Two Sailor Lads by Gordon Stables

Frank Fielding wondered where he was when he awoke next morning, and found the sun shining in through the window of the little cosy room in which he had slept so soundly after his adventure, the night before.

Fred's room was in a back wing of the cottage that looked right away out to sea. But Fred had not slept so well, and the reason was not far to seek. He had often before heard his Daddy Pop, as he called the old fisherman, tell snatches of his life story, but never had listened to its complete recital. And when he retired that night to his little chamber he was as full of thought as any boy of his age can be. The feeling uppermost in the lad's innocent mind was one of sorrow for Daddy Pop's sadly wasted life. The old man had made it so plain to his listeners what the cause of his failure had been. He had been a dreamer instead of a student and a worker. Would there, he thought, be any chance for a humble lad like himself doing well in the world if he worked and studied? The question kept him awake half the night, and even then he hadn't half answered it. But long before this he had made up his mind that he would work and study, and he really felt thankful he had the chance, for the parish church school he attended was excellent -- in other words, it was thoroughly Scottish -- it sent at least half a dozen lads every year straight from it away to the University, and more than one of these had become senior wranglers at Cambridge or double first classes at Oxford.