"Who am I?" retorted the voice.  "Why, I'm an Englishman; my name's Tom Brown, and the name of my mate here is Joe Cutler; both of us late of His Britannic Majesty's schooner _Wasp_, what foundered in a gale o' wind somewheres off this here coast a while since.  We was picked up off a bit of wreckage by the crew of this here hooker--what turned out to be something in the piratical line--and brought into harbour.  And since we've been here we've been made to work like niggers because we wouldn't jine the `brotherhood,' as they calls theirselves.  Latterly we've been kept aboard this here feluccer, because it appears that there's some chap ashore there as they don't want to see us.  Ay, and if it comes to that, perhaps you're the chap.  Seems to me as I've heard your voice before.  Who are you at all, gov'nor?"