Well, in this way ran my thoughts, and then I fell asleep, and when I awoke the afternoon was far advanced, as I saw by the color of the light upon the scuttle. I grasped the stick that lay in my hammock, and was rejoiced to find that the long spell of deep refreshing slumber had returned me much of my strength. I beat upon the bulkhead with the stick, and in two or three moments a voice, proceeding from somebody standing near the hammock, asked me what I wanted. It was a youth of about seventeen years of age, lean, knock-kneed, sandy, and freckled, and of a “moony” expression of countenance that plainly said “lodgings to let.” I never saw a more expressionless face. It made you think of a wall-eyed dab--of the flattest of flat fish. Yet what was wanting in mind seemed to be supplied in muscle. In fact he had the hand of a giant, and his whole conformation suggested sinew gnarled, twisted, and tautly screwed into human shape. “I am awake. You can see that,” said I. “I see that,” answered the youth. “I am hungry and thirsty, and wish for something to eat and something to drink.” “There’s bin pork and madeery ready agin your arousin’. Shall I get ’em?” said the youth. I was astonished to hear him speak of pork, but nevertheless made answer, “If you please.” He returned with a tray and handed up to me a basin of excellent broth and a slice of bread, a wineglass, and a small decanter of madeira. I looked at the broth and then looked at the youth and said, “Do you call this pork?” He upturned his flat face and gazed at me vacantly. “Where is the pork?” said I. “There aint none, master.” “Poor idiot!” I thought to myself. I now discovered that I could sit up; so I sat up and ate and drank. The madeira was a noble wine; the like of it I have never since tasted. That meal, coming on top of my long sleep, went far to make a new man of me, and I felt as though I should be able to dress myself and go on deck, but on throwing my legs over the edge of the hammock I discovered that I was not quite so strong as I had imagined; I trembled considerably, and I was unable to hold my back straight; so I lay down again, well satisfied with my progress, and very sure I should have strength to rise in the morning. The youth stayed in the berth while I ate and drank, and I asked him some questions. “Where is Captain Greaves?” “On deck, master. We have been chased, but aint we dropping her nicely, though! Ah! She’s _that_ size on the sea now,” said he, holding up his hand, “and at two o’clock we could count her guns.” “This is a fast brig then?” “She’s all legs, master.” “What are you?” “I’m the capt’n’s servant and cabin boy.” “What’s the name of your mate?” “Yawcob Van Laar.” “A Dutchman?” said I; and then I remembered having read in the paper that this brig had been purchased or chartered by a Dutch merchant of Amsterdam, so that it was likely enough she would carry some Dutch folk among her crew. “Are you all Dutch?”