The crocodile did not live, so I was put into its tank, and that was the “bed” the sailors had made, by filling it with salt water.  Shade of my royal grandfathers! how long I could live in such pinching quarters was a question.

I was given plenty of herring—­so called—­and other kinds of fish to eat, and “Folks” visited me about every hour of the day.  There were children on the steamer, pretty little dears, that never tired of talking to me, and between them all, passengers, sailors, and the children, I learned how Folks talked, and a great many other things besides.

One fine, manly little fellow visited me constantly.  He was voyaging for his health, and took much pleasure in sitting beside the tank, book in hand, yet watching my movements, and once he said something that made me wish I could talk in the language of Folks.  Yet before I tell what it was, I want to say that there was one thing I did not like at all, but was not able to let the Folks know it.

The sailors called me “Dolly!” A great name to give a lord of the sea, a fellow bearing the title I owned!

The next morning after my capture, a really fine Jack—­sailors are all “Jack,” you know—­came rolling toward my tank, and sang out in sea-breezy fashion: 

“Hulloo, Dolly-me-dear, how do you find yourself to-day?”

I liked his hearty manner and cheery voice, but, dear me, I was “Dolly” to every man-Jack on board after that, and to all the others as well.

So this dear little man once said to me: 

“Oh, Dolly, how I wish you could tell me about things under the sea!  I know if you could only talk my way, you could tell stories by the hour, and what pleasure it would be to listen.”

“Stories, indeed, my pretty,” I thought, and I did wish I could open my wide mouth and entertain the little fellow with a few sea yarns.  And now that in some way I can make Folks understand me, I only hope that my young steamer friend, among others, will see and enjoy Lord Dolphin’s story.

Then the lady-Folks were fine, with their pretty dresses, nice manners, and soft voices.  But I did so like the children!  One cute little nymph of a girl was crazy to get near me, yet nearly scared to pieces if I so much as looked at her.  Oh, she was so fair to see, with her golden hair flying back in the breeze, eyes blue as the sky, and her sweet, dimpled face full of smiles!

She would come running up to the tank with a great show of courage, crying bravely:  “Hi, old Mister Dolly!  I’se goin’ a-put your great eye out!” But when the eye half-looked at her, off she would scud, and all I could see was a mass of flying yellow hair, a whisking of snowy skirts, and my little nymph was gone.

[Illustration:  “One cute little nymph of A girl was crazy to get near me”]

A dozen times a day she would appear, and as long as I remained under water, she would hover near.  There was a railing around the tank, which was sunk in, lower than the deck, so she could not fall in, nor could I possibly get out, but as soon as my head began rearing above the water, scoot! little Amy was missing.