“Yes, come on board,” answered the first lieutenant, prompted by Captain Cumberland, who was quite as much interested in the adventure as any of his shipmates.
The waif, using the broken oar as a paddle, worked his water-logged craft slowly towards the ship. The accommodation ladder was lowered for his use, and in a few moments, with rather a heavy movement, as though he was lame, or much exhausted, he climbed up the ladder, and stepped down upon the ship deck.
“Fill away again!” said the captain to the first lieutenant, as a curious crowd began to gather around the stranger. Ryder gave the necessary orders to brace up the main yards, and set the mainsail again, and the ship was soon moving on her course towards the Naze of Norway, as though nothing had occurred to interrupt her voyage.
“What are you doing out here, in an open boat, out of sight of land?” asked Captain Cumberland, while the watch on deck were bracing up the yards.
The waif looked at the commander of the Young America, and carefully examined him from head to foot. The elegant uniform of the captain seemed to produce a strong impression upon his mind, and he evidently regarded him as a person of no small consequence. He did not answer the question put to him, seeming to be in doubt whether it was safe and proper for him to do so. Captain Cumberland was an exceedingly comely-looking young gentleman, tall and well formed in person, graceful and dignified in his manners; and if he had been fifty years old, the stranger before him could not have been more awed and impressed by his bearing. So far as his personal appearance was concerned, the waif appeared to have escaped from the rag-bag, and to have been out long enough to soil his tatters with oil, tar, pitch, and dirt. Though his face and hands, as well as other parts of his body, were very dirty, his eye was bright, and, even seen through the disguise of filth and rags that covered him, he was rather prepossessing.
“What is your name?” asked Captain Cumberland, finding his first question was not likely to be answered.
“Ole Amundsen,” replied the stranger, pronouncing his first name in two syllables.
“Then you are not English.”
“No, sir. Be you?”
“I am not; we are all Americans in this ship.”