“It made me jump to hear the grunt that went through that crowd when he said this, but nobody asked any questions, and he went on.  ’This here Water-devil,’ said he, ’is about as big as six whales, and in shape very like an oyster without its shell, and he fastens himself to the rocks at the bottom with a million claws.  Right out of the middle of him there grows up a long arm that reaches to the top of the water, and at the end of this arm is a fist about the size of a yawl-boat, with fifty-two fingers to it, with each one of them covered with little suckers that will stick fast to anything—­iron, wood, stone, or flesh.  All that this Water-devil gets to eat is what happens to come swimmin’ or sailin’ along where he can reach it, and it doesn’t matter to him whether it’s a shark, or a porpoise, or a shipful of people, and when he takes a grab of anything, that thing never gets away.’

“About this time there were five or six men on their knees saying their prayers, such as they were, and a good many others looked as if they were just about to drop.

“‘Now, when this Water-devil gets hold of a ship,’ the old fellow went on, ’he don’t generally pull her straight down to the bottom, but holds on to it till he counts his claws, and sees that they are all fastened to the rocks; for if a good many of them wasn’t fastened he might pull himself loose, instead of pulling the ship down, and then he’d be a goner, for he’d be towed away, and like as not put in a museum.  But when he is satisfied that he is moored fast and strong, then he hauls on his arm, and down comes the ship, no matter how big she is.  As the ship is sinkin’ he turns her over, every now and then, keel uppermost, and gives her a shake, and when the people drop out, he sucks them into a sort of funnel, which is his mouth.’

“‘Does he count fast?’ asked one of the men, this being the first question that had been asked.

“‘I’ve heard,’ said the Portuguese, ’that he’s a rapid calculator, and the minute he’s got to his millionth claw, and finds it’s hooked tight and fast, he begins to haul down the ship.’”

At this point the marine stopped and glanced around at the little group.  The blacksmith’s wife and daughter had put down their work, and were gazing at him with an air of horrified curiosity.  The blacksmith held his pipe in his hand, and regarded the narrator with the steadiness and impassiveness of an anvil.  The school-master was listening with the greatest eagerness.  He was an enthusiast on Natural History and Mythology, and had written an article for a weekly paper on the reconciliation of the beasts of tradition with the fauna of to-day.  Mr. Harberry was not looking at the marine.  His eyes were fixed upon the school-master.

“Mr. Cardly,” said he, “did you ever read of an animal like that?”

“I cannot say that I have,” was his reply; “but it is certain that there are many strange creatures, especially in the sea, of which scientists are comparatively ignorant.”