“I thought I told you, Bleechly, that we didn’t want any scribbling on the log.”
“Well,” I replied, “they’ve made some fun of me because they say that my sighting the big sperm was only a matter of luck, and I want to show to whom I would like to have the watch go, if a still larger whale than mine is captured.”
“Well, show me the lines.”
I have spoken of Lakeum laughing heartily. He repeated the exercise.
“Put it in if you want to. I think, however, you’ll make more money whaling than you will writing poetry.”
I made the following entry:
They call me simply Fancy Chest,
And say within my grasp
The prize that every tar desires
It may be mine to clasp.