“Very likely, my fine fellow,” observed the officer, an old salt who had seen much service, and had been disappointed in not obtaining his promotion. “And who are you, friend?” he asked next, coming to Peter.
“A true Englishman, like my master; and, sir, I’d just advise you to be treating Mister Skipwith here civilly, for he’s an Englishman, and a gentleman born and bred into the bargain,” he answered; boldly adding, “And I’ll tell you what, sir,—he’s not the man to tell a lie to you, nor to any man.”
Peter’s remarks had considerable effect on the officer, who immediately addressed me in a more civil tone, and desired the men to let me come aft and sit in the stern sheets, where I should be more comfortable. As I was about to move I heard a groan, and just then the light of the lantern fell on the countenance of poor Marcus, who lay near me badly wounded. I entreated that I might be allowed to attend to him, explaining that by his means my life, and that of my attendant, had been preserved. The officer, who was naturally humane, not only permitted this but gave every assistance in his power.
The other boats had been rowing about picking up the survivors of the pirates, and looking for some of the English seamen who were missing. I was glad to hear that the greater number of the latter had escaped in time to the boats, a small warning explosion having taken place before the magazine itself blew up. The order was now given to return to the frigate, the commanding officer’s boat leading the way. As he passed the boat in which I was, he asked the old officer in ours how many prisoners he had got. The reply was “Six; but one of them says he is a gentleman, and the other is his servant, captured by the pirates, and that their lives have been saved by a black man whom we have also on board.”
“A likely story indeed,” observed the officer in command of the expedition. “However, look to them, Mr Mudge, and ‘treat them as men should men, and not as Rome treats Britain.’”
“That’s my old friend, Dick Trevor, to the life,” I exclaimed. “I am right, am I not?”
“Yes,” he said.
“I thought I must be!” said I. “Oh! Dick, Dick! Is that the way you would treat your friends when you find them out all desolate and alone on the wide ocean?”
“Who can that be?” I heard him exclaim. “‘Speak, I charge thee, speak!’”
“Still stage-struck as of yore,” I answered. “Is my voice so strangely changed then?”