The schooner was hove to, preparations were making to launch the boat, and the captain was loudly calling for his GIG, a species of three-pronged harpoon for striking small fish, when one of the crew, named Church, remonstrated against this mode of proceeding.
"Hold on, captain," said he, "or you will lose the lovely crittur.
If you go near him in a boat he will open his peepers and vanish as suddenly as an evil spirit sprinkled with holy water But I know a trick to take him that cannot fail.

Let me have my own way, and I'll catch that lazy, lubberly chap, and bring him alongside, man fashion, in no time!" Church, while making this appeal, had been hastily divesting himself of his garments, and by the time he finished his remarks, stood, EN CUERPO, on the gunwale.
"Go ahead, my lad!" said the captain.

"But if you let that turtle slip through your fingers, don't you ever come back to the schooner." Church grinned, let himself gently into the water, and paddled away noiselessly and swiftly towards the unsuspicious reptile, who was lazily snoozing in midday, without dreaming of danger.

The sailor approached him warily from behind; and when sufficiently near, grabbed the astonished animal by the stern flippers, and exclaimed, "Hurrah, the day's our own, boys! Captain, I've got a prize.

Run up the stripes and stars.