Part 5 (2/2)
asked Mollie, as her old friend seated himself on the foot-rest of her steamer chair.
”O I've managed to keep busy,” said the Unwiseman, gazing off at the rolling waves.
Whistlebinkie laughed.
”See-zick?” he whistled.
”What me?” asked the Unwiseman. ”Of course not--we sailors don't get sea-sick like land-lubbers. No, sirree. I've been a little miserable due to my having eaten something that didn't agree with me--I very foolishly ate a piece of mince pie about five years ago--but except for that I've been feeling first rate. For the most part I've been watching the screw driver--they've got a big steam screw driver down-stairs in the cellar that keeps the screws to their work, and I got so interested watching it I've forgotten all about meals and things like that.”
”Have you seen horrizon yet?” asked Whistlebinkie.
”Yes,” returned the Unwiseman gloomily. ”It's about the stupidest thing you ever saw. See that long line over there where the sky comes down and touches the water?”
”Yep,” said Whistlebinkie.
”Well that's what they call the horrizon,” said the Unwiseman contemptuously. ”It's nothin' but a big circle runnin' round and round the scenery, day and night, now and forever. It won't go near anybody and it won't let anybody go near it. I guess it's just about the most unsociable fish that ever swam the sea. Speakin' about fish, what do you say to trollin' for a whale this afternoon?”
”That would be fine!” cried Mollie. ”Have you any tackle?”
”Oh my yes,” replied the Unwiseman. ”I've got a half a mile o' trout line, a minnow hook and a plate full o' vermicelli.”
”Vermicelli?” demanded Mollie.
”Yes--don't you know what Vermicelli is? It's sort of baby macaroni,”
explained the Unwiseman.
”What good is it for fis.h.i.+ng?” asked Whistlebinkie.
”I don't know yet,” said the Unwiseman ”but between you and me I don't believe if you baited a hook with it any ordinary fish who'd left his eyegla.s.ses on the mantel-piece at home could tell it from a worm. I neglected to bring any worms along in my native land bottle, and I've searched the s.h.i.+p high and low without finding a place where I could dig for 'em, so I borrowed the vermicelli from the cook instead.”
”Does-swales-like-woyms?” whistled Whistlebinkie.
”I don't know anything about swales,” said the Unwiseman.
”I meant-twales,” said Whistlebinkie.
”Never heard of a twale neither,” retorted the Unwiseman. ”Just what sort of a rubber fish is a twale?”
”He means whales,” Mollie explained.
”Why don't he say what he means then?” said the Unwiseman scornfully. ”I never knew such a feller for twisted talk. He ties a word up into a double bow knot and expects everybody to know what he means right off the handle. I don't know whether whales like vermicelli or not. Seems to me though that a fish that could bite at a disagreeable customer like Jonah would eat anything whether it was vermicelli or just plain catterpiller.”
”Well even if they did you couldn't pull 'em aboard with a trout line anyhow,” snapped Whistlebinkie. ”Whales is too heavy for that.”
”Who wants to pull 'em aboard, Smarty?” retorted the Unwiseman. ”I leave it to Mollie if I ever said I wanted to pull 'em aboard. Quite the contrary opposite. I'd rather not pull a whale on board this boat and have him flopping around all over the deck, smas.h.i.+ng chairs and windows, and knockin' people overboard with his tail, and spouting water all over us like that busted fire-hose the firemen turned on me when I thought I'd caught fire from my pipe.”
”You did say you'd take us fis.h.i.+ng for whales, Mr. Me,” Mollie put in timidly.
<script>