"Stormy at Sea" is an American tall tale.

Two hundred or more years ago, a tsunami swept over the beaches of Cape Cod. When that giant wave rolled back, the people of Cape Cod sighed with relief. And then they heard the noise.

Some say it sounded like a foghorn; others say it sounded like every creature in the sea wailing at once. Everyone ran toward the beach, wondering what it was. There they saw a baby boy.

Except this was no ordinary baby. He was 18 feet tall, with a voice so loud it drowned out the wind. They named him Alfred Bulltop Stormalong, but everyone called him Stormy. Cape Codders grew accustomed to his size, but Stormy kept growing. After a while, he began to feel out of place because he couldn't fit anywhere.

Now folks referred to Boston as the "big city," and Stormy started thinking maybe that's where he belonged. When he turned 12, he was 36 feet tall; he waved farewell to Cape Cod and moved to Boston.

Trouble was, Boston didn't seem that big, so Stormy talked to some sailors in Boston Harbor about a life out at sea. They welcomed him aboard the ship Lady of the Sea. When they set sail, Stormy thought he'd finally found his home.

One day the sailors tried to pull up their anchor, but no matter how hard they pulled, that anchor wouldn't budge. Then they saw the problem. A gigantic octopus had wrapped its tentacles around the anchor.

"We're going under!" the sailors cried. "We're doomed!"

But Stormy dived into the sea. The terrified sailors heard wailing underwater, and the waves began to rise and swirl. Then, suddenly, the sea grew calm. Stormy swam to the surface, climbed on board, and, with a huge grin, told the sailors, "Took care of that octopus. I tied all of its tentacles into knots!"

After that day, every sailor wanted to sail with Stormy. Still, Stormy couldn't join the others on deck for parties; the ship just wasn't big enough. They had to keep a separate boat built especially for him. That's where he slept, alone.

One day Stormy told his fellow sailors he had to leave. "I'm heading west. I hear the West is big," and he tossed an oar over his shoulder.

"Where will you settle?" they asked.

"I'll walk until someone asks me what this thing over my shoulder is. Then I'll know I'm far enough away from the sea."

Stormy walked through forests, trudged across valleys and floated over rivers. One day he was walking past a field when a farmer called out, "Hey there, what's that on your shoulder?"

So Stormy settled there, in Kansas. He bought a farm and worked hard. His farm was a big success. But Stormy couldn't fit inside the other farmhouses, and he couldn't wedge himself inside the dance and meeting halls. Some nights he dreamed of the salty sea air.

Years passed, and one day Stormy showed up in Boston Harbor. When the sailors saw him, they whooped, "Stormy's home!" Stormy's heart swelled. But the sailors saw Stormy needed something to make him happy, so they helped him build a gigantic ship, big enough for his giant body and his giant heart.

That ship, the Courser, was the biggest, finest ship around, and whenever Stormy sailed, he was the happiest man alive. He traveled the world in that ship.

Once when they were sailing through the English Channel, between Calais and Dover, the ship got stuck. "We're too big," the sailors cried. Stormy told every one of his thousand crew members to swab the sides of the Courser with soap, and when the wind caught the sails, they slipped on through.

Since that day, the cliffs of Dover have been white as foam and the sea beneath those cliffs is foamy with suds.

But the time came when steamships appeared and the Yankee Clippers vanished. Sailors like Stormy became history. His last great voyage ended when he raced an English steamship from Liverpool to Boston. A hurricane-strength wind helped the Courser pass the steamship as they sailed into the harbor, but the gale split the sails and snapped the masts. The great lifeless body of Stormy slumped over the pilot's wheel.

They say that at Stormy's funeral, 500 sailors carried his coffin to the sea.

After Stormy's death, sailors began to add the letters "A.B.S." to the ends of their names. A lot of folks think A.B.S. stands for Able Bodied Seaman, but the sailors of Massachusetts know it stands for Alfred Bulltop Stormalong.