Presently, after Mr. Rea had waited--as if to draw from me the answer he
expected--he said: "Well, no, I reckon you can't tell. It was thus. When
mother died, I brought the _Bold Venture_ here and set her where she is
now, on the cupboard, and Jonas, he had set the new ship, all red and
green, the _Saucy Jane_ it was called, on the bureau. Will you believe
me, next morning when I came downstairs the frigate was on the floor,
and some of her spars broken and all the rigging in a muddle."
"There was no lead on the bottom. It fell down."
"It was not once that happened. It came to the same thing every night;
and what is more, the _Bold Venture_ began to show signs of having
fouled her."
"How so?"
"Run against her. She had bruises, and had brought away some of the
paint of the _Saucy Jane_. Every morning the frigate, if she were'nt on
the floor, were rammed into a corner, and battered as if she'd been in a
bad sea."
"But it is impossible."
"Of course, lots o' things is impossible, but they happen all the same."
"Well, what next?"
"Jane, she was ill, and took wus and wus, and just as she got wus so it
took wus as well with the _Saucy Jane_. And on the night she died, I
reckon that there was a reg'lar pitched sea-fight."
"But not at sea."
"Well, no; but the frigate seemed to have been rammed, and she was on
the floor and split from stem to stern."
"And, pray, has the _Bold Venture_ made no attempt since? The glass case
is not broken."
"There's been no occasion. I chucked what remained of the _Saucy Jane_
into the fire."