a-pointing with his shaky finger, ‘Have we escaped the raging billows only to become frozen meat? If we could shorten sail or pay out the anchor, we’d heave to and ride easy. Benjamin,’ says he, ‘tip us your flipper and good-bye; it’s death or broken legs, but I’m a-going to jump.’
“‘Avast!’ says I. ‘There’s half a chance yet. Do you swarm up the port rigging and I the starboard, and cut away the halyards.’
“Up we went and chopped at the ropes for dear life. Every chop set loose a fowl and reduced canvas, when, instead of rising, we began to sink, until we reached the ground with a bump that knocked all the sense out of us. When we could collect our wits we were alone half-way up the mountain.
“‘Ben,’ says the skipper, in an awesome voice. “‘What cheer, my hearty! Are you dead?’
“Twas glad to hear him pipe up. ‘I’m here, sir,’ says I, ‘least ways, what’s left of me, but I feels as if all my timbers were started, sure-ly.’
“With that we overhauled each other most particular, but found our hulls sound and seaworthy. So after we’d rested a spell, we up anchor and steered for the distant plain, and ’twasn’t long, Master Charles, before we were a-rubbing noses with the friendly natives, with immediate prospect of victualling the ship on turtle soup and roast parrot.”
“Fishing, eh, Master Charles? Well, what sport?”
“Oh, Ben,” said Charlie, “it’s so disappointing! I’d got such a jolly lot of snails, and I wrapped them up in a paper parcel, and tied it tight with string, and carried it ever so carefully; but first one of them managed to crawl out, and then another, and the paper got all slimy and broke. I’d ever such trouble! When I reached the water there were actually only three or four left, so I put them by me in a safe place. Then I got out my line, but ’twas all of a tangle, and by the time I straightened it all my bait had crawled away! I do think snails are the tiresomest creatures, don’t you? But how do you manage them, Ben, because I suppose you’ve done a lot of fishing?”
The old sailor chuckled. “Yes, I’ve done my share, Master Charles, and not all holiday work neither. Seafaring men carry their lives in their hands. While we’re a-fishing for one thing, too, maybe we'll catch another, as a friend of mine told me he did somewhere in the South Seas. Did your ma ever tell you of the Great Sea Serpent? Yes?
