He was tall, with a beard a little gray, and his scanty attire was of the most nondescript fashion.
With amazement upon his face, he spoke to Dickory in English.
"What, sir," he cried, "has a man-of-war touched at this island ?" Dickory could not help smiling, for the man's countenance told him how he had been utterly astounded, and even stupefied, by the sight of a gentleman in naval uniform in the interior of that island, an almost desert region.
"No man-of-war has touched here," said Dickory, "and I don't belong to one.

I wear these clothes because I am compelled to do so, having no others.

Yesterday afternoon I escaped from some pirates who stopped for water, and since leaving them I have made my way to this spot." The man stepped forth quickly and stretched out his hand.
"Bless you! Bless you!" he cried.

"You are the first human being, other than my family, that I have seen for two years." A little girl now came from behind the house, and when her eyes fell upon Dickory and his cocked hat she screamed with terror and ran indoors.

A woman appeared at the door, evidently the man's wife.