One man on board, alone among all, was not of American origin.  Portuguese by birth, but speaking English fluently, he was called Negoro, and filled the humble position of cook on the schooner.

The “Pilgrim’s” cook having deserted at Auckland, this Negoro, then out of employment, offered himself for the place.  He was a taciturn man, not at all communicative, who kept to himself, but did his work satisfactorily.  In engaging him, Captain Hull seemed to be rather fortunate, and since embarking, the master cook had merited no reproach.

Meanwhile, Captain Hull regretted not having had the time to inform himself sufficiently about Negoro’s antecedents.  His face, or rather his look, was only half in his favor, and when it is necessary to bring an unknown into the life on board, so confined, so intimate, his antecedents should be carefully inquired into.

Negoro might be forty years old.  Thin, nervous, of medium height, with very brown hair, skin somewhat swarthy, he ought to be strong.  Had he received any instruction?  Yes; that appeared in certain observations which escaped him sometimes.  Besides, he never spoke of his past life, he said not a word about his family.  Whence he came, where he had lived, no one could tell.  What would his future be?  No one knew any more about that.  He only announced his intention of going on shore at Valparaiso.  He was certainly a singular man.  At all events, he did not seem to be a sailor.  He seemed to be even more strange to marine things than is usual with a master cook, part of whose existence is passed at sea.

Meanwhile, as to being incommoded by the rolling and pitching of the ship, like men who have never navigated, he was not in the least, and that is something for a cook on board a vessel.

Finally, he was little seen.  During the day, he most generally remained confined in his narrow kitchen, before the stove for melting, which occupied the greater part of it.  When night came and the fire in the stove was out, Negoro went to the cabin which was assigned to him at the end of the crew’s quarters.  Then he went to bed at once and went to sleep.

It has been already said that the “Pilgrim’s” crew was composed of five sailors and a novice.

This young novice, aged fifteen, was the child of an unknown father and mother.  This poor being, abandoned from his birth, had been received and brought up by public charity.

Dick Sand—­that was his name—­must have been originally from the State of New York, and doubtless from the capital of that State.

If the name of Dick—­an abbreviation of Richard—­had been given to the little orphan, it was because it was the name of the charitable passer-by who had picked him up two or three hours after his birth.  As to the name of Sand, it was attributed to him in remembrance of the place where he had been found; that is to say, on that point of land called Sandy-Hook, which forms the entrance of the port of New York, at the mouth of the Hudson.