That was no doubt the reason why I had not so far, since I recovered my wits, come across anyone in authority, which I was now exceedingly anxious to do.

It was almost dark, outside the ship as well as inside, when I spied one who seemed, from his dress and bearing, something above the rest, and I made my way to him.

“Will you be so good as to tell me where I sleep, monsieur?” I asked.

“Same place as you slept last night, my son.”

“I would be quite willing—­”

“Ah tiens! you are the latest bird.”

“At your service, monsieur.”

“Come with me, and I’ll get you a hammock and show you where to sling it.”

And as he was getting it for me, I asked him the name of the ship and where she was going.

“The Josephine, 40-gun frigate, bound for the West Indies.”

Then I proffered my request—­

“Can you procure me an interview with the captain, monsieur?”

“What for?”

“I have some information to give him—­information of importance.”

“You can give it to me.”

“No—­to the captain himself, or to no one.”

He looked at me critically and said curtly, “B’en, mon gars, we will see!” which might mean anything—­threat or promise.  But my thoughts during the night only confirmed me in my way.

Next morning after breakfast the same man came seeking me.

“Come then,” he said, “and say your say,” and he led me along to the quarterdeck, where the captain stood with some of his officers.  He was a tall, good-looking man, very handsomely dressed.  I came to know him later as Captain Charles Duchatel.

“This is the man, M. le capitaine,” said my guide, pushing me to the front.

“Well, my man,” said the captain, pleasantly enough, “what is the important information you have to give me?”

“M. le capitaine will perhaps permit me to explain, in the first place, that I am an Englishman,” said I, with a bow.

“Truly you speak like one, mon gars,” he laughed.

“That is because I am of the Norman Isles, monsieur.  I am from Sercq, by Guernsey.”

“Well!” he nodded.

“And therefore monsieur will see that it is not possible for me to fight against my own country.”  And I went on quickly, in spite of the frown I saw gathering on his face.  “I will do any duty put upon me to the best of my power, but fight against my country I cannot.”

He looked at me curiously, and said sharply, “A sailor on board ship obeys orders.  Is it not so?”

“Surely, monsieur.  But I am a prisoner.  And as an Englishman I cannot fight against my country.  Could monsieur do so in like case?”

“This is rank mutiny, you know.”

“I do not mean it so, monsieur, I assure you.”

“And was this the important information you had to give me?”

“No, monsieur, it was this.  The man who brought me prisoner on board here,—­monsieur knows him?”