208 



THE ALBATROSS. 



"0, not at all!" I answered. "If my logic 

 serves me well, all it proves is that when you get 

 into a mighty bad scrape you get out of it unhurt. 

 If killing albatrosses has anything to do with that, 

 why, where' s the harm of killing them ? It 

 strikes me, Mr. Russell, we'd better take special 

 pains to kill a few birds, you and I, (or murder, 

 them, if you prefer), as a precautionary measure! 

 At any rate, we'll have that big bird yonder, I 

 reckon, the very next swoop he makes. These 

 bo's'ns' ghosts of yours don't show any very 

 dainty taste in the bait they snap at — eh, Mr. 

 Russell?" 



Russell was about to venture a reply, when 

 suddenly, just as I had predicted, the albatross 

 swooped down upon that irresistible bait of salt 

 pork. The hook took a cruel hold in the big 

 fowl's throat. The line was stretched taut. You 

 would have thought the bird would break his long 

 swan-neck, he struggled so madly to be free. 

 Four men held the line ; they hauled it in ; they 

 grappled with the albatross and they killed him. 



The mate stood horrified. His hands were 

 thrust deep in the pockets of his blue round- 

 about; they twitched nervously. His mouth 

 tightened at the corners and made deep wrinkles 

 in his yellow checks. He turned to me with a 



