“Good morning! Are you the captain of this barque?”
“Ay,” answered the individual addressed; “I’m Cap’n Turnbull. Who may you be, mister? and how the blazes do you come to be on that there island? And how many more are there of ye?”
“As you see, I am alone, unfortunately,” answered Leslie; “and a pretty hard time I have had of it. But, thank God, that is all over now that you have turned up—for I presume you will be quite willing to give me a passage to the next port you may be calling at?”
“Give ye a passage?” reiterated the burly man, scornfully; “give nothin’! I’m a poor man, I am, and can’t afford to give anything away, not even a passage to the next port. But if you’m minded to come aboard and work your passage, you’re welcome. For I’m short-handed, as I dare say you can see; and it’s easy enough to tell that you’re a sailor-man. It you wasn’t you wouldn’t be here, would ye?” This last with a grin that disclosed a set of strong irregular, tobacco-stained teeth, and imparted to the speaker the expression of a satyr.
The conversation thus far had been conducted as it had started, with Leslie down on the main deck and Turnbull on the poop. The incongruity of the arrangement now seemed to strike the latter, for he added—
“Come up here, mister; we can talk more comfortably when we’re alongside of one another; and you can spin me the yarn how you come to be all alone by yourself on yon island.”
In acceptance of this graciously worded invitation, Leslie ran lightly up the poop ladder and, slightly raising his cap, said—
“Permit me to introduce myself, Captain Turnbull. My name is Leslie,”—with emphasis—“and the recital of the chain of circumstances which ended in my being cast away upon the island yonder will be so lengthy that, with your permission, I will smoke a pipe as I tell it.”
And therewith he calmly drew his pipe from his pocket and, filling it, lighted up. Meanwhile his manner, language, and appearance had been steadily impressing the other man, who insensibly began to infuse his own manner with a certain measure of respect as the interview lengthened itself out.
Having lighted his pipe, Leslie proceeded to relate the whole story of his adventure, beginning with his embarkation on board the Golden Fleece, and ending up with the stranding of the Mermaid, but carefully suppressing all reference whatsoever to Miss Trevor; and representing himself not as an ex-naval officer, but as an amateur yachtsman. He was careful also to mention nothing about the existence of the cutter, but, on the other hand, dwelt at some length upon the idea he had entertained of building a craft capable of carrying him and a sufficient stock of provisions away from the island. “I doubt, however, whether I should ever have managed it, single-handed. But your arrival renders all further trouble on that score unnecessary,” he said, in conclusion.