"Not quite so useless as you might think," exclaimed a hearty voice from the rear of the court-room.
I thought I recognized the tones, and turned hastily. There beside my sister Kate stood my uncle, Enos Moss, of whom I have already spoken.
He was a grizzly bearded sea-captain of seventy, with manner and speech suggestive of the brine.
Breaking from Parsons and Booth, I ran to meet him. He shook both my hands and then clapped me on the shoulder.
"Cast up on a lee shore, are you, Roger?" he exclaimed. "And the wind a-blowing a hurricane."
"Yes, I am," I replied, "and I'm mighty glad you've come, Uncle Enos."
"Just dropped anchor in time," he went on. "Judge Penfold, do you remember me?"
"You are Carson Strong's brother-in-law, I believe?" replied the judge.
"You've hit it. Captain Enos Moss, part owner and sailing master of the Hattie Baker, as trim a craft as ever rounded the Horn. Been away for three years, and now on shore to stay."
"You're not going on any more voyages?" I queried.