OLD TOM
THE next morning the good ship came in sight of an old seaport. The harbor was very safe, for a tall white lighthouse stood upon the rocks to guide the sailors, and bellbuoys clanged their solemn warning from the dangerous reefs. In the distance rose a church spire, and near it stood a little red schoolhouse with a flag flying in the breeze. Down on the wharf ran a low row of buildings, worn and battered, where the old sailors lounged and told stories of their early days.
Pretty soon the good ship came about, and with her silken sails flapping in the wind, drifted up to the dock.
"Make fast!" shouted the Captain. The four and twenty little sailor mice jumped nimbly on the dock, and in a few minutes made the silk ropes fast to the posts. Then the good ship came to a standstill, and the gang-plank was lowered.
"All ashore that's going ashore!" quacked the captain.
"Oh Captain Duck," cried Puss, Junior, "we don't have to land, do we?"
"No," replied the Duck. "But you may go ashore for a little while if you wish. We don't sail for two hours."
"All right!" replied Puss, "I'll take a run on the grass," and he walked down the gang-plank across the old wharf, until he came to a path, well worn by the sailors who for years had carried the cargoes up to the little village. Under a tree close by sat an old sailor. He was smoking a big black pipe as contentedly as could be. But as soon as he saw Puss he took it out of his mouth.