[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE c.o.c.kALORUM CAREFULLY INSPECTED THE MARKING."]

This struck Davy as being a very happy idea, and he accordingly printed "CONFEXIONRY" on the package in his very best manner. The c.o.c.kalorum, with his head turned critically on one side, carefully inspected the marking, and then, after earnestly gazing for a moment at the inkstand, gravely drank the rest of the ink and offered the empty inkstand to Davy.

"I don't want it, thank you," said Davy, stepping back.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'I'M PRETTY WELL, I THANK YOU,' SAID DAVY."]

"No more do I," murmured the c.o.c.kalorum, and, tossing the inkstand into the sea, flew away in his usual clumsy fashion.

Davy, after a last mournful look at the package of brown sugar, turned away, and was setting off along the beach again, when he heard a gurgling sound coming from behind a great hummock of sand, and, peeping cautiously around one end of it, he was startled at seeing an enormous whale lying stretched out on the sand basking in the sun, and lazily fanning himself with the flukes of his tail. The great creature had on a huge white garment, b.u.t.toned up in front, with a lot of live seals flopping and wriggling at one of the b.u.t.ton-holes, and with a great chain cable leading from them to a pocket at one side. Before Davy could retreat the Whale caught sight of him and called out, in a tremendous voice, "How d'ye do, Bub?"

"I'm pretty well, I thank you," said Davy, with his usual politeness to man and beast. "How are you, sir?"

"Hearty!" thundered the Whale; "never felt better in all my life. But it's rather warm lying here in the sun."

"Why don't you take off your"--Here Davy stopped, not knowing exactly what it was the Whale had on.

"Waistcoat," said the Whale, condescendingly. "It's a canvas-back-duck waistcoat. The front of it is made of wild duck, you see, and the back of it out of the fore-top-sail of a brig. I've heard they always have watches on board of ships, but I couldn't find any on this one, so I had to satisfy myself with a bit of chain cable by way of a watch-guard. I think this bunch of seals rather sets it off, don't you?"

"Yes, rather," said Davy, doubtfully; "only they s...o...b..r so."

"Ah, that reminds me that it's wash-day," said the Whale; and here he spouted a great stream of water out of the top of his head and let it run down in a little cascade all over the front of his waistcoat. The seals seemed to enjoy this amazingly, and flopped about in an ecstasy.

"What do whales eat?" said Davy, who thought it was a good time for picking up a little information.

"Warious whales wants warious wiands," replied the Whale. "That's an old sea-saw, you know. For my part I'm particularly fond of small buoys."

"I don't think that is a very nice taste," said Davy, beginning to feel very uneasy.

"Oh! don't be frightened," bellowed the Whale, good-naturedly. "I don't mean live boys. I mean the little red things that float about in the water. Some of 'em have lights on 'em, and _them_ are particularly nice and crisp."

"Is it nice being a Whale?" said Davy, who was anxious to change the subject.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'I'M AS NIMBLE AS A SIXPENCE,' SAID THE WHALE."]

"Famous!" said the Whale, with an affable roar. "Great fun, I a.s.sure you! We have fish-b.a.l.l.s every night, you know."

"Fish-b.a.l.l.s at night!" exclaimed Davy. "Why, we always have ours for breakfast."

"Nonsense!" thundered the Whale, with a laugh that made the beach quake; "I don't mean anything to eat. I mean dancing parties."

"And do _you_ dance?" said Davy, thinking that if he did it must be a very extraordinary performance.

"Dance?" said the Whale, with a reverberating chuckle. "Bless you! I'm as nimble as a sixpence. By the way I'll show you the advantage of having a bit of whalebone in one's composition;" and with these words the Whale curled himself up, then flattened out suddenly with a tremendous flop, and, shooting through the air like a flying elephant, disappeared with a great splash in the sea.

Davy stood anxiously watching the spot where he went down, in the hope that he would come up again; but he soon discovered that the Whale had gone for good. The sea was violently tossed about for a few moments, and then began circling out into great rings around the spot where the Whale had gone down. These soon disappeared, however, and the water resumed its lazy ebb and flow upon the sh.o.r.e; and Davy, feeling quite lonesome and deserted, sat down on the sand, and gazed mournfully out upon the sea.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE TALKING WAVES, AND THE OLD SEA-DOG.

"I wonder why the ocean doesn't keep still sometimes, and not be moving its edge about all the time," said Davy, after watching the waves that constantly rolled up on the beach and then rolled back again, looking like creamy soap-suds.

"That wouldn't do at all!" said a Wave that rolled almost up to his feet. "The beach gets mussed, you see, and we have to smooth it off again. The sea is always tidy;" and here the Wave broke with a little, murmuring laugh, and rolled back again, all in a foam.

Davy was so astonished that it almost took away his breath. A talking Wave was certainly the most marvellous thing he had met with, and in an instant he was lying flat on his face, trembling with eagerness, and waiting for the next Wave to roll up on the sh.o.r.e.

It came in a moment, and gently whispered, "If we didn't wet the sand once in a while there wouldn't be any nuts on the beach-trees,--no nuts on the trees, and no sh.e.l.ls on the sh.o.r.e;" and here this Wave broke in its turn into foam, and ran back into the sea.

"This is perfectly delicious!" said Davy, joyfully, and as the next Wave rolled up to him he softly asked, "Do you know the Whale?"

"Know him!" cried the Wave, pa.s.sionately; "I should think I did! Many a time I've been spanked by his horrid old tail. The nasty, blundering, floundering, walloping old"--and here the end of the sentence dribbled away in a sort of washy whisper.

"Such a mouth!" said the next Wave, taking up the story. "Like a fishing-smack lined with red morocco! And such a temper! I wouldn't be so crusty for all"--but just here the Wave toppled over as usual, and the rest of the sentence ran back into the sea.

"Once," said the next Wave, still scolding about the Whale,--"once he got so far up on the sh.o.r.e that he couldn't get back into the water for a long time, and he blamed me for it, and called me names. He said I was a mean, low tide;" but just as Davy was eagerly listening for the rest of the story this Wave, like the rest, broke into foam and washed away.

"It's really too ridiculous, the way they break off their sentences!"

cried Davy, impatiently.

"Is it, indeed!" said a big Wave, coming in with a rush. "Perhaps you'd like to get acquainted with an angry sea!"

It was an angry sea, indeed; for, as the Wave said this, the ocean was suddenly lashed into fury, the water rose into huge, green billows that came tossing up on the sh.o.r.e, and Davy, scrambling to his feet, ran for his life. The air was filled with flying spray, and he could hear the roar of the water coming on behind him with a mighty rush as he ran across the beach, not daring to stop until he found himself out of reach of the angry ocean, on a high bluff of sand. Here he stopped, quite out of breath, and looked back.

The wind was blowing fiercely, and a cloud of spray was dashed in his face as he turned toward it, and presently the air was filled with lobsters, eels, and wriggling fishes that were being carried insh.o.r.e by the gale. Suddenly, to Davy's astonishment, a dog came sailing along. He was being helplessly blown about among the lobsters, uneasily jerking his tail from side to side to keep it out of reach of their great claws, and giving short, nervous barks from time to time, as though he were firing signal-guns of distress. In fact, he seemed to be having such a hard time of it that Davy caught him by the ear as he was going by, and landed him in safety on the beach. He proved to be a very s.h.a.ggy, battered-looking animal, in an old pea-jacket, with a weather-beaten tarpaulin hat jammed on the side of his head, and a patch over one eye; altogether he was the most extraordinary-looking animal that could be imagined, and Davy stood staring at him, and wondering what sort of a dog he was.

"Are you a pointer?" he said at last, by way of opening conversation.

"Not I," said the Dog, sulkily. "It's rude to point. I'm an old Sea-Dog, come ash.o.r.e in a gale."

Here he stared doubtfully at Davy for a moment, and then said, in a husky voice:--

"What's the difference between a dog-watch and a watch-dog? It's a conundrum."

[Ill.u.s.tration: DAVY a.s.sISTS THE OLD SEA-DOG.]

"I don't know," said Davy, who would have laughed if he had not been a little afraid of the Dog.

"A dog-watch keeps a watching on a bark," said the old Sea-Dog; "and a watch-dog keeps a barking on a watch." Here he winked at Davy, and said, "What's _your_ name?" as if he had just mentioned his own.

"Davy"--began the little boy, but before he could say another word the old Sea-Dog growled, "Right you are!" and, handing him a folded paper, trotted gravely away, swaggering, as he went, like a seafaring man.

The paper was addressed to "_Davy Jones_," and was headed inside, "_Binnacle Bob: His werses_;" and below these words Davy found the following story:--

_To inactivity inclined Was Captain Parker Pitch's mind; In point of fact, 'twas fitted for A sedentary life ash.o.r.e._