"I'm glad you take the thing so like a man, sir; but it is really no
laughing matter. It's a scoundrelly job, only fit for a Maltee off the
Nix Mangeery. If it had been a lot of those carter fellows that had
carried you up, I could have understood it; wrecking's born in the
bone of them: but for those four sailors that carried you up, 'gad
sir! they'd have been shot sooner. I've known 'em from boys!" and the
old man spoke quite fiercely, and looked up; his lip trembling, and
his eye moist.
"There's no doubt that you are honest--whoever is not," thought Tom;
so he ventured a further question.
"Then you were by all the while?"
"All the while? Who more? And that's just what puzzles me."
"Pray don't speak loud," said Tom. "I have my reasons for keeping
things quiet."
"I tell you, sir. I held the maid, and big John Beer (Gentleman Jan
they call him) held me; and the maid had both her hands tight in your
belt. I saw it as plain as I see you, just before the wave covered
us, though little I thought what was in it; and should never have
remembered you had a belt at all, if I hadn't thought over things in
the last five minutes."
"Well, sir, I am lucky in having come straight to the fountain head;
and must thank you for telling me so frankly what you know."
"Tell you, sir? What else should one do but tell you? I only wish I
knew more; and more I'll know, please the Lord. And you'll excuse an
old sailor (though not of your rank, sir) saying that he wonders a
little that you don't take the plain means of knowing more yourself."
"May I take the liberty of asking your name?" said Tom; who saw by
this time that the old man was worthy of his confidence.
"Willis, at your service, sir. Captain they call me, though I'm none.
Sailing-master I was, on board of His Majesty's ship Niobe, 84;" and
Willis raised his hat with such an air, that Tom raised his in return.
"Then, Captain Willis, let me have five words with you apart; first
thanking you for having helped to save my life."
"I'm very glad I did, sir; and thanked God for it on my knees this
morning: but you'll excuse me, sir, I was thinking--and no blame to
me--more of saving my poor maid's life than yours, and no offence to
you, for I hadn't the honour of knowing you; but for her, I'd have
been drowned a dozen times over."
"No offence, indeed," said Tom; and hardly knew what to say next. "May
I ask, is she your niece? I heard her call you uncle."
"Oh, no--no relation; only I look on her as my own, poor thing, having
no father; and she always calls me uncle, as most do us old men in the
West."
"Well, then, sir," said Tom, "you will answer for none of the four
sailors having robbed me?"
"I've said it, sir."
"Was any one else close to her when we were brought ashore?"
"No one but I. I brought her round myself."
"And who took her home?"
"Her mother and I."
"Very good. And you never saw the belt after she had her hands in it?"
"No; I'm sure not."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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