he sailor; "was
she an emigrant ship?"

"Ay, that's just what she was."

"Was she lost in the year 1850?" continued Robin, with increasing
excitement.

"Jus' so, my lad."

"And you were cook?"

"You've hit the nail fair on the head," replied the sailor, with a look
of surprise.

"Well, now, that _is_ most remarkable," said Robin, "for I was born on
board of that very ship."

"You _don't_ mean it," said Johnson, looking eagerly at our hero. "Was
you really the babby as was born to that poor miserable sea-sick
gentleman, Mr Wright--you'll excuse my sayin' so--in the middle of a
thunder-clap an' a flash o' lightnin' as would have split our main-mast
an' sent us to the bottom, along wi' the ship, if it hadn't bin for the
noo lightnin' conductor that Mr Harris, the inventor, indooced our
skipper to put up!"

"Yes, I am that very baby," said Robin, "and although, of course, I
remember nothing about the thunder and lightning, or anything else. My
father and mother have often told me all about it, and the wonderful
deliverance which God mercifully sent when all hope had been given up.
And many a time did they speak of you, Johnson, as a right good fellow
and a splendid cook."

"Much obleedged to 'em," said Johnson, "an' are they both alive?"

"They were both alive and well when I left England."

"Come now, this _is_ pleasant, to meet an old shipmate in such pecooliar
circumstances," said the sailor, extending his hand, which Robin shook
warmly; "quite as good as a play, ain't it?"

"Ay," observed Jim Slagg, who with the others had witnessed this meeting
with deep interest, "an' the babby has kep' the lighten' goin' ever
since, though he's dropped the thunder, for he's an electrician no
less--a manufacturer of lightnin' an' a director of it too."

The sailor wass good deal puzzled by this remark, but when its purport
was explained to him, he gave vent to a vigorous chuckle,
notwithstanding Sam's stern order to "lie still."

"Didn't I say so?" he exclaimed. "Didn't I say distinctly, that night,
to the stooard--Thomson was his name--`Stooard,' said I, `that there
babby what has just bin born will make his mark some'ow an'
somew'eres.'"

"Well, but I have not made my mark yet," said Robin, laughing, "so
you're not a true prophet, at least time has not yet proved your title."

"Not yet proved it!" cried Johnson with vehemence, "why, how much proof
do you want? Here you are, not much more than a babby yet--a