“A man in the sea, a man in the sea!”
Every man, woman, and child came running up out of the holes, and the captain among the rest, who put a long red barrel, like a gun, to his eye—I thought he was for shootin’ me! Down I dived. When I got my head over the wather agen, what shou’d I see but a boat rowin’ to me. When it came up close, I roared out—
“Did ye hear me at last?”
The boat now run ‘pon the top ov me; I was gript by the scruff ov the neck, and dragg’d into it.
“What hard look I had to follow yees, at all at all—which ov ye is the masther?” says I.
“There he is,” siz they, pointin’ to a little yellow man in a corner of the boat.
“You yallow-lookin’ monkey, but it’s a’most time for you to think ov lettin’ me into your ship—I’m here plowin’ and plungin’ this month afther you; shure I didn’t care a thrawneen was it not that you have my best Sunday clothes in your ship, and my name in your books.”
“An’ pray, what is your name, my lad?” siz the captain.
“What’s my name! What i’d you give to know?” siz I, “ye unmannerly spalpeen, it might be what’s your name, Darby Doyle, out ov your mouth—ay, Darby Doyle, that was never afraid or ashamed to own it at home or abroad!”