"Shocking!" said another, which I knew to be that of my old boating antagonist, the first lieutenant of the Bucephalus. "Shocking! I always prophesied that that craft would be his coffin, but little did I think my words would come true." The good fellow actually wept as he spoke. "And that poor fellow, Hamilton, who scarcely ever set foot afloat?" "Well, they're both gone, but not without our doing, all we could to give them a chance--that's one comfort." I was now fully awake to the consciousness that I was alive and well--and to the understanding that these mates of mine were lamenting my loss. I did not waste any words in endeavouring to convince them that they were mistaken, but, jumping out of bed, I stood before them. The men stared as if they had seen a veritable ghost, but, recovering themselves in a moment, almost wrung my arm off in congratulatory shaking. Intense astonishment was mingled with their delight, and they were perfectly vociferous in demanding an explanation of the phenomenon I presented in my own living person. It turned out that they had been cruising about pretty nearly the whole night, in the hope of falling in with me. They had full confidence in my resolution; and knew that I would not give in while a chance remained, and so they hoped I would manage to keep afloat, till some one of the numerous boats that were out should fall in with me. I have no doubt that they would have prolonged their search throughout the night, had they not fallen in with a craft, (by the description, I doubt not the identical _chasse marée_ that so cruelly deserted us,) which gave them to understand that they had seen us go down. "_Fin, fin, allés_,"[46] with expressive pointing to the depths of ocean, was the answer they had received to their inquiries. With heavy hearts they had returned home; and without meeting any but those whose search had been as ineffectual as their own. "And now, Jack," said my friend the lieutenant, "now that we have got you within hail once more, safe and sound, who do you suppose it was that sent me here this morning?" "To tell you the truth, I thought it was a little sentimental excursion on your own account." "Not a bit of it. A cleverer head than mine or yours either ordered the expedition. Virginie would have it that any intelligence about you would be in one's way here." "Then you told her nothing of the authentic account of our foundering?" "Indeed but I did--but she would not believe it. Depend upon it, instinct is a fine thing. Her instinct has proved better than our reason,--for she would have it that you were not drowned, and that news would find its way here."