"As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean."
Go on, Uncle Jake.
"WAAL, ONE NIGHT I WAR ON DECK ALONE."
Uncle Jake. Waal, one night I war on deck alone. Willie he was thar too. The Capting he come up. "Ain't no change, mate?" says he. "No, sir," says I. "Bad business," says he. "Better soon, I hope," says I. "We're in the oidentical spot we was in two weeks ago," says he. "Mate, the perwisions is givin' out," says he, in a hoarse voice. "I know it, sir," says I. It was the wust feature of the case. Thar war Willie standin' by, mournful-like. I tried to hearten up the Capting a bit, but 'twarn't no use. "I'd ruther be in a whirlpool," says he, "than here. I'm goin' below. If there's a change call me," says he. So he went below, and pretty soon I heerd him and the rest of the crew snorin'. There warn't a solitary blessed thing for the men to do, and they war all turned in. Willie and me we staid up and watched the heavens of brass. It might ha' been midnight when I sighted a speck a long ways off. There warn't no wind, yet it came on wonderful fast. "D'ye see that, Willie, my boy?" says I. "It are a curus craft." But Willie warn't asleep. He seen it too. Come near, there war a 'nurmous shell with a fine hearty old gentleman sittin' in it, and by his side the harndsomest young lady (barrin' present company) that I ever seed. She war a beautiful cretur, with black eyes shinin' like stars, and long golden hair, which she war a-combin' out the snarls. The shell was drawed by two white sea-horses. Their backs was like great fishes, and their tails lay on top the water like fishes' tails. Their forrud part war like horses, and their manes was like tossin' waves. Bless my soul, but they made a putty pictur. When they was hove close to us the old gentleman hauled up his horses, and "Helloh!" says he to me. "Helloh!" says I. "What's the name of this ere wessel?" says he. The "Blue Turquoise," says I. "Jes so," says he. "Becalmed, ain't ye?" "You're right there, sir," says I. "What may I call you, sir?" says I. "Oh, I'm Father Neptune," says he.
Miss James. Oh, now, Uncle Jake. That's impossible.
Ida. Nothing is impossible. Don't interrupt.
Uncle Jake. I'm only tellin' ye what he said. He had a pitchfork in his hand 'stead of a whip.
Miss James. That wasn't a pitchfork. It was a trident, which had three prongs, and was a symbol of Neptune. Mamma—
Victoria. Miss James, you must be a realist. Now, please let the story go on. Pitchfork it is, Uncle Jake.