"'I'M PRETTY WELL, I THANK YOU,' SAID DAVY."
"No more do I," murmured the Cockalorum, 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, buttoned up in front, with a lot of live seals flopping and wriggling at one of the button-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 slobber so."