"'Deed no! Aw, a grand man, the ould Dempster, Sir. Middlin' stiff in the upper lip, but a man of his word for all. And when Capt'n Crow pegged out and this place was vacant he put me in for it."
Straining his powers of listening Stowell was still waiting for the whistle that was to tell him the steamer was clear away.
"Crow? That was Nelson's Crow, wasn't it?"
"Nelson's Crow it was, Sir. One-eyed Crow we were calling him. He was boatswain on the Victory, and when the big man went down he was in the cockpit holding him in his arms. 'Will I die, Mr. Crow?' said Nelson. 'We had better wait for the opinion of the ship's doctor, Sir,' said Crow."
There was a long shrill whistle from a distance. Stowell leapt to his feet and laughed—the steamer had gone.
"Ah, a rael Manxman, wasn't he? Wouldn't commit himself, you see."
Then he slapped the jailer on the shoulder and said,
"So you've been here thirty years, old friend?"
"About that, Sir," said the jailer.
"But do you know you wouldn't be here thirty hours longer if I were to tell the Governor what you've done to-night?"