“Do you hear that, Chippie?” asked Dick, with a smile, “he says the sea can’t talk! It seems to me I’ve heard it roaring and bellowing among the rocks lots of times. I’ve heard it laughing, too, only it speaks to your eyes as well as to your ears. It smiles too, sometimes, and sometimes it looks cross; but, on the whole, it’s a great big friendly thing, and is a mighty handy help in getting from one place to another.”
Chippie and Ellsworth listened with interest to what Dick was saying, and it was a wonder to them that Billy didn’t see it just as they did.
“He’s right, when he says he doesn’t understand the sea,” thought Dick. “The sea not able to speak! You might as well say that the sun isn’t able to shine and that the stars can’t blink at a fellow.”
At this point Ellsworth and Chippie left them and joined some of the other boys on the day bunk.
Billy was silent for a long time and Dick sat by, waiting for him to say something.
“Do you know, Dick,” said Billy, after a long pause, “I’ve never thought about things that way in my life before! Does it mean that everything is friendly if you treat it right?”
“Yes,” answered Dick, “something like that.”
“But how about shipwrecks, when hundreds and hundreds of people are drowned?”
“Shouldn’t wonder,” answered Dick slowly, “if—a good many times—the laws of the sea were broken; and then, of course—when the right time comes—death is just what a fellow needs!”
“What do you mean?” asked Billy, almost fiercely.