Upon this Captain Corbet fastened his gaze, and stood in silence looking at it.  At length he put his hand on Phil’s shoulder, and directed the attention of the boys to the floating object.

“Do you see that?” said he.

“What?”

“That thing.”

“What—­that round thing?”

“Yes, that round thing.  Look sharp at it now.  What doos it look like to your young eyes?”

Phil and Pat looked at it very carefully, and in silence.  Then Phil looked up into Captain Corbet’s face without saying a word.

“Wal?”

“What is it, do you think?” asked Phil, in a low voice.

“What do you think?”

“Sure an it’s a hat—­a sthraw hat,” said Pat.

Captain Corbet exchanged a meaning glance with Phil.

“Do you think it’s his hat?” asked Phil.

“Whose else can it be?”

Phil was silent, and his gaze was once more directed to the floating object.  As it rose and fell on the waves, it showed the unmistakable outline of a straw hat, and was quite near enough for them to recognize its general character and color.  It was dark, with the edges rather ragged, a broad brim, and a roomy crown, not by any means of a fashionable or graceful shape, but coarse, and big, and roomy, and shabby—­just such a hat as Solomon had put on his head when he left Grand Pre with them on this memorable and ill-fated voyage.

They looked at it for a long time in silence, and none of them moved.

Captain Corbet heaved a deep sigh.

“This here,” said he, “has been a eventfool vyge.  I felt a derred persentment afore I started.  Long ago I told you how the finger of destiny seemed to warn me away from the ocean main.  I kem to the conclusion, you remember, that henceforth I was to dwell under my own vine an fig tree, engaged in the tender emplymint of nussin the infant.  But from this I was forced agin my own inclynations.  An what’s the result?  Why, this—­that thar hat!  See here, boys;” and the venerable seaman’s tone grew deeper, and more solemn, and more impressive; “see here, boys,” he repeated; “for mor’n forty year hev I follered the seas, an traversed the briny deep; but, though I’ve hed my share of storms an accydints, though I’ve ben shipwrecked onst or twiste, yet never has it ben my lot to experience any loss of human life.  But now, but now, boys, call to mind the startlin events of this here vyge!  Think of your companion an playmate a driftin off in that startlin manner from Petticoat Jack!  An now look here—­gaze upon that thar!  Words air footil!”

“Do you give him up, then?” cried Phil.  “Poor, poor old Solomon!”

Captain Corbet shook his head.

“’Deed, thin, an I don’t!” cried Pat.  “What’s a hat?  ’Tain’t a man, so it isn’t.  Many’s the man that’s lost his hat, an ain’t lost his life.  It’s a windy place here, an ole Solomon’s hat’s a mile too big for him, so it is—­’deed an it is.”