The Hunting of a Lobster

Fronds, meanwhile, leaving a loaded gun with me, went along the rough coast to see while they be on the stream. This fatiguing sort of walk, not suiting, earnest fancy, he sauntered down to the beach, and jacks scrambled among the rocks, searching for shellfish. I was anxious to land the two casks, which were floating alongside our boat, but on its hunting to do so. As I did so, I was startled by hearing Jack shouting for help, as though in great danger. The little fellow stood screaming in a deep pool, and as I approached I saw that a huge lobster had caught his leg in its powerful claw. Poor Jack