"And I'll never be able to eat any of her. I'd throw it up as fast as it went down ... much as I do like good, fresh pork."
The ship-boys, Karl and Albert, always stole the eggs, the captain was sure, as soon as they were laid, though he was never able to catch them at it.
"Run," he would shout hurriedly to me, "there! I hear the hens cackling. They've laid an egg."
I'd run. But there'd be no egg. Someone would have reached the nest, from the forecastle, before I did.
Because the eggs were always stolen as soon as laid, the captain decreed the slaughter of the hens, too ... not a rooster among them ... the hens were frankly unhappy, because of this....
The last hen was to be slain. Pursued, she flew far out over the still ocean. Further and further she flew, keeping up her heavy body as if by an effort of will.
"Come back! Don't be such a damn fool!" I shouted in my excitement.
Everybody was watching when the chicken would light ... how long it could keep up....