"No," said the captain, "it's to Bengal."
"O Gog's blakey!" said Barny, "what'll I do now, at all at all?"
II.
HOMEWARD BOUND.
The captain ordered Barny on deck, as he wished to have some conversation with him on what he, very naturally, considered a most extraordinary adventure. Heaven help the captain! he knew little of Irishmen, or he would not have been so astonished. Barny made his appearance. Puzzling question and more puzzling answer followed in quick succession between the commander and Barny, who, in the midst of his dilemma, stamped about, thumped his head, squeezed his caubeen into all manner of shapes, and vented his despair anathematically: "O, my heavy hathred to you, you tarnal thief iv a long sailor, it's a purty scrape yiv led me into. By gor, I thought it was Fingal he said, and now I hear it is Bingal. O, the divil sweep you for navigation, why did I meddle or make wid you at all at all? And my curse light on you, Terry O'Sullivan, why did I iver come across you, you onlooky vagabone, to put sich thoughts in my head? And so it's Bingal, and not Fingal, you're goin' to, Captain?"
"Yes, indeed, Paddy."
"An' might I be so bowld to ax, Captain, is Bingal much farther nor Fingal?"
"A trifle or so, Paddy?"
"Och, thin, millia murther, weirasthru, how'll I iver get there at all at all?" roared out poor Barny.