We must now return to the cutter, which still remains at anchor off the
Point in Portsmouth harbour. It is a dark, murky, blowing day, with
gusts of rain, and thick fog. Mr Vanslyperken is more than usually
displeased, for, as he had to wait for the new boat which he had
demanded, he thought this a good opportunity of enlivening the bends of
the Yungfrau with a little black paint--not before it was required, most
certainly, for she was as rusty in appearance as if she had been built
of old iron. But paint fetched money; and as Mr Vanslyperken always
sold his, it was like parting with so much of his own property, when he
ordered up the paint-pots and brushes. Now the operation of beautifying
the Yungfrau had been commenced the day before, and the unexpected
change in the weather during the night had washed off the greater
portion of the paint, and there was not only all the trouble, but all
the expense, to be incurred again. No wonder that Mr Vanslyperken was
in a bad humour--not only in a bad humour, but in the very worst of
humours. He had made up his mind to go on shore to see his mother, and
was pacing the quarter-deck in his great coat, with his umbrella under
his arm, all ready to be unfurled as soon as he was on shore. He was
just about to order his boat to be manned: Mr Vanslyperken looked up at
the weather--the fog was still thick, and the rain fell. You could not
even make out the houses on the Point. The wind had gone down
considerably. Mr Vanslyperken looked over the gunwale--the damage was
even greater than he thought. He looked over the stern, there was the
stage still hanging where the painters had been standing or sitting,
and, what was too bad, there was a pot of paint, with the brush in it,
half full of rain-water, which some negligent person had left there.
Mr Vanslyperken turned forward to call somebody to take the paint
below, but the decks were empty, and it was growing dark. A sudden
thought, instigated no doubt by the devil, filled the brain of Mr
Vanslyperken. It was a glorious, golden opportunity, not to be lost.
He walked forward, and went down into his cabin again, where he found
Smallbones helping himself to biscuit, for the lad was hungry, as well
he might be; but on this occasion Mr Vanslyperken took no notice.
"Smallbones," said he, "one of the men has left his paint-pot on the
stage, under the stern: go and bring it in immediately."
"Yes, sir," replied Smallbones, surprised at the unusually quiet style
of his master's address to him.
Smallbones ran up the ladder, went aft, and slid down by the rope which
held the plank used as a stage by the painters. Mr Vanslyperken seized
his carving-knife, and following softly on deck, went aft. He took a
hurried look forward--there was no one on deck. For a moment he
hesitated at the crime: he observed the starboard rope shake, for
Smallbones was just about to shin up again. The devil prevailed. Mr
Vanslyperken sawed through the rope, heard the splash of the lad in the
water, and, frightened at his own guilt, ran down below, and gained his
cabin. There he seated himself, trembling like an aspen leaf. It was
the first time that he had been a _murderer_. He was pale as ashes. He
felt sick, and he staggered to his cupboard, poured out a tumbler of
scheedam, and drank it off at a draught. This recovered him, and he
again felt brave. He returned on deck, and ordered his boat to be
manned, which was presently done. Mr Vanslyperken would have given the
world to have gone aft, and to have looked over the stern, but he dared
not; so, pushing the men into the boat, he slipped in, and was pulled on
shore. Without giving any directions to the men he stepped out, and
felt a relief when he found himself on _terra firma_. He walked away as
fast as he could--he felt that he could not walk fast enough--he was
anxious to arrive at his mother's. The rain fell fast, but he thought
not of his umbrella: it remained under his arm: and Mr Vanslyperken, as
if he were chased by a fiend, pushed on through the fog and rain; he
wanted to meet a congenial soul, one who would encourage, console him,
ridicule his fears, and applaud the deed which he would just then have
given the world to have recalled.
Where could he seek one more fitted to his purpose than his mother? The
door of the house where she lodged was common to many, and therefore
opened with a latch, he went in and up-stairs, tried the door of his
mother's room, and found it fastened within. He knocked, heard the
grumbling of the old woman at her being obliged to rise from her chair:
she opened the door, and Vanslyperken, as soon as he was in, slammed it
to, and, exhausted with his emotions, fell back in a chair.
"Hey-day! and what's the matter now?" cried the old woman, in Dutch;
"one would think that you had been waylaid, robbed, and almost
murdered."
"Murdered!" stammered Vanslyperken; "yes--it was murder."
"What was murder, my child?" replied the old woman reseating herself.
"Did I say murder, mother?" said Vanslyperken, wiping the blended rain
and perspiration from his brow with a cotton handkerchief.
"Yes, you did, Cornelius Vanslyperken; not that I believe a craven like
you would ever attempt such a thing."
"But I have, mother. I have done the deed," replied Vanslyperken.
"You have!" cried his mother; "then at last you have done something, and
I shall respect you. Come, come, child, cheer up, and tell me all about
it. There is a slight twinge the first time--but the second is nothing.
Did you get gold? Heh, my son, plenty of gold?"
"Gold! no, no--I got nothing--indeed, I lost by it--lost a pot full of
black paint--but never mind that. He's gone," replied Vanslyperken,
recovering himself fast.
"Who is gone?"
"The lad, Smallbones."
"Pish!" replied the old woman, rocking her chair. "Ay, well, never
mind--it was for revenge, then--that's sweet--very sweet. Now,
Cornelius, tell me all about it."
Vanslyperken, encouraged by the sympathy, if we may use the term, shown
by his mother, narrated what he had done.
"Well, well, child, 'tis a beginning," replied the old woman, "and I'll
not call you craven again."
"I must go back," said Vanslyperken, starting up from his chair.
"Go, child, it is late--and dream over it. Vengeance is sweet, even in
sleep. I have had mine--and for years have I dwelt on it--and shall for
years to come. I shall not die yet--no, no."
Vanslyperken quitted the house; the weather had cleared up, the breeze
was fresh and piercing, and the stars twinkled every now and then, as
the wild scud which flew across the heavens admitted them to view.
Vanslyperken walked fast--he started at the least sound--he hurried by
every one whom he met, as if fearful to be recognised--he felt relieved
when he had gained the streets of Portsmouth, and he at last arrived at
the Point; but there was no cutter's boat, for he had given no orders.
He was therefore obliged to hire one to go on board. The old man whom
he engaged shoved into the stream; the tide was running in rapidly.
"A cold night, sir," observed the man.
"Yes," replied Vanslyperken, mechanically.
"And a strong tide, with the wind to back it. He'd have but a poor
chance who fell overboard such a night as this. The strongest swimmer,
without help, would be soon in eternity."
Vanslyperken shuddered. Where was Smallbones at this moment? and then,
the mention of eternity!
"Silence, man, silence!" said Vanslyperken.
"Hope no offence, Mr Lieutenant," replied the man, who knew who his
fare was.
The boat pulled alongside of the Yungfrau, and Vanslyperken paid his
unusual fare, and stepped on the deck. He went down below, and had the
precaution to summon Smallbones to bring lights aft. The word was
passed along the lower deck, and Vanslyperken sat down in the dark,
awaiting the report that Smallbones could not be found.
Snarleyyow went up to his master, and rubbed his cold nose against his
hand, and then, for the first time, it occurred to Vanslyperken, that in
his hurry to leave the vessel he had left the dog to the mercy of his
enemies. During the time that Vanslyperken waited for the report of the
lights, he passed over in his mind the untoward events which had taken
place--the loss of the widow's good-will, the loss of Corporal Van
Spitter, who was adrift in the Zuyder Zee, the loss of five thousand
pounds through the dog, and strange to say, what vexed him more, the
loss of the dog's eye; and when he thought of all these things, his
heart was elated, and he rejoiced in the death of Smallbones, and no
longer felt any compunction. But a light is coming aft, and
Vanslyperken is waiting the anticipated report. It is a solitary
purser's dip, as they are termed at sea, emitting but feeble rays; and
Vanslyperken's eyes are directed to the door of the cabin to see who
carries it. To his horror, his dismay, it is brought in by the drowned
Smallbones, who, with a cadaverous, and, as he supposes, unearthly face
and vacant look, drawls out, "It's a-blowed out twice, sir, with the
wind."
Vanslyperken started up, with his eyes glaring and fixed. There could
be no mistake. It was the apparition of the murdered lad, and he fell
back in a state of unconsciousness.
"You've a-got it this time," said Smallbones, chuckling as he bent over
the body of the lieutenant with his purser's dip, and perceived that he
was in a state of insensibility.
Had Mr Vanslyperken had the courage to look over the stern of the
cutter when he re-ascended on the deck, he would have discovered
Smallbones hanging on by the rudder chains; for had the fog not been so
thick, Mr Vanslyperken would have perceived that at the time that he
cut Smallbones adrift it was slack water, and the cutter was lying
across the harbour. Smallbones was not, therefore, carried away by the
tide, but being a very fair swimmer, had gained the rudder chains
without difficulty; but at the time that Smallbones was climbing up
again by the rope, he had perceived the blade of a carving knife working
at the rope, and was assured that Vanslyperken was attempting his life.
When he gained the rudder chains, he held, on. At first he thought of
calling for assistance; but hearing Vanslyperken order his boat to be
manned, the lad then resolved to wait a little longer, and allow his
master to think that he was drowned. The result was as Smallbones
intended. As soon as the lad saw the boat was out of hearing he called
out most lustily, and was heard by those on board, and rescued from his
cold immersion. He answered no questions which were put to him till he
had changed his clothing and recovered himself, and then with great
prudence summoned a council, composed of Short, Coble, and Jemmy Ducks,
to whom he narrated what had taken place. A long consultation
succeeded; and at last it was agreed that Smallbones should make his
appearance as he did, and future arrangements to be taken according to
circumstances.
As soon as Smallbones had ascertained the situation of his master, he
went forward and reported it to Dick Short, who with Coble came aft in
the cabin. Short looked at Vanslyperken.
"Conscience," said Short.
"And a damned bad un, too," replied Coble, hitching up his trousers.
"What's to be done, Short?"
"Nothing," replied Short.
"Just my idea," replied Coble; "let him come to if he pleases, or die
and be damned. Who cares?"
"Nobody," replied Short.
"My eyes, but he must have been frightened," said Smallbones; "for he
has left the key in the cupboard. I'll see what's in it for once and
away."
Snarleyyow, when Smallbones opened the cupboard, appeared to have an
intuitive idea that he was trespassing, so he walked out growling from
under the table: Short saluted him with a kick in the ribs, which tossed
him under the feet of Coble who gave him a second with his fisherman's
boots, and the dog howled, and ran out of the cabin. O, Mr
Vanslyperken! see what your favourite was brought to, because you did
not come to.
At this time Smallbones had his nose in the stone jar of scheedam--the
olfactory examination was favourable, so he put his mouth to it--the
labial essay still more so, so he took down a wine-glass, and, without
any ceremony, filled a bumper, and handed it to Coble.
"We'll drink to his recovery," said Obadiah, tossing off the contents.
"Yes," replied Short, who waited till the glass was refilled, and did
the same.
"Here's bad luck to him in his own good stuff," said Smallbones, tossing
off a third glass, and, filling it again, he handed it to Coble.
"Here's reformation to him," said Coble, draining the glass again.
"Yes," replied Short, taking the replenished vessel.
"Here's damn to him and his dog for ever and ever, Amen," cried
Smallbones, tippling off his second allowance.
"Who's there?" said Vanslyperken in a faint voice, opening his eyes with
a vacant look.
Smallbones replaced the bottle in the cupboard, and replied, "It's only
Smallbones, sir, and the mates, come to help you."
"Smallbones!" said Vanslyperken, still wandering. "Smallbones is
drowned--and the whole pot of black paint."
"Conscience," said Short.
"Carving-knife," rejoined Coble.
"Carving-knife!" said Vanslyperken, raising himself up; "I never said a
word about a carving-knife, did I? Who is it that I see? Short--and
Coble--help me up. I've had a sad fall. Where's Smallbones? Is he
alive--really alive?"
"I believe as how I bees," replied Smallbones.
Mr Vanslyperken had now recovered his perfect senses. He had been
raised on a chair, and was anxious to be rid of intruders, so he told
Short and Coble that he would now do very well, and they might go; upon
which, without saying a word, they both quitted the cabin.
Mr Vanslyperken collected himself--he wished to know how Smallbones had
been saved but still dared not broach the subject, as it would be
admitting his own guilt.
"What has happened, Smallbones?" said Vanslyperken "I still feel very
faint."
"Take a glass of this," replied Smallbones, opening the cupboard, and
bringing out the scheedam. He poured out a glass, which Vanslyperken
drank, and then observed, "How did you know what was in that cupboard,
sirrah?"
"Because you called for it when you were in your fits," replied
Smallbones.
"Called for scheedam?"
"Yes, sir, and said you had lost the carving-knife."
"Did I?" replied Vanslyperken, afraid that he had committed himself. "I
have been ill, very ill," continued he, putting his hand up to his
forehead. "By-the-bye, Smallbones, did you bring in that pot of paint?"
said Vanslyperken adroitly.
"No, sir, I didn't, because I tumbled overboard, pot and all," replied
Smallbones.
"Tumbled overboard! why, I did not leave the ship till afterwards, and I
heard nothing about it."
"No, sir, how could you?" replied Smallbones, who was all prepared for
this explanation, "when the tide swept me past the saluting battery in a
moment."
"Past the saluting battery!" exclaimed Vanslyperken; "why, how were you
saved?"
"Because, thanks to somebody, I be too light to sink. I went out to the
Nab buoy and a mile ayond it."
"The Nab buoy!" exclaimed Vanslyperken.
"Yes, and ayond it, afore the tide turned, and then I were swept back
again, and came into harbour again, just half an hour afore you come
aboard."
Mr Vanslyperken looked aghast; the lad must have had a charmed life.
Nine miles, at least; out to sea, and nine miles back again.
"It's as true as I stand here, sir," continued Smallbones; "I never were
so cold in all my life, a-floating about like a bit of duck-weed with
the tide, this way and that way."
"As true as you stand here!" repeated Vanslyperken; "but do you stand
here?" and he made a desperate grasp at the lad's arm to ascertain
whether he held substance or shadow.
"Can I do anything more, sir?" continued Smallbones; "for I should like
to turn in--I'm as cold as ice, even now."
"You may go," replied Vanslyperken, whose mind was again becoming
confused at what had passed. For some time the lieutenant sat in his
chair, trying to recollect and reason; but it was in vain--the shocks of
the day had been too great. He threw himself, dressed as he was, upon
his bed--never perceived the absence of his favourite--the candle was
allowed to burn itself to the socket, and Vanslyperken fell off into a
trance-like sleep.