I was listening intently. He continued more to himself than to us—
"An amazing liar, though I wonder what his game was. It beats me; beats me altogether. The 'James and Elizabeth,' says he, as large as life. I take it the fellow couldn't 'a been fooling who brought the news to Falmouth. Didn't know me from Adam, and was fairly put about when he saw how I took it, and, says he, ''twas the James and Elizabeth the chap said, as sure as I stand here.' Boy, do you happen to know the name of the vessel that ran ashore here, night afore last?"
I had grown accustomed to being asked this dreadful question, and therefore answered as bravely as I could. "The James and Elizabeth, sir."
"Captain's name?"
"Captain Antonius Merrydew."
"Ah, poor chap! He was lying sick below when she struck, wasn't he? And he had a wife aboard, and a child born at sea, hadn't he? Fell sick in the Bay o' Biscay, like any land-lubber, didn't he? Why, 'tis like play-actin'; damme! 'tis better than that."
With this the man burst into a shout of laughter and slapped his thigh until his face grew purple with merriment.
"What d'ye think of it, boy, for a rare farce? Was ever the likes of it heard? Captain Antonius Merrydew sick in the Bay o' Biscay! Ho, ho! Where's play-actin' beside it?"
"Wasn't it true, sir?"
"True? God bless the boy! Look me in the face: look me in the face, and then ask me if it's true."