‘No, no, captain,’ interrupted Mr. McEwan, ‘never make too much of a woman’s troubles or complaints. There’s nothing to fret over unless the bridge of the nose be a trifle indented.’
‘How did it happen?’ inquired the captain.
‘I was found in an open boat, lying insensible, with the mast of the boat across my face.’
‘Oh! you were found in an open boat. By whom?’ inquired the captain.
‘By the people belonging to the French brig.’
‘Now I understand,’ said the captain. ‘I thought you might have been—in fact, it puzzled me to know what you were doing on board that little craft. How long were you in the open boat?’
‘I do not know.’
‘What sort of boat was she?’
‘I cannot remember.’
‘But you surely remember how it happened that you were in that boat, and also how it happened that you were alone in her when rescued?’