'No, sir,' said Tom, lying manfully, as he looked into the officer's eyes--so calm, patient, and quiet, like those of his own father--'not much.'
'Then we'll have these off,' said Collier, as with a kindly smile he unfastened the bandages; 'but you won't be able to use that foot for another week or two.'
'I don't know how I managed to cut it,' said Tom, as he lay back with a sigh of relief, and watched the brig's royalmasts make a sweeping arc through the air as she rolled from side to side. 'I put on my boots when I came to the rocks beyond Misty Head.'
Captain Hawkins laughed. 'You was non compos mentis of the first class and stark naked in a state of noodity, and when we saw you spread-eagled as it were on the beach, and put ashore to see whether you were dead or alive we couldn't see a stitch of clothing anywhere, could we, William Henry?'
The Maori helmsman nodded his head affirmatively, and then, as eight bells were struck, and he was relieved at the wheel, he came and stood beside the master and mate, and a pleased expression came into his somewhat set and heavy features when Tom put out his hand to him.
'It was you who saw me first, and saved my life, wasn't it?' he said; and then with boyish awkwardness--'I am very much obliged to you, Mr. William Henry.'
The big half-caste took Tom's hand in his own for a moment, and shuffling his bare feet, muttered in an apologetic tone that 'it didn't matter much,' as he 'couldn't help a-seeing' him lying on the beach. Then he stood for'ard.
'Do you know who he is, young fellow?' said the skipper, impressively, to Tom, as soon as the big man was out of hearing.
Tom shook his head.
'That's Bill Chester, William Henry Chester is his full name he's the feller that won the heavy-weight championship in Sydney two years ago didn't you never hear of him?'