“So the Jane Ellen sailed on fast, and drew nearer and nearer to the brig; and when they were near enough to see, she was a sight! “Some of her rigging was gone, and halyards and bowlines and braces and all kinds of ropes and sails were trailing in the water; and a flag of distress flip-flip-flipping in the breeze over it all. “It was the Reindeer brig, and her captain was a friend of the captain of the Jane Ellen. So when they were hove-to, beside the Reindeer, the Captain—with the Mate standing by—was very glad to welcome his friend on board. “‘Now, tell us all about what has happened to the Reindeer,’ he said. “The captain of the brig was a short man with bright black eyes, and he _hated_ to wait for anything. When he wanted a thing, he wanted it that very minute; and when he sent a man on an errand he often went after him before he had time to come back, because it seemed so long to him. His name was Gryller, but Skipper seemed to suit him exactly, so he was very seldom called Captain Gryller. “When he came aboard the Jane Ellen, he could hardly wait for the proper greetings to be over before he began to tell his story. He spoke very fast; the words pattered, clean, and there sounded a great many _rr_’s in them. “‘It’s that Waterspout!’ he said. ‘He’s played the mischief with my rrigging!’ “‘What? Torquillon?’ asked the Captain. “‘Certainly. Did you ever hear of any other waterspout hereabouts? I didn’t. He took my main-to’gal’n’mast at the first whack!’ “‘But where was he?’ asked the Captain. “‘Chasing _me_!’ said the Skipper, indignantly. “‘Out here?’ asked the Captain, perfectly surprised. And he looked at the Lion and the Man, to see if Torquillon were peeping out. “‘No!’ exclaimed the Skipper, loudly. ‘Inside.’ “‘_Inside!_’ said the Captain, even louder. ‘What were you doing there?’ “‘Going through, of course!’ shouted the Skipper. ‘Do you suppose I was trying to anchorr?’ and he almost danced on the deck, he was so impatient. “The Captain looked at him. Then he said in his ordinary voice:— “‘We’re neither of us deaf, and there isn’t a gale of wind; and will you please begin at the beginning, and tell me what you did do?’ “‘That’s just what I was trying to do; but you interrupted.’ “‘Because you began in the middle.’ “‘How could any one begin in the middle? The place where you begin _is_ the beginning!’ “‘Well, what made you go through there, anyway?’ asked the Captain. (He wasn’t quite sure whether the beginning was the middle or the end or the other end, he felt so tangled up.) “‘I didn’t go through,’ insisted the Skipper. ‘Didn’t I just tell you?’ “‘Then, will you tell me what you did do?’ “‘I starrted to go.’ “‘Why?’ “‘Why does a hen run across the road?’ asked the Skipper. “‘To get to the other side,’ answered the Captain; and, ‘Because she can’t go ’round it,’ said Taffy. “‘Which is it?’ asked the Captain.