big ships are rotting in Southampton and Cinque Port muds. Well, then, what he told me I recollect as well—ay, every word of it—as it he had whispered it into my ear but this minute. It was a blustering night, with a dirty south-wester, and the chafing of the harbour waves was thrown up in foams, which the winds swept up the street, they chasing one another as if they were boys at play. It was about two bells in the middle watch, and after our fifth glass, that Joe Geary said as this:—
“It was one dark winter’s night when we were off the Texel, blowing terribly, with the coast under our lee, clawing off under storm canvas, and fighting with the elements for every inch of ground, a hand in the chains, for we had nothing but the lead to trust to, and the vessel so flogged by the waves, that he was lashed to the rigging, that he might not be washed away; all of a sudden the wind came with a blast loud enough for the last frump, and the waves roared till they were hoarser than ever; away went the vessel’s mast, although there was no more canvas on it than a jib pocket-handkerchief, and the craft rolled and tossed in the deep troughs for all the world like a wicked man dying in despair; and then she was a wreck, with nothing to help us but God Almighty, fast borne down upon the sands which the waters had disturbed, and were dashing about until they themselves were weary of the load; and all the seamen cried unto the Lord, as well they might.
“Now they say, that he did not cry as they did, like men and Christians, to Him who made them and the waters which surrounded and threatened them; for Death was then in all his glory, and the foaming crests of the waves were as plumes of feathers to his skeleton head beneath them; but he cried like a child—and swore terribly as well as cried—talking about his money, his dear money, and not caring about his more precious soul.
“And the cutter was borne down, every wave pushing her with giant force nearer and nearer to destruction, when the man at the chains shrieked out—‘Mark three, and the Lord have mercy on our souls!’ and all the crew, when they heard this, cried out—‘Lord save us, or we perish!’ But still they thought that their time was come, for the breaking waves were under their lee, and the yellow waters told them that, in a few minutes, the vessel, and all who were on board, would be shivered in fragments; and some wept and some prayed as they clung to the bulwarks of the unguided vessel, and others in a few minutes thought over their whole life, and waited for death in silence. But he, he did all; he cried, and he prayed, and he swore, and he was silent, and at last he became furious and frantic; and when the man said again and again, ‘The Lord save us!’ he roared out at last, ‘Will the devil help us, for—’ In a moment, before these first words were out of his mouth, there was a flash of lightning, that appeared to strike the vessel, but it harmed her not, neither did any thunder follow the flash; but a ball of blue flame pitched upon the knight heads, and then came bounding and dancing aft to the taffrail, where he stood alone, for the men had left him to blaspheme by himself. Some say he was heard to speak, as if in conversation, but no one knows what passed. Be it as it may, on a sudden he walked forward as brave as he could be, and was followed by this creature, who carried his head and tail slouching as he does now.
“And the dog looked up and gave one deep bark, and as soon as he had barked the wind appeared to lull—he barked again twice, and there was a dead calm—he barked again thrice, and the seas went down—and he patted the dog on the head, and the animal then bayed loud for a minute or two, and then, to the astonishment and fear of all, instead of the vessel being within a cable’s length of the Texel sands in a heavy gale, and without hope, the Foreland lights were but two miles on our beam with a clear sky and smooth water.”
The seaman finished his legend, and there was a dead silence for a minute or two, broken first by Jansen, who in a low voice said, “Then te tog is not a tog.”
“No,” replied Cobb, “an imp sent by the devil to his follower in distress.”
“Yes,” said. Short.
“Well, but,” said Jemmy Ducks, who for some time had left off touching the strings of his fiddle, “it would be the work of a good Christian to kill the brute.”
“It’s not a mortal animal, Jemmy.”
“True, I forgot that.”
“Gifen by de tyfel,” observed Jansen.
“Ay, and christened by him too,” continued Coble. “Who ever heard any Christian brute with such a damnable name?”
“Well, what’s to be done?”
“Why,” replied Jemmy Ducks, “at all events, imp o’ Satan or not, that here Smallbones fought him to-day with his own weapons.”
“And beat him too,” said. Coble.
“Yes,” said Short.
“Now, it’s my opinion, that Smallbones ar’nt afraid of him,” continued Jemmy Ducks, “and devil or no devil, he’ll kill him, if he can.”
“He’s the proper person to do it,” replied Coble; “the more so, as you may say that he’s his natural enemy.”
“Yes, mein Got, de poy is de man,” said Jansen.
“We’ll put him up to it at all events, as soon as he is out of his hammock,” rejoined Jemmy Ducks.
A little more conversation took place, and then it was carried unanimously that Smallbones should destroy the animal, if it was possible to destroy it.
The only party who was not consulted was Smallbones himself, who lay fast asleep in his hammock. The consultation then broke up, and they all went below.
Chapter Six.
In which as often happens at Sea when Signals are not made out, Friends exchange Broadsides.
Notwithstanding all the precautions of the party on the forecastle, this consultation had been heard by no less a person than the huge Corporal Van Spitter, who had an idea that there was some mystery going on forward, and had contrived to crawl up under the bulwark, and throw himself down on the fore-staysail, which lay between two of the guns. Having so done without being perceived, for it was the very moment that the party were all listening to Bill Spurey’s legend of the dog’s first appearance on board, he threw a part of the sail over his fat carouse, and thus remained undiscovered during the remainder of the colloquy. He heard them all descending below, and remained still quiet, till he imagined that the forecastle was clear. In the meantime, Mr. Vanslyperken who had been walking the deck abaft, unaccompanied by his faithful attendant (for Snarleyyow remained coiled up on his master’s bed), was meditating deeply how to gratify the two most powerful passions in our nature, love and revenge: at one moment thinking of the fat fair Vandersloosh, and of hauling in her guilders, at another reverting to the starved Smallbones and the comfort of a keel-hauling. The long conference on the forecastle had not been unperceived by the hawk’s eye of the lieutenant, and as they descended he walked forward to ascertain if he could not pick up some straggler who, unsupported by his comrades, might be induced by fear to acquaint him with the subject of the discussion. Now, just as Mr. Vanslyperken came forward, Corporal Van Spitter had removed the canvas from his body, and was about to rise from his bed, when he perceived somebody coming forward. Not making it out to be the lieutenant, he immediately dropped down again and drew the canvas over him. Mr. Vanslyperken perceived this manoeuvre, and thought he had now caught one of the conspirators, and, moreover, one who showed such fear as to
