Youre Fifty North and Forty West!
WHEN the cabin port-holes are dark and green
When the ship goes _wop_ (with a wiggle between)
And you arent waked or washed or dressed,
Then fetch me some, said the Whale, and he made the sea froth up with his tail.
And the steward falls into the soup-tureen,
And Mummy tells you to let her sleep,
You had better take him home, said the Stute Fish to the Whale. I ought to have warned you that he is a man of infinite-resource-and-sagacity.
One at a time is enough, said the Stute Fish. If you swim to latitude Fifty North, longitude Forty West (that is magic), you will find, sitting _on_ a raft, _in_ the middle of the sea, with nothing on but a pair of blue canvas breeches, a pair of suspenders (you must _not_ forget the suspenders, Best Beloved), and a jack- knife, one ship-wrecked Mariner, who, it is only fair to tell you, is a man of infinite-resource-and-sagacity.
And the trunks begin to slide;
Then the Whale opened his mouth back and back and back till it nearly touched his tail, and he swallowed the shipwrecked Mariner, and the raft he was sitting on, and his blue canvas breeches, and the suspenders (which you _must_ not forget), _and_ the jack-knife--He swallowed them all down into his warm, dark, inside cup-boards, and then he smacked his lips--so, and turned round three times on his tail.
Nay, nay! said the Mariner. Not so, but far otherwise. Take me to my natal-shore and the white-cliffs-of-Albion, and Ill think about it. And he began to dance more than ever.
When Nursey lies on the floor in a heap,
Why, then you will know (if you havent guessed)
IN the sea, once upon a time, O my Best Beloved, there was a Whale, and he ate fishes. He ate the starfish and the garfish, and the crab and the dab, and the plaice and the dace, and the skate and his mate, and the mackereel and the pickereel, and the really truly twirly-whirly eel. All the fishes he could find in all the sea he ate with his mouth--so! Till at last there was only one small fish left in all the sea, and he was a small Stute Fish, and he swam a little behind the Whales right ear, so as to be out of harms way. Then the Whale stood up on his tail and said, Im hungry. And the small Stute Fish said in a small stute voice, Noble and generous Cetacean, have you ever tasted Man?
For the Mariner he was also an Hi-ber-ni-an. And he stepped out on the shingle, and went home to his mother, who had given him leave to trail his toes in the water; and he married and lived happily ever afterward. So did the Whale. But from that day on, the grating in his throat, which he could neither cough up nor swallow down, prevented him eating anything except very, very small fish; and that is the reason why whales nowadays never eat men or boys or little girls.
I have stopped your ating.
By means of a grating
No, said the Whale. What is it like?
So the Whale swam and swam to latitudeFifty North, longitude Forty West, as fast as he could swim, and _on_ a raft, _in_ the middle of the sea, _with_ nothing to wear except a pair of blue canvas breeches, a pair of suspenders (you must particularly remember the suspenders, Best Beloved), _and_ a jack-knife, he found one single, solitary shipwrecked Mariner, trailing his toes in the water. (He had his mummys leave to paddle, or else he would never have done it, because he was a man of infinite- resource-and-sagacity.)
So the Whale called down his own throat to the shipwrecked Mariner, Come out and behave yourself. Ive got the hiccoughs.
So he said to the Stute Fish, This man is very nubbly, and besides he is making me hiccough. What shall I do?
The small Stute Fish went and hid himself in the mud under the Door-sills of the Equator. He was afraid that the Whale might be angry with him.
The Sailor took the jack-knife home. He was wearing the blue canvas breeches when he walked out on the shingle. The suspenders were left behind, you see, to tie the grating with; and that is the end of _that_ tale.
Tell him to come out, said the Stute Fish.
Nice, said the small Stute Fish. Nice but nubbly.
But as soon as the Mariner, who was a man of infinite-resource- and-sagacity, found himself trulyinside the Whales warm, dark, inside cup-boards, he stumped and he jumped and he thumped and he bumped, and he pranced and he danced, and he banged and he clanged, and he hit and he bit, and he leaped and he creeped, and he prowled and he howled, and he hopped and he dropped, and he cried and he sighed, and he crawled and he bawled, and he stepped and he lepped, and he danced hornpipes where he shouldnt, and the Whale felt most unhappy indeed. (_Have_ you forgotten the suspenders?)
So the Whale swam and swam and swam, with both flippers and his tail, as hard as he could for the hiccoughs; and at last he saw the Mariners natal-shore and the white-cliffs-of-Albion, and he rushed half-way up the beach, and opened his mouth wide and wide and wide, and said, Change here for Winchester, Ashuelot, Nashua, Keene, and stations on the _Fitch_burg Road; and just as he said Fitch the Mariner walked out of his mouth. But while the Whale had been swimming, the Mariner, who was indeed a person of infinite-resource-and-sagacity, had taken his jack-knife and cut up the raft into a little square grating all running criss- cross, and he had tied it firm with his suspenders (_now_, you know why you were not to forget the suspenders!), and he dragged that grating good and tight into the Whales throat, and there it stuck! Then he recited the following _Sloka_, which, as you have not heard it, I will now proceed to relate--
Because of the seas outside;
