"O no, Whistlebinkie," returned Mollie, "it's a great deal safer this way. There are rocks near the shore but outside here the water is ever so deep—more'n six feet I guess. I'd be perfectly happy if the Unwiseman was only with us."
Just then up through one of the big yawning ventilators, that look so like sea-serpents with their big flaming mouths stretched wide open as if to swallow the passengers on deck, came a cracked little voice singing the following song to a tune that seemed to be made up as it went along:
"Yo-ho!
Yo-ho—
O a sailor's life for me!
I love to nail
The blithering gale,
As I sail the bounding sea.
For I'm a glorious stowaway,
I've thrown my rake and hoe away,
On the briny deep to go away,
Yeave-ho—Yeave-ho—Yo-hee!"
"Where have I heard that voice before!" cried Mollie clutching Whistlebinkie by the hand so hard that he squeaked.
"It's-sizz!" whistled Whistlebinkie excitedly.
"It's what?" cried Mollie.
"It's-his!" repeated Whistlebinkie more correctly.
"Whose—the Unwiseman's?" Mollie whispered with delight.
"Thass-swat-I-think," said Whistlebinkie.