Ethel Turner

“ Poppet's face had fallen again.
"Do you know of any boats that go to America?" she said in a forlorn tone. "Oh, do please try and think if you know of any."
Martha explained rapidly, sotto voce: "The young lady's brother had run away, and was on that boat; she was fretting her little heart out to get a letter to him; couldn't he pacify her some way? she herself knew it was impossible."
The sailor looked kindly at the little sweet face under its broad-brimmed hat. ”

“ Malcolm seemed to revel in.
Now this particular Wednesday, Martha had asked, as a great favour, that Poppet might go with her to town. The little girl was her favourite among all the children, and her warm heart quite ached to see the child moping as she had done since Bunty's disappearance. Every day, while the nursery tea-things were being washed up, Poppet used to stand beside her, with big mournful eyes, wondering "if just this minute Bunty was climbing a mast; if he was very tired of salt meat and weevily biscuits; if his feet got very cold swilling the decks down ”

“ He's a good-hearted chap, and would try his best; he'd be sure to know where the Isabella is, and could easy send it."
"That would be best, Miss Poppet dear," said Martha; "give it to this nice kind man and he'll send it."
"Is he going to America soon? Do you think he would see the Isabella?" the little sad voice said.
And the sailor's answer was certainly very reassuring: the Jenny Lind sailed in two days, and was sure to meet the Isabella, in which case the letter would be delivered into Bunty's hands. ”