never
like to catch fish--it always makes you cry to see 'em flop."

"Oh, yes, poor fish!" said Mara, perplexed between her sympathy for the
fish and her desire for the glory of her hero, which must be founded on
their pain; "I can't help feeling sorry when they gasp so."

"Well, and what do you suppose you would do when the men are pulling up
twenty and forty pounder?" said Moses, striding sublimely. "Why, they
flop so, they'd knock you over in a minute."

"Do they? Oh, Moses, do be careful. What if they should hurt you?"

"Hurt me!" said Moses, laughing; "that's a good one. I'd like to see a
fish that could hurt me."

"Do hear that boy talk!" said Mrs. Pennel to her husband, as they stood
within their chamber-door.

"Yes, yes," said Captain Pennel, smiling; "he's full of the matter. I
believe he'd take the command of the schooner this morning, if I'd let
him."

The Brilliant lay all this while courtesying on the waves, which kissed
and whispered to the little coquettish craft. A fairer June morning had
not risen on the shores that week; the blue mirror of the ocean was all
dotted over with the tiny white sails of fishing-craft bound on the same
errand, and the breeze that was just crisping the waters had the very
spirit of energy and adventure in it.

Everything and everybody was now on board, and she began to spread her
fair wings, and slowly and gracefully to retreat from the shore. Little
Moses stood on the deck, his black curls blowing in the wind, and his
large eyes dancing with excitement,--his clear olive complexion and
glowing cheeks well set off by his red shirt.

Mrs. Pennel stood with Mara on the shore to see them go. The fair little
golden-haired Ariadne shaded her eyes with one arm, and stretched the
other after her Theseus, till the vessel grew smaller, and finally
seemed to melt away into the eternal blue. Many be the wives and lovers
that have watched those little fishing-craft as they went gayly out like
this, but have waited long--too long--and seen them again no more. In
night and fog they have gone down under the keel of some ocean packet or
Indiaman, and sunk with brave hearts and hands, like a bubble in the
mighty waters. Yet Mrs. Pennel did not turn back to her house in
apprehension of this. Her husband had made so many voyages, and always
returned safely, that she confidently expected before long to see them
home again.

The next Sunday the seat of Zephaniah Pennel was vacant in chu