Victoria (laughing). But, Uncle Jake, this is not a home for old sailors. It's for sick and poor babies. You see, they would die in their overcrowded hot tenements; but they come to the home and get well.
Uncle Jake. Oh, land sakes! That must be what the old gentleman referred to. Sick babies. Yes, that's it.
Charlotte. What old gentleman?
Uncle Jake. The one I met in the Saragossa Sea.
Ida. Elegant. Girls, he's going to spin a yarn. Uncle Jake, do please tell us about that. Was it an adventure?
Uncle Jake. Quite so, miss. But I interrupt your proceedings.
Several at Once. Oh, go on. Do. Never mind the proceedings.
Uncle Jake. Well, that there was a tight scrape, and no mistake. I was second mate of the Blue Turquoise. It was a first-class voyage till we hove right inter the Saragossa Sea, and there we war becalmed and stuck as fast as a fly in mucilage. That Saragossa Sea is a curus place. Sea-weeds grow a mile long, with blossoms big as sun-flowers. Monsters swim around, and squat on the branches and squint at the ships a-lyin' becalmed. It made me kinder shiver to see them creturs' hungry looks. They knew a ship would rot to pieces, only give her time. Our Capting war powerful mad when he see he'd got inter the Saragossa Sea. But gettin' mad arter a thing is done don't do no good. Waal, it war a red and fiery ball of a sun. How I wished I could a set oncet more under a tree. Truly I'd ha' given my bottom dollar to be a settin' under that old oak that we had to hum, an' a breeze a-stirrin' the branches. Somethin' to dry up the perspiration. Willie war cabin-boy, and homesick and down in the mouth, poor youngster. The Capting's face warn't reassuring. He was plumb beat out.
Miss Sommerfield. Girls, do you recall Coleridge's "Ancient Mariner"?
Olive. Yes.