"'We're a-fallin'! We're a-fallin'!' he yelled.
"An' so we wuz. An' w'ile we wuz a-fallin' I seed the side o' the wessel come under me, an' then slide around till the floor o' the cabin were under me, an' then—boom! There were a most awful thump, an' a squash like wot ye hear w'en yo throw a stone into a mud-puddle, an' there we was."
"Where?" cried both boys.
"In the blessed Atlantic Ocean," said the Old Sailor, solemnly, "about a hundred miles this side o' Bermooda. An' Pierre Crust he pulled his head out o' the cracker-box an' bounced on deck, an' sez he:
"'Wot was all you men so scared about? Turn to, now, an' get the cloth on her, an' we'll make Sandy Hook Light-ship in two days.'
"An' so we did, too. An' w'en we got to New York we read in the papers as how the Cap'n o' the ship Beeswax had seen a cur'ous mirage of a ship sailin' round an' round a water-spout. But we never could get nobody to b'lieve as how 'twere us."