All this time the blue chaps were pushin’ the boat with sticks through the wather, till at last we came close to the ship. Every one on board saw me at the Cove but didn’t see me on the voyage; to be sure, every one’s mouth was wide open, crying out “Darby Doyle.”
“The—— stop your throats,” siz I, “it’s now you call me loud enough,” siz I; “ye wouldn’t shout that way when ye saw me rowlin’ like a tub in a mill-race the other day fornenst your faces.”
When they heard me say that, some of them grew pale as a sheet—every thumb was at work till they a’most brought the blood from their forreds. But, my jewel, the captin does no more than runs to the book, an’ calls out the names that paid, and them that wasn’t paid—to be shure, I was one ov them that didn’t pay. If the captin looked at me before with wondherment, he now looked with astonishment. Nothin’ was tawk’d ov for the other three days but Darby Doyle’s great shwim from the Cove to Quebec. One sed, “I always knew Darby to be a great shwimmer.” “Do ye remimher,” siz another, “when Darby’s dog was nigh been dhrownded in the great duck hunt, whin Darby peeled off an’ brought in the dog, an’ made afther the duck himself, and swam for two hours endways; an’ do ye remimber whin all the dogs gather round the duck at one time; whin it wint down how Darby dived afther it,—an’ sted below while the creathur was eatin’ a few frogs, for she was weak an’ hungry; an’ whin everybody thought he was lost, up he came with the duck by the leg in his kithogue” (left hand). Begar, I agreed to all they sed, till at last we got to Amerrykey. I was now in a quare way; the captin wouldn’t let me go till a friend of his would see me. By this time, my jewel, not only his friends came, but swarms upon swarms, starin’ at poor Darby.
At last I called Ned. “Ned, avic,” siz I, “I want to go about my bisness.” “Be asy, Darby,” siz he; “haven’t ye your fill ov good atin’, an’ the captin’s got mighty fond ov ye entirely.” “Is he, Ned?” siz I; “but tell us, Ned, are all them crowd ov people goin’ to sea?” “Augh, ye omadhaun,”[9] siz Ned, “sure they are come to look at you.” Just as he said this a tall yallow man, with a black curly head, comes and stares me full in the face. “You’ll know me agen,” siz I, “bad luck to yer manners an’ the school-masther that taught ye.” But I thought he was goin’ to shake hands with me when he tuck hould ov my fist and opened every finger, one by one, then opened my shirt and look’d at my breast. “Pull away, ma bouchal”[10] siz I, “I’m no desarthur, at any rate.” But never an answer he made, but walk’d down into the hole where the captin lived. “This is more ov it,” siz I; “Ned, what could that tallah-faced man mean?” “Why,” siz Ned, “he was lookin’ to see if your fingers were webbed, or had ye scales on your breast.” “His impidence is great,” siz I; “did he take me for a duck or a bream? But, Ned, what’s the meanin’ ov the boords acrass the stick the people walk on, and the big white boord up there?” “Why, come over and read,” siz Ned. But, my jewel, I didn’t know whether I was stannin’ on my head or my heels when I saw in great big black letthers:—
The Greatest Wondher of the World
to be seen here!
A Man that beats out Nicholas the Diver!
He has swum from Cork to Amerrykey!!
Proved on oath by ten of the Crew and twenty Passengers.
Admittance—Half a Dollar.