eaman.

"You have not yet given me your name," he said.

"It's Larry Cregan, yer honour. You may trust to what I say, for I
wouldn't desave yer honour, that I wouldn't," answered the man.

"Well, Larry, let me hear all about this message," said the captain,
"for you haven't given me a hint yet what it is."

"Well, thin, yer honour, it's nothing but the truth I'll spake," began
Larry. "We had well-nigh half our crew pressed out of the _Fair
Rosamond_, and had to make up our number with such hands as the captain
could get without being over particular. Among them was a countryman of
mine--Tim Reardon, he called himself. He looked mighty sickly when he
came aboard, and we hadn't been many days at sea before he grew worse.
He wasn't fit for work; but we were short-handed, and he had to stick to
his duty. And says I to myself, `Tim Reardon isn't long for this life,
and so I'll do my best to help him;' and when he was aloft or whatever
he had to do, I always kept near him, and helped him many a time when he
hadn't strength to pull and haul by himself. This won his heart and
made him wish, as he said, to do me a good turn; but that wasn't ever
likely to be in his power. He grew worse and worse, and at last could
no longer crawl upon deck. I used to sit by him when it was my watch
below, and spake such words to comfort him as I could think of. One
day, howsomdever, he says to me, `Larry, I've got something on my
conscience, and something else in my pocket which I want you to take
charge of.'

"`Anything to serve ye, Tim,' says I.

"`I've been an outrageous wicked fellow all my life, and have done all
sorts of bad things,' says Tim. `I've consorted with pirates, and have
seen many a robbery and cruel murther committed--but I won't talk of
that now. I can't do much good, I'm afraid, but what I can I wish to
do, what I'd made up my mind some time ago, when I was well-nigh dying
and should have slipped my cable if it hadn't been for the care I
received from a countryman, who took pity on me and nursed me as if I'd
been his brother. As I got better he told me to cheer up, as he felt
sure I should live. "Now, Tim," says he, "if you ever get to Old
Ireland, I want you to find out Captain Tracy, who lives near to
Waterford, and tell him that I am alive, and, please Heaven, will one
day get back to see him and his daughter. I can't tell him whereabouts
to look for me, for the best of reasons, that I don't know where