“Why, did you not say that you were born on this island, boy?” said the mate at last. “Were you born without a mother?”
“I cannot recollect my mother—she died when I was very young; and therefore I said that I had never seen a woman.”
“Well, that’s explained; but you see, my lad—this is not only a woman, but a very particular sort of a woman; and it will not do for her to remain here after we have had our supper—for after supper, the men may take a drop too much, and not behave themselves; so I asked you about your cabin, that you might take her there to sleep. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” replied I; “I will take her there if she wishes to go.”
“That’s all right then; she’ll be better there than here, at all events. I say, boy, where did you leave your trousers?”
“I never wear any.”
“Well then, if you have any, I advise you to put them on, for you are quite old enough to be breeched.”
I remained with them while the supper was cooking, asking all manner of questions, which caused great mirth. The pitch-kettle, which was a large iron pot on three short legs, surprised me a good deal; I had never seen such a thing before, or anything put on the fire. I asked what it was, and what it was made of. The potatoes also astonished me, as I had never yet seen an edible root.
“Why, where have you been all your life?” said one of the men.
“On this island,” replied I, very naïvely.