The _Susan B._ had changed her colour, it was true, but she was a well-known sponger, and I noticed no one among the group ashore that I recognised.
There was one foolish fellow that reminded me of my shackly deck-hand, whom I had always thought out of his mind, standing there on his head on the rocks, and waving his legs to attract attention.
"Why! There's Silly Theodore," called out the captain.
"Look out!" murmured Tom at my elbow.
"I'm going ashore all the same, Tom," I said.
"I'm going with you too," said the Captain.

"You needn't be afraid of me.

You're the sort I like.

But look after your guns.

There's going to be something doing--quiet as it looks." So we rowed ashore, and there was Theodore capering in front of a pile of sponges, but no other face that I knew.