Chapter 6: Ben Harden.

As the words fell one by one from Ben’s lips, Eric realized more and more clearly how critical was his situation. In his gladness at escape from the present peril of the wreck, he had forgotten to take thought for the future; but now he was brought face to face with a state of affairs by which that future was filled with dark foreboding. Little as he had seen of the men into whose midst he had been so strangely thrown, it was enough to make very plain to him that they wanted no witness of their doings.

So far they had been too much occupied with their own concerns to take much notice of him; but once he became the object of their attention, the question as to his disposal must be settled. The issue was more than doubtful, to say the least.

An awful feeling of desolation and despair came upon him. He seemed unable to utter a word, but looked up into Ben’s bronzed face with an expression in which pathetic appeal was so mingled with harrowing dread as to touch this strange man.

He sprang to his feet, dashed his pipe out of his mouth, clenched his huge fists, and shouted aloud, as though all the other wreckers were there to hear, —

“They had better take care! I saved ye, and I’m going to stand by ye. Whoever wants to do you harm’ll have to reckon with Ben Harden first; and come what may, I’ll get you off this place with a whole skin, somehow.”

Eric was as much surprised at Ben’s sudden display of strong feeling as he had been alarmed by his ominous words. He gazed at him, with wide-open mouth, until the wrecker, recovering his self-control by an evident effort, threw himself down on the sand again, picked up his pipe, carefully relit it, and vigorously resumed puffing forth clouds of smoke.

It was some time before he spoke again. In a quiet, natural tone he asked Eric, —

“Have you any notion, my lad, why I troubled myself about ye at all?”

Eric shook his head, and there was something inexpressibly winning in his smile as he answered, —

“No, sir. Unless because you have too kind a heart to let Evil-Eye do me any harm.”

Ben smiled in return, but it was in a grim sort of a way.

“My heart was softer once than it is now. There were better days then, and never did I think that I’d come to be a wrecker on Sable Island,” said he; and the remembrance of those better days evidently gave him saddening thoughts, for he relapsed into the moody silence that was his wont. It continued so long that Eric began to feel uncomfortable, and was about to move away a little, in order to have a frolic with Prince, when Ben roused himself, and motioned him to draw near him.

“Sit ye down in front of me, my lad,” said he, “and listen to me a bit, and I’ll tell you why I couldn’t find it in my heart to let any harm come to you. I had a boy of my own once, as trim a lad as ever sat in a boat; and many a fine trip we made together, for I was at an honest trade then, and wasn’t ashamed to take my boy into it. Ah, lad! those were the good times. We went fishing on the Banks, getting our outfit at Halifax, and selling our fare there. But our home was at Chester, where I had a snug cottage, all my own, without a shilling of debt on it, and pretty well fitted up too. The wife—she was the best wife that ever I knew—she looked after the cottage, and we looked after the little schooner; and after each trip we’d stay at home awhile and have a little time together.