PISCATOR. Nay, I meant nothing; except, that whereas I formerly thought
you rather affected the land, now I find that you are courageous on the
water; and therefore, I say you deserve a Commodore. Observe now, we are
running more nearly with the wind, and move faster. It is a favorable
breeze; for our fishing-ground is in the south-eastern corner of the lake,
behind that highland which you see yonder; and this blows from the western
quarter. We shall soon be there.
DISCIPULA. Be in no hurry; I am in none. Is it not a fine morning? Those
white, high-flying clouds, rolled up into fleeces like wool, with ragged
patches of the sky between them, above us, and the broad blue bosom of the
lake, with the multitude of little waves leaping up and dancing all over
its surface beneath us, and our boat, in the midst of both sky and water,
gliding calmly along like a bird with his wings spread floating in the
air! Is it not a lovely morning? Yes, yes; I must be a sailor's wife, and
live on the ocean! Or perhaps, rather, a fisherman's wife, and sail on a
lake like this. If I should happen to meet with one of the latter class,
of approved character, somewhat mature in years and grave in demeanor,
kind of disposition and manly of countenance, one who would let me go
sailing with him every day, (of course I am not describing you, Mr.
Piscator,) I think--yes, I am quite certain, that he would content me.
PISCATOR. Nay, nay, my fair young lady, you are pleased to mock! 'Mature
in years and grave in demeanor,' said you? A gallant young sailor for you,
say I! There are many who sigh for the favor which you have so freely
granted me to-day. Ah, you should not jeer.
DISCIPULA. I tell you, Mr. Piscator, none but you for me this day! I am
not going to think of any body but you; for I tell you plainly, I like you
very much.
PISCATOR. Ah, yes, yes; certainly--without doubt, I hope so; surely, why
should you not?
DISCIPULA. And what a beautiful island! The grass grows down almost to the
water's edge, leaving a narrow belt of white sand; how it glistens in the
sun-light! and those half-a-dozen tall trees in the centre, how do you
suppose they came to grow there alone so?
PISCATOR. That is a question which I have often asked, but have never been
able to satisfy myself, as to how they came there. They have stood for
more generations than one, and will cast their shadows on the water when
other boats than ours sail past them, and other eyes than ours wonder at
them. Now we are nearly at our journey's end; when we pass through the
opening between that island ahead of us, and the main land, we shall be on
our fishing-ground.
DISCIPULA. Is it possible that we have reached here so quick? It is not
half so far as I thought it was. And yet, on looking back, there is a wide
waste lying between us and the cove from which we started. How diminutive
the house on the high ground back of the landing-place looks; like a
mole-hill, and the trees around it like shrubs! Well sped, little bark! A
swift and an easy-paced courser are you; steadily now, through this narrow
strait; steadily and gently, for your race is almost run.
PISCATOR. The channel begins to widen again; and lo! here we are in a lake
by itself as it were; a sheet of water full a mile long and a quarter of a
mile wide. And herein the fish mostly do congregate. I will hold on to
near the middle, and then drop the anchor.
DISCIPULA. It is indeed a fine sheet; smooth as any mirror; clearer than
glass. I suppose the fish assemble here when they get tired of the
roughness and commotion of the lake without, because it is so calm and
still. Is it not so?
PISCATOR. It may be so; it is a good reason, and I will believe that it is
so, since you have supposed it. This is as good a place as any, and here
we will cast our lines; and there is so little wind stirring, that we
shall only need to furl our sails, and the boat will remain at rest. Now
then, here is your rod, nicely put together, with a fly on the hook. A
pike will rise as quick at an artificial fly as at a live one; a greedy
fish is that pike; and if we should have occasion, I have other kinds of
bait. Take it, and throw your line out as I taught you before. But what
are you regarding so intently?
DISCIPULA. I am looking at the shadow of the trees in the water; an
inverted forest in the lake. Fish a little while alone, and let me look.
PISCATOR. It has become so late in the day that I have not much hope of
taking many now. However, I can but try. This same rod and line have done
me good service in this same place, before to-day. Ah, I see a pike! I'll
have him! Look! look how slowly and warily he comes up toward the bait!
When he gets within a few feet of it, he will make a dash, and gorge it
without stopping to think. Ah, there he goes with it; and here he comes
back with it, straight up into the boat. Upon my word, a reasonable fish;
he wont weigh short of three pounds.
DISCIPULA. Oh, Mr. Piscator! here's a new heaven and a new earth beneath
us! Waving trees with birds flitting among their branches, and far down
below, flying clouds and blue sky. A perfect hemisphere, and we are
hanging over it, without any thing to support us! I shouldn't be
surprised, to feel myself this minute tumbling down into it, down to the
new heaven! I have been expecting to, for some time past; and what a fall
would that be! Do you suppose we should stop when we got there?
PISCATOR. If we did not, where should we go to?
DISCIPULA. Ah, where!
PISCATOR. These fish do not seem inclined to bite this morning. Yet there
is one larger than that I caught before. I must have him, too. Observe how
wistfully he eyes the bait; let the fly skim slowly along the water, just
over him; that is the way, Sir, to swallow a hook; and now come up, and
slide into the basket, out of sight, and keep your brother company.
DISCIPULA. Mr. Piscator, when you make such a splashing in the water, you
ruffle and wrinkle my submarine prospect. Please don't.
PISCATOR. I think it will be profitless trying to take any more this
forenoon; toward night they will bite again. And what shall we do in the
mean time? Usually, when I come out here alone, I go ashore, and rest
myself during these hours, amid the fragrant shades of the thick trees,
that screen me from the mid-day heat. Would you like to take such a
ramble?--or are you inclined to stay here, and gaze into the water?
DISCIPULA. I suppose the picture will keep till we come back. Let us go
ashore, and wander around in the woods, and find romantic grottoes, and
weave flower-wreaths, and build castles in the air.
PISCATOR. And half a mile inland, you can see its summit from here, is a
hill that commands a vast tract of lake and woodland.
DISCIPULA. Yes, yes; let us go!
PISCATOR. Well, scholar, here we are again, after our long tramp. You see
I am a better land-pilot than you just now took me to be; for I have
brought us out to the right spot; more by token, yonder is the boat, safe
and sound. I am afraid you are fatigued with our long travels?
DISCIPULA. Not much; but I would like to sit down on the green carpet,
under this shade, for a few minutes.
PISCATOR. It must be, at the least, four of the clock; and although your
nature, my fair young lady, is probably too ethereal to think of such
homely matters, I do not profess mine to be such, and am ready to
acknowledge, that _a little dinner_ would not be unacceptable.
DISCIPULA. Unacceptable? No; but where are we to get it?
PISCATOR. I always bring with me, on my excursions, a hand-basket,
containing----
DISCIPULA. Why in the world!--why _didn't_ you let me know that before?
Let us have it as quick as possible!
PISCATOR. It is in the boat, and if you will remain a moment, I will bring
it up here.
DISCIPULA. Oh yes, do! And be quick, my good master!--as quick as you can!
PISCATOR. Nimble as any page, that waits on lady bright. Here we have the
provisions; and if we could manage to find something for a table-cover, we
might dispense with knives and---- Right, scholar, put your hand into the
basket and help yourself.
DISCIPULA. Ham sandwich! Oh, Mr. Piscator, this is good! Is there enough
of it?
PISCATOR. Enough for us two; and therefore you need not fear to help
yourself heartily, as I am glad to see that you are not. Never was
sumptuous feast to an epicure on gala-day better than my simple fare to me
on this beach, after a morning's sail and ramble.
DISCIPULA. Most excellent! I'll come out here every time I can get a
chance, for the sake of dining with you under the old beech tree.
PISCATOR. It brings to my mind the story of the king, who, after the
chase, took some bread and water at the hut of a woodsman; which, as it is
no doubt well known, I shall not repeat unto you. But the bottom of the
basket begins to appear. What! done already? Good despatch! And now,
scholar, we will immediately to our sport, for we have no time to waste.
DISCIPULA. Yes, yes, immediately to work; I long to try my hand. Here's
the boat; I should think it would have got tired waiting so long for us.
But it looks very patient.
PISCATOR. You may get in, while I loose, and shove off. There appears to
be a sharp breeze blowing on the lake without, yet our pond is as
unruffled as when we left it. We will return to the same spot we were in
before, and cast out our lines.
DISCIPULA. Is this my rod? Fix the bait for me skilfully, and I'll catch
them.
PISCATOR. I cannot promise you great success at first, considering your
inexperience----
DISCIPULA. Oh, I'm going to catch an hundred!
PISCATOR. I hope you may; certainly--I hope you will; and you can only
try. There, your fly is fastened to the hook as well as my art is able.
Come, and sit on this side, and I will give you some instructions how to
use it. First, see that the line is clear of the rod; then give it one
swing round your head; so--and cast it quickly but softly, as far from you
as you can on the water. Neatly done! Now draw it slowly along the
surface, and you shall presently see a fish rise at it. Be more moderate;
you draw it too rapidly. Ha! there it goes under! Wait till you feel him
pulling on the line; now give him a little jerk to the right; there you
have him, fairly hooked! You must be careful, or you'll lose him yet. No;
he's not very heavy, and you may raise him strait out of the water, and
land him in the boat; so!
DISCIPULA. Ah, my master, will you tell me that I can't catch fish? Poor
little fish! Oh, but he's a small one: take him off, master, and put him
into the hold. I hunt for nobler game.
PISCATOR. Not a good thought, not a good thought for an angler. Hunt for
nobler game, if you like; but a fisherwoman must not despise the smallest
that comes to her net. Every thing counts.
DISCIPULA. Despise? No; oh no! I would like to catch fifty just such; that
is, if there are no larger ones to angle for.
PISCATOR. Well, your bait is set again. Cast out as before, and I wish you
better luck.
DISCIPULA. Now I am going to catch a large one--a foot long. But, Mr.
Piscator, why do you not use your line?
PISCATOR. I will not interfere with your sport; and beside, I may want to
give you advice how to manage yours. It is not, in general, a good plan to
let the fish see you when you are angling; they are apt to be frightened
away. However, in this case, I shall say nothing against it; because if
they have an eye for beauty, as is commonly believed, your showing
yourself should have a contrary effect. In truth, the influence of beauty
is much to be marvelled at. I remember myself when I was young, and had
not yet learned their vanity, how easy I was to be led away and bewitched
by a fair face and a sparkling eye. That was some time ago; you draw your
fly too fast; it was some years ago; and yet I am fain to confess, that
even now, in nothing do I take more pleasure, than in looking on a ruddy
cheek, a polished brow, the long lashes of a soft blue eye, and upon heavy
folds of auburn hair; and it is for this reason that I have placed you
opposite to me now.
DISCIPULA. Why, Mr. Piscator! Did you mean that for a compliment?
PISCATOR. Certainly no. I seldom speak but what I think, for flattery I
like neither to give nor receive. Ah, yes; there are witches in the world
yet. And their witchcraft consists not in magic filters, and potent herbs
gathered at midnight under the full moon; far more subtle and powerful is
it. Like the poisons of eastern countries, it is communicated by a touch,
by a look, by the breath of a word. This is the witchcraft that they use;
therewith lure they men to commit folly. It would seem to be their chief
delight, their main occupation. But I am willing to believe that you are
not so evil-minded; and that when you bewitch men, it is not because you
love to do it, but that it is altogether involuntary.
DISCIPULA. Oh, of course, altogether involuntary. If I had my way, I never
would cause a single flutter in any body's breast--not I. But you see how
it is, I can't help it, and therefore it is not my fault. These fish do
not bite well. There is one, he will weigh four pounds, that has been
playing round and round the hook, but won't touch it. Haven't you got some
kind of sweet smelling oil or perfume to scent the bait with?
PISCATOR. I have some lavender-leaves, and if you will draw up the line, I
will rub the fly over with them, for fish love the smell of lavender. Try
him with that. Ah, I see him--a respectable fish. He is coming up toward
the hook; I think he will take it.
DISCIPULA. He stops and eyes it, as though he half suspected that it would
not be pleasant to the taste, for all its fair looks. But I'll have him,
in spite of his wits. You scrutinize too closely, Sir Pike! You had better
take it at once, without useless inspection. What a noble fellow! How
gracefully he moves through the water! I will make it float carelessly
away from him, dancing on the silver surface, as though it had just fallen
fresh from Heaven; and beside, distance lends enchantment. Ha! see him
make a dive at it! There you have it, Sir! and there I have you!
PISCATOR. Take care, or you'll be over! Hold hard, or he'll have _you_
too! Upon my word, I was afraid you would go overboard! You should not, in
your eagerness, lean out over the water so far. But you have got the
better of him, and now pull him into the boat and let me take him off.
DISCIPULA. I came near losing my balance; I thought I was gone! Lucky
escape!--but my heart beats yet.
PISCATOR. A fine fish. He has swallowed the bait whole; your large fish
always do. O! I don't know as I can take it out, without hurting him.
DISCIPULA. Poor fish! He does not look quite so spruce and independent as
he did a little while ago. Did your mouth water for that tempting fly. It
will never water again! What deep sighs heave his little breast! but they
will soon be over. Fix the bait, Mr. Piscator, and rub some more lavender
on it. I'll catch another, in less than a minute.
PISCATOR. It is done already. And this time, do not lean over so far, or
you will be in danger of being pulled in, by some fish of greater strength
than usual. Really, I think you are a good angler; you seem to possess the
skill by intuition. Is it not fine sport? I see by the increased flush and
light of your countenance, that you are of the same opinion. It is truly a
gentle, a feminine sport.
DISCIPULA. There is one with the beautifulest eyes, and covered all over
with gold and silver. But he is exceedingly shy. Come, Sir, if you are so
distant, I shall have to approach you myself. I desire a nearer
acquaintance with your beautiful eyes, and your gold and silver scales.
Oh! if you move off in that direction, I shall retire in this! Ah, you've
thought better of it, and are coming back. I knew you would. Observe, Mr.
Piscator, how he turns round and hesitates and doubts what to do. There is
no use in his deliberating; it is inevitable; he has got to do it. Now he
turns back. He seems to have made up his mind that he must have it at all
hazards. And see him shut his eyes and make a dash. I am afraid he finds
it unpalatable! Too rash! too rash! You should have considered better!
Take him off, master; he is nothing very great, after all.
PISCATOR. I see a large one, lying here at the left, deep in the water; of
the kind which we call sucker. It is his nature to lie perfectly still as
though asleep, and not to move till he is touched. Reach here the hook,
while I fasten some pieces of lead to it, enough to sink it; and then I
will tell you how to hook him.
DISCIPULA. I see! I know! I can do it myself, I will let the bait sink
gently down into the water, a little forward of him, thus. Ah, it fell
right on his back! He must be asleep, for he doesn't stir, nor seem to
notice it. Now then, a little forward of him; and so, slowly, softly,
float up toward his nose. He appears to be inspecting the fly; he sleeps
with his mouth wide open; as a natural history philosopher might examine a
butterfly; and since it is so closely presented, suppose you try the sense
of taste too, Sir! It is pleasant to the eye, you will find it also good
for food, and to be desired to make one wise. Allow it to fall
imperceptibly into your mouth; nay, you cannot judge of its merits from a
half trial, like that; it must be taken entirely in. Don't exert yourself,
in the least; another inspiration, and you are possessed. Ha! is it not
good?--is it not sweet? He must be very fond of it, he holds on to it so
hard! Astonished fish! he wakes up, and opens his eyes with wonder; there
is more in it than he dreamed of! Strait up to the light here, and show
your agitated countenance. Now please to open your lips, and disclose the
cause of all your sorrows, while kind Mr. Piscator extracts it.
PISCATOR. Well hooked! Indeed, scholar, it was well done of you. But the
heavens are becoming overcast; it threatens storm. Would it not be wise to
set out on our return?
DISCIPULA. Oh no, no! I can't think of going yet? 'Wise!' It seems to me
that it would be very foolish, while the lake contains so many more fish
as good as any that we have already caught.
PISCATOR. You do not expect to take them all?
DISCIPULA. All in this place; what should hinder?
PISCATOR. They will not bite for ever in the same place. They are a
cunning animal, and get frightened.
DISCIPULA. Then let us remove to another spot.
PISCATOR. That we might do, if there were time; but the sun is entirely
hidden by clouds, and is near his going down. We shall presently have a
thunder-storm. And then a stiff breeze from the south, which will waft us
speedily toward our landing place; had we not better begin to think of
leaving?
DISCIPULA. Wait till I catch one fish more; I had a nibble just then.
PISCATOR. You should handle your rod more gently. The wind blows up
fresher and fresher; it will be dark as pitch too, when night fairly comes
on. Shall we not spread our sails, and speed merrily homeward?
DISCIPULA. Well, as you will, master; though really I don't see any
occasion for all this hurry. Look at that fish! He rose almost to the
surface after my hook, and yet wouldn't take it. Oh, my poor fly! my poor
bait! See it, master! All faded and worn and torn, no painting or patching
can renew its comeliness! And there sticks out the hook, plain to view; a
blind fish might see it! Oh, my poor fly, that couldn't conceal the hook
any longer! Mr. Piscator, lend me your knife, while I cut the bait from
the line, rags, paint, iron and all, and throw it back into the water,
thus. Now then, little fish! silly fish! come all of you, and see what has
befooled you! What some of your tribe have swallowed because they thought
it was good, and some because they were careless, and others because they
were hungry and must have something! What many of ye have taken in, and
more have nibbled at, and all have gazed at, and admired and longed for!
Oh, rare sport have ye made me, foolish things! And longer would I have
played with you, but the evening comes on, and I must bid you a happy
farewell. So we are under way again, are we?
PISCATOR. We are again under way; and I have hope of reaching home before
yonder cloud comes over us. And trust me, when it does come, it will bring
more wind with it.
DISCIPULA. Once more on the open bosom of the lake! How the little black
angry waves dance up one after another, and roll past us toward the
northern shore. And see that dim hill at the other extremity of the pond,
how gigantic and broken it looks. Oh, Mr. Piscator, let's go and see it!
let's go and see it! And those high perpendicular rocks, that stand out so
boldly. Yes, yes, put up the helm! we'll go and see how they look in the
twilight.
PISCATOR. But my dear child, it will take an hour and a half longer to go
round by the rocks, and before that time, I fear the storm will increase.
DISCIPULA. Oh, never fear the storm. I'll risk it! And when we get up
there, we can take a short cut across to our port; so put up the
helm!--good Mr. Piscator, kind Mr. Piscator! do let us run up to the hill!
I can assure you there is no danger.
PISCATOR. I cannot well deny any thing that you ask of me; but much I
doubt, Mr. ----
DISCIPULA. Nay, nay, doubt nothing. We shall get home safe, trust me for
that. And that cloud, that you are so fearful of, is not coming over us,
at all; it is coming down on the other shore of the lake. Please, Mr.
Pilot, to keep in a little nearer the land, or we shall pass the rocks so
far out, that we shall not be able to see them with distinctness.
PISCATOR. A wilful woman must even have her own way. My child! you will
catch your death with cold, to take off your bonnet so!
DISCIPULA. I'm not afraid of it; I want to feel the air.
PISCATOR. And where are you going now?
DISCIPULA. Going to sit down in the bow of the boat. This view is much
finer! Oh, this is grand!
PISCATOR. But, good scholar! good scholar! you will certainly fall out
there! I believe you are crazy, you look so wild!
DISCIPULA. How the boat pitches over the little waves! And, Mr. Piscator,
direct the boat toward the shore, so as to make it rock more. The heavens
are all grey, and the waters are all black, and the wind is high and wild
in its sport like an imprisoned bird let loose. Oh master, spread the
other sail, and see if we can't fly faster! Here are the rocks so grim;
but it is growing dark, and I can only just make them out. Why, Mr.
Piscator, you are not going near enough! Run close in under them!
PISCATOR. I shall say to you plainly, what you ask is impossible. It would
be running an unwarrantable hazard; as indeed coming up here at all was
unwarrantable.
DISCIPULA. At least then, good master, keep along up at this distance, if
that pleases you best; for there is a bluff just ahead, which projects
farther out than the others, and we shall pass close by it.
PISCATOR. It is high time that we commenced our return in good earnest.
And therefore, scholar, for I must remind you that you are my scholar till
I see you safe ashore; therefore, if you please, you may stand by the sail
to tack.
DISCIPULA. But just look once, how boldly and sternly it lifts up its calm
front out of the boiling waters!
PISCATOR. It is without doubt, very fine; but it is impossible to hold on
a foot farther. So if you will stand by the sail----
DISCIPULA. I wish I had a boat of my own to sail out here alone in and go
where I choose! Well, what shall I do? how shall I go to work? Oh, Mr.
Piscator! honest Mr. Piscator! let me hold the helm while you take care of
the sails.
PISCATOR. Willingly, if your hand is strong enough. Try it; shall you be
able to hold it as it is?
DISCIPULA. With the greatest ease. Now then, are you ready? What are you
letting down the sail for? That three-cornered rag from the bow-sprit wont
be enough!
PISCATOR. It would be unsafe to set the main-sail, and I think with this
breeze the fore-stay-sail will drive us sufficiently fast.
DISCIPULA. Well, suit yourself. Now are you ready?
PISCATOR. Ready, certainly, when I take the helm. But what are you doing?
If you undertake to let the skiff fall off before the wind you will upset
us, as sure as----
DISCIPULA. Just see if I do. Let me hold the helm. Oh yes, let me!
PISCATOR. But scholar! good scholar! dear scholar!
DISCIPULA. No, no, I wont give it up! you can't have it! Honest Mr.
Piscator, let me steer the boat, only a little way! Oh, but I will; and
there is no use in your trying to prevent me. See there now, haven't we
come round to our course in good style?
PISCATOR. A taste of power to those who are unaccustomed to it is always
dangerous, and I blame myself for permitting you to usurp the post of
pilot. Though, as you seem determined to maintain it, I cannot choose but
to sit down here quietly, and trust our lives to your skill. My life
indeed! But yours? Seriously now, my fair young lady, would it not be
wiser----
DISCIPULA. Seriously now, my careful master, I don't think it would. Why,
what would you have? Are we not skimming over the waves like a sea-bird
free? And see those two birds, how they dash by us, and wheel round over
us, and breast the gale! Oh master! wouldn't you like to be a sea-bird,
and swing sideways, with your face to the wind that almost took your
breath away, swing down, down, glance against the water, then on the other
side, swing up, up? And wouldn't it be sweet too to struggle your way up
through the storm, high over that cloud yonder, with the thunder on its
inside and the lightning on its out--then fold your wings, close your
eyes, and fall calmly down on to its dark, soft, bosom? Oh, wouldn't it be
sweet?
PISCATOR. My dear scholar, our landing place lies here, toward the
north-east, and you are running directly north.
DISCIPULA. Don't be under any apprehensions; I am only going to run out
half a mile farther, that we may get before the wind, and then we'll scud
straight toward home. And beside, we rock more, going in this direction. I
wish it would blow harder, and make more swell! You know now, Mr.
Piscator, how a wild swan feels when he sits on the water and is buoyed up
on the heaving wave, and in a breath sinks into the black abyss. If I were
a wild swan I would go to sleep and let the winds blow and the waters
heave! How the boat careens over and plunges down when the blast whistles
against the masts! Drive on! Drive on! my light gallant bark! Oh, my
master! shall I sing you a song? a little song of the sea? a pirate song?
PISCATOR. You look at this present moment as if you might sing a pirate
song, or be a pirate yourself. I observe that since you have taken off
your bonnet, the wind has somewhat disarranged your hair.
DISCIPULA. Wouldn't you like to be a pirate, though? I would; and roam
over the ocean at my own free will; and through the storm and spray, and
lightning-glances of the wild midnight, dash on my fleeing victim like the
eagle on his prey! All hands on deck to get on more sail! Stand by to
unfurl the main-sail to the tempest!
PISCATOR. Will it please you, my fair pilot, to inform me whither you are
taking us?
DISCIPULA. I am going to run into that cloud yonder; the one before us,
with the thunder on its inside and the lightning on its out.
PISCATOR. What you call a cloud appears to me to be a hill, that rises a
few rods back from the shore.
DISCIPULA. Oh, it's a cloud--a cloud! And there is a star that glimmers
through it.
PISCATOR. I see nothing but the twinkling of a taper, from the window of
some dwelling.
DISCIPULA. I tell you it's a star--a star! The cloud has settled down into
the water like a mountain; and through its base penetrates a tunnel,
through which the ray of that star comes--a long, straight cavern, arched
overhead and on either side by wreathed and rolling pillars of smoke. I'll
put up the helm and run into it! Bear up! bear up! bear stoutly up, my
brave, bold bark! and plunge forward like the horse into the smoke of
battle, through this path to the subterranean abodes!
PISCATOR. Let me take the tiller! Let it go! Put it around quick then; you
are running on the beach!
DISCIPULA. Why don't you see we are just entering the dark mouth of the
tunnel? We shall soon be into it.
PISCATOR. Hark! here it comes! Now hold hard, for there we are, grounded
and staved!
DISCIPULA. Tartarian rocks and whirlpools!
PISCATOR. Quick! ashore! The boat is going to pieces!
DISCIPULA. Ha! ha! ha! Was it well done, my master? was it well done?
PISCATOR. It _was_ well done, you little water-witch!