Now I had found him, I had found myself.
"Look alive, my lad," said he.
Without a word I fixed the light in its place.

I had never, I think, felt so shy and at a loss in my life.
At last I could stand it no longer.
"Tim, old man, is that really you ?" He staggered at the sound of my voice, just as I had staggered at the sound of his, and let go the helm.
"Saint Patrick! it's Barry." And I felt his hand on my shoulder, and heard him give a little laugh of wonder.
"Fetch that light! Let me have a look at you!" I obeyed, and it would be hard to say which side of the lantern, as it swung between us, witnessed the greatest wonder.
"Look to the helm," said I.

"She's falling off a point or two." "Ha, ha!" said the joyous Tim, "to think of me manning the helm with you on the ship.

Take you it, you dog you, and spin us your yarn." "Not till you tell me how you came to life again.

I heard the _Cigale_ was lost with all hands." "Except one," said Tim.