"Stop, stop!" cried the captain, grasping round their waists a small boy
and girl who had already clambered on his knees. "Let me inquire about
my old friends first--and let me introduce my son to you--you've taken
no notice of _him_ yet! That's not hospitable."

All eyes were turned at once on Nigel, some boldly, others with a shy
inquiring look, as though to say, Can _you_ tell stories?

"Come, now," said Nigel, advancing, "since you are all so fond of my
father, I must shake hands with you all round."

The hearty way in which this was done at once put the children at their
ease. They admitted him, as it were, into their circle, and then turning
again to the captain continued their clamour for a story.

"No, no--about old friends first. How--how's old mother Morris?"

"Quite well," they shouted. "Fatterer than ever," added an urchin, who
in England would have been styled cheeky.

"Yes," lisped a very little girl; "one of 'e doors in 'e house too small
for she."

"Why, Gerchin, you've learned to speak English like the rest," said the
captain.

"Yes, father make every one learn."

"Well, now," continued the captain, "what about Black Sam?"