and slam around money the way he does; but I've 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 ge