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Updated: May 25, 2025
"Thank you for nothing," said I, feeling very indignant at the gratuitous insult, as I considered it, thus offered to me. "If you want to know my name, I'll tell it you. It is Willand Wetherholm." The last words I uttered with no little emphasis, while I looked at my shipmates as much as to say, "There! I should like to know who has got as good a name as that!"
Indeed, to this day, I have often to stop and consider which is my proper name, and certainly could not avoid answering to that of Will Weatherhelm. If one of my old shipmates were to be asked if he knew Willand Wetherholm, he would certainly say, "No; never heard of such a man." "But don't you remember Will Weatherhelm?"
I'm Willand Wetherholm, your nephew!" "You my nephew! I heard that without doubt he was dead. Yet let me look at you, boy!" she exclaimed, taking both my hands and fixing her eyes on my countenance. "Yes, you are Willand you are my own dear boy welcome, welcome back to life, and to one who loved you as her own son!" And she flung her arms round my neck and burst into tears.
However, at last I convinced her that I was no other than the long-lost Willand Wetherholm. She told me how my grandmother had long mourned at my absence, still believing that I was alive and would return, and always praying for my safety. At length she sickened to the last expecting to see me.
I cannot describe the tumultuous feelings which came rushing into my bosom when I saw that child. "Who are you, my little fellow? What's your name?" I asked, with a tremulous voice. "Willand Willand Wetherholm," he answered plainly. Yes, my feelings had not deceived me. I took him up, he nothing loth, though he looked inquiringly at my empty sleeve. "And your mother, boy, where is she?"
"I know that the paper was passed round for signature, and that I put my name to it; and I suppose Wetherholm put his, knowing what was written above it." When again allowed to speak, I once more acknowledged that the signature was mine, but that through carelessness, not having looked at the document, which was doubled back, I had simply acceded to Berkeley's request to sign as a witness.
"Please, sir," said I, stepping up to him, "can you tell me if a young woman called Bretta Wetherholm lives any way handy here?" He looked at me very hard as I spoke, with some surprise in his countenance. Then I recollected myself; "that was her name, I mean, sir," said I; "it's now Mrs Kelson, I am told. Her husband is Tom Kelson. Yes, that's his name."
"Can you swear that your name is not Willand Wetherholm, and that this is not your signature?" asked the President, and the paper was shown me, "That is my name, and that is my signature, but I didn't put it to any document of that sort.
"I have applied for you, Wetherholm and Hagger, to form part of my crew," he said, on returning on board. "I know you are anxious to get home, as it will be some time probably before the frigate herself returns to port." I thanked him heartily, and Hagger, I, and the other men, sent for our bags. As soon as all the arrangements had been completed, we made sail and stood for the British Channel.
He got on his feet and looked about him, as if considering what was to be done. "We're in a bad state, Wetherholm, but, as I before said, while there's life there's hope. We must try to keep the brig afloat until the morning and perhaps, as we are in the track of vessels coming in and out of the Channel, we may be seen and taken off. Where are the rest of the men?"
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