The superintendent mounted the side, rapping out sundry exclamations of astonishment that amused Desmond not a little.
"Don't talk like a native! H'm! Queer! Turn him inside out! No nonsense!"
"Well, here I am," he added, stepping up to Desmond. "My name's Johnson, and I'm superintendent of marine. Now then, explain; no nonsense!"
Desmond liked the look of the little man. He was short and stout, with a very large red face, a broad turn-up nose, and childlike blue eyes that bespoke confidence at once.
"My name is Desmond Burke, sir, and I've run away from Gheria in this grab."
"The deuce you have!"
"Yes, sir. I've been a prisoner there for six months and more, and we got off a few nights ago in the darkness."
"H'm! Any more Irishmen aboard?"
"Not that I'm aware of, sir."
"And you got away from Gheria, did you? You're the first that ever I heard did so. Nothing to do with Commodore James, eh?"