When I was a little boy, Jack fell from the high mast of the ship, and hurt himself so badly that he had to stay at home a long time after that. Poor fellow! he did not like to be shut up in the house. It was hard work for him. But he could not go out, until his hip got well. When he was able to sit up in a chair, I used to go and see him, and hear him tell his stories. I did not go every day, because my mother thought I had better not go every day. But I went as often as she would let me go, and staid as long as she would let me stay.
Jack was always glad to see me, and glad to tell me stories. I was always glad to hear his stories. Some sailors, who have spent a great deal of time on board of a ship, and have seen a great many places, are not good men. They do not always tell the truth. So, when they tell stories about what they saw where they went, we do not know whether to believe them or not. But Jack Mason was a good man, and I knew he would not tell me what was not true.
Shall I tell you some of the stories that this good old sailor told me when he had to stay at home, because he had broken his hip? I think I can remember some worth telling again.
"O yes, Mr. Thinker, tell us all the stories the old sailor told you."
"No, I cannot do that. I cannot remember them all."
"Well, tell us all you do remember."
"I will see about it. I will tell you some of them, at any rate. Let me see, what story shall I tell first? Shall I tell you his story about what he saw once, when he sailed a great way north? I guess I will."
