“Yes,” said he, “you see I found myself drifting down.  There was no help for it.  The wind was slight, and the tide was strong.  I was swept down into a fog bank, and lost sight of Ile Haute altogether.  Well, it didn’t matter very much, and I wasn’t a bit anxious.  I knew that the tide would turn soon, and then I’d come up, and fetch the land somewhere; so I waited patiently.  At last, after about—­well, nearly an hour, the tide must have turned, and I drifted back, and there was wind enough to give me quite a lift; and so all of a sudden I shot out of the fog, and saw Ile Haute before me.  I was coming in such a way that my course lay on the south side of the island, and in a short time I came in sight of the schooner.  I tell you what it is, I nearly went into fits—­I knew her at once.  A little farther on, and I saw you all cutting like mad over the beach to my camp.  I was going to put after you at first; but the fact is, I hated the island so that I couldn’t bear to touch it again, and so I concluded I’d go on board and signal.  So I came up alongside, and got on board.  Solomon was down below; so I just stepped forward, and put my head over the hatchway, and spoke to him.  I declare I thought he’d explode.  He didn’t think I was a ghost at all.  It wasn’t fear, you know—­it was nothing but delight, and all that sort of thing, you know.  Well, you know, then we went to work signaling to you, and he took the fog horn, and I went to the flag, and so it was.”

“I don’t know how we happened not to see your boat,” said Bruce.

“O, that’s easy enough to account for,” said Tom.  “I was hid by the east point of the island.  I didn’t see the schooner till I got round, and you must have been just getting ashore at that time.”

During all this time Solomon had been wandering about in a mysterious manner; now diving below into the hold, and rattling the pots and pans; again emerging upon deck, and standing to listen to Tom and look at him.  His face shone like a polished boot; there was a grin on his face that showed every tooth in his head, and his little twinkling black beads of eyes shone, and sparkled, and rolled about till the winking black pupils were eclipsed by the whites.  At times he would stand still, and whisper solemnly and mysteriously to himself, and then, without a moment’s warning, he would bring his hands down on his thighs, and burst into a loud, long, obstreperous, and deafening peal of uncontrollable laughter.

“Solomon,” said Tom, at last, “Solomon, my son, won’t you burst if you go on so?  I’m afraid you may.”

At this Solomon went off again, and dived into the hold.  But in a minute or two he was back again, and giggling, and glancing, and whispering to himself, as before.  Solomon and Captain Corbet thus had each a different way of exhibiting the same emotion, for the feeling that was thus variously displayed was nothing but the purest and most unfeigned joy.