stood by, and appeared resolved, to a man, to do nothing, and, in about half an hour, all was ready. Four marines manned the hauling line, one was placed at each side-rope fastened to the lad’s arms, and the corporal, as soon as he had lifted the body of Smallbones over the larboard gunwale, had directions to attend the bow-line, and not allow him to be dragged on too fast: a better selection for this purpose could not have been made than Corporal Van Spitter. Smallbones had been laid without his clothes on the deck, now covered with snow, during the time that the lines were making fast to him; he remained silent, and, as usual when punished, with his eyes shut, and as Vanslyperken watched him with feelings of hatred, he perceived an occasional smile to cross the lad’s haggard features. He knows where the dog is, thought Vanslyperken, and his desire to know what had become of Snarleyyow overcame his vengeance. He addressed the shivering Smallbones:—
“Now, sir, if you wish to escape the punishment, tell me what has become of the dog, for I perceive that you know.”
Smallbones grinned as his teeth chattered—he would have undergone a dozen keel-haulings rather than have satisfied Vanslyperken.
“I give you ten minutes to think of it,” continued the lieutenant; “hold all fast at present.”
The snow-storm now came on so thick that it was difficult to distinguish the length of the vessel. Smallbones’ naked limbs were gradually covered, and, before the ten minutes were expired, he was wrapped up in snow as in a garment; he shook his head occasionally to clear his face, but remained silent.
“Now, sir,” cried Vanslyperken, “will you tell me? or overboard you go at once. Will you tell me?”
“No,” replied Smallbones.
“Do you know, you scoundrel?”
“Yes,” replied Smallbones, whose indignation was roused.
“And you won’t tell?”
“No,” shrieked the lad—“no, never, never, never!”
“Corporal Van Spitter, over with him,” cried Vanslyperken in a rage, when a sudden stir was heard amongst the men aft, and as the corporal raised up the light frame of the culprit, to carry it to the gunwale, to the astonishment of Vanslyperken, of the corporal, and of Smallbones, Snarleyyow appeared on the forecastle, and made a rush at Smallbones, as he lay in the corporal’s arms, snapped at his leg, and then set up his usual deep baying, “bow, bow, bow!”
The re-appearance of the dog created no small sensation—Vanslyperken felt that he had now no reason for keel-hauling Smallbones, which annoyed him as much as the sight of the dog gave him pleasure. The corporal, who had dropped Smallbones on the snow, was also disappointed. As for Smallbones, at the baying of the dog, he started up on his knees, and looked at it as if it were an apparition, with every demonstration of terror in his countenance; his eyes glared upon the animal with horror and astonishment, and he fell down in a swoon. The whole of the ship’s company were taken aback—they looked at one another and shook their heads—one only remark was made by Jansen, who muttered, “De tog is no tog a’ter all.”
Mr. Vanslyperken ordered Smallbones to be taken below, and then walked aft; perceiving Obadiah Coble, he inquired whence the dog had come, and was answered that he had come off in the boat which he had taken on shore for fresh beef and vegetables. Mr. Vanslyperken made no reply, but, with Snarleyyow at his heels, went down into the cabin.
Chapter Eleven.
In which Snarleyyow does not at all assist his Master’s Cause with the Widow Vandersloosh.
It will be necessary to explain to the reader by what means the life of our celebrated cur was preserved. When Smallbones had thrown him into the canal, tied up, as he supposed, in his winding-sheet, what Mr. Vanslyperken observed was true, that there were people below, and the supposed paving-stone might have fallen upon them: the voices which he heard were those of a father and son, who were in a small boat going from a galliot to the steps where they intended to land; for this canal was not like most others, with the water in it sufficiently high to enable people to step from the vessel’s gunwale to the jetty. Snarleyyow fell in his bag a few yards ahead of the boat, and the splash naturally attracted their attention; he did not sink immediately, but floundered and struggled so as to keep himself partly above water.
“What is that?” exclaimed the father to his son, in Dutch.
“Mein Gott! who is to know?—but we will see;” and the boy took the boat-hook, and with it dragged the bread-bags towards the boat, just as they were sinking, for Snarleyyow was exhausted with his efforts. The two together dragged the bags with their contents into the boat.
“It is a dog or something,” observed the son.
“Very well, but the bread-bags will be useful,” replied the father, and they pulled on to the landing-stairs. When they arrived there they lifted out the bags, laid them on the stone steps, and proceeded to unrip them, when they found Snarleyyow, who was just giving signs of returning animation. They took the bags with them, after having rolled his carcase out, and left it on the steps, for there was a fine for throwing anything into the canal. The cur soon after recovered, and was able to stand on his legs; so soon as he could walk he made his way to the door of the widow Vandersloosh, and howled for admittance. The widow had retired: she had been reading her book of prières, as every one should do who has been cheating people all day long. She was about to extinguish her light, when this serenade saluted her ears; it became intolerable as the dog gained strength.
Babette had long been fast asleep, and was with difficulty roused up and directed to beat the cur away. She attempted to perform the duty, arming herself with the broom; but the moment she opened the door Snarleyyow dashed in between her legs, upsetting her on the brick pavement. Babette screamed, and her mistress came out in the passage to ascertain the cause; the dog not being able to run into the parlour, bolted up the stairs, and snapping at the widow as he passed, secured a berth underneath her bed.
“Oh, mein Gott! it is the dog of the lieutenant,” exclaimed Babette, coming up the stairs in greater dishabille than her mistress, and with the broom in her hand. “What shall we do—how shall we get rid of him?”
“A thousand devils may take the lieutenant, and his nasty dog, too,” exclaimed the widow, in great wrath; “this is the last time that either of them enter my house; try, Babette, with your broom—shove at him hard.”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Babette, pushing with all her strength at the dog beneath the bed, who seized the broom with his teeth, and pulled it away from Babette. It was a struggle of strength between the girl and Snarleyyow—pull, Babette—pull, dog—one moment the broom, with two-thirds of the handle, disappeared under the bed, the next the maid recovered her lost ground. Snarleyyow was first tired of this contention, and to prove that he had no thoughts of abandoning his position, he let go the broom, flew at Babette’s naked legs, and having inserted his teeth half through her ankle, he returned growling to his former retreat. “O dear, mein Gott!” exclaimed Babette, dropping her broom, and holding her ankle with both hands.
“What shall we do?” cried the widow, wringing her hands.
It was indeed a case of difficulty. Mynheer Vandersloosh, before he had quitted this transitory scene, had become a personage as bulky as the widow herself, and the bed had been
