Soon after I was established upon the forward deck, my attention was attracted by two boys lying close under the bulwarks.  I was struck by their foreign dress, their coarse voices, and their stupid faces.  Two creatures, I thought, near akin to the beasts of the field.  They cowered in their sheltered corner, and soon fell asleep.  One of the busy boat-hands found them in his way, and gave them a shove or two, but failed to arouse them.  He looked hard at them, pitied their fatigue, and left them undisturbed.  Presently an old Irish woman, a cake-and-apple-vendor, I suppose, sat down near them upon a coil of rope, and took from her basket a fine large cherry-pie, which appeared to be the last of her stock, and reserved as a tit-bit for her dinner.  She turned it round, and eyed it fondly, before she cut it carefully into many equal parts.  Then, with huge satisfaction, she began to devour it, making a smacking of the lips and working of the whole apparatus of eating, which proved that she intensely appreciated the uses of mastication, or else found a wonderful joy in it.  “How much above an intelligent pig is she?” I asked myself.

While I was pondering this question, I saw that the boy nearest her stirred in his sleep, struggled uneasily with his torpor, and at last lifted his head blindly with his eyes yet shut.  He sniffed in the air, like a hungry dog.  Yes!  The odor of food had certainly reached him,—­that sniff confirmed it,—­and his eyes starting open, he sat up, and looked with grave steadiness at the pie.  It was just the face of a dog that sees a fine piece of beef upon his master’s table.  He knows it is not for him,—­he has no hope of it,—­he does not go about to get it, nor think of the possibility of having it,—­yet he wants it!

It was a look of unmitigated desire.  The woman had disposed of half of her dainty fare, taking up each triangular piece by the crust, and biting off the point, dripping with cherry-juice, first, when her wandering gaze alighted upon the boy.  She had another piece just poised, but she slowly lowered it to the plate, and stared at the hungry face.  I expected her to snarl like a cat, snatch her food and go away.  But she didn’t.  She counted the pieces,—­there were five.  She eyed them, and shook her head.  She again raised the tempting morsel,—­for the woman was unmistakably hungry.  But the boy’s steady look drew the pie from her lips, and she suddenly held out the plate to him, saying, “There, honey,—­take that.  May-be ne’er a morsel’s passed yer lips the day.”  The boy seized the unexpected boon greedily, but did not forget to give a duck of his head, by way of acknowledgment.  The woman leaned her elbows on her knees, and watched him while he was devouring it.