‘I am closely following you,’ said I, fancying I perceived in his face a suspicion of inattention in me, and wondering what on earth his story was going to lead to. He stood up, and folding his arms in the first attitude he had adopted, proceeded, his voice deep and clear. ‘It came on to blow hard from the south’ard and east’ard, and we had to up hellum and run before the seas for our lives. This went on for three or four days, till Mr. Ruddiman reckoned that we was blowed pretty nigh half-way across to the Marquesas. It then fell a stark calm, and we lay roasting under a broiling sun with no fresh water in the boat, and nothing to eat but a handful of mouldy fragments of biscuit in the bottom of a bag that had been soaked with spray o’er and o’er again. One of the apprentices went mad, and jumped overboard, and was drownded. We was too weak to help him; besides, ne’er a one of us but thought him well off in that cool water, leaving thirst and hunger behind him, and sinking into a deep sleep, as it might be. Then the other apprentice was took bad, and died in a fit of retching, and we put him over the side. When daylight broke on the morning following that job, we saw one of the sailors dead in the bottom of the boat. T’other was the sicklier man of the two, yet he hung out, sir, and lived for three days. We kept his body.’ His deep tones ceased, and he stared at me. Just a story of a bad shipwreck, thought I, so far. ‘There came a light breeze from the east’ard,’ he continued after a little pause; ‘but neither Mr. Ruddiman nor me had the strength of a kitten in our arms, and we let the boat drive, waiting for death. I thought it had come that same afternoon, and on top of the sensation followed a fit, I allow, for I recollect no more, till on opening my eyes I found myself in a hammock in the ’tweendecks of a little ship. The craft was a small Spanish vessel, called the _Rosario_. She had floated into sight of our boat, and there was just enough strength left in Mr. Ruddiman to enable him to flourish his handkerchief so as they might see the boat had something alive in her. Ne’er a soul aboard spoke a syllable of English, and neither Mr. Ruddiman nor me understood a word of Spanish. We couldn’t even get to larn where the brigantine was bound to, or where she hailed from. We conversed with the crew in signs all the same as though we had been cast away among savages. We was both hearty men in those days, and it wasn’t long afore we had picked up what we had let fall during our ramble in the boat. Well, the course the vessel made was something to the south’ard o’ west, and I took it we were heading for an Australian port; but though I’d make motions, and draw with a piece of chalk on the deck, I’d never get more’n a stare, and a shake of the head and a grin, and a shrug of the shoulders, for an answer. In fact, it was like being sent adrift along with a company of monkeys.’