Chapter Thirteen.
An Old Acquaintance.
“What!” I exclaimed, in much amazement. “Is it really you, Jorrocks? I can hardly believe my eyes!”
“Aye, aye, it’s me sure enough,” replied my old ally of the Saucy Sall, shaking hands with great heartiness, as if he were really glad to see me again under such altered circumstances. “It’s me sure enough, Master Leigh—that is, unless I’ve got some double of a twin brother, as like me as two peas, a-sailing round in these latitudes!”
There could be no question of his identity after I had once heard the tones of his well-remembered voice; but the beard which he had allowed to grow since I had last seen him had so completely altered the expression of his face, or rather indeed its entire appearance, that there was some excuse for my not recognising him at the moment.
Jorrocks, however, he was without doubt; and, I need hardly say that I was quite as much pleased at this unexpected meeting as he seemed to be—albeit the sight of him, when I realised the fact that it was really himself and heard his cheery familiar accents, brought back in an instant to my mind the scene on board the coal brig that eventful day when the Saucy Sall’s surly skipper discovered that Tom and I had stolen a march on him, and treated us each to a dose of his sovereign specific for stowaways!
“How is it, though, Jorrocks, that you’ve abandoned the brig?” I asked him presently, when we had got over our mutual surprise at thus meeting in such an unlooked-for fashion. “I thought you were a fixture there, and didn’t know you were a regular sailor—I mean one accustomed to sea-going ships like this?”
I said this with much dignity, being greatly impressed with the responsibility of my new position; and I’m sure I must have spoken as if I were a post captain at least, addressing some subordinate officer!