to Dick Short, who had been watching the corporal’s motions in silence, and accosted him.
“If you please, Mynheer Short, Mynheer Vanslyperken give orders dat de boy be keel-hauled dis morning;—I want haben de rope and de way.”
Short looked at the corporal, and made no reply.
“Mynheer Short, I haben tell de order of Mynheer Vanslyperken.”
Dick Short made no reply, but leaning over the hatchway, called out, “Jemmy.”
“Ay, ay,” replied Jemmy Ducks, turning out of his hammock and dropping on the lower deck.
Corporal Van Spitter, who imagined that Mr. Short was about to comply with his request after his own Harpocratic fashion, remained quietly on the deck until Jemmy Ducks made his appearance.
“Hands,” quoth Short.
Jemmy piped the hands up.
“Boat,” quoth Short, turning his head to the small boat hoisted up astern.
Now as all this was apparently preparatory to the work required, the corporal was satisfied. The men soon came up with their hammocks on their shoulders, which they put into the nettings, and then Jemmy proceeded to lower down the boat. As soon as it was down and hauled up alongside, Short turned round to Coble, and waving his hand towards the shore, said—
“Beef.”
Coble, who perfectly understood him, put a new quid into his cheek, went down the side, and pulled on shore to bring off the fresh beef and vegetables for the ship’s company; after which Dick Short walked the deck and gave no further orders.
Corporal Van Spitter perceiving this, went up to him again.
“Mynheer Short, you please get ready.”
“No!” thundered Short, turning away.
“Got for dam, dat is mutiny,” muttered the corporal, who immediately backed stern foremost down the hatchway, to report to his commandant the state of affairs on deck. Mr. Vanslyperken had already risen; he had slept but one hour during the whole night, and that one hour was so occupied with wild and fearful dreams that he awoke from his sleep un-refreshed. He had dreamed that he was making every attempt to drown Smallbones, but without effect, for, so soon as the lad was dead he came to life again; he thought that Smallbones soul was incorporated in a small animal something like a mouse, and that he had to dislodge it from its tenement of clay; but as soon as he drove it from one part of the body it would force its way back again into another; if he forced it out by the mouth after incredible exertions, which made him perspire at every pore, it would run back again into the ear; if forced from thence, through the nostril, then in at the toe, or any other part; in short, he laboured apparently in his dream for years, but without success. And then the “change came o’er the spirit of his dream;” but still there was analogy, for he was now trying to press his suit, which was now a liquid in a phial, into the widow Vandersloosh, but in vain. He administered it again and again, but it acted as an emetic, and she could not stomach it, and then he found himself rejected by all—the widow kicked him, Smallbones stamped upon him, even Snarleyyow flew at him and bit him; at last, he fell with an enormous paving-stone round his neck, descending into a horrible abyss head foremost, and, as he increased his velocity, he awoke trembling and confused, and could sleep no more. This dream was not one to put Mr. Vanslyperken into good humour, and two severe cuts on his cheek with the razor as he attempted to shave, for his hand still trembled, had added to his discontent, when it was raised to its climax by the entrance of Corporal Van Spitter, who made his report of the mutinous conduct of the first officer. Never was Mr. Vanslyperken in such a tumult of rage; he pulled off some beaver from his hat to staunch the blood, and wiping off the remainder of the lather, for he put aside the operation of shaving till his hand was more steady, he threw on his coat, and followed the corporal on deck, looked round with a savage air, spied out the diminutive form of Jemmy Ducks, and desired him to pipe “all hands to keel-haul.”
Whereupon Jemmy put his pipe to his mouth, and after a long flourish, bawled out what appeared to Mr. Vanslyperken to be—all hands to be keel-hauled; but Jemmy slurred over quickly the little change made in the order, and, although the men tittered, Mr. Vanslyperken thought it better to say nothing. But there is an old saying, that you may bring a horse to the pond, but you cannot make him drink. Mr. Vanslyperken had given the order, but no one attempted to commence the arrangements. The only person who showed any activity was Smallbones himself, who, not aware that he was to be punished, and hearing all hands piped for something or another, came shambling, a an wings, up the hatchway, and looked round to ascertain what was to be done. He was met by the bulky form of Corporal Van Spitter, who, thinking that Smallbones’ making his appearance in such haste was with the intention of jumping overboard to avoid his punishment, immediately seized him by the collar with the left hand, turned round on a pivot towards Mr. Vanslyperken, and raising his right hand to his foraging cap, reported, “The prisoner on deck, Mynheer Vanslyperken.” This roused the lieutenant to action for he had been walking the deck for a half minute in deep thought.
“Is all ready there, forward?” cried Mr. Vanslyperken.
No one replied.
“I say, boatswain, is all ready?”
“No, sir,” replied Jemmy; “nobody knows how to set about it. I don’t, any how—I never seed anything of the like since I’ve been in the service—the whole of the ship’s company say the same.” But even the flakes of snow, which now fell thick, and whitened the blue jacket of Mr. Vanslyperken, could not assuage his wrath; he perceived that the men were refractory, so he summoned the six marines, who were completely under the control of their corporal.
Poor Smallbones had, in the meantime, discovered what was going on, and thought that he might as well urge something in his own defence.
“If you please, what are you going for to do with me?” said the lad, with a terrified look.
“Lead him forward,” said Mr. Vanslyperken; “follow me, marines;” and the whole party, headed by the lieutenant, went before the mast.
“Strip him,” cried Mr. Vanslyperken.
“Strip me, with the snow flying like this! Ar’n’t I cold enough already?”
“You’ll be colder when you’re under the bottom of the cutter,” replied his master.
“O Lord, then it is keel-hauling a’ter all; why, what have I done?” cried Smallbones, as the marines divested him of his shirt, and exposed his emaciated body to the pitiless storm.
“Where’s Snarleyyow, sir?—confess.”
“Snarleyyow—how should I know, sir? it’s very hard because your dog is not to be found, that I’m to be dragged under the bottom of a vessel.”
“I’ll teach you to throw paving-stones in the canal.”
“Paving stones, sir!” and Smallbones’ guilty conscience flew in his face. “Well, sir, do as you please, I’m sure I don’t care; if I am to be killed, be quick about it—I’m sure I shan’t come up alive.”
Here Mr. Vanslyperken remembered his dream, and the difficulty which he had in driving Smallbones’ soul out of his body, and he was fearful that even keel-hauling would not settle Smallbones.
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