"Can't tell nuthin' about that seasickness," said Bahama Bill, to Tom, after hearing how ill Fred was. "I remember onct I took a voyage to Rio, in South America. We had a cap'n as had sailed the sea for forty years an' a mate who had been across the ocean sixteen times. Well, sir, sure as I'm here we struck some thick weather with the Johnny Jackson tumblin' an' tossin' good, and the cap'n an' the mate took seasick an' was sick near the hull trip. Then the second mate got down, an' the bosun, an' then the cook, an—"
"The cabin boy—" suggested Tom.
"No, we didn't have any cabin boy. Next—"
"Maybe the second fireman caught it."
"No, this was a bark an' we didn't have no second fireman, nor fust, neither. Next—"
"Maybe the cat, or don't cats get seasick?"
"The cat. Why, mate—"
"I see some cats get sick, but that may not be seasick, even though you can see the sickness," went on Tom, soberly.
"I don't know as we had a cat on board. But as I was sayin', next—"
"Oh, I know what you are driving at, Bill. Next the steersman got down with the mumps, then you took the shingles, and another sailor got lumbago, while the third mate had to crawl around with a boil on his foot as large as a cabbage. I heard about that affair—read about it in the last monthly number of the Gasman's Gazette—how the ship had to sail itself for four weeks and how the wind blew it right into port and how not even a shoestring was lost overboard. It was really wonderful and I am thankful you reminded me of it." And then Tom walked off, leaving Bahama Bill staring after him in dumb amazement. The old tar realized dimly that for once he had met his match at yarn spinning, and it was several days before he attempted to tell any more of his outrageous stories.