rer the Sally when his boat took in so much water. And
the tide _was_ running out, no doubt. But it always did seem queer to
me," continued Tom.

"What was queer?" I asked the question without the slightest
eagerness--indeed, I really was not interested much in what the old
sailor was saying.

"Queer that such a smart-appearin', intelligent gent should have got
himself in such a fix."

"As how?"

"To set sail in such a leaky old tub."

"Oh!"

"And then, when he found she was sinking under him not to make for the
shore."

"What became of him?" I asked.

"He went to New York with us. There he stepped ashore and I ain't never
seen him since--and only heard of him once, an' that was ten years or so
afterward----"

"Hullo!" I cried, suddenly waking up. "When did all this happen, Tom?"

"When did what happen?"

"This man swimming aboard your schooner?"

"Why, nigh as I can remember, it must be fourteen or fifteen years
ago--come next spring. It was in April, after the weather was right
smart warm. Otherwise he wouldn't have swum so far, I bet ye!"

My voice, I knew, had suddenly become husky. I was startled, though I
don't know why I should have felt so strangely as I reviewed this tale
he had told.

"What was his name, Tom?" I asked.

"The name of the feller I was tellin' you of?"

"Yes."

"Carver."

"How d'you know it was?"

"Why, he said so!" exclaimed Tom. "A man ought to know his own name,
oughtn't he?"

"He should--yes."

"Well!"

"But did he have any way of proving his name to be Carver?"

"Pshaw! the Cap'n never axed him to prove it. Why for should he lie
about it? He worked his way to New York and all he got was his grub for
it. I let him have an old pilot coat of mine, he having only a thin
jacket on him. He agreed to pay me two dollars for it. And he was jest
as honest as they make 'em."

"He paid you?"

"He sartinly did," said old Tom, wagging his head. "A feller who would
be as good as his word in that particular wouldn't lie about his name,
would he?"

"You said you heard from him ten years after?" I asked, without trying
to answer Tom's query.

"Well--yes--it was ten years. But I guess the letter had been lying
there in the office of Radnor & Blunt--them's the folks we dealt with on
the Sally Smith--for a long time. I had left the Sally the year after
and only just by chance went into the office when I was in New York. The
chief clerk he passed me over a letter. In it wa