“Wait awhile,” said Tom; “I have my reasons.”

“But, sir—­for the honour of the place, the matter should be cleared up; and till the thief’s found, suspicion will lie on a dozen innocent men; myself among the rest, for that matter.”

“You?” said Tom, smiling.  “I don’t know who I have the honour to speak to; but you don’t look much like a gentleman who wishes for a trip to Botany Bay.”

The old man chuckled, and then his face dropped again.

“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.”