The permission was given, and the cabin-steward was sent on deck to desire Mr. Roller, one of the oldest midshipmen, and who was known to have the watch, to come below.
"Look at this fellow, Mr. Roller," said Griffin, as soon as the youngster had taken his place in the group, "and tell us if you can make anything of him."
"It's the lazy-rony, sir, we hoisted in a bit ago when we struck the boat on deck."
"Aye, no doubt of that--but we think we have seen his face before;--can you make that out?"
Roller now walked round the immovable subject of all these remarks; and he, too, began to think the singular-looking object was no stranger to him. As soon, however, as he got a sight of the queue, he struck Ithuel a smart slap on the shoulder and exclaimed:
"You're welcome back, my lad! I hope you'll find your berth aloft as much to your mind as it used to be. This is Bolt, Captain Cuffe, the foretop-man, who ran from us when last in England, was caught and put in a guard-ship, from which they sent us word he stole a boat and got off with two or three French prisoners, who happened to be there at the moment on some inquiry or other. Don't you remember it all, Mr. Griffin--you may remember the fellow pretended to be an American."
Ithuel was now completely exposed, and he at once perceived that his wisest way was to submit. Cuffe's countenance darkened, for he regarded a deserter with a species of professional horror, and the impressed deserter, to whose services England had no other right than that of might, with an additional degree of resentment, that was very fairly proportioned to the inward consciousness he felt that a great wrong was done in detaining the man at all. There is nothing extraordinary in these feelings; a very common resource, under such circumstances, being to imagine delinquencies that justify us to ourselves, by endeavoring to believe that the subject of any act of our oppression at least merits the infliction.
"Do you dare to deny what this young gentleman has just said, sirrah?" demanded the captain. "I now remember you myself; you are Bolt, the foretop-man, that ran at Plymouth."
"You'd a-run, too, Captain Cuffe, had you been in my place, had the ship been at Jericho."
"Enough--no impudence, sir. Send for the master-at-arms, Mr. Griffin, and have the fellow ironed: to-morrow we'll look into the affair."