"Jack Melton's me nyme, sir," the man said brokenly. "Hi'm from old Lunnon, Gor' bless 'er! Hi was cook on the ship _Aldine_, sir, from 'Ong-Kong to Durban, round the Cape. We got off our course, and the bloody devils sunk us--skewered us like a mutton shank, sir, with a streak of light. An' w'y in 'ell they did it, sir, is more than Hi can tell. "Hi floated free on a cask--a biscuit cask, sir. Or mayhap it was a 'encoop; Hi've forgot, Hi was that flustered. Hup bobs a bloomin' big gold ball from the sea--it's Gord's truth. They took me aboard, an' they brought me ashore. They sets me to work in their mines; but Hi'd not do a stroke for them, sir. Hi near killed one of the bosses. Then they brought me here, sir. Oh, Gor'! Oh, Gor'-a-me!" He broke out weeping afresh and rocked himself back and forth. "How long have you been here?" questioned Polaris. "That Hi can't tell, sir," Melton replied. "Hi used to keep count of the weeks an' months; but Hi lost it. Mayhap 'alf a year; mayhap a year." Melton fell silent for a time. Then he chuckled to himself and tottered to his feet. "_Hi'll_ get even with 'em, sir," he said. "Never fear; _Hi'll_ get even. Come an' see, sir." He took Polaris by the hand and led him across the floor to the other cot. "Look!" he said, and fumbled back the ragged covers. Beady black eyes glistened among the rags. A sharp and whiskered gray snout was thrust forth, twitching and sniffing; then another and another. A mother rat and two half-grown young ones were hidden in Melton's bed. Out they crept to their master's coaxing, only to scurry back, squeaking, when Rombar thrust his head from behind Polaris, whining with eagerness to be at them. "Keep the tyke back, sir," said Melton. "'E frights 'em. This 'ere's 'Enrietta, an' 'ere's Bobby an' Bill. 'Enrietta's an old fool, an' Bobby's no better; but Bill, 'e's a wonner, sir. See!" From his breast he took a splinter of wood, to which was attached a bit of frayed red rag, on which he had rudely drawn in black the lines of the Union Jack. He placed one of the young rats on his palm, and laid the sliver with its frayed shred of bunting in front of the little animal. Softly he began to whistle the bars of "God Save the King." "Come, Bill; 'urry," he said, and resumed his low whistling. The rat took up the flag in its teeth and sat on its haunches in its master's hand. As long as the whistling continued the little beast shook its head vigorously, waving the tiny emblem. When Melton ceased the anthem, Bill let fall the flag and swarmed, squeaking, down the man's arm, to nestle away among the rags at his breast. "Gor'bly me, Bill, you're a wonner!" Melton said with pride. He placed his strange pet back with the others and pulled the coverlet over them.