"Well," said Barny, with a triumphant toss of his head, "I have done Terry O'Sullivan, at any rate, the devil a half so far he ever was, and that's a comfort. I have muzzled his clack for the rest iv his life, and he won't be comin' over us wid the pride iv his Fingal while I'm to the fore, that was a'most at Bingal!
"Terry O'Sullivan,—who is he, pray?" said the captain.
"O, he's a scut iv a chap that's not worth your axin' for,—he's not worth your honor's notice,—a braggin' poor craythur. O, wait till I get home, and the devil a more braggin' they'll hear out of his jaw."
"Indeed then, Barny, the sooner you turn your face toward home the better," said the captain: "since you will go, there is no need of your losing more time."
"Thrue for you, your honor,—and sure it's well for me I had the luck to meet with the likes o' your honor, that explained the ins and the outs iv it, to me, and laid it all down as plain as prent."
"Are you sure you remember my directions?" said the captain.
"Troth an I'll niver forget them to the day o' my death, and is bound to pray, more betoken, for you and yours."
"Don't mind praying for me till you get home, Barny; but answer me, how are you to steer when you shall leave me?"
"The nor-aist coorse, your honor, that's the coorse agin the world."
"Remember that! Never alter that course till you see land,—let nothing make you turn out of a northeast course."