Curious coincidence, Mr Bloom confided to Stephen unobtrusively.

Murphy’s my name, the sailor continued. D. B. Murphy of Carrigaloe. Know where that is?

Queenstown harbour, Stephen replied.

That’s right, the sailor said. Fort Camden and Fort Carlisle. That’s where I hails from.

I belongs there. That’s where I hails from. My little woman’s down there. She’s waiting for me, I know. For England, home and beauty. She’s my own true wife I haven’t seen for seven years now, sailing about.

Mr Bloom could easily picture his advent on this scene, the homecoming to the mariner’s roadside shieling after having diddled Davy Jones, a rainy night