Georgio Rhodojani."

Instantly I was wide awake, with every nerve on the stretch. Again I
felt his eyes question me, again my mother's hand tightened upon
mine, as the stranger stood up and in softest, most musical tones
gave his evidence. And the evidence of Georgio Rhodojani, Greek
sailor, as translated by Jacopo Rousapoulos, interpreter, of
Penzance, was this:--

"My name is Georgio Rhodojani. I am a Greek by birth, and have been
a sailor all my life. I was seaman on board the ship which was
wrecked last night on your horrible coast. The ship belonged to
Bristol, and was homeward bound, but I know neither her name nor the
name of her captain."

At this strange opening, amazement fell upon all. For myself, the
wild incongruity of this foreign tongue from lips which I had heard
utter such fluent and flute-like English swallowed up all other
wonder.

After a pause, seeing the marvelling looks of his audience, the
witness quietly explained--

"You wonder at this; but I am Greek, and cannot master your hard
names. I joined the ship at Colombo as the captain was short of
hands. I was wrecked in a Dutch vessel belonging to Dordrecht, off
Java, and worked my passage to Ceylon, seeking employment. It is
not, therefore, extraordinary that I am so ignorant, and my mouth
cannot pronounce your English language, but show me your list of
ships and I will point her out to you."

There was a rustling of papers, and a list of East Indiamen was
handed up to him: he hastily ran his finger over the pages. Suddenly
his face lighted up.

"Ah! this is she!--this is the ship that was wrecked last night!"

The coroner took the paper and slowly read out--"The _James and
Elizabeth_, of Bristol. Captain--Antonius Merrydew."

"Ah, yes, that is she. The babe here was the captain's child, born
on the voyage. There were eighteen men on board, an English boy, and
the captain's wife. The child was born off the African coast.
We sailed from Colombo on the 22nd of July last, with a cargo of
coffee and sugar. Two days ago we were off a big harbour, of which I
do not know the name; but early yesterday morning were abreast of
what you call, I think, the Lizard. The wind was S.W., and took us
into your terrible bay. All yesterday we were tacking to get out.
Towards evening it blew a gale. The captain had been ill ever since
we passed the Bay of Biscay. We hoisted no signal, and knew not what
to do, for the captain was sick, a