He drifted down, at peace with all the
world, went in over the tops of his rubber boots, and then, for one
blissful moment, we had our reward.
Some of these old salts were so thoroughly salted, being drenched with
the brine of many stormy voyages, that they kept in good condition well
beyond their allotted time of three score years and ten. Some were of
uncertain age, but were evidently well beyond the century mark, as
proved by the aggregate time consumed on their many voyages, the stories
of which they had reiterated with such convincing detail.
One of these, Captain Sam Morris, was patiently stalked by the boys
through a long season of yarn spinning, careful tally being kept. When
the tale was complete, the boys closed in on him.
"How old are you, Captain Sam?"
"Oh, I dunno, I ain't kep' count."
"Are you seventy?"
"I swan! I dunno."
"Well, you were on the Old Dove with Skipper Jimmie Stone, weren't you?"
"Sartin."
"You were on the Constitution, when she fought the Guerriere, weren't
you?"
How could he deny it?
"Well, weren't you with Captain Lovett on four of his three-year trading
voyages to Australia and China?"
"Course I was.
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