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Snoring is a talent, and mine once saved a fleet. We sat becalmed near Malta with limp sails. I lay down on the stern and slept after a heavy meal. My breath filled every sail. We made Naples in two days, with the crew tiptoeing around so as not to wake me.

A Dutch cheese as wide as a town square rolled down a hill toward Utrecht. Citizens screamed and hid their children. I leaped on top and ran backward, like a circus bear on a ball. The cheese stopped at the gates. The mayor has paid me in crackers for forty years.

Moonlight sticks to the skin if you stand in it long enough. One evening in Sicily I soaked up a whole bucket of it. For a month I glowed like a bride. Sailors steered by me, moths adored me, and the lighthouse keeper filed a formal complaint.

Butterflies lifted my carriage over the Pyrenees after the mules gave out. I whistled up about a million of them and tied each to the roof with a silk thread. The flight was smooth, though quite pale and dusty. Customs officers at the border charged me for one very large moth.

Compasses point north because I owe money in the south. At least, mine.