I was nigh gone when we got to the surface, but he was floatin' with the white up, and twenty holes in his shirt front.

Then I got back to my spar, for we'd gone a long fifty fathoms under water, and when I reached it I fainted dead away." "And then ?" "Well, when I came to, it was calm, and there was the dead shark floatin' beside me.

I paddled my spar over to him and I got loose a few yards of halliard that were hangin' from one end of it.

I made a clove-hitch round his tail, d'ye see, and got the end of it slung over the spar and fastened, so as I couldn't lose him.

Then I set to work and I ate him in a week right up to his back fin, and I drank the rain that fell on my coat, and when I was picked up by the _Gracie_ of Gloucester, I was that fat that I could scarce climb aboard.
That's what Ephraim Savage means, my lad, when he says that he is a baddish man to beat." Whilst the Puritan seaman had been detailing his reminiscence, his eyes had kept wandering from the clouds to the flapping sails and back.
Such wind as there was came in little short puffs, and the canvas either drew full or was absolutely slack.