"But why do you call her _poor_ Kathy?
She seems to be quite as strong and as jolly as the rest of her brothers and sisters." "Ah, poor thing, these are not her brothers and sisters," returned the captain in a gentler tone.
"Kathy is only an adopted child, and an orphan.

Her name, Kathleen, is not a Dutch one.

She came to these islands in a somewhat curious way.
Sit down here and I'll tell 'ee the little I know about her." Father and son sat down on a mass of coral rock that had been washed up on the beach during some heavy gale, and for a few minutes gazed in silence on the beautiful lagoon, in which not only the islets, but the brilliant moon and even the starry hosts were mirrored faithfully.
"About thirteen years ago," said the captain, "two pirate junks in the Sunda Straits attacked a British barque, and, after a fight, captured her.

Some o' the crew were killed in action, some were taken on board the junks to be held to ransom I s'pose, and some, jumping into the sea to escape if possible by swimming, were probably drowned, for they were a considerable distance from land.

It was one o' these fellows, however, who took to the water that managed to land on the Java shore, more dead than alive.