_His disposition, so to speak, Was nautically soft and weak; He feared the rolling ocean, and He very much preferred the land._

_A stronger-minded man by far Was gallant Captain Thompson Tar; And (what was very wrong, I think) He marked himself with India ink._

_He boldly sailed the "Soaking Sue"

When angry gales and tempests blew, And even from the nor-nor-east He didn't mind 'em in the least._

_Now, Captain Parker Pitch's sloop Was called the "Cozy Chickencoop,"-- A truly comfortable craft, With ample state-rooms fore and aft._

_No foolish customs of the deep, Like "watches," robbed his crew of sleep; That estimable lot of men Were all in bed at half-past ten._

_At seven bells, one stormy day, Bold Captain Tar came by that way, And in a voice extremely coa.r.s.e He roared "Ahoy!" till he was hoa.r.s.e._

_Next morning, of his own accord, This able seaman came aboard, And made the following remark Concerning Captain Pitch's bark:--_

_"Avast!" says he, "Belay! What cheer!

How comes this little wessel here?

Come, tumble up your crew," says he, "And navigate a bit with me!"_

_Says Captain Pitch, "I can't refuse To join you on a friendly cruise; But you'll oblige me, Captain Tar, By not a-taking of me far."_

_At this reply from Captain Pitch, Bold Thompson gave himself a hitch, It cut him to the heart to find A seaman in this frame of mind._

_"Avast!" says he; "we'll bear away For Madagascar and Bombay, Then down the coast to Yucatan, Kamtschatka, Guinea, and j.a.pan."_

_"Stand off for Egypt, Turkey, Spain, Australia, and the Spanish Main, Then through the nor-west pa.s.sage for Van Dieman's Land and Labrador."_

[Ill.u.s.tration]

_Says Captain Pitch, "The ocean swell Makes me exceedingly unwell, And, Captain Tar, before we start, Pray join me in a friendly tart."_

_And shall I go and take and hide The sneaking trick that Parker tried?

Oh! no. I very much prefer To state his actions as they were:_

_With marmalade he first began To tempt that bluff seafaring man, Then fed him all the afternoon With custard in a table-spoon._

_No mariner, however tough, Can thrive upon this kind of stuff; And Thompson soon appeared to be A feeble-minded child of three._

[Ill.u.s.tration]

_He cried for cakes and lollipops; He played with dolls and humming-tops; He even ceased to roar "I'm blowed!"

And shook a rattle, laughed, and crowed._

_When Parker saw the seamen gaze Upon the captain's cunning ways, Base envy thrilled him through and through.

And he became a child of two._

_Now, Parker had in his employ A mate, two seamen, and a boy; The mate was fond as he could be Of babies, and he says, says he,--_

_"Why, messmates, as we're all agreed Sea-bathing is the thing they need, Let's drop these hinfants off the quarter!"

(They did, in fourteen fathom water)._

--and here the story came abruptly to an end.

Davy was quite distressed at this, particularly as the dreadful thought came into his mind that some babies do not know how to swim, and he was therefore very well satisfied when he saw that the old Sea-Dog had apparently changed his mind about going away, and was swaggering along toward him again.

"If you please," said Davy, as the surly creature came within hearing distance,--"if you please, sir, were the two little captains drowned?"

"Well, sticking, as it were, to the truth, they were not," replied the old Sea-Dog, very gruffly.

"Then, why don't you say so in the story?" said Davy.

Now, this was pretty bold of him, for old Sea-Dogs don't much like to have fault found with their verses, and this particular old Sea-Dog evidently did not like it at all, for, after staring at Davy for a moment, he began walking slowly around him in such a threatening manner that Davy, thinking that perhaps he meant to jump on him from behind, began also turning so as to keep his face always toward the Dog.

Meanwhile, as you may well believe, he began to feel very sorry that he had said anything about the verses.

Presently the old Sea-Dog broke into a clumsy canter, like a weary old circus horse, and as he went heavily around the circle he began to explain about the story. "You see there's more of it," said he, wheezing dreadfully as he galloped; "but then I haven't had the time to put the rest of it in rhyme. It's all about old Thompson's crew as stayed aboard the 'Soaking Sue,' and saw the skippers floating by and hauled 'em out and got 'em dry, and when the little creeturs cried they gave 'em something warm inside, and being as they had no bed they stowed 'em in a bunk instead,"--but just at this moment the old Sea-Dog, who had been constantly increasing his speed, disappeared in a most extraordinary manner in a whirling cloud of sand, and Davy, who was by this time spinning around like a teetotum, discovered that he himself was rapidly boring his way, like a big screw, down into the beach. This was, of course, a very alarming state of things; but, before Davy could make an effort to free himself, the whirling cloud of sand burst upon him with a loud, roaring sound like the sea, and he felt himself going directly down through the beach, with the sand pouring in upon him as if he had been inside of a huge hour-gla.s.s. He had just time to notice that, instead of sc.r.a.ping him, the sand had a delightful ticklesome feeling about it, when he went completely through the beach, and landed, with a gentle thump, flat on his back, with tall gra.s.s waving about him.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE END OF THE BELIEVING VOYAGE.

When Davy sat up and looked around him he found himself in a beautiful meadow, with the sun shining brightly on the gra.s.s and the wild flowers.

The air was filled with dainty-colored insects, darting about in the warm sunshine, and chirping cheerily as they flew, and at a little distance the Goblin was sitting on the gra.s.s, attentively examining a great, struggling creature that he was holding down by its wings.

"I suppose," said the Goblin, as if Davy's sudden appearance was the most ordinary thing in the world,--"I suppose that this is about the funniest bug that flies."

"What is it?" said Davy, cautiously edging away.

"It's a Cricket-Bat," said the Goblin, rapping familiarly with his knuckles on its hard sh.e.l.l. "His body is like a boot-jack, and his wings are like a pair of umbrellas."

"But, you know, a Cricket-Bat is something to play with!" said Davy, surprised at the Goblin's ignorance.

"Well, _you_ may play with it if you like. _I_ don't want to," said the Goblin, carelessly tossing the great creature over to Davy, and walking away.

The Cricket-Bat made a swoop at Davy, knocking him over like a feather, and then, with a loud snort, flew away across the meadow. It dashed here and there at flying things of every kind, and, turning on its side, knocked them, one after another, quite out of sight, until, to Davy's delight, the c.o.c.kalorum came into view, flying across the meadow in his usual blundering fashion. At sight of him the Cricket-Bat gave another triumphant snort, and with a wild plunge at the great creature knocked him floundering into the tall gra.s.s, and with a loud, whirring sound disappeared in a distant wood.

Davy ran to the spot where the c.o.c.kalorum had fallen, and found him sitting helplessly in the gra.s.s, looking dreadfully rumpled, and staring about confusedly, as if wondering what had happened to him. As Davy came running up he murmured, in a reproachful way, "Oh! it's you, is it?

Well, then, I don't want any more of it."

"Upon my word I didn't do it," cried Davy, trying to keep from laughing.

"It was the Cricket-Bat."

"And what did _he_ want?" murmured the c.o.c.kalorum, very sadly.

"Oh! he was only having a game of cricket with you," said Davy, soothingly. "You were the ball, you know."