"Why, yes, my little girl, that it does, sometimes; but then there ain't the least danger. Our craft ride out storms like live creatures. I've stood it out in gales that was tight enough, I'm sure. 'Member once I turned in 'tween twelve and one, and hadn't more'n got asleep, afore I came _clump_ out of my berth, and found everything upside down. And 'stead of goin' upstairs to get on deck, I had to go right down. Fact was, that 'ere vessel jist turned clean over in the water, and come right side up like a duck." "Well, now, Cap'n, I wouldn't be tellin' such a story as that," said his helpmeet. "Why, Polly, what do you know about it? you never was to sea. We did turn clear over, for I 'member I saw a bunch of seaweed big as a peck measure stickin' top of the mast next day. Jist shows how safe them ar little fishing craft is,--for all they look like an egg-shell on the mighty deep, as Parson Sewell calls it." "I was very much pleased with Mr. Sewell's exercise in prayer this morning," said Mrs. Kittridge; "it must have been a comfort to you, Mis' Pennel." "It was, to be sure," said Mrs. Pennel. "Puts me in mind of poor Mary Jane Simpson. Her husband went out, you know, last June, and hain't been heard of since. Mary Jane don't really know whether to put on mourning or not." "Law! I don't think Mary Jane need give up yet," said the Captain. "'Member one year I was out, we got blowed clear up to Baffin's Bay, and got shut up in the ice, and had to go ashore and live jist as we could among them Esquimaux. Didn't get home for a year. Old folks had clean giv' us up. Don't need never despair of folks gone to sea, for they's sure to turn up, first or last." "But I hope," said Mara, apprehensively, "that grandpapa won't get blown up to Baffin's Bay. I've seen that on his chart,--it's a good ways." "And then there's them 'ere icebergs," said Mrs. Kittridge; "I'm always 'fraid of running into them in the fog." "Law!" said Captain Kittridge, "I've met 'em bigger than all the colleges up to Brunswick,--great white bears on 'em,--hungry as Time in the Primer. Once we came kersmash on to one of 'em, and if the Flying Betsey hadn't been made of whalebone and injer-rubber, she'd a-been stove all to pieces. Them white bears, they was so hungry, that they stood there with the water jist runnin' out of their chops in a perfect stream." "Oh, dear, dear," said Mara, with wide round eyes, "what will Moses do if they get on the icebergs?" "Yes," said Mrs. Kittridge, looking solemnly at the child through the black bows of her spectacles, "we can truly say:-- "'Dangers stand thick through all the ground, To push us to the tomb,' as the hymn-book says."