THE BOW ANCHOR.

Waipawa Mail, Volume XIII, Issue 2502, 6 September 1890, Page 7

THE BOW ANCHOR.

Captain John Dulliver, who sailed a whaling vessel for a great many seasons, accumulated a fund of experiences which stood him in good use for anecdotes through all the years after his retirement; but perhaps the best of Captain Dullivei ’s stories, the one of which the recital always caused the most amusement, was one relating to an incident that happened after he left off whaling. The captain and his wife were sitting at a friend’s table at supper one evening. The captain helped himself pretty liberally from a plate of eheese. “ There, there,” said Mrs. Duiliver, “ you’re goin’ an’ calm’ a lot more o’ that ©heo.se ! You’d better stop right where you lie.” “ Oh, wal, Maria,” said the captain, with a grin, “ I guess it’ll be all right this time.** “ Wal, eat it, John, eat it It's mo that has to suffer, anyway.” “ How is that, Mrs. Dulliver ?” her hostess asked, the captain, being the _ story teller of the family, took up the narativo of his wife. “Ye see,” said he, stall grinning, “my wife, she’s afraid I’ll throw out the bow anehor agin. It wa’n’t more’n a month tir six weeks ago that we were down to Lizy Jane’s visitin’, an’ they had jiet about the same kind o’ cheese on the tablo ’at you ve got here. I eat a little ou t. Oh, you needn't look, Maria ! Maybe I cat a good deal on’t. Wal, that night, after we had gone to bed, I dreamed I was to sea in the brig Priscilla , same’s I used to be. Seem’s it I was cornin' up past Hatteras. Twas my watch, an’ all to once there came on oneo’ the wust, squalls I ever saw in them parts. The wind Mew like the nation, an’ the vessel was nigh ©n her beam ends. There wa’n’t but one tiling to do. Seem’s if the mate was the ©nlv man within reach, an’ I sings out to him, * Mr. Coffin,* says I, * heave that bow anchor overboard J’ So the mate he ketches liolci o’ the anohor, an’ he pulls, an’ tugs, an’ he can’t start it. An’ all the time the storm grows. ‘ Mister Coffin,’ says I, gittin’ desperate, * over with that anehor now, an’ mighty quick !’ But he can't budge ’er. The wind howls an’ the ship careens. Then I goes for’urd, an’ says I, ‘Stan’ aside, yer lubber, an’ let me heave that bow anchor oyer myself, or we’ll go'to the bottom 3’ An’ with that I put both arms ’round the big anchor, an* I gave it a terrible tug an’ lift, an’ °yor the ship’s side she went. An’ as I'm a livin’ man, if that bow anchor didn’t ect up a scream that riz over the -whole roar o’ the tempest, an" it yelled—‘ John Dnlliver, John Dulliver, oh ! what be you a-doin’ !’ An’ I woke up, an’ if there wa’n’t Maria on the floor, screamin’ an’ takin’ ou. I’d took her fer tiie anchor, an’ heaved her overboard, sure enough.” Mrs. Dulliver’® was the only face in the room that remained without a smile throughout this recital. “ Yes,” said she, 44 you thro wed me out on to the floor as if I wa’n't no more’n so much old junk. An there you go, Gatin’ that cheese as if nothin hadn't happened !”