"We are," the man answered, tears of joy and thankfulness coursing down his sunken, weather-beaten cheeks. "These are my children, and here have we been for more than twelve weary months. My name is Weston, and I was owner and commander of the _Sea-mew_, whaler, which was wrecked on this island after the crew deserted her." "Just what I thought!" exclaimed the old mate. "But we mustn't waste time palavering; get your traps together--" "They are here," interrupted Mr Weston, holding up a battered tin deed-box. "This is all I care to bring away." "Then jump into the boat and let's be off," cried Weatherhelm. "Now, Missy! I'll take care of you." The castaways needed no second bidding, and in another half-hour they found themselves safe on board the _Surat Castle_. Captain Ladds received the unfortunate strangers with the utmost kindness, expressing his deep commiseration at their sorry condition, and heartily congratulating them on their providential release from their seagirt prison. Mr Weston thanked him in broken tones, but was too overcome with feelings of emotion to say very much, and presently he asked that he and his children might be allowed to retire to rest; so the captain took him down to his own cabin, whilst the lady passengers carried off the little girl, and Tom Flinders marched the boy to his single state-room, and insisted on his taking possession of the only berth. CHAPTER THREE. TOM FLINDERS IS REMINDED OF THE OLD SAYING--"THE WORLD IS VERY SMALL." The sun was high in the heavens when young Weston awoke next morning, and on turning his face to the light, the first object that his eyes rested upon was Master Tom Flinders, seated on a portmanteau, regarding him with pitiful looks. "Halloa, old fellow!" exclaimed our hero, colouring red as a turkey-cock, at being thus caught staring; "how do you find yourself this morning? You've had a jolly long caulk!" For a moment young Weston appeared a little confused; but he quickly recollected the joyful events of the previous day, and feeling much refreshed by his protracted sleep, replied that he was all right, and would like to get up and go on deck. "All serene!" said Tom; "turn out by all means; and while you're washing, I'll see what can be done in the way of clothes. There's some water in the basin, and there's my sponge and towels. It's too late for you to have a tub, for the bath-room boy goes off duty at ten, and it's now close on twelve." "Then I must have slept nearly twice the round of the clock!" cried the other in surprise. "Going on that way," laughed Tom, diving into his portmanteau and fishing out several garments. "My `duds' are most of them packed away in my trunks," he went on, "and they, you know, are down in the hold with the rest of the heavy luggage; but I'll do my best to turn you out respectably. By the way, what's your name?" "George--George Maurice Weston."