Did ye ever see that word in Johnson? inquired Gurney.
Whos Johnson? said Scroggles, contemptuously.
Wot, dont ye know who Johnson is? cried Gurney, in surprise.
In course I dont; how should I? retorted Scroggles. Theres ever so many Johnsons in the world; which on em all do you mean?
Why, I mean Johnson wot wrote the dikshnarythe great lexikragofer.
Oh, its him you mean, is it? In course Ive knowed him ever since I wos at school.
A general laugh interrupted the speaker.
At school! cried Nickel Sling, who approached the group at that moment with a carving knife in his handhe seldom went anywhere without an instrument of office in his handAt school! Wal now, that beats creation. If ye wos, Im sartin ye only larned to forgit all ye orter to have remembered. Id take a bet now, ye wosnt at school as long as Ive been settin on this here windlass.
Yer about right, Sling, it ud be unpossible for me to be as long as you anywhere, cause everybody knows Im only five fut two, whereas youre six fut four!
Hear, hear! shouted Dick Barnesa man with a huge black beard, who the reader may perhaps remember was the first to raise the oil. Itll be long before you make another joke like that, Gurney. Come, now, give us a song, Gurney, do; theres the capns darter standin by the foremast, a-waitin to hear ye. Give us Long, long ago.
Ah! thats it, give us a song, cried the men. Come, theres a good fellow.
Well, its so long ago since I sung that song, shipmates, replied Gurney, that Ive bin and forgot it; but Tim Rokens knows it; wheres Rokens?
Hes in the watch below.
In sea parlance, the men whose turn it is to take rest after their long watch on deck are somewhat facetiously said to belong to the watch below.
Ah! thats a pity; so we cant have that ere partickler song. But Ill give ye another, if ye dont object.
No, no. All right; go ahead, Gurney! Is there a chorus to it?
Ay, in course there is. Wots a song without a chorus? Wots plum-duff without the plums? Wots a ship without a elm? Its my opinion, shipmates, that a song without a chorus is no better than it should be. Its wus nor nothin. It puts them wot listens in the blues an the man wot sings into the stewsan sarve him right. I wouldnt, no, I wouldnt give the fag-end o nothin mixed in bucket o salt water for a song without a chorusthats flat; so here goes.
Having delivered himself of these opinions in an extremely vigorous manner, and announced the fact that he was about to begin, Gurney cleared his throat and drew a number of violent puffs from his pipe in quick succession, in order to kindle that instrument into a glow which would last through the first verse and the commencement of the chorus. This he knew was sufficient, for the men, when once fairly started on the chorus, would infallibly go on to the end with or without his assistance, and would therefore afford him time for a few restorative whiffs.
It haint got no name, lads.
Never mind, Gurneyall rightfire away.
Oh, I once knowd a man as hadnt got a nose,
An this is how he come to hadnt
One cold winter night he went and got it froze
By the pain he was well-nigh maddend.
(Chorus.) Well-nigh maddend,
By the pain he was well-nigh maddend.
Next day it swoll up as big as my head,
An it turnd like a piece of putty;
It kivered up his mouth, oh, yes, so it did,
So he could not smoke his cutty.
(Chorus.) Smoke his cutty,
So he could not smoke his cutty.
Next day it grew black, and the next day blue,
An tough as a junk of leather;
(Oh! he yelled, so he did, fit to pierce ye through)
An then it fell off altogether!
(Chorus.) Fell off altogether,
An then it fell off altogether!
But the morial is wot youve now got to hear,
An its goodas sure as a gun;
An youll never forget it, my messmates dear,
For this song it haint got none!
(Chorus.) Haint got none,
For this song it haint got none!
The applause that followed this song was most enthusiastic, and evidently gratifying to Gurney, who assumed a modest deprecatory air as he proceeded to light his pipe, which had been allowed to go out at the third verse, the performer having become so engrossed in his subject as to have forgotten the interlude of puffs at that point.
Well sung, Gurney. Who made it? inquired Phil Briant, an Irishman, who, besides being a jack-of-all-trades and an able-bodied seaman, was at that time acting-assistant to the cook and steward, the lattera half Spaniard and half negro, of Californian extractionbeing unwell.
Im bound not to tell, replied Gurney, with a conscious air.
Ah, then, yer right, my boy, for its below the average entirely.
Come, Phil, none o yer chaff, cried Dick Barnes, that song desarves somethin arter it. Suppose now, Phil, that you wos to go below and fetch the bread-kid.
Couldnt do it, replied Phil, looking solemn, on no account wotiver.
Oh, nonsense, why not?
Cause its unpossible. Why, if I did, sure that surly compound o all sorts o human blood would pitch into me with the carvin-knife.
Who? Tarquin? cried Dick Barnes, naming the steward.
Ay, sure enough that sameTarquins his name, an its kuriously befittin the haythen, for of all the cross-grained mixtures o buffalo, bear, bandicoot, and crackadile I iver seed, hes out o sight
Did I hear any one mention my name? inquired the steward himself who came aft at that moment. He was a wild Spanish-like fellow, with a handsome-enough figure, and a swart countenance that might have been good-looking but for the thickish lips and nose and the bad temper that marked it. Since getting into the tropics, the sailors had modified their costumes considerably, and as each man had in some particular allowed himself a slight play of fancy, their appearance, when grouped together, was varied and picturesque. Most of them wore no shoes, and the caps of some were, to say the least, peculiar. Tarquin wore a broad-brimmed straw hat, with a conical crown, and a red silk sash tied round his waist.
Yes, Tarquin, replied Barnes, we wos engaged in makin free-an-easy remarks on you; and Phil Briant there gave us to understand that you wouldnt let us have the breadkid up. Now, its my opinion you aint goin to be so hard on us as that; you will let us have it up to comfort our hearts on this fine night, wont you?
The steward, whose green visage showed that he was too ill to enter into a dispute at that time, turned on his heel and walked aft, remarking that they might eat the bottom out o the ship, for all he cared.
There now, you misbemannered Patlander, go and get it, or well throw you overboard, cried Scroggles, twisting his long limbs awkwardly as he shifted his position on the windlass.
Now, then, shipmates, dont go for to ax it, said Briant, remaining immovable. Dont I know wots best for ye? Let me spaake to ye now. Did any of ye iver study midsin?
No! cried several with a laugh.
Sure I thought not, continued Phil, with a patronising air, or yed niver ask for the breadkid out o saisin. Now I was in the medical way meself wanceay, ye may laugh, but its thrueI wos prentice to a pothecary, an Ive mixed up more midsins than would pisen the whole popilation of owld Irelandbarrin the praists, av coorse. And didnt I hear the convarse o all the doctors in the place? And wasnt the word alwaysBe rigglar with yer mailsdont ait, avic, more nor three times a day, and not too much, now. Be sparin.
Hah! ye long-winded grampus, interrupted Dick Barnes, impatiently. An warnt the doctors right? Three times a day for sick folk, and six timesor morefor them wots well.
Hear, hear! cried the others, while two of them seized Briant by the neck, and thrust him forcibly towards the after-hatch. Bring up the kid, now; an if ye come without it, look out for squalls.
Och! worse luck, sighed the misused assistant, as he disappeared.
In a few minutes Phil returned with the kid, which was a species of tray filled with broken sea-biscuit, which, when afloat, goes by the name of bread.
This was eagerly seized, for the appetites of sailors are always sharp, except immediately after meals. A quantity of the broken biscuit was put into a strainer, and fried in whale-oil, and the men sat round the kid to enjoy their luxurious feast, and relate their adventuresall of which were more or less marvellous, and many of them undoubtedly true.
The more one travels in this world of ours, and the more one reads of the adventures of travellers upon whose narratives we can place implicit confidence, the more we find that men do not now require, as they did of old, to draw upon their imaginations for marvellous tales of wild, romantic adventure, in days gone by, travellers were few; foreign lands were almost unknown. Not many books were written; and of the few that were, very few were believed. In the present day men of undoubted truthfulness have roamed far and wide over the whole world, their books are numbered by hundreds, and much that was related by ancient travellers, but not believed, has now been fully corroborated. More than that, it is now known that men have every where received, as true, statements which modern discovery has proved to be false, and on the other hand they have often refused to believe what is now ascertained to be literally true.
We would suggest, in passing, that a lesson might be learned from this factnamely, that we ought to receive a statement in regard to a foreign land, not according to the probability or the improbability of the statement itself, but according to the credibility of him who makes it. Ailie Dunning had a trustful disposition; she acted on neither of the above principles. She believed all she heard, poor thing, and therefore had a head pretty well stored with mingled fact and nonsense.
While the men were engaged with their meal, Dr Hopley came on deck and found her leaning over the stern, looking down at the waves which shone with sparkling phosphorescent light. An almost imperceptible breeze had sprung up, and the way made by the vessel as she passed through the water was indicated by a stream of what appeared lambent blue flame.
Looking at the fish, Ailie, as usual? said the doctor as he came up. What are they saying to you to-night?
Im not looking at the fish, answered Ailie; Im looking at the fireno, not the fire; papa said it wasnt fire, but its so like it, I can scarcely call it anything else. What is it, doctor?
It is called phosphorescence, replied the doctor, leaning over the bulwarks, and looking down at the fiery serpent that seemed as if it clung to the ships rudder. But I dare say you dont know what that means. You know what fire-flies and glow-worms are?
Oh! yes; Ive often caught them.
Well, there are immense numbers of very small and very thin jelly-like creatures in the sea, so thin and so transparent that they can scarcely be observed in the water. These Medusae, as they are called, possess the power of emitting light similar to that of the fire-fly. In short, Ailie, they are the fire-flies and glow-worms of the ocean.
The child listened with wonder, and for some minutes remained silent. Before she could again speak, there occurred one of those incidents which are generally spoken of as most unexpected and sudden, but which, nevertheless, are the result of natural causes, and might have been prevented by means of a little care.
The wind, as we have said, was light, so light that it did not distend the sails; the boom of the spanker-sail hung over the stern, and the spanker-braces lay slack along the seat on which Ailie and the doctor knelt. A little gust of wind came: it was not stronga mere puff; but the man at the wheel was not attending to his duty: the puff, light as it was, caused the spanker to jibethat is to fly over from one side of the ship to the otherthe heavy boom passed close over the steersmans head as he cried, Look out! The braces tautened, and in so doing they hurled Dr Hopley violently to the deck, and tossed Ailie Dunning over the bulwarks into the sea.
It happened at that moment that Glynn Proctor chanced to step on deck.
Hallo! whats wrong? cried the youth, springing forward, catching the doctor by the coat, as he was about to spring overboard, and pulling him violently back, under the impression that he was deranged.
The doctor pointed to the sea, and, with a look of horror, gasped the word Ailie.
In an instant Glynn released his hold, plunged over the stern of the ship, and disappeared in the waves.
Chapter Seven.
The RescuePreparations for a Storm
It is impossible to convey by means of words an adequate idea of the terrible excitement and uproar that ensued on board the Red Eric after the events narrated in the last chapter. From those on deck who witnessed the accident there arose a cry so sharp, that it brought the whole crew from below in an instant. But there was no confusion. The men were well trained. Each individual knew his post, and whale-men are accustomed to a sudden and hasty summons. The peculiarity of the present one, it is true, told every man in an instant that something was wrong, but each mechanically sprang to his post, while one or two shouted to ascertain what had happened, or to explain.
But the moment Captain Dunnings voice was heard there was perfect silence.
Clear away the starboard-quarter-boat, he cried, in a deep, firm tone.
Ay, ay, sir.
Stand-by the fallslower away!
There was no occasion to urge the sailors; they sprang to the work with the fervid celerity of men who knew that life or death depended on their speed. In less time than it takes to relate, the boat was leaping over the long ocean swell, as it had never yet done in chase of the whale, and, in a few seconds, passed out of the little circle of light caused by the fires and into the gloom that surrounded the ship.
The wind had been gradually increasing during all these proceedings, and although no time had been lost, and the vessel had been immediately brought up into the wind, Ailie and Glynn were left struggling in the dark sea a long way behind ere the quarter-boat could be lowered; and now that it was fairly afloat, there was still the danger of its failing to hit the right direction of the objects of which it was in search.