“I am the man, sir,” Stephen replied. “I have been eighteen months in crossing the continent, and to get here from Para had to make the voyage to the Cape de Verde and back again.”
“I congratulate you on your escape,” the captain said, shaking his hand warmly. “My name is Crosbie, I am Lord Cochrane’s flag-captain, I will take you to him at once.”
The admiral had left the deck and retired to his cabin. Captain Crosbie took Stephen there, and at once knocked at the door and entered.
“Excuse my troubling you now, admiral,” he said, “but my object will, I am sure, excuse my intrusion. I have a gentleman here that you will, I know, be glad to meet.”
Lord Cochrane looked earnestly at Stephen; he had not seen him since he had sent him down to Valparaiso after the capture of the Esmeralda. The two years that had elapsed had greatly changed his appearance, and he had grown from a tall lad of eighteen into a powerful young man. A flash of recognition came into his face, he made a step forward and exclaimed: “Good heavens, can it be—”
“Stephen Embleton, sir. I have come on board to report for duty.”
“My dear boy, my dear boy,” Lord Cochrane said, holding out both hands and wringing those of Stephen, “I am glad to see you indeed. I thank God that I see you alive and well again, which I never dreamt that I should do, for I thought that you had died or had been tortured to death in the dungeons of that accursed Inquisition at Callao. But where have you sprung from, where have you been all this time, by what miracle are you here?”
“MY DEAR BOY”, EXCLAIMED LORD COCHRANE, “THANK GOD INDEED THAT I SEE YOU ALIVE.”