"Waal, since you got ter have it, I guess I obeys orders, if I breaks owners. Here, sir."
Mr. Dodd read the cutting, which to the Yankee's mind appeared to concern young Willie who sat there darning socks, beyond the galley door. The ship had cleared from Falmouth on 1st November, this paper was dated 29 October, 1835. A week or so before that a young bargee had murdered his parents on board the barge Polly Phemus, lying not far from Margate. That must be on or about the 16th October, perhaps a day or two earlier. The murderer had got away in the dinghy. On the morning of the 17th young Willie, sweeping upriver in a dinghy, had fouled the ship's bows and come aboard at dawn. He had not given any name, had merely been dubbed Willie Muggins because the skipper said so.
Mr. Dodd told Silas to send Willie aft, and presently the Yankee brought the lad. "Stand out of earshot," said the mate; "go forward." Silas went forward, dragging his feet, reluctant to miss the fun.
There was something ominous in the mate's bearing, and Bill became uneasy, wondering vaguely which of his many crimes had been found out.
"Sonny," said Mr. Dodd, "what is your real name?"
"Bill Fright, sir." The lad was smiling now, yet with an inward dread, for the officer had a queer catch in his voice. What was this paper he held and glanced at?
"You worked on a barge," he said. "What was she called?"
"Polly Phemus," came the reluctant answer. Was this paper something to do with mother's death?
"Why did you leave her, son?"
Bill's face had clouded; the mate could see a glitter of tears, a twist of the lips.