“So he told her the story of how he had been a small planter in Jamaica, a man of English birth, and how a great tobacco merchant of that place had fitted out a ship to convey his produce to the Turkish ports, and how he, William Hull, had sailed with her, being minded to take a voyage. They had a fair crossing, and Hull said to himself that now at last he was living, now at last, he was seeing life. Then, off the Tripoli coast, the ship was attacked by corsairs and captured, and the captain and crew were thrown in prison. In time, the captain and all of his men save Hull were released, but Hull was of a restless and quick nature, and would not make friends of his foes. The jailors complained that he was quarrelsome; twice he tried to escape and was recaptured; and he openly vowed vengeance on Tripoli should he ever be a free man again and upon a ship of his own country. So, what with his hot-headedness, and the warfare that was on then between America and the Barbary States, he came under the notice of the dey, who, regarding him as a dangerous man, had him put in the dungeons below ground. For a time he was all alone, and he all but went mad in the solitude, but after a time there was need to put a dangerous murderer in his dungeon, and he was removed to another place, and thrown in with an old, half-crazed man. “‘He had been a man of great stature,’ said Hull, ‘and it was easy to see, in spite of all his rags and filth, that he was a gentleman. He greeted me courteously when I entered, and I said to myself that now I should be able to hold converse with a fellow-being, but indeed, madam, it was little enough converse that we held. He could hold to one theme but a moment or two, and then he would fall under a sort of spell, and would sit softly mumbling to himself, as if he were going back over old scenes. Then he would arouse himself and call to me. And when I answered him, he would say: “‘“Man, man, if ever you go free, for the love of God, search out my sweet wife Dorothy and my good horse Pacolet, and tell them I have not forgot.” “‘Sometimes he would sob when he spoke these words, and sometimes he would call them at the top of his voice. Again he would whisper them, and often in his sleep I would hear him muttering: “My sweet wife Dorothy and my good horse Pacolet.”‘ “The old stranger stopped in compassion, for Mistress Bings lay with her face against the high back of her chair, as colorless as snow. But when she found that he had ceased, she motioned for him to proceed. “‘This is the greatest day of my life, save one,’ she said, ‘and that was the day I became a bride. Do not fear for me. Finish your tale.’ “‘Nine years, lacking three months, we were together in that dungeon,’ continued Hull, ‘and then he died. A sudden cold, a closing of the lungs, and he was gone. He passed away in my arms, madam, very peacefully, and with his last breath he bade me carry messages to you.’ “‘And you waited all these years, man?’