“Yes, sir. Bill Yawl at your service, an old man-o’-war’s man, able-bodied seaman, bo’s’n, and ship’s carpenter, anything you like sir. Ax your pardon, sir, but a glass of half-water grog—”
“Not until you have eaten. Then you may have two glasses. Tomkins, take these men to the purser and tell him to give them a square meal. The doctor is attending to your wife, Mr. Fortescue. She is in my state-room and shall have every comfort we can give her.”
“I thank you with all my heart, Captain Bigelow. You are really too good, I can never—”
“Tut, tut, tut, my dear sir. Pray don’t say a word. I have only given her my spare state-room. Mr. Charles will take you to the ward-room, we can talk afterward. Meanwhile, I shall have your belongings got on board, and then, I suppose, we had better sink that craft of yours. If we leave her to knock about the ocean she may be knocking against some ship in the night and doing her a mischief.”
After I had eaten the “square meal” set for me in the ward-room, and spent a few minutes with Angela, I joined the captain and first lieutenant in the former’s state-room, and over a glass of grog, told them briefly, but frankly, something of my life and adventures.
“Well, it is the queerest yarn I ever heard; but I dare say none the less true on that account,” said Captain Bigelow, when I had finished. “With that sweet lady for your wife and your belt full of diamonds, you may esteem yourself one of the most fortunate of men. And you did quite right to get away from that place. But what was your point? where did you expect to get to with that sloop of yours?”
“Callao.”
“Callao! Why the course you were on would never have taken you to Callao. Callao lies nor’ by east, not nor’ by west. If you had not fallen in with us, I am afraid you would never have got anywhere.”
“I am sure we should not. Three days more and we should have died of thirst.”
“Where shall we put you ashore?”