"And how came all this about?" I asked, dubiously.
"Incredible as it may appear, this monstrous cachalot, while running along the sandy bottom of the bay, with mouth distended, in search of sea-blubber, had by some means uprooted our anchor, though five hundred weight, by his nether jaw, and so carried it off with eighty fathoms of cable, and us at the other end of it. And now, Dick Rodney, what do you think of that for a yarn?"
"I think with Polonius, in Hamlet," said I, yawning, and turning wearily in my berth, through the yolk or bull's-eye of which the gray light of day was now struggling.
"That it is very like a whale, eh?"
"Yes."
"And so do I," said Hislop, laughing; "but though a close laid yarn, it is a true one, nevertheless."
CHAPTER VIII.
VOYAGE CONTINUED.
I found the captain and mate of the Eugenie both pleasant and instructive companions.
The latter, like the generality of his countrymen, was well educated; he was tolerably read in classical lore, and knew all the current literature of the day; thus his little state-room was so crammed with books, that he had scarcely room to move in it. Like many other Scotchmen of humble birth or limited means, Marc Hislop had educated himself, beyond what schools or teachers could have done. Though usually quiet in disposition, he was sometimes impatient, and more than once I have seen him snatch from his pocket a colt (a piece of knotted rope eighteen inches long) for the special benefit of the ship-boys, of whom we had three on board.