men argued, and with some reason, that if you could put out his eye you could kill him altogether; for if you could destroy a part you could destroy the whole. No one ever heard of the devil’s eye being put out—ergo, the dog could not be a devil, or one of his imps; so argued a knot of the men in conclave, and Jansen wound up by observing, “Dat de tog was only a tog after all.”
Vanslyperken returned to his cabin and stated his intentions to his factotum and confidant, Corporal Van Spitter. Now, in this instance, the corporal did not adhere to that secrecy to which he was bound, and the only reason we can give is, that he had as great a dislike to Jemmy Ducks as his lieutenant—for the corporal obeyed orders so exactly that he considered it his duty not to have even an opinion or a feeling contrary to those of his superior officer. He was delighted at the idea of flogging Jemmy, and communicated the lieutenant’s intention to the most favoured of his marines, who also told the secret to another, and thus in five minutes it was known throughout the cutter, that as soon as they were in blue water the little boatswain was to be tied up for having damned the admiral in a snow-storm. The consequence was, as the evening was clear, that there was a very numerous assemblage upon the forecastle of the cutter Yungfrau.
“Flog Jemmy!” said Bill Spurey. “Why, Jemmy’s a hofficer.”
“To be sure he is,” observed another: “and quite as good a one as Vanslyperken himself, though he don’t wear brass on his hat.”
“Damn it—what next—heh, Coble?”
Coble hitched up his trousers. “It’s my opinion he’ll be for flogging us next, Short,” said the old man.
“Yes,” replied Short.
“Shall we allow Jemmy to be flogged?”
“No,” replied Short.
“If it warn’t for them ere marines, and the lumpy beggar of a corporal,” observed one of the seamen.
“Pish,” quoth Jemmy, who was standing among them.
“Won’t he make it out mutiny?” observed Spurey.
“Mein Gott! it was mutiny to flog de officer,” said Jansen.
“That’s very true,” observed another.
“But Jemmy can’t stand against the fat corporal and the six marines,” observed Bill Spurey.
“One up and t’other down, I’ll take them all,” observed Jemmy, expanding his chest.
“Yes, but they’ll all be down upon you at once, Jemmy.”
“If they lays their hands upon an officer,” observed Coble, “it will be mutiny; and then Jemmy calls in the ship’s company to protect him.”
“Exactly,” observed Jemmy.
“And den, mein Gott, I zettle for de corporal,” observed Jansen.
“I’ll play him a trick yet.”
“But now, it’s no use palavering,” observed Spurey; “let’s come to some settlement. Obadiah, give us your opinion as to what’s best to be done.”
Hereupon Coble squirted out a modicum of ’baccy juice, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and said, “It’s my opinion, that the best way of getting one man out of a scrape, is to get all the rest in it. Jemmy, d’ye see, is to be hauled up for singing an old song, in which a wench very properly damns the admiral for sending a ship out on a Christmas Day, which, let alone the unchristian-like act, as you may know, my lads, always turns up on a Friday, a day on which nothing but being blown out from your anchors can warrant any vessel sailing on. Now, d’ye see, it may be mutiny to damn a live admiral, with his flag hoisted—I won’t say but what it is—but this here admiral as Jemmy damned, is no more alive than a stock fish; and, moreover, it is not Jemmy as damns him, but Poll; therefore it can be no mutiny. Now what I consider best is this, if so be it be against the articles—well, then, let’s all be in for it together, and then Vanslyperken will be puzzled, and, moreover, it will give him a hint how matters stand, and he may think better of it; for, although we must not have Jemmy touched, still, it’s quite as well not to have a regular breeze with the jollies; for if so be that the Scarborough, or any other king’s ship, be in port when we arrive, Vanslyperken may run under the guns, and then whip the whole boiling of us off to the Ingies, and glad to get us, too, and that’s no joke. Now, that’s my idea of the matter.”
“Well, but you’ve not told us how we are to get into it, Coble.”
“More I have—well, that’s funny: left out the whole burden of my song. Why, I consider that we had better now directly sing the song over again, all in chorus, and then we shall have damned the admiral a dozen times over; and Vanslyperken will hear us, and say to himself, ‘They don’t sing that song for nothing.’ What do you say, Dick Short, you’re first hofficer?”
“Yes,” replied Short.
“Hurrah! my lads, then,” cried Bill Spurey; “now, then, strike up, Jemmy, and let us give it lots of mouth.”
The song which our readers have already heard from the lips of Jemmy Ducks was then sung by the whole of the men, con animo e strepito, and two verses had been roared out, when Corporal Van Spitter, in great agitation, presented himself at the cabin-door, where he found Mr. Vanslyperken very busy summing up his accounts.
“Mein Gott, sar! dere is the mutiny in the Yungfrau,” cried the corporal.
“Mutiny!” cried Vanslyperken, catching at his sword, which hung up on the bulk-head.
“Yaw, mynheer—de mutiny—hear now de ship’s company.”
Vanslyperken lent his ears, when the astounding chorus came rolling aft through the door of the cabin—
I’ll give you a bit of my mind, old hunks;
Port admiral—you be damned.
“Bow, wow, wow,” barked Snarleyyow.
“Why, it’s the whole ship’s company!” cried Vanslyperken.
“All but de Corporal Van Spitter, and de six marines,” replied the corporal, raising his hand up to his head à la militaire.
“Shut the door, corporal. This is indeed mutiny and defiance,” cried Vanslyperken, jumping up from his chair.
“It is one tyfel of a song,” replied the corporal.
“I must find out the ringleaders, corporal; do you think that you could contrive to overhear what they say after the song is over? they will be consulting together, and we may find out something.”
“Mynheer, I’m not very small for to creep in and listen,” replied the corporal, casting his eyes down upon his huge carcase.
“Are they all forward?” inquired the lieutenant.
“Yes, mynheer; not one soul baft.”
“There is the small boat astern; do you think you could get softly into it, haul it up to the bows, and lie there quite
