“Dad’s been there,” Getty reminded him. “Mind when he told us ’bout yon elephants?”
“Aye, Dad’s been most all places,” assented Paul. “Went to New York onct and Lunnon, too. He’s school marster now.”
At this moment Cap’n Pem approached. “Ready to stretch legs ashore?” he inquired. “See ye’ve found chums a’ready. Reckon ye didn’t fin’ ’em savages, did ye?”
“Not a bit,” laughed Tom. “They’re named after you, Cap’n Pem. This is Paul and Getty Potter.”
“Well I’ll be squeejiggled!” exclaimed the old man. “Glad ter know ye, lads. What’s yer dad’s name?”
“Henry Potter,” replied Paul. “He says he’s American, ’cause gran’ther was a New Bedford whaleman.”
“I’ll be derned!” cried Cap’n Pem. “What’s his name,—’tain’t ol’ Lem Potter o’ the Greyhoun’, is it?”
“Aye, sir, ’tis so,” Paul assured him.
“Well, I’ll be holy-stoned an’ everlastin’ly keelhauled!” shouted the whaleman, “ef ye ain’t my own fambly! Why, bless yer hearts, I ain’t been here in nigh thirty years an’ las’ time I touched ’twas in the ol’ Leonidas an’ Lem’s kid wasn’t knee high to a grasshopper. Kain’t b’lieve he’s growed up an’ got kids like you! Lem’s my secon’ cousin ye know. Got los’ from the Greyhoun’ an’ made Tristan an’ jes’ settled down an’ married one o’ the lassies here. Come ’long all o’ ye. I jes’ gotter git ashore an’ go a-gammin’, boys.”
“I wondered if you weren’t relations to Cap’n Pem,” chuckled Tom as the four boys and the old man made their way to where Paul’s boat was moored.