"Well, I would rather shout on the other place," said he; "but what is the matter with you?"
"Oh, Heavens," I continued, without heeding him, "that this ship—this means of escape and life should be so near and I ignorant of it!"
"By the captain's orders (here he uttered another tremendous malediction) I was landed, lashed to that elegant stump, and left, as you saw me, just six hours ago; but cut the rope if you have an atom of human charity about you, my jolly land-crab, for my hands and arms are swollen nigh to bursting, like the skin of a Jack Spaniard's borrachio."
"It is all very well to say cut, but where shall I find a knife?"
"At the lanyard—the rope-yarn round my neck."
With his clasped knife I set free this ruffian, whose presence, in sooth to say, I hailed at first with satisfaction, and whose voice was most welcome to my ear; for to this pass had a longing for fellowship brought me.
"And you, messmate?" he asked gruffly.
"Our ship, the Etna prize, was wrecked here. Driven ashore with this spar, I have been living a hermit's life, like Robinson Crusoe, for I scarcely know how many long and dreary days and nights."
"Give me your fin—thunder and blazes! Oh, for a drop of old Tom or right Jamaica to splice the mainbrace with? What have you in your locker?"
"My locker?"