Why should a man from a merchantman endeavour, alone, to board a vessel which flew the Jolly Roger?
Did he wish to join the crew?
Had they been ill-treating him on board the brig?
Was he a criminal endeavouring to escape from the officers of the law?
It was impossible to answer any of these questions, and so the swarthy rascals pulled so hard and so steadily upon the line that the knot in it, which Dickory had not tied properly, became a slipknot, and the poor fellow's breath was nearly squeezed out of him as he was hauled over the rough water.

When he reached the vessel's side there was something said about lowering a ladder, but the men who were hauling on the line were in a hurry to satisfy their curiosity, so up came Dickory straight from the water to the rail, and that proceeding so increased the squeezing that the poor fellow fell upon the deck scarcely able to gasp.

When the rope was loosened the half-drowned and almost breathless Dickory raised himself and gave two or three deep breaths, but he could not speak, despite the fact that a dozen rough voices were asking him who he was and what he wanted.
With the water pouring from him in streams, and his breath coming from him in puffs, he looked about him with great earnestness.
Suddenly a man rushed through the crowd of pirates and stooped to look at the person who had so strangely come aboard.

Then he gave a shout.
"It is Dickory Charter," he cried, "Dickory Charter, the son o' old Dame Charter! Ye Dickory! an' how in the name o' all that's blessed did ye come here?
Master Bonnet! Master Bonnet!" he shouted to the captain, who now stood by, "it is young Dickory Charter, of Bridgetown.

He was on board this vessel before we sailed, wi' Mistress Kate an' me.