"Be you the pusson what sits on
a rock and draws sailors to their own destruction?" "The very same,"
says she, and she kep' on laughin' and laughin'. "If you please, ma'am,"
says I, "I'd ruther not be drawed. Though 'twould be a change on staying
here." "You're safe," says she. "I ain't in the drawin' business now,"
says she. "Father Neptune and me's takin' a trip round the world."
Father Neptune he spoke up, and says he, "Ever been to America? They say
it's a fine country. We're goin' there. I want to see their big ships
that cross the ocean in five days, seven hours, and fifty-nine minutes.
That beats me. And then their life-savin' stations, and light-houses,
and sea-side homes for poor sick babies. I want to see them all. Sea-air
is good for babies, eh? Good enough for me. I've lived on it several
hundred years." "You're lookin' hale and hearty, sir, I'm sure," says I.

"Well, good-by, and good luck to ye," says he, pullin' at the reins.

"Hold on, your Honor," says I, for an idee had taken possession of me.
"Can't ye give us a pull out er this?" He talked low with Miss Lorelei,
and she didn't seem to object. "All right, throw us your hawser," says
he. I was all of atremble, but Willie and me got that there rope loose
in a hurry, and threw one end to Father Neptune, and made fast the
other. "Ain't you afraid?" says Willie. "No, my boy," says I. "The end
justifies the means." Miss Lorelei took hold of the hawser, and Father
Neptune give his horses a poke with his pitchfork, and my eyes! the old
thing groaned and started. The _Blue Turquoise_ was actually under way,
and them horses foamin' and prancin' for all they was wurth, 'twarn't
long before we was flyin' and churnin' the waves behind. Miss Lorelei
looked back with them wicked, beautiful eyes of hern, and tossed her
golding hair, and, "You see I am back again in the drawin' business,"
says she, with a laugh like the rattle of silver.

Up come the Capting. "Got a wind, eh?" says he. "Why, no, not a breath.
What in thunder makes her go?" Then he spied the hawser drawn tight over
the bow, and he turned pale, his knees knocked together, his teeth
chattered. You might have pushed him down with a straw. It war, no
mistake, a curus position, and I never blamed the Capting for feelin'
queer. "It's all right, sir," says I; "we're bein' tugged."

"Who's a-doin' the tuggin'?" says he. Father Neptune war nothin' more'n
a speck on the water by this time, and Capting couldn't