Her father, wishing to find an excuse for saving the powder-monkey's life, had acceded to her request, and thus given an opportunity for Bob's friends to raise a point on constitutional law.
Early next morning our friends, accompanied this time by Bertha Tempest, paid another visit to Bob.
To their delight he had been released from the stocks, and was walking up and down the little room.
"Who released me?" he repeated in answer to an inquiry made by his captain. "Oh, Lor', it was an angel from heaven, no one else could be so beautiful, saving Miss Bertha—I ask pardon, Mistress Tempest—and we all know she is an angel."
"I do not understand," interrupted Vernon.
"Lor', sir, she came here an hour ago, and I was still sitting like a trussed fowl, and she says, 'Let the poor boy walk about a bit;' and the watchman says, 'To please you, miss, I'd do anything, for your smile is like a streak of sunshine on a cloudy day,' them's his words, and they were true, too, and I says, 'My cap'n, miss, is the bravest man as ever walked a deck, and if you want a good husband, why he is the man you could love.'"
"For shame, Bob, insulting a lady like that."
"She wasn't insulted, for her face showed she was pleased, it went so red, and she said as how she loved all brave men, but did not want a husband."
"Who is she, do you know?" asked Tempest.
"Yes, she gave the watchman her name, quite proud like, she says to him 'Let the poor boy,' that's me, cap'n, 'out of those stocks,' that's what they calls them things"—pointing to the instrument of torture—"and she says, 'if any one wants to know why you did it, tell them that Miss Pauline Jones asked you.' But, cap'n, there she is—miss, this is the brave cap'n I told you about."