The figure flitted from trunk to trunk like a deer, but it ran on two legs like a man. I was tempted to cry for help, when another sighting reassured me that the creature was indeed a man. I took some comfort in this discovery, and in the fact I had just remembered I carried a pistol in my pocket. I put one hand on my pistol and took a few steps forward. At that precise moment, the man leaped out in the open, threw himself on his knees, and held out his hands as if begging for mercy.
I could see that he was an Englishman like myself, but his clothes were old and tattered, and his skin had been burned by the sun. In fact, his bright eyes looked quite startling on a face so burned.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
“I’m Ben Gunn, I am,” he replied. His voice sounded like a rusty lock. “I haven’t spoken with a man for three years! I am surprised I still know how to speak.”