"Shropshire, sir; my father was Captain Richard Burke, in the Company's service."
"Jupiter! You're Dick Burke's son! Gad, sir, give me your hand; I knew Dick Burke; many's the sneaker of Bombay punch we've tossed off together. No nonsense about Dick; give me your fist. And so you sneaked out of Gheria and sailed this grab, eh? Well, you're a chip of the old block, and a credit to your old dad. I want to hear all about this. And you'll have to come ashore and see the Governor."
"It's very kind of you, Mr. Johnson, but really I can't appear before the Governor in this rig."
He glanced ruefully at his bare legs and feet and tattered garments.
"True, you en't very ship-shape, but we'll soon alter that. Ever use a razor?"
"Not yet, sir," replied Desmond with a smile.
"Thought not. Plenty of native barbers. You must get shaved. And I'll rig you up in a suit of some sort. You must see the Governor at once, and no nonsense."
"What about the grab, sir?"
"Leave that to me. You've got a pretty mixed crew, I see. All escaped prisoners too?"
"All but four."