“God bless the good Abbot of Ab-er-broth-ock!” they all said.
One calm summer day, a ship with a black flag happened to sail not far from the Inch-cape Rock. The ship belonged to a sea robber called Ralph the Rover; and she was a terror to all honest people both on sea and shore.
There was but little wind that day, and the sea was as smooth as glass. The ship stood almost still; there was hardly a breath of air to fill her sails.
Ralph the Rover was walking on the deck. He looked out upon the glassy sea. He saw the buoy floating above the Inchcape Rock. It looked like a big black speck upon the water. But the bell was not ringing that day. There were no waves to set it in motion.
“Boys!” cried Ralph the Rover; “put out the boat, and row me to the Inchcape Rock. We will play a trick on the old abbot.”
The boat was low-ered. Strong arms soon rowed it to the Inchcape Rock. Then the robber, with a heavy ax, broke the chain that held the buoy.
He cut the fas-ten-ings of the bell. It fell into the water. There was a gur-gling sound as it sank out of sight.
“The next one that comes this way will not bless the abbot,” said Ralph the Rover.
Soon a breeze sprang up, and the black ship sailed away. The sea robber laughed as he looked back and saw that there was nothing to mark the place of the hidden rock.
For many days, Ralph the Rover scoured the seas, and many were the ships that he plun-dered. At last he chanced to sail back toward the place from which he had started.
The wind had blown hard all day. The waves rolled high. The ship was moving swiftly. But in the evening the wind died away, and a thick fog came on.
Ralph the Rover walked the deck. He could not see where the ship was going. “If the fog would only clear away!” he said.
“I thought I heard the roar of breakers,” said the pilot. “We must be near the shore.”
“I cannot tell,” said Ralph the Rover; “but I think we are not far from the Inchcape Rock. I wish we could hear the good abbot’s bell.”
The next moment there was a great crash. “It is the Inchcape Rock!” the sailors cried, as the ship gave a lurch to one side, and began to sink.
“Oh, what a wretch am I!” cried Ralph the Rover. “This is what comes of the joke that I played on the good abbot!”
What was it that he heard as the waves rushed over him? Was it the abbot’s bell, ringing for him far down at the bottom of the sea?
WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT.
I. The city.
There was once a little boy whose name was Richard Whit’ting-ton; but everybody called him Dick. His father and mother had died when he was only a babe, and the people who had the care of him were very poor. Dick was not old enough to work, and so he had a hard time of it indeed. Sometimes he had no break-fast, and sometimes he had no dinner; and he was glad at any time to get a crust of bread or a drop of milk.