On the crew of the Flora being treated to see _Othello_ at the
Portsmouth Theatre, Cassio's silly speech proved an exquisite relish to
the audience, where he apostrophizes heaven, "Forgive us our sins," and
endeavours to persuade his companion that he is sober. "Do not think,
gentlemen, I am drunk? this is my Ancient: this is my right hand, and
this is my left hand: I am not drunk now." "No, not _you_," roared a
Jack, who no doubt would have been a willing witness in Cassio's
defence, had he been brought to the gangway for inebriety. "I can stand
well enough," continued the representative of Cassio. "Then, hang it!
why don't you walk the _plank_ at once, and prove yourself sober?"
vociferated a long-tailed wag, determined not to slip this opportunity
of having a shot on the sly at his first lieutenant, who had only a
night or two before put his perpendicularity to a similar test.
At the last scene the shouts became alarming; volleys of imprecations
were hurled at his head--his limbs--his life. "What!" said one of the
rudest of the crew, "can the black brute cut her lifelines? She's a
reg'lar-built angel, and as like my Bet as two peas."--"Ay," said a
messmate, "it all comes of being jealous, and that's all as one as mad;
but you know, if he's as good as his word, he's sure to be hanged,--
that's one comfort!" When the Moor seized her in bed by the throat,
Desdemona shrieking for permission to repeat but one short prayer, and
he rancorously exclaims, in attempting to strangle her, "It is too
late!" the house, as it is said a French audience had done ere now,
could endure no more; and the sailors rose in their places, giving the
most alarming indications of angry excitement, and of a determination to
mingle in the murderous scene below. "I'm ----, Dick, if I can stand it
any longer," said the spokesman of the gallery. "You're _no_ man, if you
can sit and look on quietly; hands off, you blood-thirsty niggar," he
vociferated, and threw himself over the side of the gallery in a
twinkling; clambering down by a pillar into the boxes, and scrambled
across the pit, over every person in his way, till he reached the noisy
boatswain's mate. Him he "challenged to the rescue," and exclaimed,
"Now's your time, Ned,--Pipe the boarders away--all hands,--! if you're
a man as _loves_ a woman. _Now_, go it," said he, and dashed furiously
over all obstacles,--fiddles, flutes, and fiddlers. Smash went the
foot-lights--Caesar had passed the Rubicon. The contagion of feeling
became general; and his trusty legions, fired with the ambition that
inspired their leader, followed, sweeping all before them, till the
whole male population of the theatre crowded the stage _en masse_, amid
shouts of encouragement, or shrieks of terror; outraging, by their
mistaken humanity, all the propriety of this touching drama; and, for
once, rescuing the gentle Desdemona from the deadly grasp of the
murderous Moor, who fled in full costume, dagger in hand, from the
house, and through the dark streets of Dock, until he reached his home
in a state of inconceivable affright. The scene of confusion which
followed, it would be fruitless to attempt to describe. All was riot and
uproar.--_Sailors and Saints._
* * * * *