ieve it is getting out of date now, and not only the first fish, but
all the fish caught, are seized and confiscated "for the benefit of
those whom it may hereafter concern," namely, the "cabin gentry;" the
claims of the captors being waived, set aside, and overruled. The two
mates soon followed their commander, "armed and equipped," the one with
the graves, (a sort of harpoon for taking smaller fish,) and the other
with a large reel of fish-line and hooks, baited with salt pork--the
commentators on the two last chapters of Acts broke up their conference,
leaving St. Paul and the centurion in comfortable quarters at The Three
Taverns; their reader carefully stowing away his bible in the bows of
the long-boat before he joined the groups of fishermen on and about the
bows--the great dog Pomp, so named after the illustrious Roman, Pompey
the Great, and not after the allegorical personage to whom Will
Shakspeare so earnestly recommends physic, came galloping forward and
ascended the heel of the bowsprit, where he stood whining, and yelping,
and wagging his tail, exceedingly delighted with the animation and
excitement of the scene; and looking up, from time to time, in the faces
of those nearest him, with an expression that said, as plain as mere
expression can speak, "Why the plague don't you catch some of them?"
Even those two privileged idlers, the doctor and supercargo, made shift
to get on deck, yawning and stretching themselves.

In the mean time, one of the most active seamen, who was perched upon
the jib-boom end, fishing with a bait made of a piece of white duck cut
into a "swallow-tail," hauled up a huge albicore, whose struggles had
well nigh thrown him overboard; but a dozen pair of eager hands were
ready, the fish was safely deposited in a bag, and passed on board, and
the bottle of rum was secured to the legal claimant. The sprit-sail
yard, bowsprit, and cat-heads were crowded with fishermen, and in half
an hour there were nearly seventy fine, large fish flouncing and
fluttering their last on the forecastle of the Albatross.

The cooks at the galley, who had quietly prepared the usual Sunday
dinner, which, forty years since, was generally the same for cabin or
forecastle, namely, flour pudding, called at sea, "duff," and salt beef;
the cooks did by no means contemplate this addition to the ship's bill
of fare with complacency or delight. They foresaw that there would be
fried fish, and broiled fish, and boiled