human
When the _Mailfast_ burned the sea was calm; but in six hours a sudden gale came up and drove the two boats into the southwest. They wasn't provisioned or watered for a long v'y'ge, and they had to run for it a full week, ev'ry mile reeled off takin' them further an' further from the islands, and further and further off the reg'lar course of shipping.
gpt
Where'd they wind up at, Cap'n Am'zon?
human
Couldn't hit nothin' nearer'n the Guineas on that course,
gpt
There you're wrong, the substitute storekeeper said.
human
They struck seaweed--acres an' acres of it--square miles of it--everlastin' seaweed!
gpt
Sargasso Sea! exploded Washy Gallup, wagging his toothless jaw.
human
I swanny!
gpt
I've heard about that place, but never seen it,
human
And you don't want to, declared the narrator of the incident.
gpt
It ain't a place into which no sailorman wants to venture. The _Mailfast's_ comp'ny--so 'tis said--was driven far into the pulpy, grassy sea. The miles of weed wrapped 'em around like a blanket. They couldn't row because the weed fouled the oars; and they couldn't sail 'cause the weed was so heavy. But there's a drift they say, or a suction, or something that gradually draws a boat toward the middle of the field.
human
Then, by golly! exclaimed Milt Baker,