"In the pulpit, Mr. Cap'n Littlefield?" queried Carolyn in surprise. "Do you mean _preaching_? Like Elder Knox at the Free Baptist Church?" "My soul and small fish hooks! No!" chuckled the captain. "Pulpit's the thing Barzilla leans up against when he harpoons a fish." "Oh! I know," said Carolyn May, nodding. "I've seen Barzilla's boat. You mean that stalky thing up in front." "Exactly," agreed Captain Ozias. "Oly's wooden laig wouldn't let him balance out on the sprit that-a-way. But he can pull a dory as well as the next man. He'd set himself out with a harpoon an' line and a pair of oars, and he made his sheer _and_ keep, with Enos Ball. "Then one time Oly seen a swordfish an' Cap'n Enos seen another from the crosstrees. Enos headed for his critter; but nothin' would do but Oly had to slip overboard in his dory an' row t'other way. Ye know how con-_tra_-ry he is. "Wal, Oly pulled up close on his fish--an' no denyin' a dory is fur quieter than a sailin' boat to make the kill from. Swordfishes have got the sharpest ears. "Oly stood up, balanced his harpoon, braced his old timber-toe ag'in the thwart, an' jest before the boat nosed that swordfish's flipper, Oly made his cast. 'Twas a purty one, an' the harpoon held for fair. "He dropped back onto the thwart and grabbed his oars. Them swordfishes is lively critters, leetle gal. They sure be," pursued the captain. "They don't sulk none when ye strike on. They fling themselves about like a whale in its death-flurry." "The poor thing!" murmured Carolyn. "You better save your sympathy for Oly," chuckled the story-teller. "Wait till I tell ye. That fish sounded. A swordfish with an iron in him is a mighty onsartain critter. Oly pulled hard, but he didn't know where the swordfish was. Jest the same the fish had spotted that dory." "Oh, Mr. Cap'n Littlefield! what happened to the swordfish?" asked Carolyn, excitedly. Captain Littlefield chuckled once more. "Still more worried about that critter than ye be about Oly, eh? Well, he done purt' well, the swordfish did. He come right up underneath that dory and drove his sword smash through her bottom-boards like 'twas a _see_-gar box. Oly had his feet braced an' was pullin' like all kildee. Up come that sword an' spears bottom-boards an' Oly's laig, jest like ye'd spear a pickle on a fork." "Oh!" "An' there the sword stuck fast," pursued the captain. "The fish, he wriggled an' tried to pull out again, shakin' the dory like a dog playin' with a dishcloth. An' Oly was hung fast to the sword--couldn't think o' nothin' to do but to hang onto the sides of the dory an' yell blue murder!" "Oh, Mr. Cap'n Littlefield! was it his _good_ leg that got stabbed by the swordfish's sword?"