"I believe, sir, I made two passages in her while you commanded her."
"Nothing more likely; we carried lots of your countrymen, though mostly forward of the gangways. I commanded the Dawn more than twenty years ago."
"It is all of that time since I crossed with you, sir; you may remember that we fell in with a wreck, ten days after we sailed, and took off her crew and two passengers. Three or four of the latter had died with their sufferings, and several of the people."
"All this seems but as yesterday! The wreck was a Charleston ship that had started a butt."
"Yes, sir--yes, sir--that is just it--she had started, but could not get in. That is just what they said at the time. I am David, sir--I should think you cannot have forgotten David."
The honest captain was very willing to gratify the other's harmless self-importance, though, to tell the truth, he retained no more personal knowledge of the David of the Dawn, than he had of David, King of the Jews.
"Oh, David!" he cried, cordially--"are you David? Well, I did not expect to see you again in this world, though I never doubted where we should be, hereafter I hope you are very well, David; what sort of weather have you made of it since we parted? If I recollect aright, you worked your passage;--never at sea before."
"I beg your pardon, sir; I never was at sea before the first time, it is true; but I did not belong to the crew. I was a passenger."
"I remember, now, you were in the steerage," returned the captain, who saw daylight ahead.
"Not at all, sir, but in the cabin."