“With me in tow at the end of the rope, a-floating on my back” (p. 92).
I says to myself, says I, ‘Benjamin, my son, why not kill three birds with one stone?’”
“How three birds, Ben?”’ asked Charlie.
“Why,” said the ancient mariner, “cold, hunger, and a signal of distress, they were the three birds. You see, I had an idea a-working in my brain, and so I felt in my pockets and brought out my match-box soppy with salt water; then I opened it ever so careful, and turned out the matches one by one. They were as wet as wet, but in the middle of the box, to my great joy, I discovered a solitary match that was fairly dry. Next I cut off an inch or two from the end of the harpoon-rope,
