“We are not in a bank, David; we are on board my ship.”
“The deuce we are. But where's my money?”
“Oh, we'll talk about that by-and-by.”
The surgeon stepped forward, and said soothingly, “You have been very ill, sir. You have had a fit.”
“I believe you are right,” said David thoughtfully.
“Will you allow me to examine your eye?”
“Certainly, doctor.”
The surgeon examined David's eye with his thumb and finger and then looked into it to see how the pupil dilated and contracted.
He rubbed his hands after this examination; “More good news, captain!” then lowering his voice, “Your friend is as sane as I am.”
The surgeon was right. A shock had brought back the reason a shock had taken away. But how or why I know no more than the child unborn. The surgeon wrote a learned paper, and explained the whole most ingeniously. I don't believe one word of his explanation, and can't better it; so confine myself to the phenomena. Being now sane, the boundary wall of his memory was shifted. He remembered his whole life up to his demanding his cash back of Richard Hardie; and there his reawakened mind stopped dead short. Being asked if he knew William Thompson, he said, “Yes, perfectly. He was a foretopman on board the Agra, and rather a smart hand. The ship was aground and breaking up: he went out to sea on a piano: but we cut the hawser as he drifted under, and he got safe ashore.” David's recovered reason rejected with contempt as an idle dream all that had happened while that reason was in defect The last phenomena I have to record were bodily: one was noted by Mr. Georgie White in these terms: “Billy's eyes used to be like a seal's: but, now he is a great gentleman, they are like yours and mine.” The other was more singular: with his recovered reason came his first grey hair, and in one fortnight it was all as white as snow.