"See-zick?" he whistled.
"What me?" asked the Unwiseman. "Of course not—we sailors don't get sea-sick like land-lubbers. No, sirree. I've been a little miserable due to my having eaten something that didn't agree with me—I very foolishly ate a piece of mince pie about five years ago—but except for that I've been feeling first rate. For the most part I've been watching the screw driver—they've got a big steam screw driver down-stairs in the cellar that keeps the screws to their work, and I got so interested watching it I've forgotten all about meals and things like that."
"Have you seen horrizon yet?" asked Whistlebinkie.
"Yes," returned the Unwiseman gloomily. "It's about the stupidest thing you ever saw. See that long line over there where the sky comes down and touches the water?"
"Yep," said Whistlebinkie.
"Well that's what they call the horrizon," said the Unwiseman contemptuously. "It's nothin' but a big circle runnin' round and round the scenery, day and night, now and forever. It won't go near anybody and it won't let anybody go near it. I guess it's just about the most unsociable fish that ever swam the sea. Speakin' about fish, what do you say to trollin' for a whale this afternoon?"
"That would be fine!" cried Mollie. "Have you any tackle?"
"Oh my yes," replied the Unwiseman. "I've got a half a mile o' trout line, a minnow hook and a plate full o' vermicelli."
"Vermicelli?" demanded Mollie.
"Yes—don't you know what Vermicelli is? It's sort of baby macaroni," explained the Unwiseman.