of refreshment in the torrid air always experienced at sea near the
Equator when the sun is about to disappear. The men in the “crow’s
nests” were anxiously watching the declining orb, whose disappearance
would be the signal for their release from their tedious watch. But
to the chagrin of every foremast hand, before the sun had quite
reached the horizon, the officer up at the mainmast head, taking a
final comprehensive sweep with his glasses all around, raised the
thrilling cry of “Blo--o--o--o--w.” And despite the lateness of the
hour, in less than ten minutes four boats were being strenuously
driven in the direction of the just-sighted whale. Forgetting for
awhile their discontent at the prospect before them, the crews toiled
vigorously to reach their objective, although not a man of them but
would have rejoiced to lose sight of him. It was not so to be. At
another time he would probably have been startled by the clang of
the oars as they turned in the rowlocks, but now he seemed to have
lost his powers of apprehension, allowing us to come up with him
and harpoon him with comparative ease. The moment that he felt the
prick of the keen iron, all his slothfulness seemed to vanish, and
without giving one of the other boats a chance to get fast also,
he milled round to windward, and exerting all his vast strength,
rushed off into the night that came up to meet us like the opening
of some dim portal into the unknown. Some little time was consumed
in our preparations for the next stage of our proceedings, during
which the darkness came down upon us and shut us in with our prey,
blotting out our ship and the other boats from the stinted horizon
left to us, as if they had never been. By some oversight no compass
was in our boat, and, a rare occurrence in those latitudes, the sky
was overcast so that we could not see the stars. Also there was but
little wind, our swift transit at the will of the whale alone being
responsible for the breeze we felt. On, on we went in silence except
for the roar of the parted waters on either hand, and unable to see
anything but the spectral gleam ahead whenever the great mammal
broke water to spout. Presently the headlong rush through the gloom
began to tell upon everybody’s nerves, and we hoped, almost prayed
for a slackening of the relentless speed kept up by the monster we
had fastened ourselves to. The only man who appeared unmoved was the
second mate, who was in charge. He stood in the bows as if carved
in stone, one hand grasping his long lance and the other resting on
his hip, a stern figure whose only sign of life was his unconscious
balancing to the lively motion of the boat. Always a mystery to us
of the crew, he seemed much more so now, his inscrutable figure
dimly blotched against the gloom ahead, and all our lives in his
hand. For a year we had been in daily intercourse with him, yet we
felt that we knew no more of the man himself than on the first day
of our meeting. A strong, silent man, who never cursed us as the
others did, because his lightest word carried more weight than their
torrents of blasphemy, and withal a man who came as near the seaman’s
ideal of courage, resourcefulness, and tenacity as we could conceive
possible. Again and again, as we sped onwards through the dark, each
of us after his own fashion analysed that man’s character in a weary
purposeless round of confused thought, through the haze of which shot
with dread persistence the lurid phrase, “a lost boat.” How long we
had thus been driving blindly on none of us could tell--no doubt the
time appeared enormously prolonged--but when at last the ease-up came
we were all stiff with our long constraint of position. All, that
is, but Mr. Neville our chief, who, as if in broad day within a mile
of the ship, gave all the necessary orders for the attack. Again we
were baffled, for in spite of his unprecedented run the whale began
to sound. Down, down he went in hasteless determined fashion, never
pausing for an instant, though we kept all the strain on the line
that was possible, until the last flake of our 300 fathoms left the
tub, slithered through the harpooner’s fingers round the loggerhead,
and disappeared. Up flew the boat’s head with a shock that sent us
all flying in different directions, then all was silent. Only for
a minute. The calm grave tones of Mr. Neville broke the spell by
saying, “Make yourselves as comfortable as you can, lads, we can do
nothing till daylight but watch for the ship.” We made an almost
whispered response, and began our watch. But it was like trying
to peer through the walls of an unlit cellar, so closely did the
darkness hem us in. Presently down came the rain, followed by much
wind, until, notwithstanding the latitude, our teeth chattered with
cold. Of course we were in no danger from the sea, for except in the
rare hurricanes there is seldom any wind in those regions rising
to the force of a gale. But the night was very long. Nor did our
miserable anticipations tend to make our hard lot any easier.
So low did we feel that when at last the day dawned we could not
fully appreciate the significance of that heavenly sight. As the
darkness fled, however, hope revived, and eager eyes searched every
portion of the gradually lightening ring of blue of which we were
the tiny centre. Slowly, fatefully, the fact was driven home to
our hearts that what we had feared was come to pass; the ship was
nowhere to be seen. More than that, we all knew that in that most
unfrequented stretch of ocean months might pass without signs of
vessel of any kind. There were six pounds of biscuits in one keg and
three gallons of water in another, sufficient perhaps at utmost need
to keep the six of us alive for a week. We looked in one another’s
faces and saw the fear of death plainly inscribed; we looked at Mr.
Neville’s face and were strengthened. Speaking in his usual tones,
but with a curiously deeper inflexion in them, he gave orders for
the sail to be set, and making an approximate course by the sun,
we steered to the N.W. Even the consolation of movement was soon
denied us, for as the sun rose the wind sank, the sky overhead
cleared and the sea glazed. A biscuit each and half-a-pint of
water was served out to us and we made our first meal, not without
secretly endeavouring to calculate how many more still remained to
us. At Mr. Neville’s suggestion we sheltered ourselves as much as
possible from the fierce glare of the sun, and to keep off thirst
poured sea-water over one another at frequent intervals. Our worst
trial for the present was inaction, for a feverish desire to be
doing--something--no matter what, kept our nerves twitching and
tingling so that it was all we could do to keep still.
After an hour or two of almost unbroken silence Mr. Neville spoke,
huskily at first, but as he went on his voice rang mellow and
vibrant. “My lads,” he said, “such a position as ours has been
occupied many times in the history of the sea, as you all well
know. Of the scenes that have taken place when men are brought by
circumstances like these down from their high position in the scale
of Creation to the level of unreasoning animals, we need not speak;
unhappily such tragedies are too clearly present in the thoughts
of every one of us. But in the course of my life I have many times
considered the possibilities of some day being thus situated, and
have earnestly endeavoured to prepare myself for whatever it had in
store for me. We are all alike here, for the artificial differences
that obtain in the ordinary affairs of life have dropped away from
us, leaving us on the original plane of fellow-men. And my one hope
is, that although we be of different nationalities, and still more
widely different temperaments, we may all remember that so long as we
wrestle manfully with the beast that is crouching in every one of us,
we may go, if we must go, without shame before our God. For consider
how many of those who are safe on shore this day are groaning under a
burden of life too heavy to be borne, how many are seeking a refuge
from themselves by the most painful byways to death. I am persuaded,
and so are all of you, if you give it a thought, that death itself
is no evil; the anticipation of pain accompanying death is a malady
of the mind harder to bear by many degrees than physical torture.
What I dread is not the fact of having to die, although I love the
warm light, the glorious beauty of this world as much as a man may,
but that I may forget what I am, and disgrace my manhood by letting
myself slip back into the slough from which it has taken so many ages
to raise me. Don’t let us lose hope, although we need not expect a
miracle, but let each of us help the other to be a man. The fight
will be fierce but not long, and when it is won, although we may all
live many days after we shall not suffer. Another thing, perhaps
some of you don’t believe in any God, others believe mistily in
they know not what. For my part I believe in a Father-God from whom
we came and to whom we go. And I so think of Him that I am sure He
will do even for an atom like me that which is not only best for me
but best for the whole race of mankind as represented in me. He will
neither be cruel nor forget. Only I must endeavour to use the powers
of mind and body He has given me to the best advantage now that their
testing-time has come.”
With eyes that never left that calm strong face we all hung upon
his words as if we were absorbing in some mysterious way from them
courage to endure. Of the five of us, two were Scandinavians, a
Swede and a Dane, one, the harpooner, was an American negro, one was
a Scotchman, and myself, an Englishman. Mr. Neville himself was an
American of old Puritan stock. When he left speaking there was utter
silence, so that each could almost hear the beating of the other’s
heart. But in that silence every man of us felt the armour of a high
resolve encasing him, an exalting courage uplifting him, and making
his face to shine.
Again the voice of our friend broke the stillness, this time in a
stately song that none of us had ever heard before, “O rest in the
Lord!” From thenceforward he sang almost continually, even when his
lips grew parched with drought, although each of us tendered him
some of our scanty measure of water so that he might still cheer us.
Insensibly we leant upon him as the time dragged on, for we felt that
he was a very tower of strength to us. Five days and nights crept
away without any sign of change. Patience had become a habit with
us, and the scanty allowance of food and drink had so reduced our
vitality that we scarcely felt any pain. Indeed the first two days
were the worst. And now the doles became crumbs and drops, yet still
no anger, or peevishness even, showed itself. We could still smile
sanely and look upon each other kindly. Then a heavy downpour of
rain filled our water-breaker for us, giving us in the meantime some
copious draughts, which, although they were exquisitely refreshing
at the time, racked us with excruciating pains afterwards. The last
crumb went, and did not worry us by its going, for we had arrived by
easy stages at a physical and mental condition of acquiescence in the
steady approach of death that almost amounted to indifference. With a
strange exception; hearing and sight were most acute, and thought was
busy about a multitude of things, some of them the pettiest and most
trivial that could be imagined, and others of the most tremendous
import. Speech was difficult, impossible to some, but on the whole
we must have felt somewhat akin to the Hindu devotees who withdraw
themselves from mankind and endeavour to reduce the gross hamperings
of the flesh until they can enter into the conception of the unseen
verities that are about us on every side. What the mental wrestlings
of the others may have been they only knew; but to outward seeming we
had all been gently gliding down into peace.
The end drew near. Nothing occurred to stay its approach. No bird
or fish came near enough to be caught until we were all past making
an effort had one been needed. We had lost count of time, so that
I cannot say how long our solitude had lasted, when one brilliant
night as I lay in a state of semi-consciousness, looking up into the
glittering dome above, I felt a hand touch me. Slowly I turned my
head, and saw the face of the negro-harpooner, who lay by my side.
I dragged my heavy head close to his and heard him whisper, “I’m a
goin’ an I’m glad. What he said wuz true. It’s as easy as goin’ ter
sleep. So long.” And he went. What passed thereafter I do not know,
for as peacefully as a tired man settles himself down into the cosy
embrace of a comfortable bed, heaving a sigh of utter content as
the embracing rest relaxes the tension of muscles and brain, I too
slipped down into dreamless slumber.
I awoke in bitter pain, gnawing aches that left no inch of my body
unwrung. And my first taste of life’s return gave me a fierce feeling
of resentment that it would all have to be gone through again.
I felt no gratitude for life spared. That very night of my last
consciousness the whaler that rescued us must have been within a few
miles, for when we were sighted from her crow’s-nest at daybreak we
were so near that they could distinguish the bodies without glasses.
There were only three of us still alive, the fortunate ones who
had gone to their rest being Mr. Neville, the harpooner, and the
Swede. The rescuers said that except for the emaciated condition
of our bodies we all looked like sleepers. There were no signs of
pain or struggle. It was nearly two months before we who had thus
been brought back to a life of care and toil were able to resume
it, owing to our long cramped position as much as to our lack of
strength. I believe, too, that we were very slow in regaining that
natural will-to-live which is part of the animal equipment, and so
necessary to keep off the constant advances of death. And, like me,
my companions both felt that they could not be grateful for being
dragged back to life again.
BENEATH THE SURFACE
While the whaler to which I belonged was lying at Honolulu I one
day went ashore for a long ramble out of sight and hearing of the
numerous questionable amusements of the town, and late in the
afternoon found myself several miles to the southward of it. Emerging
from the tangled pathway through which I had been struggling with the
luxuriant greenery, I struck the sand of a lovely little bight that
commanded an uninterrupted view to seaward. Less than a mile out a
reef of black rocks occasionally bared their ugly fangs for a brief
space amidst the sleek waters, until the sleepily advancing swell,
finding its progress thus hindered, rose high over their grim summits
in a league-long fleece of dazzling foam, whose spray glittered like
jewels in the diagonal rays of the declining sun.
Upon a little knoll left by the receding tide sat a man staring
stolidly out to sea. As I drew near, my approach making no noise
upon the yielding sand, I saw that he was white. By his rig--a
shirt and trousers, big grass hat, and bare feet--I took him
for a beach-comber. These characters are not often desirable
companions--human weeds cast ashore in such places, and getting a
precarious living in dark and devious ways without work. But I felt
inclined for company and a rest after my long tramp, so I made for
him direct. He raised his head at my nearing him, showing a grizzled
beard framing a weather-beaten face as of a man some sixty years old.
There was a peculiar, _boiled_ look about his face, too, as if he had
once been drowned, by no means pleasant to see.
He gave me “Good evening!” cheerfully enough as I sat down beside
him and offered my plug of tobacco. Cutting himself a liberal quid,
he returned it with the query, “B’long ter wun er the spouters, I
persoom?” “Yes,” I replied; “boat-header in the _Cachalot_.” “Ah,”
he replied instantly, “but yew’re no Yank, neow, air ye?” “No, I’m a
Cockney--little as you may think _that_ likely,” said I; “but it’s a
fact.” “Wall, I don’no,” he drawled, “I’ve a-met Cockneys good’s I
want ter know; ’n’ why not?”
The conversation then drifted desultorily from topic to topic in
an aimless, time-killing fashion, till at last, feeling better
acquainted, I ventured to ask him what had given him that glazy,
soaked appearance, so strange and ghastly to see. “Look a-heah,
young feller,” said he abruptly, “heouw old je reckon I mout be?”
Without the slightest hesitation I replied, “Sixty, or thereabouts.”
He gave a quiet chuckle, and then said slowly, “Wall, I doan’ blame
ye, nuther; ’n’ as to feelin’--wall, sumtimes I feel ’s if I’d ben
a-livin’ right on frum the beginnin’ ov things. My age, which ’s
about the one solid fact I kin freeze onter now’days, is thutty-two.
Yew won’t b’lieve it, of course; but thet’s nothin’ ter what ye
_will_ hear, ef yew wait awhile.
“What I’m goin’ ter tell ye happened--lemme see--wall, I
doan’no--mebbe two, mebbe four er five year sence. I wuz mate of a
pearlin’ schooner b’longin’ ter Levuka, lyin’ daouwn to Rotumah.
Ware we’d ben workin’ the reef wuz middlin’ deep--deep ’nuf ter make
eour b’ys fall on deck when they come up with a load, ’n’ lie there
like dead uns fer ’bout ten minnits befo’ they k’d move ag’in. ’Twuz
slaughterin’ divin’; but the shell wuz thick, ’n’ no mistake; ’n’
eour ole man wuz a hustler--s’long’s he got shell he didn’t vally
a few dern Kanakers peggin’ eout neow ’n’ then. We’d alost three
with sharks, ’n’ ef ’twan’t thet th’ b’ys wuz more skeered of old
Hardhead than they wuz of anythin’ else I doan reckon we sh’d a-got
any more stuff thet trip ’t all. But ’z he warn’t the kind er blossom
to play any games on, they kep’ at it, ’n’ we ’uz fillin’ up fast.
The land was ’bout ten mile off, ’n’ they wuz ’bout fifty, er mebbe
sixty fathom water b’tween the reef we wuz fishin’ on ’n’ the neares’
p’int. Wall, long ’bout eight bells in the afternoon I uz a-stannin’
by the galley door watchin’ a Kanaker crawlin’ inboard very slow,
bein’ ’most done up. Five er six ov ’em uz hangin’ roun’ ’bout ter
start below agen, ’n’ th’ ole man uz a-blarsfemion gashly at ’em
fer bein’ so slow. Right in the middle of his sermont I seed ’im go
green in the face, ’n’ make a step back from the rail, with both
hans helt up in front ov ’im ’s if he uz skeered ’most ter de’th.
’N’ he wuz, too. There cum lickin’ inboard after him a long grey
slitherin’ thing like a snake ’ith no head but a lot uv saucers stuck
onto it bottom up. ’N’ befo’ I’d time ter move, bein’ ’most sort er
paralised, several more ov the dern things uz a-sneakin’ around all
over the deck. The fust one got the skipper good ’n’ tight ’ith a
round turn above his arms, ’n’ I saw him a-slidin’ away. The schooner
wuz a-rollin’ ’s if in a big swell--which there warn’t a sign of, ’s
I c’d see. But them snaky grey things went quicker ’n’ thinkin’ all
over her, ’n’ befo’ yew c’d say ‘knife’ every galoot, includin’ me,
wuz agoin’ ’long with ’em back to where they’d come from.
“Say, d’yew ever wake up all alive, ’cep’ yew couldn’ move ner speak,
only know all wuts goin’ on, ’n’ do the pow’flest thinkin’ ’bout
things yew ever did in yer life? Yes, ’n’ that’s haow I wuz then.
When thet cold gristly sarpint cum cuddlin’ roun’ me, ’n’ the saucers
got onto me ’s if they’d suck out me very bow’ls, I’d a gi’n Mount
Morgan ter died; but I couldn’t ev’n go mad. I saw the head ov the
Thing them arms b’long’d ter, ’n’ ’twuz wuss ’n the horrors, ’cause
I wuz sane ’n’ cool ’n’ collected. The eyes wuz black, ’n’ a foot or
more across, ’n’ when I looked into ’em I see meself a-comin’.”
He was silent for a minute, but shaking as if with palsy. I laid my
hand on his arm, not knowing what to say, and he looked up wistfully,
saying, “Thenks, shipmate; thet’s good.” Then he went on again.
“The whole thing went back’ards, takin’ us along; ’n I remember
thinkin’ ez we went of the other Kanakers below thet hedn’t come
back. I he’rd the bubbles ’s each of us left the sunshine, but never
a cry, never another soun’. The las’ thing I remember seein’ ’bove
me wuz th’ end of the schooner’s mainboom, which wuz guyed out to
larberd some, ’n’ looked like a big arm struck stiff an’ helpless,
though wishful to save. Down I went, that clingin’ snaky coil round
me tighter ’n my skin. But wut wuz strangest ter me wuz the fact
that not only I didn’t drown, but I felt no sort er disconvenience
frum bein’ below the water. ’N’ at last when I reached the coral,
though I dessay I looked corpse enough, ’twuz only my looks, fur I
felt, lackin’ my not bein’ able ter move, breathe, er speak, ez peart
’n’ fresh ez I dew naow. The clutch thet hed ben squeezin’ me so
all-fired tight begun to slack, ’n’ I felt more comf’ble; ’n’ ef ’t
’adn’t ben fer the reck’lection uv them eyes ’n’ thet berryin’-groun’
ov a mouth, I doan’no but wut I might ha’ been a’most happy. But
I lay thar, with the rest uv my late shipmates, sort er ready fer
consumpshun, like the flies in the corner of a spider’s web; ’n’ thet
guv me a pow’ful heap ov a bad time.
“After a while the quiet of the place begun ter breed strange noshuns
in my hed--jest like ’s if I wuz dreamin’, though wide awake ’s ever
I wuz in all my life. I jest ’peared to be ’way back at the beginnin’
uv things, befo’ they wuz anythin’ else but water, ’n’ wut life there
wuz in them early days hed ter dew ’ithout air er sun er light. I’d
read the Bible some--not ter say frequent, ’n’, bein’ but a poor
skollar, Jennersez wuz ’bout ’s fur ’s I got. But onct a Blue-nose
I uz shipmates with wuz pow’ful fond uv one er the Bible yarns he
called the Book of Jobe, ’n’ he use’ ter read thet off ter me ’twell
I nearly got it through my he’d solid. Anyway, much ov it kem back
ter me neow--bits ’beout the foundayshons ov the world, ’n’ the
boun’s ov the sea, ’n’ suchlike.
“’N’ all the time overright me in the mouth ov a gret cave, with them
res’less thutty-foot feelers ever a-twistin’ ’n’ wrigglin’ aroun’,
wuz the Thing itself, them awful eyes jest a-showin’, like moons made
ov polished jet, in the dimness. Some ov my shipmates wuz gone, the
skipper among ’em; but some, like me, wuz layin’ quiet ’n’ straight;
while all about us the fish, ov every shape ’n’ size, wuz a-gliden’
slow ’n’ stealthy, like as if ever on the watch ’gainst some enemy er
anuther.
“It seemed so long I laid thar thet I felt able to remember every
bush ’n’ bough ov coral, every boulder, that in queerest shapes yew
ever see lay scattered aroun’. At last, never havin’ quite los’ sight
of thet horrible ungodly Thing in the cave yander, I see It kem eout.
I never knowed thar wuz a God till then. Sence thet time, whenever I
hear some mouthy critter _provin’_ ez he calls it, poor child! thet
ther ain’t, ’n’ cain’t be, any God, I feel thet sorry fer him I c’d
jest sail right in ’n’ lam the foggy blether out’n his fool-skull.
But ez I wuz a-sayin, eout kem the Thing till I see the hull gret
carcass ov It, bigger ’n the bigges’ sparm whale I ever see, jest a
haulin’ ’n’ a warpin’ along by them wanderin’ arms over the hills ’n’
hallers ov the reef t’ords me. It floated between me ’n’ wut light
ther wuz, which wuz suthin’ ter be thankful fer, fer I’d a gi’n my
life ter be able to shet my eyes from it ’n’ wut wuz comin’. It hung
right over me, ’n’ I felt the clingin’ suckers closin’ all aroun’
me, when all of a sudden they left me ag’in. The gret black shadder
moved ter one side ’n’ daown through that clear water cum a sparm
whale, graceful ’n’ easy’s an albacore. I never thought much of old
squar’head’s looks before, but I’m tellin’ ye, _then_ he looked like
a shore-nough angel ’longside thet frightful crawlin’ clammy bundle
of sea sarpients.
“But I hedn’t much time ter reflec’, fer thet whale had come on
bizness, ’n’ ther wa’n’t any percrastinatin’ ’bout him. When he
got putty cluss up to the Thing that wuz backin’ oneasily away, he
sorter rounded to like a boat comin’ ’longside, only ’sted ov comin’
roun’ he come over, clar he’d over flukes. His jaw wuz hangin’ daown
baout twenty foot with all the big teeth a shinin’, ’n’ next I
knew he’d got thet gol-durned Thing in his mouth with a grip right
behin’ them awful Eyes. Roun’ come the tangle of arms like the sails
of a windmill lacin’, clutchin’, tearin’ at the whale’s head. But
they might so well hev hugged the Solander Rock. It made no sorter
diffrunce ter him, ’n’ his jaw kep’ on workin’ fer all it wuz worth
a-sawin’ off the tremenjus he’d of the Thing. Then the light went
eout. My gosh! thet water wuz jest turned inter ink, ’n’ though yew
c’d feel the sway ’n’ swirl ov thet gret struggle like the screw race
ov some big liner ther wa’n’t nothin’ ter be seen. So I reckon the
Thing I’d been puzzlin’ ter fine a name fer wuz jest the Gret Mogul
ov all the cuttle-fish, ’n’ bein’ kinder hard prest wuz a-sheddin’
the hull contents ov his ink-tank.
“Wall, I wuz sorter int’rested in this mush ’n’ very much wanted ter
see it through, but thet satisfacshun wuz denied me. All the churnin’
’n’ thrashin’ went on jest above me in pitch-dark ’n’ grave-quiet.
Bimeby the water ceased to bile aroun’ ’n’ got clearer, till after
a while I c’d see gret shadders above movin’ swiffly. The sea took
on anuther colour quite femiliar ter me, sorter yaller, a mixin’ ov
red ’n’ blue. Funniest thing wuz the carm way I wuz a takin’ ov it
all, jest like a man lookin’ out’n a b’loon at a big fight, er a
spectayter in a g’lanty show hevin’ no pusnal concern in the matter
’t all. Presently sneakin along comes a white streak cluss ter me.
Long befo’ it touched me I knew it fer wut it wuz, ’n’ then I wuz in
de’dly fear less the hope uv life after all sh’d rouse me eout uv
thish yer trance or whatever it wuz. ’Twuz a whale-line frum some
whaleship’s boat a-fishin’ overhe’d. It kem right to me. It teched
me ’n’ I felt ’s’if I must come to ’n’ die right there ’n’ then. But
it swep’ right under me, ’n’ then settled daown coil after coil till
I wuz fair snarled erp in it. By this time the water’d got so soupy
thet I could’n’ see nothin’, but ’twa’n’t long befo’ I felt myself
a-risin’--eout uv the belly uv Hell ez Jonah sez.
“Up I kem at a good lick till all uv a sudden I sees God’s light,
smells His air, ’n’ hears voices uv men. Gosh, but wa’n’t they
gallied when they see me. Blame ef I did’n’ half think they’d lemme
go ag’in. The fust one ter git his brains ter work wuz the bow
oarsman, a nigger, who leaned over the gunnel, his face greeny-grey
with fright, ’n’ grabbed me by the hair. Thet roused the rest, ’n’ I
wuz hauled in like a whiz. Then their tongues got ter waggin’, ’n’
yew never heard so many fool things said in five minutes outside er
Congress.
“It didn’ seem ter strike any ov ’em thet I moutn’t be so very
dead after all, though fortnitly fer me they conclooded ter take
me aboard with ’em. So I laid thar in the bottom ov the boat while
they finished haulin’ line. Ther wuz a clumsy feller among ’em thet
made a slip, hittin’ me an ugly welt on the nose as he wuz fallin’.
Nobody took any notice till presently one ov ’em hollers, ‘Why dog my
cats ef thet corpse ain’t got a nosebleed.’ This startled ’em all,
fer I never met a galoot so loony ez ter think a de’d man c’d bleed.
Hows’ever they jest lit eout fer the ship like sixty ’n’ h’isted me
aboard. ’Twuz er long time befo’ they got my works a-tickin’ ag’in,
but they done it at last, ’n’ once more I wuz a livin’ man amon’
livin’ men.
“Naow ov course yew doan’ b’lieve my yarn--yew cain’t, tain’t in
nacher, but, young feller, thar’s an all-fired heap o’ things in the
world that cain’t be beleft in till yew’ve ’speriunced ’em yerself
thet ’s trew’s gospel fer all thet.”
I politely deprecated his assumption of my disbelief in his yarn, but
my face belied me, I know; so, bidding him “S’long” with a parting
present of my plug of tobacco (it was all I had to give), I left him
and by the failing light made all speed I could back to my ship.
BY WAY OF AMENDS