“To be sure I can,” said the Skipper. “There are my men,” he said, proudly, as they came to an open space, where a dozen or more sailors, of all ages, sat at spinning wheels, working industriously.
“Whatever are they doing?” inquired Marjorie, curiously.
"Each sailor was spinning a yarn."
“Spinning yarns,” explained the Skipper; “each sailor is spinning a yarn—they always do that in their spare time, you know. Here, Bill,” he called out to one of the sailors, who answered, “Aye, aye, Sir,” and touched his forelock. “Bring some of your yarn here, and show this young lady.”
The man said, “Aye, aye, Sir,” again, and came forward with some coarse brown worsted.
“This,” said the Skipper, “is the toughest yarn you will find anywhere. We are celebrated for it here.”