The man under the hencoop, who had been a disinterested spectator, took occasion to remark:
"Marry! my friend, I wish it were I who had taken such a tumble; surely it would have crushed the stones in my stomach."
"I am not sick," the new-comer answered, rising to his feet. "I was thrown by the sudden lurch of the ship; but it will soon be over."
"I trust so," groaned the seasick man by the hencoop.
"But the sea runs high," the old man said, "let us go in."
John Stevens, who had partially recovered from his seasickness, went into the cabin with the stranger. He had formed no acquaintances since coming on board the vessel and was strangely impressed with this old gentleman. Men cannot always brood on the past and retain their senses. John Stevens was not a coward, yet the helpless condition of his wife and children made him dread danger. When they were seated he said:
"You do not belong at Jamestown."
"No. I am from London and know no one at Jamestown."
"You came in the last ship?"
"We did."