The slim gentleman poured the width of a finger of claret in his glass,
soused it with water, and held it up.

"Here's to your future, my good captain," he said, "and to Mr. Carvel's
safe arrival home again. When you get to town, Mr. Carvel, don't fail to
go to Davenport, who makes clothes for most of us at Almack's, and let
him remodel you. I wish to God he might get hold of your doctor. And
put up at the Star and Garter in Pall Mall: I take it that you have
friends in London."

I replied that I had. But he did not push the inquiry.

"You should write out this history for your grandchildren, Mr. Carvel,"
he added, as he bade his Swiss light us to our room. "A strange yarn
indeed, captain."

"And therefore," said the captain, coolly, "as a stranger give it
welcome.

"'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'"

Had a meteor struck at the gentleman's feet, he could not have been more
taken aback.

"What! What's this?" he cried. "You quote Hamlet! And who the devil
are you, sir, that you know my name?"

"Your name, sir!" exclaims the captain, in astonishment.