‘What is that but memory?’ he exclaimed.
‘I remember nothing of my past,’ said I. ‘Down to the hour in which I awoke to consciousness on board the French brig everything is black. But to whom am I speaking?’
‘You are speaking to the chief mate of the Deal Castle, and his name is Andrew Harris.’
‘What is a chief mate?’ I asked.
‘He is the person that is next in command to the captain.’
‘Then you are of consequence?’ said I.
He smiled broadly. ‘There are people who will run when I sing out.’
‘Nobody appears to be awake on board this ship, saving us who are here,’ said I.
‘Have you come on deck to find that out?’ he exclaimed; then directing his face at the forecastle he uttered a cry, and out of the shadow forward there instantly came a response. He cried again, and a rumbling ‘Ay, ay, sir!’ came out of the shadow. ‘So you see,’ said he, ‘there are four, not three of us, awake; and if I were to sing out again, in about five seconds the decks would be full of sailors running about. And you’ve lost your memory? D’ye know what part of England you hail from?’
‘I cannot even tell that I am English.’