"I can't say that I like it much myself," said the Third Vice-President, "but it is too faint now to be disagreeable. Pray be seated, sir." One of the Committee rose and offered the sailorman his chair. The sailor sat down and gazed at the Third Vice-President, who went on with his speech. "You need have no fear, sir; if Captain Lingo causes you any uneasiness, I may tell you that he is gone, never to return; and all his men with him; even the thirteen dead men who were sitting in these chairs until a few minutes ago." "What!" said the sailor. "Has them thirteen men been a-sitting here all these years?" "My dear sir," said the Third Vice-President, "I assure you we saw them with our own eyes. But you will perhaps be kind enough to tell us who you are, and how you came to be locked up in that closet." "Humph!" said the sailor, hesitating. "I don't know who you are, nor what you're doing in this here place. However, if Lingo's gone, and--Oh well, I might as well tell you. By the looks of you, I ain't got much cause to be afraid." "Your courtesy under the circumstances will be much appreciated," said the Third Vice-President. "Courtesy be blowed," said the sailorman. "Well, here goes. I'm Matthew Speak, able-bodied seaman, of the brig Cotton Mather, out of New Bedford, Reuben Higginson, master." "What!" cried Aunt Amanda, almost shrieking. "Are you--? The Cotton Mather! Reuben Higginson! Did you know him? It ain't possible! I can't believe it!" "It ain't nothing to me whether you believes it or not. I shipped with Reuben Higginson at New Bedford and landed here with him and his crew on this same identical Island, all tight and safe; here on Correction Island, as the cap'n called it." "What!" cried Aunt Amanda again. "Is this Correction Island? Well, I never! Here we are on Correction Island after all, and we never knew it! Are you sure?" "That's what he called it, believe me or not. It ain't nothing to me, but I seen it on the map I sold to Mizzen, and the cap'n wrote it there in his own handwrite; that's all I know; but maybe if you'd hunt up this here Lemuel Mizzen, a sailor with a patch on one eye and--" "Well, of all things!" exclaimed Aunt Amanda. "By crackey," said Toby, "I wouldn't 'a' believed it. Lemuel Mizzen!" "Perhaps you will be so good as to tell us--" began the Third Vice-President. "Freddie," said Aunt Amanda, "have you got the map?" "Yes'm," said Freddie, and produced it from his pocket. Aunt Amanda took it from him and spread it open on the table before Matthew Speak. The sailorman glanced at it and nodded his head.