After that he lived on a farm. But Scuppers, born at sea, was a sailor. And when he grew up, he wanted to go to sea.
So he went to look for something to go in.
He found a little submarine. “All aboard!” they called. It was going down under the sea. But Scuppers did not want to go under the sea.
He found a little car.
“All aboard!” they called. It was going over the land. But Scuppers did not want to go over the land.
Scuppers was a sailor. He wanted to go to sea.
So Scuppers went over the hills and far away until he came to the sea.
Over the hills and far away was the ocean. And on the ocean was a ship. The ship was about to go over the sea. It blew all its whistles.
“All aboard!” they called.
“All ashore that are going ashore!”
“All aboard!”
So Scuppers went to sea.
The ship began to move slowly along. The wind blew it.
In his ship Scuppers had a little room. In his room Scuppers had a hook for his hat and hook for his rope and a hook for his handkerchief and a hook for his pants and a hook for his spyglass and a place for his shoes and a bunk for a bed to put himself in.
At night Scuppers threw the anchor into the sea, and he went down to his little room.
He put his hat on the hook for his hat, and his rope on the hook for his rope, and his pants on the hook for his pants, and his spyglass hook for his spyglass, and he put his shoes under the bed and got into his bed, which was a bunk, and went to sleep.
Next morning he was shipwrecked.
Too big a storm blew out of the sky. The anchor dragged, and the ship crashed onto the rocks. There was a big hole in it.
Scuppers himself was washed overboard and hurled by huge waves onto the shore.
He was washed up onto the beach. It was foggy and rainy. There were no houses, and Scuppers needed a house.
But on the beach was lots and lots of driftwood, and he found an old rusty box stuck in the sand.
Maybe it was a treasure!
It was a treasure—to Scuppers.
It was an old-fashioned tool box with hammers and nails and an ax and a saw. Everything he needed to build himself a house. So Scuppers started to build a house, all by himself, out of driftwood.
He built a door and a window and a roof and a porch and a floor, all out of driftwood.
And he found some red bricks and built a big red chimney. And then he lit a fire, and the smoke went up the chimney.
Then the stars came out, and he was sleepy. So he built a bed of pine branches.
And he jumped into his deep green bed and went to sleep. As he slept he dreamed—
If he could build a house, he could mend the hole in the ship.
So the next day at low tide he took his tool box and waded out and hammered planks across the hole in his ship.
At last the ship was fixed.
So he sailed away.
Until he came to a seaport in a foreign land.
By now his clothes were all worn and ripped and torn and blown to pieces. His coat was torn, his hat was blown away, and his shoes were all worn out. And his handkerchief was ripped. Only his pants were still good.
So he went ashore to buy some clothes at the Army and Navy Store. And some fresh oranges. He bought a coat. He found a red one too small. He found a blue one just right. It had brass buttons on it.
Then he went to buy a hat. He found a purple one too silly. He found a white one just right.
He needed new shoes. He found some yellow ones too small. He found some red ones too fancy. Then he found some white ones just right.
Here he is with his new hat on, and with his new shoes on, and with his new coat on, with his shiny brass buttons. (He has a can of polish and a cloth to keep them shiny.)
And he has a new clean handkerchief, and a new rope, and a bushel of oranges.
And now Scuppers wants to go back to his ship. So he goes there.
And at night when the stars came out, he took one last look through his spyglass. And went down below to his little room, and he hung his new hat on the hook for his hat, and he hung his spyglass hook for his spyglass, and he hung his new coat on the hook for his coat, and his new handkerchief on the hook for his handkerchief, and his pants on the hook for his pants, and his new rope on the hook for his rope, and his new shoes he put under his bunk, and himself he put in his bunk.
And here he is where he wants to be— a sailor sailing the deep green sea.
HIS SONG
I am Scuppers the Sailor Dog—
I’m Scuppers the Sailor Dog—
I can sail in a gale
right over a whale
under full sail
in a fog.
I am Scuppers the Sailor Dog—
I’m Scuppers the Sailor Dog—
with a shake and a snort
I can sail into port
under full sail
in a fog.
