I started.  The man did not notice it, but continued—­

“Maybe you’ve heard of it.  Well, it’s a rum world, and a fine lot of lies gets told every day, but you don’t often get so accomplished a liar as that chap—­what’s his name?  Blessed if I can tackle it; not but what it’s another lie, I’ll wager.”

I was listening intently.  He continued more to himself than to us—­

“An amazing liar, though I wonder what his game was.  It beats me; beats me altogether.  The ‘James and Elizabeth,’ says he, as large as life.  I take it the fellow couldn’t ’a been fooling who brought the news to Falmouth.  Didn’t know me from Adam, and was fairly put about when he saw how I took it, and, says he, ’’twas the James and Elizabeth the chap said, as sure as I stand here.’  Boy, do you happen to know the name of the vessel that ran ashore here, night afore last?”

I had grown accustomed to being asked this dreadful question, and therefore answered as bravely as I could.  “The James and Elizabeth, sir.”

“Captain’s name?”

“Captain Antonius Merrydew.”

“Ah, poor chap!  He was lying sick below when she struck, wasn’t he? 
And he had a wife aboard, and a child born at sea, hadn’t he? 
Fell sick in the Bay o’ Biscay, like any land-lubber, didn’t he? 
Why, ‘tis like play-actin’; damme! ’tis better than that.”

With this the man burst into a shout of laughter and slapped his thigh until his face grew purple with merriment.

“What d’ye think of it, boy, for a rare farce?  Was ever the likes of it heard?  Captain Antonius Merrydew sick in the Bay o’ Biscay!  Ho, ho!  Where’s play-actin’ beside it?”

“Wasn’t it true, sir?”

“True?  God bless the boy!  Look me in the face:  look me in the face, and then ask me if it’s true.”

“But why should it not be true, sir?”

“Because I am Captain Antonius Merrydew!”

For the rest of the journey I sat stunned.  Thomas beside me was wide awake and staring, seeing his way to an adventure at last.  It was I that dreamed—­I heard without comprehension the rest of the captain’s tale:—­how he had come, after a quick passage from Ceylon, to Falmouth with the barque James and Elizabeth, just in time to hear of this monstrous lie; how he was unmarried, and never had a day’s illness in his life; how, suspecting foul play, he had hired a horse and gig with a determination to drive over to Polkimbra and learn the truth; how a horse and gig were the most cursedly obstinate of created things; with much besides in the way of oaths and ejaculations.  All this I must have heard, for memory brought them back later; but I did not listen.  My life and circumstances had got the upper hand of me, and were dancing a devil’s riot.

At last, after much tacking and porting of helm, we navigated Polkimbra Hill and cast anchor before the “Lugger.”  There we alighted, thanked the captain, and left him piping all hands to the horse’s head.  His cheery voice followed us down to the sands.