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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Look here, Harry, my boy," remarked Bob gravely, "as I propose to ship on this here v'y'ge as chief-mate, I ain't likely to forget that there's such dangers as them you've just mentioned; But suppose you was to cork up a bottle, or clap the lid on an empty biscuit-tin, and heave 'em overboard, do you think they'd live through one or t'other?
Stephen Spike and I sailed together twenty years since, and I hope to live to sail with him again." "You sail with Stephen Spike? when and where, may I ask, and in what v'y'ge, pray?" "The last time was twenty years since. Have you forgotten little Jack Tier, Capt. Spike?" Spike looked astonished, and well he might, for he had supposed Jack to be dead fully fifteen years.
The best." "Yes?" said the old lady. "He's been missing," said Mr. Wotton, watching closely for any symptoms of fainting, "for thir-ty-five years. Thir-ty-five years ago-very much against his wish-he left 'is young and handsome wife to go for a sea v'y'ge, and was shipwrecked and cast away on a desert island." "Yes?" said the old lady again. "I was cast away with 'im," said Mr. Wotton.
"So the next v'y'ge the poor cap'n he had a nice rig for himself made to the best tailor's in Bristol, and charged it, say ten pounds, in the ship's account; and when he came home the ship's husband he was looking over the papers, and 'What's this? says he, 'how come the ship to run up a tailor's bill? 'Why, them's mine, says the cap'n, very meaching.
"I do not think, uncle, that Roswell Gardiner will be very likely to stop on his way to us here, on Oyster Pond," was the answer she made. "I should be sorry to think that. The best part of his v'y'ge may be made in the West Ingees, and I hope he is not a man to overlook his instructions." "Will Roswell be obliged to stop in the West Indies, uncle?"
Gran'ther lived to be old, and there was ten or a dozen years after his wife died that he lived year and year about with Uncle Tobias's folks and our folks. Uncle Tobias lived over on the Ridge. I got home from my first v'y'ge as mate of the Daylight just in time for his funeral. I was disapp'inted to find the old man was gone.
Next morning, however, when they all rose and took their early breakfast, preparatory to starting at five, he showed no sign of indecision, and even went about his outdoor tasks with an alacrity calculated, as his wife approvingly remarked, to "for'ard the v'y'ge."
"You are going to see an angel, Sir John." "How! Do you know anything of Miss Etherington?" "I should be as blind as an old bumboat else. During our late v'y'ge, I saw her often." "This is strange! But there is evidently something on your mind, my friend; speak freely." "Well, then, Sir John, talk of anything but of our v'y'ge, to the dear crittur.
If you have no person to handle that bit of a cutter for you, I have no objection to ship for the v'y'ge, notwithstanding; though I shall look on the whole affair as so much time thrown away, for I consider it an imposition to call sailing about this pond going to sea."
"I could come pretty near it, sir, though not on the very spot itself. Water leaves no mark over the grave of a sunken ship." "If you can take us within a reasonable distance, we might find it by sweeping for it. Them doubloons are worth some trouble; and their recovery would be better than a long v'y'ge to us, any day."
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