This consultation was held upon the forecastle of his Majesty's cutter
Yungfrau, on the evening after the punishment of Smallbones. The major
part of the crew attended; all but the Corporal Van Spitter, who, on
these points, was known to split with the crew, and his six marines, who
formed the corporal's tail, at which they were always to be found. The
principal personage was not the most eloquent speaker, for it was Dick
Short, who was supported by Obadiah Coble, Yack Jansen, and another
personage, whom we must introduce--the boatswain or boatswain's mate of
the cutter; for although he received the title of the former, he only
received the pay of the latter. This person's real name was James
Salisbury, but for reasons which will be explained, he was invariably
addressed or spoken of as Jemmy Ducks. He was indeed a very singular
variety of human discrepancy as to form: he was handsome in face, with a
manly countenance, fierce whiskers and long pigtail, which on him
appeared more than unusually long, as it descended to within a foot of
the deck. His shoulders were square, chest expanded, and, as far as
half-way down, that is, to where the legs are inserted into the human
frame, he was a fine, well-made, handsome, well-proportioned man. But
what a falling off was there!--for some reason, some accident it is
supposed, in his infancy, his legs had never grown in length since he
was three years old: they were stout as well as his body, but not more
than eighteen inches from the hip to the heel; and he consequently
waddled about a very ridiculous figure, for he was like a man _razeed_
or cut down. Put him on an eminence of a couple of feet, and not see
his legs, and you would say at a distance, "What a fine-looking sailor!"
but let him get down and walk up to you, and you would find that Nature
had not finished what she had so well begun, and that you are exactly
half mistaken. This malconformation below did not, however, affect his
strength--it rather added to it; and there were but few men in the ship
who would venture a wrestle with the boatswain, who was very
appropriately distinguished by the cognomen of Jemmy Ducks. Jemmy was a
sensible, merry fellow, and a good seaman: you could not affront him by
any jokes on his figure, for he would joke with you. He was indeed the
fiddle of the ship's company, and he always played the fiddle to them
when the danced, on which instrument he was no mean performer; and,
moreover, accompanied his voice with his instrument when he sang to them
after they were tired of dancing. We shall only observe that Jemmy was
a married man, and he had selected one of the tallest of the other sex:
of her beauty, the less that is said the better--Jemmy did not look to
that, or perhaps, at such a height, her face did not appear so plain to
him as it did to those who were more on a level with it. The effect of
perspective is well known, and even children now have as playthings,
castles, etcetera, laid down on card, which, when looked at in a proper
direction, appear just as correct as they do preposterous when lying
flat before you.
Now it happened that from the level that Jemmy looked up from to his
wife's face, her inharmonious features were all in harmony, and thus did
she appear--what is very advantageous in the marriage state--perfection
to her husband, without sufficient charms in the eyes of others to
induce them to seduce her from her liege lord. Moreover, let it be
recollected, that what Jemmy _wanted_ was _height_, and he had gained
what he required in his wife, if not in his own person: his wife was
passionately fond of him, and very jealous, which was not to be wondered
at, for, as she said, "There never was such a husband before or since."
We must now return to the conference, observing, that all these parties
were sitting down on the deck, and that Jemmy Ducks had his fiddle in
his hand, holding it with the body downwards like a base viol, for he
always played it in that way, and that he occasionally fingered the
strings, pinching them as you do a guitar, so as to send the sound of it
aft, that Mr Vanslyperken might suppose that they were all met for
mirth. Two or three had their eyes directed aft, that the appearance of
Corporal Van Spitter or the marines might be immediately perceived; for,
although the corporal was not a figure to slide into a conference
unperceived, it was well known that he was an eavesdropper.
"One thing's sartin," observed Coble, "that a dog's not an officer."
"No," replied Dick Short.
"He's not on the ship's books, so I can't see how it can be mutiny."
"No," rejoined Short.
"Mein Got--he is not a tog, he is te tyfel," observed Jansen.
"Who knows how he came into the cutter?"
"There's a queer story about that," said one of the men.
Tum tum, tumty tum--said the fiddle of Jemmy Ducks, as if it took part
in the conference.
"That poor boy will be killed if things go on this way: the skipper will
never be content till he has driven his soul out of his body--poor
creature; only look at him as he lies in his hammock."
"I never seed a Christian such an object," said one of the sailors.
"If the dog ain't killed, Bones will be, that's sartain," observed
Coble: "and I don't see why the preference should be given to a human
individual, although the dog is the skipper's dog--now then, what d'ye
say, my lads?"
Tum tum, tum tum, tumty tumty tum, replied the fiddle.
"Let's hang him at once."
"No," replied Short.
Jansen took out his snickerree, looked at Short, and made a motion with
the knife, as if passing it across the dog's throat.
"No," replied Short.
"Let's launch him overboard at night," said one of the men.
"But how is one to get the brute out of the cabin?" said Cobb; "if it's
done at all it must be done by day."
Short nodded his head.
"I will give him a launch the first opportunity," observed Jemmy Ducks,
"only--(continued he in a measured and lower tone)--I should first like
to know whether he really is a dog or _not_."
"A tog is a tog," observed Jansen.
"Yes," replied one of the forecastle men, "we all know dog is a dog, but
the question is--is _this_ dog a dog?"
Here there was a pause, which Jemmy Ducks filled up by again touching
the strings of his fiddle.
The fact was, that, although every one of the sailors wished the dog was
overboard, there was not one who wished to commit the deed, not on
account of the fear of its being discovered who was the party by Mr
Vanslyperken, but because there was a great deal of superstition among
them. It was considered unlucky to throw any dog or animal overboard;
but the strange stories told about the way in which Snarleyyow first
made his appearance in the vessel, added to the peculiarly diabolical
temper of the animal, had often been the theme of midnight conversation,
and many of them were convinced that it was an imp of Satan lent to
Vanslyperken, and that to injure or to attempt to destroy it would
infallibly be followed up with terrible consequences to the party, if
not to the vessel and all the crew. Even Short, Coble, and Jansen, who
were the boldest and leading men, although when their sympathies were
roused by the suffering of poor Smallbones they were anxious to revenge
him, had their own misgivings, and, on consideration, did not like to
have anything to do with the business. But each of them kept their
reflections to themselves, for, if they could not combat, they were too
proud to acknowledge them.
The reader will observe that all their plans were immediately put an end
to until this important question, and not a little difficult one, was
decided--Was the dog a dog?
Now, although the story had often been told, yet, as the crew of the
cutter had been paid off since the animal had been brought on board,
there was no man in the ship who could positively detail, from his own
knowledge, the facts connected with his first appearance--there was only
tradition, and to solve this question, to tradition they were obliged to
repair.
"Now, Bill Spurey," said Coble, "you know more about this matter than
any one, so just spin us the yarn, and then we shall be able to talk the
matter over soberly."
"Well," replied Bill Spurey, "you shall have it just as I got it word
for word, as near as I can recollect. You know I wasn't in the craft
when the thing came on board, but Joe Geary was, and it was one night
when we were boozing over a stiff glass at the new shop there, the
Orange Boven, as they call it, at the Pint of Portsmouth--and so, you
see, falling in with him, I wished to learn something about my new
skipper, and what sort of a chap I should have to deal with. When I
learnt all about _him_, I'd half-a-dozen minds to shove off again, but
then I was adrift, and so I thought better of it. It won't do to be so
nice in peace times, you know, my lads, when all the big ships are
rotting in Southampton and Cinque Port muds. Well, then, what he told
me I recollect as well--ay, every word of it--as it he had whispered it
into my ear but this minute. It was a blustering night, with a dirty
south-wester, and the chafing of the harbour waves was thrown up in
foams, which the winds swept up the street, they chasing one another as
if they were boys at play. It was about two bells in the middle watch,
and after our fifth glass, that Joe Geary said as this:--
"It was one dark winter's night when we were off the Texel, blowing
terribly, with the coast under our lee, clawing off under storm canvas,
and fighting with the elements for every inch of ground, a hand in the
chains, for we had nothing but the lead to trust to, and the vessel so
flogged by the waves, that he was lashed to the rigging, that he might
not be washed away; all of a sudden the wind came with a blast loud
enough for the last frump, and the waves roared till they were hoarser
than ever; away went the vessel's mast, although there was no more
canvas on it than a jib pocket-handkerchief, and the craft rolled and
tossed in the deep troughs for all the world like a wicked man dying in
despair; and then she was a wreck, with nothing to help us but God
Almighty, fast borne down upon the sands which the waters had disturbed,
and were dashing about until they themselves were weary of the load; and
all the seamen cried unto the Lord, as well they might.
"Now they say, that _he_ did not cry as they did, like men and
Christians, to Him who made them and the waters which surrounded and
threatened them; for Death was then in all his glory, and the foaming
crests of the waves were as plumes of feathers to his skeleton head
beneath them; but he cried like a child--and swore terribly as well as
cried--talking about his money, his dear money, and not caring about his
more precious soul.
"And the cutter was borne down, every wave pushing her with giant force
nearer and nearer to destruction, when the man at the chains shrieked
out--`Mark three, and the Lord have mercy on our souls!' and all the
crew, when they heard this, cried out--`Lord save us, or we perish!'
But still they thought that their time was come, for the breaking waves
were under their lee, and the yellow waters told them that, in a few
minutes, the vessel, and all who were on board, would be shivered in
fragments; and some wept and some prayed as they clung to the bulwarks
of the unguided vessel, and others in a few minutes thought over their
whole life, and waited for death in silence. But _he_, he did all; he
cried, and he prayed, and he swore, and he was silent, and at last he
became furious and frantic; and when the man said again and again, `The
Lord save us!' he roared out at last, `Will the _devil_ help us, for--'
In a moment, before these first words were out of his mouth, there was a
flash of lightning, that appeared to strike the vessel, but it harmed
her not, neither did any thunder follow the flash; but a ball of blue
flame pitched upon the knight heads, and then came bounding and dancing
aft to the taffrail, where _he_ stood alone, for the men had left him to
blaspheme by himself. Some say he was heard to speak, as if in
conversation, but no one knows what passed. Be it as it may, on a
sudden he walked forward as brave as he could be, and was followed by
this creature, who carried his head and tail slouching as he does now.
"And the dog looked up and gave one deep bark, and as soon as he had
barked the wind appeared to lull--he barked again twice, and there was a
dead calm--he barked again thrice, and the seas went down--and he patted
the dog on the head, and the animal then bayed loud for a minute or two,
and then, to the astonishment and fear of all, instead of the vessel
being within a cable's length of the Texel sands in a heavy gale, and
without hope, the Foreland lights were but two miles on our beam with a
clear sky and smooth water."
The seaman finished his legend, and there was a dead silence for a
minute or two, broken first by Jansen, who in a low voice said, "Then te
tog is not a tog."
"No," replied Cobb, "an imp sent by the devil to his follower in
distress."
"Yes," said. Short.
"Well, but," said Jemmy Ducks, who for some time had left off touching
the strings of his fiddle, "it would be the work of a good Christian to
kill the brute."
"It's not a mortal animal, Jemmy."
"True, I forgot that."
"Gifen by de tyfel," observed Jansen.
"Ay, and christened by him too," continued Coble. "Who ever heard any
Christian brute with such a damnable name?"
"Well, what's to be done?"
"Why," replied Jemmy Ducks, "at all events, imp o' Satan or not, that
here Smallbones fought him to-day with his own weapons."
"And beat him too," said. Coble.
"Yes," said Short.
"Now, it's my opinion, that Smallbones ar'nt afraid of him," continued
Jemmy Ducks, "and devil or no devil, he'll kill him, if he can."
"He's the proper person to do it," replied Coble; "the more so, as you
may say that he's his _natural_ enemy."
"Yes, mein Got, de poy is de man," said Jansen.
"We'll put him up to it at all events, as soon as he is out of his
hammock," rejoined Jemmy Ducks.
A little more conversation took place, and then it was carried
unanimously that Smallbones should destroy the animal, if it was
possible to destroy it.
The only party who was not consulted was Smallbones himself, who lay
fast asleep in his hammock. The consultation then broke _up_, and they
all went below.