table,—and went fishing again, this time at the stern of the lower deck, at a point where there was a slight rise near the rail. It was a cloudy day, and as he had had no luck on clear days, the Yankee lad thought that this might prove better.
Walter had procured a book—one of Captain Marryat's novels—from the ship's library, and sitting close at hand, he was soon deeply absorbed in the story, which was one of life in the British navy. Si fished on in silence for nearly half an hour, then heaved a long sigh.
"Don't believe there's anything in this here ocean," he declared. "Ain't got so much as a nibble!" And he drew down his thin face in disgust.
"Don't get discouraged, Si," returned Walter, looking up for the moment. "Remember the old saying, 'Everything comes to him who waits.'"
"That may be true, but I ain't goin' to die waitin' for no blamed shrimp to tie fast to my line and eat up that bait. I'd rather give the meat to the ship's dog."
Nevertheless, Si prepared to throw out again, after seeing that the bait was still intact and fixed as he wished it. But his cast was bad, and his line caught
