“And what put it into your head to do that?” added the lady.

“Why, Maria brought some to me when I was sick,” replied Rollo, “and it did me good; and so I thought it would do you good.”

The lady looked at him a moment more with an earnest gaze, and then lay down again, and shut her eyes.

Presently she opened them a moment, and said, ­

“Do you know my son Hilbert?”

“I have seen a boy about the ship,” said Rollo, “not quite so big as I am.  Is that he?”

“With a blue jacket?” said the lady.

“Yes,” said Rollo, “and a bow and arrows.”

“That’s he,” said the lady.  “If you will go and find out where he is, and ask him to come to me, you will do me a great deal of good.”

Rollo had seen this boy several times in different places about the ship; but as he seemed to be rather rude and boisterous in his manners, and very forward and free withal in his intercourse with the passengers who chanced to speak to him from time to time, Rollo had not felt much disposed to form an acquaintance with him.  The boy had a bow and arrows, with which he had often amused himself in shooting about the decks.  He did this with so little consideration, that at last, one of the officers of the ship told him that he must not shoot any more in those parts of the ship where the ladies were, but that he must go forward, among the sailors, if he wished to practise archery.  So the boy went forward, and from that time he spent most of his time on the forward deck among the sailors, and in the midst of the ropes and the rigging.

Rollo now went in pursuit of him, and after looking for him in many places, both before and aft, he finally went down into the dining saloon, and there he found Hilbert seated at the table, eating dinner, with his father.  His bows and arrows were on the seat by his side.

Rollo went up to the place where Hilbert was sitting, and in a timid and cautious manner informed him that his mother wished to see him.

“My mother!” repeated Hilbert, looking up surprised.

“Yes,” replied Rollo; “she asked me to tell you.  But I suppose that she can wait until you have finished your dinner.”

“O, no,” said Hilbert, “I can’t go at all.  Go tell her I can’t come.”

Rollo was greatly astonished at receiving such a message as this from a boy to his mother.

“Hilbert,” said his father, in a very stern and threatening manner, “go to your mother directly.”

“No,” said Hilbert, in a sort of begging and whining tone.  “No.  If I do, she’ll make me stay there all the afternoon.”

“No matter for that,” said his father; “go directly.”

Hilbert did not move, but went on eating his dinner.

“At least,” said his father, “you must go immediately when you have done your dinner.”

Hilbert muttered something in reply, but Rollo did not hear what it was.  In fact, he did not wish to hear any more of such a dialogue as this between a child and his father.  So he went away.  He was not at all inclined to go back to the lady and inform her what Hilbert had said; but he thought that he ought at least to go and tell her that he had found Hilbert, as he had been taught that it was always his duty to go back with a report when sent on a message.  So he went back to the lady, and told her that he had found Hilbert, and that he was at dinner with his father.

“And what did he say about coming to me?” asked the lady.

“His father told him that he must come as soon as he had finished his dinner,” replied Rollo.

“Very well,” said the lady, “that will do.”

So saying, she turned her head away and shut her eyes again, and so Rollo withdrew.

It would be a very nice and delicate point to determine whether Rollo’s answer in this case was or was not as full as strict honesty required.  He certainly did not state any thing that was not true; nor did he, in what he said, convey any false impression.  He, however, withheld a very important part of what the lady must have desired to know.  It is undoubtedly sometimes right for us to conceal or withhold the truth.  Sometimes, indeed, it is our imperious duty to do so.  Rollo’s motive for doing as he did in this case was to avoid giving a sick mother pain, by reporting to her the undutiful conduct of her son.  Whether it would or would not have been better for him to have communicated the whole truth, is a point which must be left for the readers of this book to discuss and settle among themselves.

After dinner, Hilbert, instead of going to his mother, went up upon the deck, leaving his bow and arrows, however, down in the cabin.  As Rollo and Jennie were, at that time, seated near the after part of the promenade deck, he came and sat down near them.  Rollo had a great desire to get up and go away, taking Jennie with him; but he feared that it would be impolite for him to do so; and while he was considering what he should do, the surgeon came along that way, and said to them, ­

“Children, have you seen the little bird?”

“What bird?” exclaimed the children, all together.

“Why, there has a bird come on board,” replied the surgeon.  “He belongs in Nova Scotia, I suppose.  That is the nearest land.  He is forward, somewhere, among the sailors.”

The children immediately hurried out to the most forward part of the promenade deck, near the great smoke pipe, to a place from which they could look down upon the forward deck.  There they saw the little bird perched upon a coil of rigging.  He was perfectly still.  Some sailors were standing near, looking at him.  The bird, however appeared to take no notice of them.

“Poor little thing!” said Rollo.  “I expect he is tired flying so far.  I wonder how far it is to Nova Scotia.”

Rollo turned round as he said this, to see if the surgeon was near, in order to ask him how far the poor bird was from home.  The surgeon was not there, but he saw that both Jennie and Hilbert had suddenly started together to go back toward the stairway, as if they were going below.

“Jennie,” said Rollo, “where are you going?”

Jennie did not answer, but hurried on.  Hilbert seemed equally eager.  In fact, it was evident that they had both been seized with some new idea, though Rollo could not at first imagine what it was.  At length, he said, ­

“Ah!  I know.  They are going down where the bird is, to see it nearer.  I’ll go with them.”

So saying, Rollo hurried away too.

He was mistaken, however, in supposing that Hilbert and Jennie were merely going to the forward deck so as to get nearer the bird.  Jennie was going down into the cabin to shut up her kitten.  The instant that she saw the bird she was reminded of Tiger, having sometimes seen Tiger run after little birds in the yards and gardens at home. They could escape from her by flying away, but this poor bird seemed so tired that Jennie was afraid the kitten would catch it and kill it, if she came near; and so she ran off very eagerly to shut the kitten up.

She found the kitten asleep on a sofa in the cabin.  She immediately seized her, waking her up very suddenly by so doing, and hurried her off at once to her cage.  Jennie put the kitten into the cage, and then shut and fastened the door.

“There, Tiger,” said she, “you must stay in there.  There is something up stairs that you must not see.”

Then Jennie took the cage up, by means of the ring which formed the handle at the top, and carried it into her state room.  She pushed aside the curtains of the lower berth, and, putting the cage in, she deposited it upon a small shelf in the end of the berth.  Then, drawing the curtains again very carefully, she came out of the state room and shut the door.

“Now, Tiger,” said she, as she tried the door to see if it was fast, “you are safe; and you must stay there until the little bird goes away.”

The kitten, when she found herself thus left alone in such a seclusion, stood for a moment on the floor of the cage, looking toward the curtains, in an attitude of great astonishment; then, knowing well, from past experience, that it was wholly useless for her to speculate on the reasons of Jennie’s doings, she lay down upon the floor of the cage, curled herself into a ring, and went to sleep again.

As for Hilbert, who had set off from the smoke pipe deck at the same time with Jennie, and in an equally eager manner, his going below had been with an entirely different intent from hers.  He was going to get his bow and arrows, in order to shoot the little bird.  He found them on the seat where he had left them.  He seized them hastily, and ran up by the forward gangway, which brought him out upon the forward deck not very far from where the bird was resting upon the coil of rigging.  He crept softly up toward him, and adjusted, as he went, his arrow to his bow.  Several of the sailors were near, and one of them, a man whom they called Hargo, immediately stopped the operation that he was engaged in, and demanded of Hilbert what he was going to do.

“I am going to pop one of my arrows into that bird,” said Hilbert.

“No such thing,” said the sailor.  “You pop an arrow into that bird, and I’ll pop you overboard.”

Sailors will never allow any one to molest or harm in any way the birds that alight upon their ships at sea.

“Overboard!” repeated Hilbert, in a tone of contempt and defiance.  “You would not dare to do such a thing.”

So saying, he went on adjusting his arrow, and, creeping up toward the bird, began to take aim.

Hargo here made a signal to some of his comrades, who, in obedience to it, came up near him in a careless and apparently undesigned manner.  Hargo then, by a sudden and unexpected movement, pulled the bow and arrow out of Hilbert’s hand, and passed them instantly behind him to another sailor, who passed them to another, each standing in such a position as to conceal what they did entirely from Hilbert’s sight.  The thing was done so suddenly that Hilbert was entirely bewildered.  His bow and arrow were gone, but he could not tell where.  Each sailor, the instant that he had passed the bow and arrow to the next, assumed a careless air, and went on with his work with a very grave and unmeaning face, as if he had not been taking any notice of the transaction.  The last man who received the charge was very near the side of the ship, and as he stood there, leaning with a careless air against the bulwarks, he slyly dropped the bow and arrow overboard.  They fell into the water just in advance of the paddle wheel.  As the ship was advancing through the water all this time with tremendous speed, the paddle struck both the bow and the arrow the instant after they touched the water, and broke them both into pieces.  The fragments came out behind, and floated off unseen in the foam which drifted away in a long line in the wake of the steamer.  Hilbert was perfectly confounded.  He knew nothing of the fate which his weapons had met with.  All he knew was, that they had somehow or other suddenly disappeared as if by magic.  Hargo had taken them, he was sure; but what he had done with them, he could not imagine.  He was in a great rage, and turning to Hargo with a fierce look, he demanded, in a loud and furious tone, ­

“Give me back my bow and arrow.”

“I have not got your bow and arrow,” said Hargo.

So saying, Hargo held up both hands, by way of proving the truth of his assertion.

Hilbert gazed at him for a moment, utterly at a loss what to do or say, and then he looked at the other sailors who were near, first at one, and then at another; but he could get no clew to the mystery.

“You have got them hid behind you,” said Hilbert, again addressing Hargo.

“No,” said he.  “See.”

So saying, he turned round and let Hilbert see that the bow and arrow were not behind him.

“Well, you took them away from me, at any rate,” said Hilbert; and saying this, he turned away and walked off, seemingly very angry.  He was going to complain to his father.

He met his father coming up the cabin stairs, and began, as soon as he came near him, to complain in very bitter and violent language of the treatment that he had received.  Hargo had taken away his bow and arrow, and would not them back to him.

“Very well,” replied his father, quietly, “you had been doing some mischief with them, I suppose.”

“No,” said Hilbert, “I had not been doing any thing at all.”

“Then you were going to do some mischief with them, I suppose,” said his father.

“No,” said Hilbert, “I was only going to shoot a little bird.”

“A little bird!” repeated his father, surprised.  “What little bird?”

“Why, a little bird that came on board from Nova Scotia, they said,” replied Hilbert.  “He came to rest.”

“And you were going to shoot him?” said his father, in a tone of surprise.  Then, after pausing a moment, he added, “Here, come with me.”

So saying, Hilbert’s father turned and walked down the cabin stairs again.  He led the way to his state room, which, as it happened, was on the opposite side of the cabin from that which Jennie occupied.  When he reached the door of the state room, he opened it, and standing on one side, he pointed the way to Hilbert, saying, sternly, ­

“Go in there!”

Hilbert went in.

“You will stay there, now,” said his father “as long as that bird sees fit to remain on board.  It won’t do, I see, for you both to be on deck together.”

So saying, Hilbert’s father shut the state room door, and locked it; and then, putting the key in his pocket, went away.

The bird was now safe, his two enemies ­the only enemies he had on board the steamer ­being shut up in their respective state rooms, as prisoners, one on one side of the cabin, and the other on the other.  He did not, however, rest any the more quietly on this account; for he had not at any time been conscious of the danger that he had been in, either from the kitten or the boy.  He went on reposing quietly at the resting-place which he had chosen on the coil of rigging, until at last, when his little wings had become somewhat reinvigorated, he came down from it, and went hopping about the deck.  Jennie and Maria then went down below and got some bread for him.  This they scattered in crums before him, and he came and ate it with great satisfaction.  In about two hours he began to fly about a little; and finally he perched upon the bulwarks, and looked all over the sea.  Perceiving that he was now strong enough to undertake the passage home to his mate, he flew off, and ascending high into the air, until he obtained sight of the coast, he then set forth with great speed in that direction.

It was several hundred miles to the shore, and he had to rest two or three times on the way.  Once he alighted on an English ship-of-war that was going into Halifax; the next time upon a small fishing boat on the Banks.  He was not molested at either of his resting-places; and so in due time he safely reached the shore, and joined his mate at the nest, in a little green valley in Nova Scotia.  He was very glad to get home.  He had not intended to have gone so far to sea.  He was blown off by a strong wind, which came up suddenly while he was playing in the air, about five miles from shore.

The two prisoners were liberated from their state rooms after having been kept shut up about two hours.  Tiger did not mind this confinement at all; for her conscience being quiet, she did not trouble herself about it in the least, but slept nearly the whole time.  It was, however, quite a severe punishment to Hilbert; for his mind was all the time tormented with feelings of vexation, self-reproach, and shame.