What, during those weeks, were my fevered dreams you may guess. In fancy I was hunting through the world for Miss Kit; and as sure as I found her, Tim appeared and claimed my help; and ere Tim could be helped, my little mistress had vanished again and a new search was begun—now in Ireland, now in Paris, now in Holland, now up and down the blood-stained deck of the Zebra. But it all ended in naught; and I turned over wearily on my pillow, sick in body and mind, and longing, as prisoner never longed, for wings.
Glad enough I was when one day, early in January, the doctor pronounced me cured, and put me on board a ship for Dublin, there to report myself to the Admiralty, and take my new sailing orders.
“But first,” said I to myself, “cost what it may, I will have a peep at Fanad.”
Chapter Thirty Four.
A step up the ladder.
A strange thing befell me as soon as I landed in Dublin. I was prowling along the quay, wondering whether I should present myself then and there at the Admiralty, or take French leave for Donegal while I was free and had money in my pocket, when I was startled out of my wits by what seemed to be a veritable ghost in my path. Unless I had been certain that I was the only survivor out of the ill-starred Zebra, I could have sworn I saw Mr Felton, the second lieutenant, leaning over the rails, watching the dressing of a smart-looking revenue cutter that lay out in the water-way. The more I looked the less like a ghost did he appear, until at last I ventured to walk up to him with a salute.
“Good-morrow, Lieutenant Felton,” said I.
“Captain, if you please,” said he, turning round. “What! is that you, Gallagher, or your ghost? I thought I was the only man that saved his life out of that fated ship.”