"Loud roared the dreadful thunder."--Bay of Biscay.
The good ship Firefly tossed and tumbled on the mountainous waves of the
stormy sea, like a cork in a gutter; and when she could not stem the
waves, politically tried a little tergiversation, and went stern
foremost! The boatswain piped all hands, and poor Peter Simple piped his
eye; for the cry of the whole crew was, that they were all going to Davy
Jones's locker. The waves struck her so repeatedly, that at last she
appeared as ungovernable as a scold in a rage; and as she found she could
not, by any means, strike the storm in the wind, and so silence it, she
gave vent to her fury by striking upon a rock!
It was a hard alternative truly; but what could she do? The long boat
was soon alongside, and was not long before it was filled with tars and
salt-water. Alas! she was speedily swamped, and the crew were compelled
to swim for their lives. Peter, however, could not swim, but the sea
gave him a lift in his dilemma, and washed him clean ashore, where he lay
for some time like a veritable lump of salt-Peter! When the storm had
abated he came to himself, and of course found himself in no agreeable
company!
Sticking his cocked-hat on his head, and grasping his dirk in his hand,
he tottered to a rock, when, seating himself, he philosophically rocked
to and fro. "Oh! vy vos I a midshipman," cried he, "to be wrecked on
this desolate island? I vish I vos at home at Bloomsbury! Oh! that I
had but to turn and embrace my kind, good, benevolent, and much respected
grandmother." As he uttered this pathetic plaint, he heard a chatter--of
which, at first considering that it proceeded from his own teeth, he took
no notice--but the sounds being repeated, he turned his head, and beheld
a huge baboon with a dog-face and flowing hair, grinning with admiration
at his cocked hat.
One look was sufficient! he leaped from his seat, and rushed wildly
forward, threading a wood in his way, and turning in and out--in and out
--with the sharpness and facility of a needle in the heel of a worsted
stocking--he never stayed his flight, 'till he fell plump into the centre
of a group of Indians, who received him with a yell!--loud enough to
split the drums of a whole drawing-room full of ears polite.
He would have fallen headlong with fear and exhaustion upon the turf, had
not a gentle female caught the slender youth in her arms, and embraced
him with all the energetic affection of a boa-constrictor.
Peter trembled like a little inoffensive mouse in the claws of a tabby!
At the same time one of the Indians stepped forward, brandishing his
scalping knife.
He was the very prototype of an animated bronze Hercules; and, seizing
the poor middy's lank locks, with a peculiar twist, in his iron
grasp--Peter fainted!
PETER SIMPLE'S FOREIGN ADVENTURE. No. II.
"O! what a lost mutton am I!"--Inkle and Yarico.
Most luckily for poor Peter was it, that he fell into the hands, or
rather the arms, of the Indian maid; for she not only preserved his crop,
but his life. When he recovered from his swoon, he found himself seated
beside his preserver, who, with one arm round his waist, was holding a
cocoa-nut, filled with a refreshing beverage, to his parched and pallid
lips. A large fire blazed in the middle of the wide space occupied by
the Indians, and he beheld the well-known coats and jackets of the brave
crew of the Firefly scattered on the greensward.
His heart palpitated-he thought at first that the villainous Indians had
stripped them, and left them to wander in a state of nature through the
tangled and briery woods. He was, however, soon--too soon--convinced
that the savages had dressed them! Yes, that merry crew--who had so
often roasted him--had been roasted by the Indians!
From this awful fate the lovely Ootanga had preserved him. She had
suddenly conceived a violent affection for the young white-face; and,
after a long harangue to the chief, her father, his consent was obtained,
and the nuptials were celebrated.
"I smell a rat," said Peter--"I'm booked; but better booked than cooked,
at any rate;" and forthwith returned thanks to the company for the honour
they had conferred upon him, in the fashion of an after-dinner speech,
accompanied with as much pantomime as he could manage.
A dance and a feast followed, of which Peter partook; but whether rabbit,
squirrel, or monkey, formed the basis of his wedding-supper, he was not
naturalist enough to determine.
Ootanga's affection, however, was sufficient to make amends for anything;
she was, in truth, a most killing beauty, for she brought him tigers
slain by her own hands, and made a couch for him of the skins.
She caught rattlesnakes for him, and spitch-cooked them for his
breakfast. In fact, there was nothing she left undone to convince him of
her unbounded love.
Peter's heart, however, was untouched by all this show of tenderness; for
the fact is, he had already given his heart to a white-face in his own
country.
The only consolation he had in his forlorn situation was to talk of her
continually; and, as Ootanga understood not a syllable of what he
uttered, she naturally applied all his tender effusions to herself, and
laughed and grinned, and showed her white teeth, as if she would devour
her little husband.
Seated on a tiger skin, with his lawful spouse beside him, arrayed in
shells, bows, feathers, and all the adornments of a savage bride, he
still sighed for home, and plaintively exclaimed:--
"Here I am, married to the only daughter of the great chief, who would
have roasted me with the rest of our crew, had I not given a joyful
consent. Oh! I wonder if I ever shall get home, and be married to Miss
Wiggins!!!"
The lovely wide-mouthed Ootanga patted him fondly on the chin, and
dreamed in her ignorance that he was paying her a compliment in his
native language.