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    Captains Courageous
    Captains Courageous
    Captains Courageous
    Ebook206 pages3 hours

    Captains Courageous

    By Rudyard Kipling

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    First published in 1897, “Captains Courageous” follows the adventures of Harvey Cheyne, a spoiled, rich young man who is accidentally washed overboard from a luxury ocean liner and is rescued by the Portuguese captain of a fishing boat and his hard scrabble crew. Kipling, drawing on his own experiences living in Vermont, fills this classic coming of age story with period details of late nineteenth-century American fishing, whaling, and railroad travel. Forced to work for his place on the ship, fifteen-year-old Harvey must overcome his own stubbornness and privileged up-bringing as he learns to survive, and even thrive, in the harsh, demanding, and often dangerous life at sea. Through hard work and discipline, Harvey learns the values of self-reliance and friendship as he becomes a skilled fisherman and an accepted and equal member of the crew. The novel is both a thrilling test of Harvey’s character and an examination of class and privilege in nineteenth-century America. Exhilarating and ultimately redemptive, the novel was heralded by Theodore Roosevelt in his 1900 essay “What We Can Expect of the American Boy” as describing in the “liveliest way just what a boy should be and do.” This edition includes a biographical afterword.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDigireads.com Publishing
    Release dateSep 27, 2018
    ISBN9781420959307
    Author

    Rudyard Kipling

    Rudyard Kipling was born in India in 1865. After intermittently moving between India and England during his early life, he settled in the latter in 1889, published his novel The Light That Failed in 1891 and married Caroline (Carrie) Balestier the following year. They returned to her home in Brattleboro, Vermont, where Kipling wrote both The Jungle Book and its sequel, as well as Captains Courageous. He continued to write prolifically and was the first Englishman to receive the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1907 but his later years were darkened by the death of his son John at the Battle of Loos in 1915. He died in 1936.

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    Reviews for Captains Courageous

    4/5

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    • 4/5
      A book showing the Newfoundland cod fishery in its heyday. The dangerous lives of the fishermen and the sheer abundance of the cod in those times. I also found fascinating the rail journey made by the boy's parents when they come to meet him - it's a wonderful sense of speed and organisation, of messages sent ahead, trains rerouted, all in a time before modern computers and emails.
    • 3/5
      Not my favorite. The vernacular made it quite hard to follow. The plot is great, just a bit too many fishing dialogues.
    • 5/5
      A wonderful coming of age story which takes place on a fishing schooner off the Grand Banks. Harvey matures from a spoiled, indolent rich boy to a hardworking young man. Great story!
    • 3/5
      A nice, short, sea story that carries a valuable message.
    • 4/5
      I picked this up because it's a classic I had never read, but I wasn't sure how I would like it. I had tried to read Kim a while back and couldn't get into it. But I really enjoyed this one, probably all the more after reading Linda Greenlaw's The Hungry Ocean about modern fishing in the same part of the Atlantic. Captains Courageous is a bit of a morality tale, but it's mostly an adventure story. I liked the characters, and Kipling has some great descriptive passages. In describing the movement of the anchored schooner, he writes: "Backing with a start of affected surprise at the sight of the strained cable, she pounced on it like a kitten . . . . Shaking her head, she would say: 'Well, I'm sorry I can't stay any longer with you. I'm going North,' and would sidle off, halting suddenly with a dramatic rattle of her rigging. 'As I was just going to observe,' she would begin, as gravely as a drunken man addressing a lamp-post." The various dialects of the characters are a bit hard to understand at times, but I can't imagine the characters being very realistic without that touch.
    • 4/5
      eBook

      Not nearly as much fun as Kipling's other books (or at least the ones I've read). In fact, the book seems just fundamentally flawed. Correct me if I'm wrong, but the joy of a fish-out-of-water story comes from watching the fish flop around in unfamiliar territory for a while before finally figuring out how to get by. Kipling's hero, however, adapts quite quickly, shedding his spoiled exterior within a few chapters.

      Maybe I'm misreading this, however, and it's not actually a fish-out-of-water story. Maybe Captains Courageous is actually intended as a proscriptive book, urging parents to embrace the value of hard work for children, but coming from an era that primarily makes me think of child labor laws, I'm not sure I'm willing to buy that.

      As a lifelong landlubber, and someone who's never really gone in for the romanticism of the sea, this probably isn't the book for me. Like Moby Dick, it spends a lo of time (far too much in my opinion) examining in excruciating detail the life of sailors aboard a ship. I guess I just wanted more attention to character development and less to ropes and fish.

      Although now that I've said that, I remember being fairly moved by the scene where the sailor who developed amnesia after the death of his wife and child regained his memory. The truth of the matter is that I finished this a while ago, and I don't really remember it that well.
    • 5/5
      A great coming of age book. Wonderful and exciting story of the sea and the men who make their living on it.
    • 5/5
      Read aloud to my family in the car.
    • 5/5
      One of my favorite books by the author, and a good adventure story. More than that, it's an insightful look into the fishing culture of New England in the latter part of the 19th century, the technological conflict between the fishermen and the steam liners, and the importance of education alongside hard work. Highly recommended.
    • 4/5
      Postponed reading this for years because I had this preconceived notion that it was a “children’s classic” – heavy on adventure, light on deeper meaning. Sure enough, the first 2/3rds of the tale are devoted to the adventures of Harvey, a spoiled, wealthy 13yr old boy travelling across the Atlantic on a ritzy ocean liner who falls overboard and is picked up by a cod-fishing trawler. Not believing his “high-falootin’” tales of wealth, the captain of the trawler refuses to interrupt his passage to drop Harvey ashore, instead putting him to work as part of the crew. In true Boy’s Life fashion, Harvey quickly learns the value of hard work and comes to respect the simple, honest, courageous crew of the trawler. So far so good, except that I defy any child alive to decipher this book in its original form which - Kipling proudly assures us in the forward - authentically reproduces the rich, idiosyncratic vocabulary of actual Gloucester fishermen, a dialect so obscure that it required all of my grown-up background knowledge and faculties to decipher. I can only assume that versions of this story actually intended for children are *heavily* edited to translate the almost indecipherable dialect into modern idiom. My second mistake was forgetting that just because a book has a plot that happens to be accessible to children doesn’t necessarily imply that it is short of deeper meaning – as anyone who’s read The Prince and the Pauper, Tom Sawyer, or Gulliver’s Travels can attest. Just so with Captain’s Courageous, which over the course of the final chapters becomes a much bigger, broader exploration of what you might call “The Great American Origin Story” – that quaint yet resolute 19th century conviction that the U.S. is a land where any man not afraid of hard work and humility can rise to greatness. This part of the novel kicks off with a rather thrilling dash across the U.S. via train, evocative of the best chapters of 80 Days Around the World, and ends with Harvey discovering not just humility but also humanity. And because our author is Kipling, characters that we might have mistaken for caricatures early on suddenly deepen into richer, more fully realized humans, haunted by love and hope and tragedy. I only hope that by sharing this, I may encourage other readers less patient than I not to jump to conclusions too soon. By all means enjoys the jolly sea-faring adventure while it lasts, but be sure to hang around for the poignant ending – you’ll be glad you did.
    • 3/5
      If you like books where conversations are rendered in barely readable dialect misspellings and slang, and where there really is not much of a plot, just a situation and some vague character development, this book may be great for you. I personally found this to be a dull read, and there are some much better ocean adventure classics I'd recommend ahead of this novel (Two Years Before the Mast was great, as are the Horatio Hornblower novels). I can see how a younger child who is stuck going to school and doing chores someplace boring and ordinary might enjoy this novel as a way to imagine being someplace more exciting, since without a plot this novel does fairly well immersing the reader in everyday life on a fishing vessel, so long as the reader doesn't mind the slang and dialects.
    • 5/5
      I love this book. I can't review it objectively because I love it so. When I think of a book that took me away, swept me off to places I have never seen--this was the first. Possibly the best. Can't recommend it highly enough.
    • 4/5
      the story of a spoiled 15-year-old who falls off of a passenger liner during a North Atlantic storm and is rescued by a cod schooner. The crew who rescue him don't believe that he is the son of a wealthy and powerful man and they refuse to interrupt their fishing season to return him to land. This coming of age story follows young Harvey Cheyne, Jr. through his weeks (months?) aboard the "We're Here" as he works as a junior crew member and matures. I chose the book only to work toward my Nobel challenge but ended up really liking it.
    • 4/5
      In Captains Courageous the detail of fishing life are authentic, indeed anthropological. Kipling spent time in Gloucester and even went out on a ship for a while (though he spent most of the time sea-sick). He had an associate and the two collaborated, with Kipling writing the story and the associate writing the finer details and terminology. Unfortunately Harvey switches from being an irritating brat to a changed working man in a single scene at the beginning of the story, what? This was the heart of the book and it would have been better to do what the 1937 film did and play it out. Also at the end Harvey gets everything he wants and he looks like a spoiled rich kid again undermining the lessons of the book. Nevertheless this is a boys fairy-tale and is sort of like 12-year old crack, but still retains appeal to adults.
    • 4/5
      A wonderful read too frequently relegated to Young Adult Fiction. It is just a very good read by a master storyteller.
    • 3/5
      Interesting timeless tale. Really enjoyed as Kipling and I have the same difficulty with perfect grammar.
    • 4/5
      The classic Kipling tale about a wealthy young boy who falls off a boat on the high seas to be rescued by a nearby fishing boat where this boy learns to be a man. Some people may be put off by all the nautical language and the slang commonly used by the sailors. However, these sailors are a fascinating bunch filled full of the legends, superstitions and lore of the sea. You will also learn a lot about fishing and sailing during the time period when the book takes place. Since the main two characters are teenage boys I think that this is the target audience that would most enjoy this book.
    • 5/5
      Kipling is hard to figure. On the one hand is his notoriety as almost an apostle of imperialism. On the other stands the Kipling who spoke fluent Hindi, wrote virulent criticisms of British rule, & was even, for that very reason, politely shown the door from British India.In that line it would be easy to claim that Captains Courageous - ostensibly a wholly *American* novel about the maturing of a spoiled Californian boy on a Massachusetts fishing ship - has nothing to do with anything British or imperial.Nevertheless his familiar ideals, of self-reliance earned by strenuous, often manual endeavour, supervised by stern but benevolent mentors, animate Captains Courageous. But in this case, whether or not the reader endorses Kipling's message, he or she may easily abstract from it & enjoy a simply excellent story, beautifully written.The novel opens as young Harvey falls overboard from his pampering mother & a luxury liner, almost into the arms of a Portuguese fisherman, part of a Captain Troop's crew. Harvey is soon forced to abandon his old brat antics. As Troop's son has quickly taken to this unexpected companion, he is gradually taught the wearisome, but organic team work required on a cod schooner. The practice of the time - individualistic only on appearance - was that each of a ship's fishermen would row out, from the anchored mother ship, in his personal little boat or "dory", & get his large catch with hooks & baits.Later we learn how unimaginably dangerous this livelihood is, but what Harvey doesn't know doesn't hurt him, & he soon proves a very acceptable member of the crew.The relation between Harvey & his own tycoon father is also explored, with spectacular richness & complexity. Cheyne Sr will prove fully equal to the frugal Captain Troop - or is he entirely equal? Either way, the story would be intolerable without Kipling's flair for minute details & dialogue, effectively "discovering" the New England cod schooner of the 19th Century. Just as Melville, with Moby Dick, immortalized the whaling ship of that age.
    • 4/5
      A 20th century version of The Prince and the Pauper meets Moby Dick. Enjoyable, heart-warmer about coming of age, growing up, and getting callouses.

    Book preview

    Captains Courageous - Rudyard Kipling

    cover.jpg

    CAPTAINS COURAGEOUS

    A STORY OF THE GRAND BANKS

    By RUDYARD KIPLING

    Captains Courageous

    By Rudyard Kipling

    Print ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-5929-1

    eBook ISBN 13: 978-1-4209-5930-7

    This edition copyright © 2018. Digireads.com Publishing.

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

    Cover Image: a detail of an illustration by Richard Cuffari which appeared on the cover of the 1962 Scholastic Library Edition of Captains Courageous by Rudyard Kipling.

    Please visit www.digireads.com

    CONTENTS

    Chapter I

    Chapter II

    Chapter III

    Chapter IV

    Chapter V

    Chapter VI

    Chapter VII

    Chapter VIII

    Chapter IX

    Chapter X

    Biographical Afterword

    Chapter I

    The weather door of the smoking-room had been left open to the North Atlantic fog, as the big liner rolled and lifted, whistling to warn the fishing-fleet.

    That Cheyne boy’s the biggest nuisance aboard, said a man in a frieze overcoat, shutting the door with a bang. He isn’t wanted here. He’s too fresh.

    A white-haired German reached for a sandwich, and grunted between bites: I know der breed. Ameriga is full of dot kind. I dell you you should imbort ropes’ ends free under your dariff.

    Pshaw! There isn’t any real harm to him. He’s more to be pitied than anything, a man from New York drawled, as he lay at full length along the cushions under the wet skylight. They’ve dragged him around from hotel to hotel ever since he was a kid. I was talking to his mother this morning. She’s a lovely lady, but she don’t pretend to manage him. He’s going to Europe to finish his education.

    Education isn’t begun yet. This was a Philadelphian, curled up in a corner. That boy gets two hundred a month pocket-money, he told me. He isn’t sixteen either.

    Railroads, his father, aind’t it’? said the German.

    Yep. That and mines and lumber and shipping. Built one place at San Diego, the old man has; another at Los Angeles; owns half a dozen railroads, half the lumber on the Pacific slope, and lets his wife spend the money, the Philadelphian went on lazily. The West don’t suit her, she says. She just tracks around with the boy and her nerves, trying to find out what’ll amuse him, I guess. Florida, Adirondacks, Lakewood, Hot Springs, New York, and round again. He isn’t much more than a second-hand hotel clerk now. When he’s finished in Europe he’ll be a holy terror.

    What’s the matter with the old man attending to him personally’? said a voice from the frieze ulster.

    Old man’s piling up the rocks. ’Don’t want to be disturbed, I guess. He’ll find out his error a few years from now. Pity, because there’s a heap of good in the boy if you could get at it.

    Mit a rope’s end; mit a rope’s end! growled the German.

    Once more the door banged, and a slight, slim-built boy perhaps fifteen years old, a half-smoked cigarette hanging from one corner of his mouth, leaned in over the high footway. His pasty yellow complexion did not show well on a person of his years, and his look was a mixture of irresolution, bravado, and very cheap smartness. He was dressed in a cherry-coloured blazer, knickerbockers, red stockings, and bicycle shoes, with a red flannel cap at the back of the head. After whistling between his teeth, as he eyed the company, he said in a loud, high voice: Say, it’s thick outside. You can hear the fish-boats squawking all around us. Say, wouldn’t it be great if we ran down one?

    Shut the door, Harvey, said the New Yorker. Shut the door and stay outside. You’re not wanted here.

    Who’ll stop me? he answered deliberately. Did you pay for my passage, Mister Martin? ’Guess I’ve as good right here as the next man.

    He picked up some dice from a checker-board and began throwing, right hand against left.

    Say, gen’elmen, this is deader’n mud. Can’t we make a game of poker between us?

    "There was no answer, and he puffed his cigarette, swung his legs, and drummed on the table with rather dirty fingers. Then he pulled out a roll of bills as if to count them.

    How’s your mamma this afternoon? a man said. I didn’t see her at lunch.

    In her state-room, I guess. She’s ’most always sick on the ocean. I’m going to give the stewardess fifteen dollars for looking after her. I don’t go down more’n I can avoid. It makes me feel mysterious to pass that butler’s-pantry place. Say, this is the first time I’ve been on the ocean.

    Oh, don’t apologise, Harvey.

    Who’s apologising? This is the first time I’ve crossed the ocean, gen’elmen, and, except the first day, I haven’t been sick one little bit. No, sir! He brought down his fist with a triumphant bang, wetted his finger, and went on counting the bills.

    Oh, you’re a high-grade machine, with the writing in plain sight, the Philadelphian yawned. You’ll blossom into a credit to your country if you don’t take care.

    I know it. I’m an American—first, last, and all the time. I’ll show ’em that when I strike Europe. Pif! My cig’s out. I can’t smoke the truck the steward sells. Any gen’elman got a real Turkish cig on him?

    The chief engineer entered for a moment, red, smiling, and wet. Say, Mac, cried Harvey, cheerfully, how are we hitting it?

    Vara much in the ordinary way, was the grave reply. "The young are as polite as ever to their elders, an’ their elders are e’en tryin’ to appreciate it.

    A low chuckle came from a corner. The German opened his cigar-case and handed a skinny black cigar to Harvey.

    Dot is der broper apparatus to smoke, my young friendt, he said. You vill dry it? Yes? Den you vill be efer so happy.

    Harvey lit the unlovely thing with a flourish: he felt that he was getting on in grown-up society.

    It would take more’n this to keel me over, he said, ignorant that he was lighting that terrible article, a Wheeling stogie.

    Dot we shall bresently see, said the German. Where are we now, Mr. Mactonal’?

    Just there or thereabouts, Mr. Schaefer, said the engineer. We’ll be on the Grand Bank to-night; but in a general way o’ speakin’, we’re all among the fishing-fleet now. We’ve shaved three dories an’ near skelped the boom off a Frenchman since noon, an’ that’s close sailin’, ye may say.

    You like my cigar, eh? the German asked, for Harvey’s eyes were full of tears.

    Fine, full flavour, he answered through shut teeth. Guess we’ve slowed down a little, haven’t we? I’ll skip out and see what the log says.

    I might if I vhas you, said the German.

    Harvey staggered over the wet decks to the nearest rail. He was very unhappy; but he saw the deck-steward lashing chairs together, and, since he had boasted before the man that he was never seasick, his pride made him go aft to the second-saloon deck at the stern, which was finished in a turtle-back. The deck was deserted, and he crawled to the extreme end of it, near the flagpole. There he doubled up in limp agony, for the Wheeling stogie joined with the surge and jar of the screw to sieve out his soul. His head swelled; sparks of fire danced before his eyes; his body seemed to lose weight, while his heels wavered in the breeze. He was fainting from seasickness, and a roll of the ship tilted him over the rail on to the smooth lip of the turtle-back. Then a low, grey mother-wave swung out of the fog, tucked Harvey under one arm, so to speak, and pulled him off and away to leeward; the great green closed over him, and he went quietly to sleep.

    He was roused by the sound of a dinner-horn such as they used to blow at a summer-school he had once attended in the Adirondacks. Slowly he remembered that he was Harvey Cheyne, drowned and dead in mid-ocean, but was too weak to fit things together. A new smell filled his nostrils; wet and clammy chills ran down his back, and he was helplessly full of salt water. When he opened his eyes, he perceived that he was still on the top of the sea, for it was running round him in silver-coloured hills, and he was lying on a pile of half-dead fish, looking at a broad human back clothed in a blue jersey.

    It’s no good, thought the boy. I’m dead, sure enough, and this thing is in charge.

    He groaned, and the figure turned its head, showing a pair of little gold rings half hidden in curly black hair.

    Aha! You feel some pretty well now’? it said. Lie still so: we trim better.

    With a swift jerk he sculled the flickering boat-head on to a foamless sea that lifted her twenty full feet, only to slide her into a glassy pit beyond. But this mountain-climbing did not interrupt blue-jersey’s talk. Fine good job, I say, that I catch you. Eh, wha-at? Better good job, I say, your boat not catch me. How you come to fall out?

    I was sick, said Harvey; sick, and couldn’t help it.

    Just in time I blow my horn, and your boat she yaw a little. Then I see you come all down. Eh, wha-at? I think you are cut into baits by the screw, but you dreeft—dreeft to me, and I make a big fish of you. So you shall not die this time.

    Where am I? said Harvey, who could not see that life was particularly safe where he lay.

    "You are with me in the dory—Manuel my name, and I come from schooner We’re Here of Gloucester. I live to Gloucester. By-and-by we get supper. Eh, wha-at?"

    He seemed to have two pairs of hands and a head of cast-iron, for, not content with blowing through a big conch-shell, he must needs stand up to it, swaying with the sway of the flat-bottomed dory, and send a grinding, thuttering shriek through the fog. How long this entertainment lasted, Harvey could not remember, for he lay back terrified at the sight of the smoking swells. He fancied he heard a gun and a horn and shouting. Something bigger than the dory, but quite as lively, loomed alongside. Several voices talked at once; he was dropped into a dark, heaving hole, where men in oilskins gave him a hot drink and took off his clothes, and he fell asleep.

    When he waked he listened for the first breakfast-bell on the steamer, wondering why his stateroom had grown so small. Turning, he looked into a narrow, triangular cave, lit by a lamp hung against a huge square beam. A three-cornered table within arm’s reach ran from the angle of the to the foremast. At the after end, behind a well-used Plymouth stove, sat a boy about his own age, with a flat red face and a pair of twinkling grey eyes. He was dressed in a blue jersey and high rubber boots. Several pairs of the same sort of foot-wear, an old cap, and some worn-out woolen socks lay on the floor, and black and yellow oilskins swayed to and fro beside the bunks. The place was packed as full of smells as a bale is of cotton. The oilskins had a peculiarly thick flavour of their own which made a sort of background to the smells of fried fish, burnt grease, paint, pepper, and stale tobacco; but these, again, were all hooped together by one encircling smell of ship and salt water. Harvey saw with disgust that there were no sheets on his bed-place. He was lying on a piece of dingy ticking full of lumps and nubbles. Then, too, the boat’s motion was not that of a steamer. She was neither sliding nor rolling, but rather wriggling herself about in a silly, aimless way, like a colt at the end of a halter. Water-noises ran by close to his ear, and beams creaked and whined about him. All these things made him grunt despairingly and think of his mother.

    Feelin’ better? said the boy, with a grin. Hev some coffee? He brought a tin cup full, and sweetened it with molasses.

    Isn’t there milk? said Harvey, looking round the dark double tier of bunks as if he expected to find a cow there.

    Well, no, said the boy. Ner there ain’t likely to be till ’baout mid-September. ’Tain’t bad coffee. I made it.

    Harvey drank in silence, and the boy handed him a plate full of pieces of crisp fried pork, which he ate ravenously.

    I’ve dried your clothes. Guess they’ve shrunk some, said the boy. They ain’t our style much none of ’em. Twist round an’ see if you’re hurt any.

    Harvey stretched himself in every direction, but could not report any injuries.

    That’s good, the boy said heartily. Fix yerself an’ go on deck. Dad wants to see you. I’m his son,—Dan, they call me,—an’ I’m cook’s helper an’ everything else aboard that’s too dirty for the men. There ain’t no boy here ’cep’ me sence Otto went overboard—an’ he was only a Dutchy, an’ twenty year old at that. How’d you come to fall off in a dead flat ca’am?

    ’Twasn’t a calm, said Harvey, sulkily. It was a gale, and I was seasick. ’Guess I must have rolled over the rail.

    There was a little common swell yes’day an’ last night, said the boy. But ef thet’s your notion of a gale— He whistled. You’ll know more ’fore you’re through. Hurry! Dad’s waitin’.

    Like many other unfortunate young people, Harvey had never in all his life received a direct order—never, at least, without long, and sometimes tearful, explanations of the advantages of obedience and the reasons for the request. Mrs. Cheyne lived in fear of breaking his spirit, which, perhaps, was the reason that she herself walked on the edge of nervous prostration. He could not see why he should be expected to hurry for any man’s pleasure, and said so. Your dad can come down here if he’s so anxious to talk to me. I want him to take me to New York right away. It’ll pay him.

    Dan opened his eyes, as the size and beauty of this joke dawned on him. Say, dad! he shouted up the fo’c’sle hatch, he says you kin slip down an’ see him ef you’re anxious that way. Hear, dad?

    The answer came back in the deepest voice Harvey had ever heard from a human chest: Quit foolin’, Dan, and send him to me.

    Dan sniggered, and threw Harvey his warped bicycle shoes. There was something in the tones on the deck that made the boy dissemble his extreme rage and console himself with the thought of gradually unfolding the tale of his own and his father’s wealth on the voyage home. This rescue would certainly make him a hero among his friends for life. He hoisted himself on deck up a perpendicular ladder, and stumbled aft, over a score of obstructions, to where a small, thick-set, clean-shaven man with grey eyebrows sat on a step that led up to the quarter-deck. The swell had passed in the night, leaving a long, oily sea, dotted round the horizon with the sails of a dozen fishing-boats. Between them lay little black specks, showing where the dories were out fishing. The schooner, with a triangular riding-sail on the mainmast, played easily at anchor, and except for the man by the cabin-roof—house they call it—she was deserted.

    Mornin’—good afternoon, I should say. You’ve nigh slep’ the clock around, young feller, was the greeting.

    Mornin’, said Harvey. He did not like being called young feller; and, as one rescued from drowning, expected sympathy. His mother suffered agonies whenever he got his feet wet; but this mariner did not seem excited.

    "Naow let’s hear all abaout it. It’s quite providential, first an’ last, fer all concerned. What might be your name? Where

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