raft, as if their eyes would start from the sockets; and the coxswain
rose and shouted,--

"Ahoy, up there! who are you?"

"John Whopper," I replied, "eldest son of the Widow Whopper, now
residing in Roxbury, Mass., U. S. of America."

"Gracious me!" cried one of the men, "I know Widow Whopper."

"I hope you left her well?"

"Much as usual," the sailor replied.

I was very glad to hear it.

"Where are you from?" shouted the coxswain again; "and where did you
get your rigging?"

"I will tell you when I get aboard."

"Come aboard, then."

"I don't exactly see how to manage it."

"Come down the plane, and we will catch you."

It was too steep and slippery for me to do that; but, on the instant,
another bright thought arose. "Pull off a hundred feet or so," I cried,
"and I will be along."

As soon as I saw that they had rowed to a safe distance, I went to the
mast, and suddenly let the sail go. In an instant, I felt the deck
quiver; and it began to move, very slowly at first, and then with a
tremendous rush, right down the inclined plane. I grasped a rope with
all my might, and steadied myself for the shock that must come when my
craft plunged into the sea. But there was no shock at all; gently as a
ship slides on her cradle, when launched into the water, the old deck
glided off upon the waves, and in five minutes I found myself safely on
board the long-boat. No sooner, however, had I left the strange craft,
than it began to sink slowly into the depths; and the last thing that I
saw was the American flag floating on the bosom of the deep.

What was said to me when I reached the ship, and what I said, I have not
time to relate; only I didn't tell every thing.

The vessel proved to be a whaler, bound for New Bedford; where I
arrived in good condition, and took the cars for Roxbury, via the Boston
and Providence Road, _passing through Canton_.

I found all well at home, and very much relieved by my arrival.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] It will probably occur to the reader, that some one of Johnny's
adult friends has touched up the style a little along here. J. W. says
that this is true.

[2] John informs the editor that he never wrote a word of the last
lines, and that he thinks it about time for him to take the bellows
again.

[3] Pronounced _gunnell_: "The uppermost bend which finishes the upper
works of the hull, and from which the upper guns, if the vessel carry
any, are pointed."