told him a many a time 't I wouldn't trade places with him; for, says I, a sailor's life's the life for me, and I'm derned if _I'd_ live two mile out o' town, where there ain't nothing ever goin' on, not for all his spondulicks and as much more on top of it.  Says I--” I broke in and says: “They're in an awful peck of trouble, and--” “_Who_ is?” “Why, pap and mam and sis and Miss Hooker; and if you'd take your ferryboat and go up there--” “Up where?  Where are they?” “On the wreck.” “What wreck?” “Why, there ain't but one.” “What, you don't mean the Walter Scott?” “Yes.” “Good land! what are they doin' _there_, for gracious sakes?” “Well, they didn't go there a-purpose.” “I bet they didn't!  Why, great goodness, there ain't no chance for 'em if they don't git off mighty quick!  Why, how in the nation did they ever git into such a scrape?” “Easy enough.  Miss Hooker was a-visiting up there to the town--” “Yes, Booth's Landing--go on.” “She was a-visiting there at Booth's Landing, and just in the edge of the evening she started over with her nigger woman in the horse-ferry to stay all night at her friend's house, Miss What-you-may-call-her I disremember her name--and they lost their steering-oar, and swung around and went a-floating down, stern first, about two mile, and saddle-baggsed on the wreck, and the ferryman and the nigger woman and the horses was all lost, but Miss Hooker she made a grab and got aboard the wreck.  Well, about an hour after dark we come along down in our trading-scow, and it was so dark we didn't notice the wreck till we was right on it; and so _we_ saddle-baggsed; but all of us was saved but Bill Whipple--and oh, he _was_ the best cretur!--I most wish 't it had been me, I do.” “My George!  It's the beatenest thing I ever struck.  And _then_ what did you all do?” “Well, we hollered and took on, but it's so wide there we couldn't make nobody hear.  So pap said somebody got to get ashore and get help somehow. I was the only on