"May I take the liberty of asking your name?" said Tom; who saw by this time that the old man was worthy of his confidence.
"Willis, at your service, sir. Captain they call me, though I'm none.
Sailing-master I was, on board of His Majesty's ship Niobe, 84;" and
Willis raised his hat with such an air, that Tom raised his in return.
"Then, Captain Willis, let me have five words with you apart; first thanking you for having helped to save my life."
"I'm very glad I did, sir; and thanked God for it on my knees this morning: but you'll excuse me, sir, I was thinking—and no blame to me—more of saving my poor maid's life than yours, and no offence to you, for I hadn't the honour of knowing you; but for her, I'd have been drowned a dozen times over."
"No offence, indeed," said Tom; and hardly knew what to say next. "May
I ask, is she your niece? I heard her call you uncle."
"Oh, no—no relation; only I look on her as my own, poor thing, having no father; and she always calls me uncle, as most do us old men in the West."
"Well, then, sir," said Tom, "you will answer for none of the four sailors having robbed me?"
"I've said it, sir."
"Was any one else close to her when we were brought ashore?"
"No one but I. I brought her round myself."