The idea that I had formed was of a close-packed mass of seaweed, through which a ship could no more force her way than she could through an enormous haystack. The real thing is very different. I have never been any closer to the middle than I was that day in the Clearchus, and so I do not know, from the evidence of my own senses, how closely packed the weed may be; but it is not like a stack of hay at all. It consists of separate plants, or pieces of a plant, not above a foot across, every plant floating by itself. A ship would probably have no great trouble in going through what looked like a solid mass of floating weed, each separate plant giving to her passage with but little more resistance than the water. Peter got a bucketful of water, with a plant bearing its strange freight of life: crabs, sea-horses, pipe-fish, shrimp, and slugs. “Aye, Timmie,” he said as he dropped the bucket over the side, “it ’s sargasso, and that means seaweed in some outlandish lingo. Why they can’t say seaweed when they mean seaweed is beyond me. I ’ve seen it many a time.” That bucket of water led to a fresh dislike of Mr. Wallet. I had made a hasty examination of it while all hands gathered around me. As soon as I could I grabbed up the bucket and ran aft with it, the water slopping over my legs as I ran. I wanted to study those strange beings at my leisure. Suddenly remembering duties which, as was quite customary with me, I had forgotten in my interest in other things, I left my precious bucket at the head of the cabin steps, and dashed down to attend to them before {118} anybody found out. The cabin stairs were very steep and narrow, and I ran plump into Mr. Wallet—actually collided with him, and bounced off, eliciting a grunt and a curse. I picked myself up, and he paid no more attention to me, but went on up; and I heard him stumble at the top, and curse again, violently. I chuckled, and thought no more about it; but when I went for my bucket again, I could not find it. Mr. Wallet, coming up, had stumbled over it, and had been angry, and forthwith had emptied it over the side. I would have done him an injury if I could, and I hoped he might run foul of a fighting bull whale. That was the worst thing I could think of.