Hen, as Giraffe asked him to "step aft, and hand me that pair of
binoculars, so I can take an observation."

"What about?" asked Thad.

"Why, they want to abolish some of these old terms that are just a part
of sea-faring life. For instance they say that when the man at the
wheel is told to 'port your helm,' it takes just the fraction of a
second for it to pass through his mind that that means 'turn your helm
to the left.' And so they say in our navy after this the officer will
callout: 'Turn your helm to the left, Jack!' Whew! that must rile every
old jack tar, though. It's like taking the seasoning out of the mince
meat."

"Don't you believe it'll ever pass," asserted Bumpus, indignantly; "and
just after I've made up my mind to learn every one of this list so I can
rattle it off like I can already box the compass. No siree, every true
sailorman will rise up in arms against it. You can count on my vote in
favor of sticking to the old way. Nothing like the old things, say!"

"'Cepting engines," interposed Step Hen, maliciously.

"Oh! well, I draw the line there, that's true," Bumpus admitted, with a
shrug of his fat shoulders, as his eyes unconsciously dropped, so that
he looked down into the depths of the lake, "a full mile deep," as he
always said to himself.

"Oh! I saw a fish then!" he suddenly shouted, showing new excitement.

"Get your hook and line, Bumpus, and mebbe we'll have fried speckled