How the pilots were forsaking their ships in the greatest stress of
weather.
Oh, said Panurge, you sin, Friar John, my former crony! former, I say, for
at this time I am no more, you are no more. It goes against my heart to
tell it you; for I believe this swearing doth your spleen a great deal of
good; as it is a great ease to a wood-cleaver to cry hem at every blow, and
as one who plays at ninepins is wonderfully helped if, when he hath not
thrown his bowl right, and is like to make a bad cast, some ingenious
stander-by leans and screws his body halfway about on that side which the
bowl should have took to hit the pins. Nevertheless, you offend, my sweet
friend. But what do you think of eating some kind of cabirotadoes?
Wouldn’t this secure us from this storm? I have read that the ministers of
the gods Cabiri, so much celebrated by Orpheus, Apollonius, Pherecydes,
Strabo, Pausanias, and Herodotus were always secure in time of storm. He
dotes, he raves, the poor devil! A thousand, a million, nay, a hundred
million of devils seize the hornified doddipole. Lend’s a hand here, hoh,
tiger, wouldst thou? Here, on the starboard side. Ods-me, thou buffalo’s
head stuffed with relics, what ape’s paternoster art thou muttering and
chattering here between thy teeth? That devil of a sea-calf is the cause
of all this storm, and is the only man who doth not lend a helping hand.
By G--, if I come near thee, I’ll fetch thee out by the head and ears with
a vengeance, and chastise thee like any tempestative devil. Here, mate, my
lad, hold fast, till I have made a double knot. O brave boy! Would to
heaven thou wert abbot of Talemouze, and that he that is were guardian of
Croullay. Hold, brother Ponocrates, you will hurt yourself, man.
Epistemon, prithee stand off out of the hatchway. Methinks I saw the
thunder fall there but just now. Con the ship, so ho--Mind your steerage.
Well said, thus, thus, steady, keep her thus, get the longboat clear
--steady. Ods-fish, the beak-head is staved to pieces. Grumble, devils,
fart, belch, shite, a t--d o’ the wave. If this be weather, the devil’s a
ram. Nay, by G--, a little more would have washed me clear away into the
current. I think all the legions of devils hold here their provincial
chapter, or are polling, canvassing, and wrangling for the election of a
new rector. Starboard; well said. Take heed; have a care of your noddle,
lad, in the devil’s name. So ho, starboard, starboard. Be, be, be, bous,
bous, bous, cried Panurge; bous, bous, be, be, be, bous, bous, I am lost.
I see neither heaven nor earth; of the four elements we have here only fire
and water left. Bou, bou, bou, bous, bous, bous. Would it were the
pleasure of the worthy divine bounty that I were at this present hour in
the close at Seuille, or at Innocent’s the pastry-cook over against the
painted wine-vault at Chinon, though I were to strip to my doublet, and
bake the petti-pasties myself.
Honest man, could not you throw me ashore? you can do a world of good
things, they say. I give you all Salmigondinois, and my large shore full
of whelks, cockles, and periwinkles, if, by your industry, I ever set foot
on firm ground. Alas, alas! I drown. Harkee, my friends, since we cannot
get safe into port, let us come to an anchor in some road, no matter
whither. Drop all your anchors; let us be out of danger, I beseech you.
Here, honest tar, get you into the chains, and heave the lead, an’t please
you. Let us know how many fathom water we are in. Sound, friend, in the
Lord Harry’s name. Let us know whether a man might here drink easily
without stooping. I am apt to believe one might. Helm a-lee, hoh, cried
the pilot. Helm a-lee; a hand or two at the helm; about ships with her;
helm a-lee, helm a-lee. Stand off from the leech of the sail. Hoh! belay,
here make fast below; hoh, helm a-lee, lash sure the helm a-lee, and let
her drive. Is it come to that? said Pantagruel; our good Saviour then help
us. Let her lie under the sea, cried James Brahier, our chief mate; let
her drive. To prayers, to prayers; let all think on their souls, and fall
to prayers; nor hope to escape but by a miracle. Let us, said Panurge,
make some good pious kind of vow; alas, alas, alas! bou, bou, be, be, be,
bous, bous, bous, oho, oho, oho, oho, let us make a pilgrim; come, come,
let every man club his penny towards it, come on. Here, here, on this
side, said Friar John, in the devil’s name. Let her drive, for the Lord’s
sake unhang the rudder; hoh, let her drive, let her drive, and let us
drink, I say, of the best and most cheering; d’ye hear, steward? produce,
exhibit; for, d’ye see this, and all the rest will as well go to the devil
out of hand. A pox on that wind-broker Aeolus, with his fluster-blusters.
Sirrah, page, bring me here my drawer (for so he called his breviary); stay
a little here; haul, friend, thus. Odzoons, here is a deal of hail and
thunder to no purpose. Hold fast above, I pray you. When have we
All-saints day? I believe it is the unholy holiday of all the devil’s crew.
Alas! said Panurge, Friar John damns himself here as black as buttermilk
for the nonce. Oh, what a good friend I lose in him. Alas, alas! this is
another gats-bout than last year’s. We are falling out of Scylla into
Charybdis. Oho! I drown. Confiteor; one poor word or two by way of
testament, Friar John, my ghostly father; good Mr. Abstractor, my crony,
my Achates, Xenomanes, my all. Alas! I drown; two words of testament here
upon this ladder.