“She was so near that I could make out the figure of the captain on the bridge, and other figures on the deck below. It seemed as though they must see us, though I realized how low in the water we stood, and how pitifully weak and hoarse my voice was. I had been a fool to waste it. Then an idea struck me.
“‘Speak!’ I cried to Gulliver, who stood watching beside me. ‘Speak, old man!’
“Gulliver needed no second bidding. A roar like that of all the bulls of Bashan rolled out over the blue Pacific. Again and again Gulliver gave voice, deep, full, powerful. His great sides heaved with the mighty effort, his red, cavernous mouth open, and his head raised high.
“‘Good, old man!’ I cried. ‘Good!’ And again that magnificent voice boomed forth.
“Then something happened on board the steamer. The figures came to the side. I waved my coat and danced. Then they saw us.
“I was pretty well done up when they took us aboard, and I slept for twenty-four hours straight. When I awoke there sat Gulliver by my bunk, and when I turned to look at him he lifted a great paw and put it on my arm.”
Enderby ceased, and there was silence in the room save for the light snoring of Nubbins.
“You took him home with you, I suppose?” I asked.
Enderby nodded.
“And you have him still?” I certainly wanted to have a look at that dog.