28 



THE FATTED CALF. 



main yard aback and wait till the chase is ended. 

 You must be quick. 



I made up my mind that I would improve the 

 first and all subsequent opportunities of charming, 

 captivating and otherwise hypnotizing this unex- 

 ampled young lady. Whatever form later chances 

 might assume, the near and most available one 

 was my fund of sea-yarns. I was a sort of blubber- 

 hunting Othello. She was my incomparable 

 Desdemona. 



So I lowered away, every chance I got. 



Her taste, I thought, was peculiar. She cared 

 little or nothing for whales that tossed one's boat 

 in the air with their flukes, or for the cannibal 

 islanders that cook one and eat one, or for hurri- 

 canes and tidal waves and waterspouts and the 

 terrors of "the vasty deep." She demanded 

 yarns about me (how gratifying ! ) and about my 

 " sins." Every time she would look as stern 

 as a whaler's skipper and say, " Avast there ! " 

 and then laugh — so prettily that I inwardly 

 cursed myself for ever having adopted the whale- 

 man's lot — and then say, " Go on, Mr. Robbins ! 

 I must have the next story now — and as good 

 as the last, or I'll ostracize you ! " 



They were a curious skein of yarns. How I 

 was sent to get the grindstone from the locker 



