It was ten years ago that I speak of, when I was in the _Speedwell_, sixty-ton brig, tradin' betwixt Boston and Jamestown, goin' south with lumber and skins and fixin's, d'ye see, and north again with tobacco and molasses.
One night, blowin' half a gale from the south'ard, we ran on a reef two miles to the east of Cape May, and down we went with a hole in our bottom like as if she'd been spitted on the steeple o' one o' them Honfleur churches.

Well, in the morning there I was washin' about, nigh out of sight of land, clingin' on to half the foreyard, without a sign either of my mates or of wreckage.

I wasn't so cold, for it was early fall, and I could get three parts of my body on to the spar, but I was hungry and thirsty and bruised, so I just took in two holes of my waist-belt, and put up a hymn, and had a look round for what I could see.

Well, I saw more than I cared for.

Within five paces of me there was a great fish, as long pretty nigh as the spar that I was grippin'.
It's a mighty pleasant thing to have your legs in the water and a beast like that all ready for a nibble at your toes." "_Mon Dieu!_" cried the French soldier.