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“Please forgive me, sir,” I said, handing him the flask.

“Good heaven, Byam, don’t apologize!” he replied. “Necessity knows no laws of deportment.” He took a pull at the flask and returned it to the surgeon. “Damn fine brandy, sir. I wager it has never done better service than here, this day.... Byam, I came from London as fast as a light chaise would bring me. Yesterday, at breakfast, I was glancing through my Times. In the shipping news I chanced to see an item announcing the arrival of the West Indiaman Sapphire with the survivors of the crew of the Carib Maid, lost on a passage between Jamaica and the Havannah. I need not tell you that I left my breakfast unfinished. When I arrived at the dock I found the Sapphire already discharging her cargo. The Carib Maid people had gone ashore the evening before. I traced them to an inn near by. Tinkler was there, on the point of setting out to the house of his brother-in-law, Fryer. Like the other Carib Maid survivors, he was still dressed in various articles of clothing furnished by the Sapphire’s company. He looked the part of a shipwrecked mariner, but I gave him no time for excuses. I bundled him into my carriage and carried him straight to Lord Hood. As luck would have it, the Admiral was in Town; he had dined with me the night before. Tinkler, of course, was in the greatest bewilderment at all this. I said nothing of my reason for wanting him—not a word. At half-past ten Lord Hood and I were at the Admiralty with Tinkler between us, dressed just as he had come ashore, in a seaman’s jersey and boots three sizes too large for him.