Next morning when I came on deck I saw the man we had rescued from the Algerine vessel. He was lying on a rough couch under the lee of a cannonade, being too weak to stand. He had received a pistol shot in the left arm, so that his escape was all the more to be wondered at, although he asserted that while swimming for his life he knew nothing of the matter.
He was a man of gigantic stature, broad in frame, and with muscles that stood out beneath his tanned skin like knots on the trunk of a forest oak. All this I saw in spite of his distressed condition, and should he recover, which seemed likely enough, he promised to make a welcome addition to our crew.
His name was Joe Clemens, and he hailed from East Looe, a small fishing village in Cornwall somewhere betwixt Plymouth and Fowey, so that when we picked him up he was almost within sight of his native place. He had been the mate of the Surprise, armed trader, which had been cast ashore on the Barbary coast, all her crew being carried into captivity.
He was the only Englishman on board the Algerine galley; and had laboured at the oar for nearly three years, sleeping and working at the rowers' bench, to which he was shackled by a chain passed round his middle.
Our broadside severed the chain, and seizing the opportunity he sprang overboard, followed by a fellow-slave, a Sardinian. As he leapt over an Algerine discharged a pistol at him, wounding him in the arm; but such was his strength and determination that, although wearing part of the heavy chain and bleeding profusely, he managed to swim strongly till picked up. His companion had sunk, as I have already related.
For the next few days nothing happened beyond the ordinary routine on board; but on the morning of the fifth day at sea I happened to notice a man who must have previously kept out of my way. His face was partially hidden by a short, stubbly beard, in spite of which I felt certain 'twas the same man that had vied with my father in bidding for Captain Jeremy's picture.
Concealing my agitation, I sought the Captain and communicated my suspicions.
"Wrong again, lad," he replied. "'Tis Ned Slater, an old shipmate of mine who has fallen on evil times. Out of charity I shipped him aboard the Golden Hope."
"The same old shipmate who bought a dagger in Lisbon?"
"Aye, Master Clifford----"