"Yes," he replied, "'twas the 'Betsy' of London."
"It was the very same ship on which we were carried to the pirate's vessel," I said.
"The ruffian!" he answered indignantly, "he should be drawn and quartered. I sought high and low for some trace of the ship when I returned to England, but though I inquired in every city, nowhere could I hear of such a vessel. They told me there was no such ship. The name was probably a disguise."
At that moment there came a knock upon the door, and the rough jailer thrust in his head.
"Closing time, sir," he growled. "Thou must go."
Steele arose to his feet, and we clasped hands in one last, long grasp. The honest fellow was almost overcome by his emotion.
"God bless thee!" he said huskily. "I shall never forget thee, and what thou hast done for me and mine."
A great lump came into my throat. When all others had deserted me, there still remained one friend, who was with me to the last.
"I am glad that in my life I have been able to be of service to thee," I replied. "'Twill perhaps balance that long list of errors and harm that I have brought to many. The memory of it will be sweet to me at the last. Give my best wishes and regards to thy wife, and tell her that she has chosen well. Farewell!"