"Well, I like the water; I meant to have become a sailor once, but my father put his veto on it. If I had been allowed my own way, I should have been serving before the mast now." Benjamin never spoke truer words than these. "Hard life," responded the captain; "if I could live my life over again I should chose any thing on land rather than the best on the sea. I would not command a vessel another day, if there was any thing else I could do; but this is all I know." They had scarcely emerged from the bay when the storm burst upon them. It was the beginning of a long, violent, tempestuous spell of weather, such as mariners encounter on the sea; a new and exciting experience to Benjamin. "I have heard a great deal about storms at sea, and----" "And you will _see_ one now," interrupted the captain. "What you have _heard_ about it gives you a poor idea of the reality, compared with _seeing_ it." "I confess to a kind of desire to see a real hard one," answered Benjamin coolly. "If I should be frightened half out of my wits, I shall be as well off as the rest of you." "The vessel is leaking badly," cried out one of the crew. "Man the pumps," replied the captain. "Enough for all hands to do now." "Including me," responded Benjamin. "I can do as much as any of you at the pump," and he went to work with the crew. Suffice it to say, that the storm continued for days, tossing their small craft about like a shell, keeping all hands busy, night and day, sometimes the sea threatening to swallow the vessel and all it contained in its hungry maw. The vessel was two weeks on its way to Boston, encountering stormy weather nearly the whole time. Most of the voyage the leaky craft was kept from sinking by pumping, in which Benjamin took his turn, proving himself as efficient as any one of the crew; and he was as cool and self-possessed as any one of the number. At the end of two weeks they sailed into Boston harbor; and Benjamin was at home. XXIII. THE SURPRISE, AND ITS RESULTS. Benjamin hastened to the corner of Hanover and Union Streets, where the sign of the familiar blue ball hung, and entered with a fluttering heart. "Benjamin!" exclaimed his father, "can that be you?" and he grasped one of his hands in both of his. "How glad I am to see you!" "No more glad than I am to see you," responded the son, shaking his father's hand heartily. "I am glad to get home." The words were scarcely off his tongue when his mother appeared upon the scene. "Mother!" "O, Benjamin!" And his mother threw her arms about his neck, weeping tears of joy. Benjamin wept, too. He began to realize what months of agony his absence had caused the woman who bore him. "Can it be you, my son? I have mourned for you as dead," she said, as soon as she could command her feelings. "Where have you been?" "In Philadelphia. Has not Captain Homes told you where I was?" "Not a word from him about it."