The groan was repeated as he spoke, and immediately after they observed a large, sluggish-looking animal, advancing through the underwood.
“What a pity we’s not got a gun!” whispered Ebony. “If we’s only had a spear or a pitchfork, it’s besser than nuffin.”
“Lucky that you have nothing of the sort, else you’d commit murder,” said Orlando, advancing. “Don’t you see—it is a man!”
The supposed animal started as the youth spoke, and rose on his knees with a terribly haggard and anxious look.
“Richard Rosco!” exclaimed Orley, who recognised the pirate at the first glance.
But Rosco did not reply. He, too, had recognised Orley, despite the change in his size and appearance, and believed him to be a visitant from the other world, an idea which was fostered by the further supposition that Ebony was the devil keeping him company.
Orlando soon relieved him, however. The aspect of the pirate, so haggard and worn out, as he crawled on his hands and knees, was so dreadful that a flood of pity rushed into his bosom.
“My poor fellow,” he said, going forward and laying his hand gently on his shoulder, “this is indeed a most unexpected, most amazing sight. How came you here?”
“Then you were not drowned?” gasped the pirate, instead of answering the question.
“No, thank God. I was not drowned,” said Orley, with a sad smile. “But again I ask, How came you here?”