Having been administered the oath, his examination commenced.
"You are Joseph Hawkes?"
"Yes, your Honour."
"Do you know either of the prisoners?"
"Yes, saving your presence, that red-haired villain yonder!"
"Now, sirrah," exclaimed the prosecuting lawyer, addressing Caleb Keeping, "methinks you know this witness!"
But the prisoner replied not, except to shake his head sheepishly.
"Proceed with your evidence, Master Hawkes."
The man hitched at his nether garments, pulled his forelock, and without further delay plunged into his story, which, stripped of its peculiarities of dialect, was as follows:--
"Two years ago last May I shipped as mate of the bark Speedie, of Poole, outward bound for the Tagus. The same night as we cleared Poole harbour we were overtaken by a gale from the south'ard, and soon got into difficulties close to the Purbeck coast. Seven times did we 'bout ship to try and claw off the shore, but at daybreak we struck close to Anvil Point."