This was agreed on, so we started off to a spot not far distant, where we knew of a tree that would suit us, which grew near the water’s edge. As soon as we reached it Jack threw off his coat, and, wielding the axe with his sturdy arms, hacked and hewed at it for a quarter of an hour without stopping. Then he paused, and, while he sat down to rest, I continued the work. Then Peterkin made a vigorous attack on it, so that when Jack renewed his powerful blows, a few minutes cutting brought it down with a terrible crash.

“Hurrah! now for it,” cried Jack; “let us off with its head.”

So saying he began to cut through the stem again, at about six yards from the thick end. This done, he cut three strong, short poles or levers from the stout branches, with which to roll the log down the beach into the sea; for, as it was nearly two feet thick at the large end, we could not move it without such helps. With the levers, however, we rolled it slowly into the sea.

Having been thus successful in launching our vessel, we next shaped the levers into rude oars or paddles, and then attempted to embark. This was easy enough to do; but, after seating ourselves astride the log, it was with the utmost difficulty we kept it from rolling round and plunging us into the water. Not that we minded that much; but we preferred, if possible, to fish in dry clothes. To be sure, our trousers were necessarily wet, as our legs were dangling in the water on each side of the log; but, as they could be easily dried, we did not care. After half an hour’s practice, we became expert enough to keep our balance pretty steadily. Then Peterkin laid down his paddle, and having baited his line with a whole oyster, dropt it into deep water.

“Now, then, Jack,” said he, “be cautious; steer clear o’ that sea-weed. There; that’s it; gently, now, gently. I see a fellow at least a foot long down there, coming to—ha! that’s it! Oh! bother, he’s off.”

“Did he bite?” said Jack, urging the log onwards a little with his paddle.

“Bite? ay! He took it into his mouth, but the moment I began to haul he opened his jaws and let it out again.”

“Let him swallow it next time,” said Jack, laughing at the melancholy expression of Peterkin’s visage.

“There he’s again,” cried Peterkin, his eyes flashing with excitement. “Look out! Now then! No! Yes! No! Why, the brute won’t swallow it!”

“Try to haul him up by the mouth, then,” cried Jack. “Do it gently.”