There was general admiration for the little cabin boy's resilience, two-and-twenty stitches and nary a tear. Brave too, a month at sea and already clashing swords. The men drank to his bettering health, and proposed to give him a proper pirate's name.
"To Redshirt- say, what's your name lad?"
A moment's hesitation. "George."
"A toast! To Redshirt George!"
"Aye!" The men cried in unison.
Some hours later Jack found him changing lamps with one arm.
"Good job mate." He said, dropped his voice. "What is your name?"
A furtive glance, a sheepish smile, and murmured reply, "That's Alice to you."