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 warrant the supposition that he should be able to extract from him the results of the night’s unusually long conference.Mr Vanslyperken walked up to where the corporal lay as quiet but not quite so small as a mouse. It occurred to Mr Vanslyperken that a little taste of punishmentin essewould very much assist the threats of what might be receivedin posse; so he laid aside his speaking-trumpet, looked round, picked up a handspike, and raising it above his head, down it came, with all the force of the lieutenant’s arm, upon Corporal Van Spitter, whose carcase resounded like a huge kettle-drum.“Tunder and flame!” roared the corporal under the canvas, thinking that one of the seamen, having discovered him eavesdropping, had thus wreaked his revenge, taking advantage of his being covered up, and pretending not to know him. “Tunder and flame!” roared the corporal, muffled up in the canvas, and trying to extricate himself; but his voice was not recognised by the lieutenant, and, before he could get clear of his envelope, the handspike had again descended; when up rose the corporal, like a buffalo out of his muddy lair, half blinded by the last blow, which had fallen on his head, ran full butt at the lieutenant, and precipitated his senior officer and commander headlong down the fore-hatchway.Vanslyperken fell with great force, was stunned, and lay without motion at the foot of the ladder, while the corporal, whose wrath was always excessive when his blood was up, but whose phlegmatic blood could not be raised without some such decided stimulus as a handspike, now turned round and round the forecastle, like a bull looking for his assailants; but the corporal had the forecastle all to himself, and, as he gradually cooled down, he saw lying close to him the speaking-trumpet of his senior officer.“Tousand tyfels,” murmured Corporal Van Spitter, “but it must have been the skipper. Got for dam, dis is hanging matter!” Corporal Van Spitter was as cool as a cucumber as soon as he observed what a mistake he had made; in fact he quivered and trembled in his fat. “But then,” thought he, “perhaps he did not know me—no, he could not, or he never would have handspikedme.” So Corporal Van Spitter walked down the hatchway, where he ascertained that his commandant lay insensible. “Dat is good,” thought he; and he went aft, lighted his lantern, and, as aruse, knocked at the cabin-door. Receiving no answer but the growl of Snarleyyow, he went in, and then ascended to the quarter-deck, looked round him, and inquired of the man at the wheel where Mr Vanslyperken might be. The man replied that he had gone forward a few minutes before, and thither the corporal proceeded. Of course, not finding him, he returned, telling the man that the skipper was not in the cabin or the forecastle, and wondering where he could be. He then descended to the next officer in command, Dick Short, and called him.“Well,” said Short.“Can’t find Mr Vanslyperken anywhere,” said the corporal.“Look,” replied Dick, turning round in his hammock.“Mein Got, I have looked de forecastle, de quarter-deck, and de cabin—he not anywhere.”“Overboard,” replied Dick.“I come to you, sir, to make inquiry,” said the corporal.“Turn out,” said Dick, suiting the action to the words, and lighting with his feet on the deck in his shirt.While Short was dressing himself, the corporal summoned up all his marines; and the noise occasioned by this turn out, and the conversation overheard by those who were awake, soon gave the crew of the cutter to understand that some accident had happened to their commander. Even Smallbones had it whispered in his ear that Mr Vanslyperken had fallen overboard, and he smiled as he lay in the dark, smarting with his wounds, muttering to himself that Snarleyyow should soon follow his master. By the time that Short was on the quarterdeck, Corporal Van Spitter, who knew very well where to look for it, had, very much to the disappointment of the crew found the body of Mr Vanslyperken, and the marines had brought it aft to the cabin, and would have laid it on the bed, had not Snarleyyow, who had no feeling in his composition, positively denied its being put there.Short came down and examined his superior officer.“Is he dead,” inquired the corporal with alarm.“No,” replied Short.“Vat can it be then?” said the corporal.“Stunned,” replied Short.“Mein Got! how could it happen?”“Tumbled,” replied Short.“What shall we do, sir?” rejoined the corporal.“Bed,” replied Short, turning on his heel, and a minute after turning into his hammock.“Mein Got, the dog will not let him go to bed,” exclaimed the corporal.“Let’s put him in,” said one of the marines; “the dog won’t bite his master.”So the marines lifted up the still insensible Mr Vanslyperken, and almost tossed him into his standing bed-place, right on the body of the snarling dog, who, as soon as he could disengage himself from the weight, revenged himself by making his teeth meet more than once through the lantern cheek of his master, and then leaping off the bed, retreated growling under the table.“Well, youarea nice dog,” exclaimed one of the marines, looking after Snarleyyow in his retreat.Now, there was no medical assistance on board so small a vessel. Mr Vanslyperken was allowed a small quantity of medicine, unguents, etcetera; but these he always sold to an apothecary as soon as he had procured them from the authorities. The teeth of the dog had, however, their effect, and Mr Vanslyperken opened his eyes, and in a faint voice cried, “Snarleyyow.” Oh, if the dog had any spark of feeling, how must he then have been stung with remorse at his ingratitude to so kind a master! But he apparently showed none, at least report does not say that any symptoms were manifest.After a little burnt oakum had excoriated his nose, and a certain quantity of the cold salt-water from alongside had wetted through his bed-clothes, Mr Vanslyperken was completely recovered, and was able to speak and look about him. Corporal Van Spitter trembled a little as his commandant fixed his eyes upon him, and he redoubled his attention.“Mein Got, Mynheer Vanslyperken, how was this happen?” exclaimed the corporal in a pathetic tone. Whereupon Mr Vanslyperken ordered every one to leave the cabin but Corporal Van Spitter.Mr Vanslyperken then communicated to the corporal that he had been knocked down the hatchway by one of the men when he went forward; that he could not distinguish who it was, but thought it must have been Jansen from his size. Corporal Van Spitter, delighted to find that his skipper was on a wrong scent, expressed his opinion in corroboration of the lieutenant’s; after which a long consultation took place relative to mutiny, disaffection, and the proper measures to be taken. Vanslyperken mentioned the consultation of the men during the first watch, and the corporal, to win his favour, was very glad to be able to communicate the particulars of what he had overheard, stating that he had concealed himself for that purpose.“And where did you conceal yourself?” said Vanslyperken, with a keen inquiring look: for it immediately occurred to him that, unless it was under the sail, there could be no concealment for such a huge body as that of the corporal; and he had his misgivings. But the corporal very adroitly observed, that he stood at the lower step of the fore-ladder, with his head level with the coamings; and had, by this means, overheard the conversation unperceived, and had only walked away when the party broke up. This restored the confidence of Mr Vanslyperken, and a long discussion took place, in which it was agreed between them, that the only way to prevent Snarleyyow from being destroyed, was to try some means to make away quietly with poor Smallbones. But this part of the conversation was not carried to any length: for Mr Vanslyperken, indignant at having received such injury in his face from his ungrateful cur, did not, at that moment, feel the current of his affection run so strong as usual in that direction. After this, the corporal touched his hat, swung round to the rightabout in military style, and left the cabin.
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 warrant the supposition that he should be able to extract from him the results of the night’s unusually long conference.
Mr Vanslyperken walked up to where the corporal lay as quiet but not quite so small as a mouse. It occurred to Mr Vanslyperken that a little taste of punishmentin essewould very much assist the threats of what might be receivedin posse; so he laid aside his speaking-trumpet, looked round, picked up a handspike, and raising it above his head, down it came, with all the force of the lieutenant’s arm, upon Corporal Van Spitter, whose carcase resounded like a huge kettle-drum.
“Tunder and flame!” roared the corporal under the canvas, thinking that one of the seamen, having discovered him eavesdropping, had thus wreaked his revenge, taking advantage of his being covered up, and pretending not to know him. “Tunder and flame!” roared the corporal, muffled up in the canvas, and trying to extricate himself; but his voice was not recognised by the lieutenant, and, before he could get clear of his envelope, the handspike had again descended; when up rose the corporal, like a buffalo out of his muddy lair, half blinded by the last blow, which had fallen on his head, ran full butt at the lieutenant, and precipitated his senior officer and commander headlong down the fore-hatchway.
Vanslyperken fell with great force, was stunned, and lay without motion at the foot of the ladder, while the corporal, whose wrath was always excessive when his blood was up, but whose phlegmatic blood could not be raised without some such decided stimulus as a handspike, now turned round and round the forecastle, like a bull looking for his assailants; but the corporal had the forecastle all to himself, and, as he gradually cooled down, he saw lying close to him the speaking-trumpet of his senior officer.
“Tousand tyfels,” murmured Corporal Van Spitter, “but it must have been the skipper. Got for dam, dis is hanging matter!” Corporal Van Spitter was as cool as a cucumber as soon as he observed what a mistake he had made; in fact he quivered and trembled in his fat. “But then,” thought he, “perhaps he did not know me—no, he could not, or he never would have handspikedme.” So Corporal Van Spitter walked down the hatchway, where he ascertained that his commandant lay insensible. “Dat is good,” thought he; and he went aft, lighted his lantern, and, as aruse, knocked at the cabin-door. Receiving no answer but the growl of Snarleyyow, he went in, and then ascended to the quarter-deck, looked round him, and inquired of the man at the wheel where Mr Vanslyperken might be. The man replied that he had gone forward a few minutes before, and thither the corporal proceeded. Of course, not finding him, he returned, telling the man that the skipper was not in the cabin or the forecastle, and wondering where he could be. He then descended to the next officer in command, Dick Short, and called him.
“Well,” said Short.
“Can’t find Mr Vanslyperken anywhere,” said the corporal.
“Look,” replied Dick, turning round in his hammock.
“Mein Got, I have looked de forecastle, de quarter-deck, and de cabin—he not anywhere.”
“Overboard,” replied Dick.
“I come to you, sir, to make inquiry,” said the corporal.
“Turn out,” said Dick, suiting the action to the words, and lighting with his feet on the deck in his shirt.
While Short was dressing himself, the corporal summoned up all his marines; and the noise occasioned by this turn out, and the conversation overheard by those who were awake, soon gave the crew of the cutter to understand that some accident had happened to their commander. Even Smallbones had it whispered in his ear that Mr Vanslyperken had fallen overboard, and he smiled as he lay in the dark, smarting with his wounds, muttering to himself that Snarleyyow should soon follow his master. By the time that Short was on the quarterdeck, Corporal Van Spitter, who knew very well where to look for it, had, very much to the disappointment of the crew found the body of Mr Vanslyperken, and the marines had brought it aft to the cabin, and would have laid it on the bed, had not Snarleyyow, who had no feeling in his composition, positively denied its being put there.
Short came down and examined his superior officer.
“Is he dead,” inquired the corporal with alarm.
“No,” replied Short.
“Vat can it be then?” said the corporal.
“Stunned,” replied Short.
“Mein Got! how could it happen?”
“Tumbled,” replied Short.
“What shall we do, sir?” rejoined the corporal.
“Bed,” replied Short, turning on his heel, and a minute after turning into his hammock.
“Mein Got, the dog will not let him go to bed,” exclaimed the corporal.
“Let’s put him in,” said one of the marines; “the dog won’t bite his master.”
So the marines lifted up the still insensible Mr Vanslyperken, and almost tossed him into his standing bed-place, right on the body of the snarling dog, who, as soon as he could disengage himself from the weight, revenged himself by making his teeth meet more than once through the lantern cheek of his master, and then leaping off the bed, retreated growling under the table.
“Well, youarea nice dog,” exclaimed one of the marines, looking after Snarleyyow in his retreat.
Now, there was no medical assistance on board so small a vessel. Mr Vanslyperken was allowed a small quantity of medicine, unguents, etcetera; but these he always sold to an apothecary as soon as he had procured them from the authorities. The teeth of the dog had, however, their effect, and Mr Vanslyperken opened his eyes, and in a faint voice cried, “Snarleyyow.” Oh, if the dog had any spark of feeling, how must he then have been stung with remorse at his ingratitude to so kind a master! But he apparently showed none, at least report does not say that any symptoms were manifest.
After a little burnt oakum had excoriated his nose, and a certain quantity of the cold salt-water from alongside had wetted through his bed-clothes, Mr Vanslyperken was completely recovered, and was able to speak and look about him. Corporal Van Spitter trembled a little as his commandant fixed his eyes upon him, and he redoubled his attention.
“Mein Got, Mynheer Vanslyperken, how was this happen?” exclaimed the corporal in a pathetic tone. Whereupon Mr Vanslyperken ordered every one to leave the cabin but Corporal Van Spitter.
Mr Vanslyperken then communicated to the corporal that he had been knocked down the hatchway by one of the men when he went forward; that he could not distinguish who it was, but thought it must have been Jansen from his size. Corporal Van Spitter, delighted to find that his skipper was on a wrong scent, expressed his opinion in corroboration of the lieutenant’s; after which a long consultation took place relative to mutiny, disaffection, and the proper measures to be taken. Vanslyperken mentioned the consultation of the men during the first watch, and the corporal, to win his favour, was very glad to be able to communicate the particulars of what he had overheard, stating that he had concealed himself for that purpose.
“And where did you conceal yourself?” said Vanslyperken, with a keen inquiring look: for it immediately occurred to him that, unless it was under the sail, there could be no concealment for such a huge body as that of the corporal; and he had his misgivings. But the corporal very adroitly observed, that he stood at the lower step of the fore-ladder, with his head level with the coamings; and had, by this means, overheard the conversation unperceived, and had only walked away when the party broke up. This restored the confidence of Mr Vanslyperken, and a long discussion took place, in which it was agreed between them, that the only way to prevent Snarleyyow from being destroyed, was to try some means to make away quietly with poor Smallbones. But this part of the conversation was not carried to any length: for Mr Vanslyperken, indignant at having received such injury in his face from his ungrateful cur, did not, at that moment, feel the current of his affection run so strong as usual in that direction. After this, the corporal touched his hat, swung round to the rightabout in military style, and left the cabin.
Chapter Seven.In which Mr Vanslyperken goes on Shore to woo the Widow Vandersloosh.Three weeks of comparative calm now passed away, during which Mr Vanslyperken recovered of his wounds and accident, and meditated how he should make away with Smallbones. The latter also recovered of his bites, and meditated how he should make away with Snarleyyow. Smallbones had returned to his avocations, and Mr Vanslyperken, intending mischief, treated him more kindly as a blind. Snarleyyow also, not forgetting his defeat on the quarter-deck, did not renew his attacks, even when the poor lad helped himself to biscuit.The Yungfrau anchored in the Downs, and Mr Vanslyperken received despatches for the Hague; King William having written some letters to his friends, and sent over to them a little English money, which he knew would be acceptable; for continental kings on the English throne have never appeared to have a clear sense of the honour conferred upon them. England, in their ideas, has always been aparvenuekingdom; her nobles not able to trace further back than the Conquest; while, in their country, the lowest baron will prove his sixteen quarters, and his descent from the darkest ages. But, nevertheless, upon the same principle that the poor aristocracy will condescend to unite themselves occasionally to city wealth, so have these potentates condescended to reign over us.Mr Vanslyperken received his despatches, and made the best of his way to Amsterdam, where he anchored delivered his credentials, and there waited for the letters of thanks from his Majesty’s cousins.But what a hurry and bustle there appears to be on board of the Yungfrau—Smallbones here, Smallbones there—Corporal Van Spitter pushing to and fro with the dog-trot of an elephant; and even Snarleyyow appears to be unusually often up and down the hatchway. What can it all be about? Oh! Mr Vanslyperken is going on shore to pay his respects and continue his addresses to the widow Vandersloosh. His boat is manned alongside, and he now appears on the cutter’s quarter-deck.Is it possible that this can be Mr Vanslyperken? Heavens, how gay! An uniform certainly does wonders with some people: that is to say, those who do not look well in plain clothes are invariably improved by it; while those who look most like gentlemen in plain clothes, lose in the same proportion. At all events Mr Vanslyperken is wonderfully un proved.He has a loose pair of blue pantaloons, with boots rising above his knees pulled over them: his lower parts remind you of Charles the Twelfth. He has a long scarlet waistcoat, with large gilt buttons and flap pockets, and his uniform coat over all, of blue turned up with red, has a very commanding appearance. To a broad black belt over his shoulder hangs his cutlass, the sheath of which is mounted with silver, and the hilt of ivory and gold threads; and, above all, his small head is almost dignified by being surmounted with a three-cornered turned-up and gold-banded cocked hat, with one corner of the triangle in front parallel with his sharp nose. Surely, the widow must strike her colours to scarlet, and blue, and gold. But although women are said, like mackerel, to take such baits, still widows are not fond of a man who is as thin as a herring; they are too knowing, they prefer stamina, and will not be persuaded to take the shadow for the substance.Mr Vanslyperken was, nevertheless, very well pleased with himself, which was something, but still not quite enough on the present occasion; and he strutted the deck with great complacency, gave his final orders to Dick Short, who, as usual, gave a short answer; also to Corporal Van Spitter, who, as usual, received them with all military honour; and, lastly, to Smallbones, who received them with all humility. The lieutenant was about to step into the boat when a doubt arose, and he stopped in his advance, perplexed. It was one of no small importance—was Snarleyyow to accompany him or not? That was the knotty question, and it really was a case which required some deliberation. If he left him on board after the conspiracy which had been formed against him, the dog would probably be overboard before he returned; that is, if Smallbones were also left on board; for Mr Vanslyperken knew that it had been decided that Smallbones alone could and should destroy the dog. He could not, therefore, leave the dog on board with safety; and, as for taking him on shore with him, in that there was much danger, for the widow Vandersloosh had set her face against the dog. No wonder: he had behaved in her parlour as bad as the dog Crab in the Two Gentlemen of Verona; and the Frau was a very clean person, and had no fancy for dogs comparing their legs with those of her polished mahogany chairs and tables. If Mr Vanslyperken’s suit was to be decided according to the old adage, “love me, love my dog,” he certainly had but a poor chance; for the widow detested the cur, and had insisted that it should never be brought into her house. Take the dog on shore, therefore, he could not; but, thought Mr Vanslyperken, I can take Smallbones on shore, that will do as well. I have some biscuit to dispose of, and he shall go with it and wait till I come off again. Smallbones was, therefore, ordered to put on his hat and step into the boat with two halt bags of biscuit to carry up to the widow’s house, for she did a little business with Mr Vanslyperken, as well as allowing him to make love to her; and was never so sweet or so gracious as when closing a bargain. So Mr Vanslyperken waited for Smallbones, who was soon ready, for his best consisted only in a pair of shoes to his usually naked feet, and a hat for his generally uncovered head. And Mr Vanslyperken, and Smallbones, and the biscuit, were in the boat, when Snarleyyow intimated his intention to join the party; but this was refused, and the boat shoved off without him.As soon as Mr Vanslyperken had shoved off, Dick Short, being in command, thought he might as well give himself leave and go on shore also. So he went down, put on his best, and ordered the other boat to be manned, and leaving Obadiah Coble on board as the next officer, he took with him Jansen, Jemmy Ducks, and four or five others, to have a cruise. Now, as Snarleyyow had this time made up his mind that he would go on shore, and Short was willing to indulge him, for he knew that Smallbones, if he fell in with him would do his best to launch him into one of the canals, so convenient in every street, the cur was permitted to get into the boat, and was landed with the rest of the party, who, as usual, repaired to the Lust Haus of the widow Vandersloosh; where we must leave them for the present, and return to our friend, Mr Vanslyperken.
Three weeks of comparative calm now passed away, during which Mr Vanslyperken recovered of his wounds and accident, and meditated how he should make away with Smallbones. The latter also recovered of his bites, and meditated how he should make away with Snarleyyow. Smallbones had returned to his avocations, and Mr Vanslyperken, intending mischief, treated him more kindly as a blind. Snarleyyow also, not forgetting his defeat on the quarter-deck, did not renew his attacks, even when the poor lad helped himself to biscuit.
The Yungfrau anchored in the Downs, and Mr Vanslyperken received despatches for the Hague; King William having written some letters to his friends, and sent over to them a little English money, which he knew would be acceptable; for continental kings on the English throne have never appeared to have a clear sense of the honour conferred upon them. England, in their ideas, has always been aparvenuekingdom; her nobles not able to trace further back than the Conquest; while, in their country, the lowest baron will prove his sixteen quarters, and his descent from the darkest ages. But, nevertheless, upon the same principle that the poor aristocracy will condescend to unite themselves occasionally to city wealth, so have these potentates condescended to reign over us.
Mr Vanslyperken received his despatches, and made the best of his way to Amsterdam, where he anchored delivered his credentials, and there waited for the letters of thanks from his Majesty’s cousins.
But what a hurry and bustle there appears to be on board of the Yungfrau—Smallbones here, Smallbones there—Corporal Van Spitter pushing to and fro with the dog-trot of an elephant; and even Snarleyyow appears to be unusually often up and down the hatchway. What can it all be about? Oh! Mr Vanslyperken is going on shore to pay his respects and continue his addresses to the widow Vandersloosh. His boat is manned alongside, and he now appears on the cutter’s quarter-deck.
Is it possible that this can be Mr Vanslyperken? Heavens, how gay! An uniform certainly does wonders with some people: that is to say, those who do not look well in plain clothes are invariably improved by it; while those who look most like gentlemen in plain clothes, lose in the same proportion. At all events Mr Vanslyperken is wonderfully un proved.
He has a loose pair of blue pantaloons, with boots rising above his knees pulled over them: his lower parts remind you of Charles the Twelfth. He has a long scarlet waistcoat, with large gilt buttons and flap pockets, and his uniform coat over all, of blue turned up with red, has a very commanding appearance. To a broad black belt over his shoulder hangs his cutlass, the sheath of which is mounted with silver, and the hilt of ivory and gold threads; and, above all, his small head is almost dignified by being surmounted with a three-cornered turned-up and gold-banded cocked hat, with one corner of the triangle in front parallel with his sharp nose. Surely, the widow must strike her colours to scarlet, and blue, and gold. But although women are said, like mackerel, to take such baits, still widows are not fond of a man who is as thin as a herring; they are too knowing, they prefer stamina, and will not be persuaded to take the shadow for the substance.
Mr Vanslyperken was, nevertheless, very well pleased with himself, which was something, but still not quite enough on the present occasion; and he strutted the deck with great complacency, gave his final orders to Dick Short, who, as usual, gave a short answer; also to Corporal Van Spitter, who, as usual, received them with all military honour; and, lastly, to Smallbones, who received them with all humility. The lieutenant was about to step into the boat when a doubt arose, and he stopped in his advance, perplexed. It was one of no small importance—was Snarleyyow to accompany him or not? That was the knotty question, and it really was a case which required some deliberation. If he left him on board after the conspiracy which had been formed against him, the dog would probably be overboard before he returned; that is, if Smallbones were also left on board; for Mr Vanslyperken knew that it had been decided that Smallbones alone could and should destroy the dog. He could not, therefore, leave the dog on board with safety; and, as for taking him on shore with him, in that there was much danger, for the widow Vandersloosh had set her face against the dog. No wonder: he had behaved in her parlour as bad as the dog Crab in the Two Gentlemen of Verona; and the Frau was a very clean person, and had no fancy for dogs comparing their legs with those of her polished mahogany chairs and tables. If Mr Vanslyperken’s suit was to be decided according to the old adage, “love me, love my dog,” he certainly had but a poor chance; for the widow detested the cur, and had insisted that it should never be brought into her house. Take the dog on shore, therefore, he could not; but, thought Mr Vanslyperken, I can take Smallbones on shore, that will do as well. I have some biscuit to dispose of, and he shall go with it and wait till I come off again. Smallbones was, therefore, ordered to put on his hat and step into the boat with two halt bags of biscuit to carry up to the widow’s house, for she did a little business with Mr Vanslyperken, as well as allowing him to make love to her; and was never so sweet or so gracious as when closing a bargain. So Mr Vanslyperken waited for Smallbones, who was soon ready, for his best consisted only in a pair of shoes to his usually naked feet, and a hat for his generally uncovered head. And Mr Vanslyperken, and Smallbones, and the biscuit, were in the boat, when Snarleyyow intimated his intention to join the party; but this was refused, and the boat shoved off without him.
As soon as Mr Vanslyperken had shoved off, Dick Short, being in command, thought he might as well give himself leave and go on shore also. So he went down, put on his best, and ordered the other boat to be manned, and leaving Obadiah Coble on board as the next officer, he took with him Jansen, Jemmy Ducks, and four or five others, to have a cruise. Now, as Snarleyyow had this time made up his mind that he would go on shore, and Short was willing to indulge him, for he knew that Smallbones, if he fell in with him would do his best to launch him into one of the canals, so convenient in every street, the cur was permitted to get into the boat, and was landed with the rest of the party, who, as usual, repaired to the Lust Haus of the widow Vandersloosh; where we must leave them for the present, and return to our friend, Mr Vanslyperken.
Chapter Eight.In which the Widow lays a Trap for Mr Vanslyperken, and Smallbones lays a Trap for Snarleyyow, and both bag their Game.The widow Vandersloosh, as we have informed the reader, was the owner of a Lust Haus, or pleasure-house for sailors: we will describe that portion of her tenements more particularly by-and-bye: at present, we must advert to her own private house, which stood adjoining, and had a communication with the Lust Haus by a private door through the party wall. This was a very small, snug little habitation, wit one window in each front, and two stories high; containing a front parlour and kitchen on the basement, two small rooms on the first and two on the second floor. Nothing could be better arranged for a widow’s residence. Moreover, she had a back-yard running the whole length of the wall of the Lust Haus in the rear, with convenient offices, and a back-door into the street behind.Mr Vanslyperken had arrived, paid his humble devoirs to the widow, more humble, because he was evidently pleased with his own person, and had been followed by Smallbones, who laid the biscuit by the scraper at the door, watching it as in duty bound. The lieutenant imagined that he was more graciously received than usual. Perhaps he was, for the widow had not had so much custom lately, and was glad the crew of the cutter were arrived to spend their money. Already had Vanslyperken removed his sword and belt, and laid them with his three-cornered laced hat on the side-table; he was already cosily, as of wont, seated upon the widow’s little fubsy sofa, with the lady by his side, and he had just taken her hand and was about to renew his suit, to pour forth the impromptu effusions of his heart, concocted on the quarter-deck of the Yungfrau, when who should bolt into the parlour but the unwelcome Snarleyyow.“O that nasty brute! Mynheer Vanslyperken, how dare you bring him into my house?” cried the widow, jumping up from the sofa, with her full-moon-face red with anger.“Indeed, widow,” replied Vanslyperken, “I left him on board, knowing that you were not fond of animals; but some one has brought him on shore. However, I’ll find out who it was, and keel-haul him in honour of your charms.”“I am fond of animals, Mr Vanslyperken, but I am not fond of such animals as that—such a filthy, ugly, disagreeable, snarling brute; nor can I think how you can keep him after what I have said about it. It don’t prove much regard, Mr Vanslyperken, when such a dog as that is kept on purpose to annoy me.”“I assure you, widow—”“Don’t assure me. Mr Vanslyperken, there’s no occasion—your dog is your own—but I’ll thank you to take him out of this house; and, perhaps, as he won’t go without you, you had better go with him.”Now the widow had never spoken so indignantly before: if the reader wishes to know why she did so now we will acquaint him; the widow Vandersloosh had perceived Smallbones, who sat like Patience on a monument, upon the two half bags of biscuit before her porch. It was a query to the widow whether they were to be a present, or an article to be bargained for: it was, therefore, very advisable to pick a quarrel that the matter might be cleared up. The widow’srusemet with all the success which it deserved. In the first place Mr Vanslyperken did what he never would have believed himself capable of, but the wrath of the widow had worked him also up to wrath, and he saluted Snarleyyow with such a kick on the side, as to send him howling into the backyard, followed him out, and, notwithstanding an attempt at defence on the part of the dog, which the lieutenant’s high boots rendered harmless, Snarleyyow was fairly or unfairly, as you may please to think it, kicked into an outhouse, the door shut, and the key turned upon him; after which Mr Vanslyperken returned to the parlour, where he found the widow, erect, with her back turned to the stove, blowing and bristling, her bosom heaving, reminding you of seas mountains high, as if she were still under the effect of a just resentment for the affront offered to her. There she stood waiting in all dignity for Mr Vanslyperken to repair the injury done, whether unintentional or not. In few words, there she waited for thebiscuitto be presented to her. And it was presented, for Vanslyperken knew no other way of appeasing her wrath. Gradually the storm was allayed—the flush of anger disappeared, the corners of the scornfully-turned-down mouth were turned up again—Cupid’s bow was no longer bent in anger, and the widow’s bosom slept as when the ocean sleeps, like “an unweaned child.” The biscuit bags were brought in by Smallbones, their contents stored, and harmony restored. Once more was Mr Vanslyperken upon the little sofa by the side of the fat widow, and once more did he take her melting hand. Alas! that her heart was not made of the same soft materials.But we must not only leave Short and his companions in the Lust Haus, but the widow and the lieutenant in their soft dalliance, and now occupy ourselves with the two principal personages of this our drama, Smallbones and Snarleyyow.When Smallbones had retired, with the empty bread-bags under his arm, he remained some time reflecting at the porch, and then having apparently made up his mind, he walked to a chandler’s shop just over the bridge of the canal opposite, and purchased a needle, some strong twine, and a red-herring. He also procured, “without purchase,” as they say in our War Office Gazettes, a few pieces of stick. Having obtained all these, he went round to the door of the yard behind the widow’s house, and let himself in. Little did Mr Vanslyperken imagine what mischief was brewing, while he was praising and drinking the beer of the widow’s own brewing.Smallbones had no difficulty in finding out where Snarleyyow was confined, for the dog was very busy gnawing his way through the door, which, however, was a work of time, and not yet a quarter accomplished. The place had been a fowl-house, and, at the bottom of the door, there was a small hatch for the ingress and egress of these bipeds, the original invention of some thrifty spinster, to prevent the maids from stealing eggs. But this hatch was closed, or Snarleyyow would have escaped through it. Smallbones took up his quarters in another outhouse, that he might not be observed, and commenced his operations.He first took out the bottom of one bread-bag, and then sewed that on the other to make it longer; he then ran a string through the mouth, so as to draw it close when necessary, and cut his sticks so as to support it and keep it open. All this being arranged, he went to where Snarleyyow was busy gnawing wood with great pertinacity, and allowed him not only to smell, but to tear off the tail of the red-herring, under the door; and then gradually drew the herring along until he had brought it right under the hatch in the middle, which left it at the precise distance that the dog could snuff it but not reach it, which Snarleyyow now did, in preference to gnawing wood. When you lay a trap, much depends upon the bait; Smallbones knew his enemy’s partiality for savoury comestibles. He then brought out his bag, set up his supporters, fixed it close to the hatch, and put the red-herring inside of it. With the string in one hand, he lifted up the hatch with the other. Snarleyyow rushed out and rushed in, and in a moment the strings were drawn, and as soon as drawn were tied tight round the mouth of the bag. Snarleyyow was caught; he tumbled over and over, rolling now to the right and now to the left, while Smallbones grinned with delight. After amusing himself a short time with the evolutions of his prisoner, he dragged him in his bag into the outhouse where he had made his trap, shut the door, and left him. The next object was to remove any suspicion on the part of Mr Vanslyperken; and to effect this, Smallbones tore off the hatch, and broke it in two or three pieces, bit parts of it with his own teeth, and laid them down before the door, making it appear as if the dog had gnawed his own way out. The reason for allowing the dog still to remain in prison, was that Smallbones dared not attempt anything further until it was dark, and there was yet an hour or more to wait for the close of the day.Smallbones had but just finished his work in time; for the widow having been summoned to her guests in the Lust Haus, had left Vanslyperken alone, and the lieutenant thought this a good opportunity to look after his four-footed favourite, he came out into the yard, where he found Smallbones, and he had his misgivings.“What are you doing here, sir?”“Waiting for you, sir,” replied Smallbones, humbly.“And the dog?” said Vanslyperken, observing the strewed fragments of the door hatch.“He’s a-bitten himself out, sir, I believe.”“And where is he then?”“I don’t know, sir; I suppose he’s gone down to the boat.”Snarleyyow hearing his master’s voice, had commenced a whine, and Smallbones trembled: fortunately, at that moment, the widow’s ample form appeared at the back-door of the house, and she called to Mr Vanslyperken. The widow’s voice drowned the whine of the dog, and his master did not hear it. At the summons, Vanslyperken but half convinced, but not daring to show any interest about the animal in the presence of his mistress, returned to the parlour, and very soon the dog was forgotten.But as the orgies in the Lust Haus increased, so did it become more necessary for the widow to make frequent visits there; not only to supply her customers, but to restrain them by her presence: and as the evening wore away, so did the absences of the widow become more frequent. This Vanslyperken well knew, and he therefore always pressed his suit in the afternoon, and as soon as it was dark returned on board. Smallbones, who watched at the back door the movements of his master, perceived that he was refixing his sword-belt over his shoulder, and he knew this to be the signal for departure. It was now quite dark; he therefore hastened to the outhouse, and dragged out Snarleyyow in the bag, swung him over his shoulder, and walked out of the yard-door, proceeded to the canal in front of the widow’s house, looked round him, could perceive nobody, and then dragged the bag with its contents into the stagnant water below, just as Mr Vanslyperken, who had bidden adieu to the widow, came out of the house. There was a heavy splash—and silence. Had such been heard on the shores of the Bosphorus on such a night, it would have told some tale of unhappy love and a husband’s vengeance; but, at Amsterdam, it was nothing more than the drowning of a cur.“Who’s there—is it Smallbones?” said Mr Vanslyperken.“Yes, sir,” said Smallbones, with alarm.“What was that noise I heard?”“Noise, sir? Oh, I kicked a paving-stone into the canal.”“And don’t you know there is a heavy fine for that, you scoundrel? And pray where are the bread-bags?”“The bread-bags, sir? Oh, Mr Short took them to tie up some vegetables in them.”“Mr Short! O, very well. Come along, sir, and no more throwing stones into the canal; why you might have killed somebody—there is a boat down there now, I hear the people talking.” And Mr Vanslyperken hastened to his boat, which was waiting for him; anxious to ascertain if Snarleyyow, as he fully expected, was in it. But to his grief and disappointment he was not there, and Mr Vanslyperken sat in the stern sheets, in no pleasant humour, thinking whether it was or was not a paving-stone which Smallbones had thrown into the canal, and resolving that if the dog did not appear, Smallbones should be keel-hauled. There was, however, one more chance, the dog might have been taken on board.
The widow Vandersloosh, as we have informed the reader, was the owner of a Lust Haus, or pleasure-house for sailors: we will describe that portion of her tenements more particularly by-and-bye: at present, we must advert to her own private house, which stood adjoining, and had a communication with the Lust Haus by a private door through the party wall. This was a very small, snug little habitation, wit one window in each front, and two stories high; containing a front parlour and kitchen on the basement, two small rooms on the first and two on the second floor. Nothing could be better arranged for a widow’s residence. Moreover, she had a back-yard running the whole length of the wall of the Lust Haus in the rear, with convenient offices, and a back-door into the street behind.
Mr Vanslyperken had arrived, paid his humble devoirs to the widow, more humble, because he was evidently pleased with his own person, and had been followed by Smallbones, who laid the biscuit by the scraper at the door, watching it as in duty bound. The lieutenant imagined that he was more graciously received than usual. Perhaps he was, for the widow had not had so much custom lately, and was glad the crew of the cutter were arrived to spend their money. Already had Vanslyperken removed his sword and belt, and laid them with his three-cornered laced hat on the side-table; he was already cosily, as of wont, seated upon the widow’s little fubsy sofa, with the lady by his side, and he had just taken her hand and was about to renew his suit, to pour forth the impromptu effusions of his heart, concocted on the quarter-deck of the Yungfrau, when who should bolt into the parlour but the unwelcome Snarleyyow.
“O that nasty brute! Mynheer Vanslyperken, how dare you bring him into my house?” cried the widow, jumping up from the sofa, with her full-moon-face red with anger.
“Indeed, widow,” replied Vanslyperken, “I left him on board, knowing that you were not fond of animals; but some one has brought him on shore. However, I’ll find out who it was, and keel-haul him in honour of your charms.”
“I am fond of animals, Mr Vanslyperken, but I am not fond of such animals as that—such a filthy, ugly, disagreeable, snarling brute; nor can I think how you can keep him after what I have said about it. It don’t prove much regard, Mr Vanslyperken, when such a dog as that is kept on purpose to annoy me.”
“I assure you, widow—”
“Don’t assure me. Mr Vanslyperken, there’s no occasion—your dog is your own—but I’ll thank you to take him out of this house; and, perhaps, as he won’t go without you, you had better go with him.”
Now the widow had never spoken so indignantly before: if the reader wishes to know why she did so now we will acquaint him; the widow Vandersloosh had perceived Smallbones, who sat like Patience on a monument, upon the two half bags of biscuit before her porch. It was a query to the widow whether they were to be a present, or an article to be bargained for: it was, therefore, very advisable to pick a quarrel that the matter might be cleared up. The widow’srusemet with all the success which it deserved. In the first place Mr Vanslyperken did what he never would have believed himself capable of, but the wrath of the widow had worked him also up to wrath, and he saluted Snarleyyow with such a kick on the side, as to send him howling into the backyard, followed him out, and, notwithstanding an attempt at defence on the part of the dog, which the lieutenant’s high boots rendered harmless, Snarleyyow was fairly or unfairly, as you may please to think it, kicked into an outhouse, the door shut, and the key turned upon him; after which Mr Vanslyperken returned to the parlour, where he found the widow, erect, with her back turned to the stove, blowing and bristling, her bosom heaving, reminding you of seas mountains high, as if she were still under the effect of a just resentment for the affront offered to her. There she stood waiting in all dignity for Mr Vanslyperken to repair the injury done, whether unintentional or not. In few words, there she waited for thebiscuitto be presented to her. And it was presented, for Vanslyperken knew no other way of appeasing her wrath. Gradually the storm was allayed—the flush of anger disappeared, the corners of the scornfully-turned-down mouth were turned up again—Cupid’s bow was no longer bent in anger, and the widow’s bosom slept as when the ocean sleeps, like “an unweaned child.” The biscuit bags were brought in by Smallbones, their contents stored, and harmony restored. Once more was Mr Vanslyperken upon the little sofa by the side of the fat widow, and once more did he take her melting hand. Alas! that her heart was not made of the same soft materials.
But we must not only leave Short and his companions in the Lust Haus, but the widow and the lieutenant in their soft dalliance, and now occupy ourselves with the two principal personages of this our drama, Smallbones and Snarleyyow.
When Smallbones had retired, with the empty bread-bags under his arm, he remained some time reflecting at the porch, and then having apparently made up his mind, he walked to a chandler’s shop just over the bridge of the canal opposite, and purchased a needle, some strong twine, and a red-herring. He also procured, “without purchase,” as they say in our War Office Gazettes, a few pieces of stick. Having obtained all these, he went round to the door of the yard behind the widow’s house, and let himself in. Little did Mr Vanslyperken imagine what mischief was brewing, while he was praising and drinking the beer of the widow’s own brewing.
Smallbones had no difficulty in finding out where Snarleyyow was confined, for the dog was very busy gnawing his way through the door, which, however, was a work of time, and not yet a quarter accomplished. The place had been a fowl-house, and, at the bottom of the door, there was a small hatch for the ingress and egress of these bipeds, the original invention of some thrifty spinster, to prevent the maids from stealing eggs. But this hatch was closed, or Snarleyyow would have escaped through it. Smallbones took up his quarters in another outhouse, that he might not be observed, and commenced his operations.
He first took out the bottom of one bread-bag, and then sewed that on the other to make it longer; he then ran a string through the mouth, so as to draw it close when necessary, and cut his sticks so as to support it and keep it open. All this being arranged, he went to where Snarleyyow was busy gnawing wood with great pertinacity, and allowed him not only to smell, but to tear off the tail of the red-herring, under the door; and then gradually drew the herring along until he had brought it right under the hatch in the middle, which left it at the precise distance that the dog could snuff it but not reach it, which Snarleyyow now did, in preference to gnawing wood. When you lay a trap, much depends upon the bait; Smallbones knew his enemy’s partiality for savoury comestibles. He then brought out his bag, set up his supporters, fixed it close to the hatch, and put the red-herring inside of it. With the string in one hand, he lifted up the hatch with the other. Snarleyyow rushed out and rushed in, and in a moment the strings were drawn, and as soon as drawn were tied tight round the mouth of the bag. Snarleyyow was caught; he tumbled over and over, rolling now to the right and now to the left, while Smallbones grinned with delight. After amusing himself a short time with the evolutions of his prisoner, he dragged him in his bag into the outhouse where he had made his trap, shut the door, and left him. The next object was to remove any suspicion on the part of Mr Vanslyperken; and to effect this, Smallbones tore off the hatch, and broke it in two or three pieces, bit parts of it with his own teeth, and laid them down before the door, making it appear as if the dog had gnawed his own way out. The reason for allowing the dog still to remain in prison, was that Smallbones dared not attempt anything further until it was dark, and there was yet an hour or more to wait for the close of the day.
Smallbones had but just finished his work in time; for the widow having been summoned to her guests in the Lust Haus, had left Vanslyperken alone, and the lieutenant thought this a good opportunity to look after his four-footed favourite, he came out into the yard, where he found Smallbones, and he had his misgivings.
“What are you doing here, sir?”
“Waiting for you, sir,” replied Smallbones, humbly.
“And the dog?” said Vanslyperken, observing the strewed fragments of the door hatch.
“He’s a-bitten himself out, sir, I believe.”
“And where is he then?”
“I don’t know, sir; I suppose he’s gone down to the boat.”
Snarleyyow hearing his master’s voice, had commenced a whine, and Smallbones trembled: fortunately, at that moment, the widow’s ample form appeared at the back-door of the house, and she called to Mr Vanslyperken. The widow’s voice drowned the whine of the dog, and his master did not hear it. At the summons, Vanslyperken but half convinced, but not daring to show any interest about the animal in the presence of his mistress, returned to the parlour, and very soon the dog was forgotten.
But as the orgies in the Lust Haus increased, so did it become more necessary for the widow to make frequent visits there; not only to supply her customers, but to restrain them by her presence: and as the evening wore away, so did the absences of the widow become more frequent. This Vanslyperken well knew, and he therefore always pressed his suit in the afternoon, and as soon as it was dark returned on board. Smallbones, who watched at the back door the movements of his master, perceived that he was refixing his sword-belt over his shoulder, and he knew this to be the signal for departure. It was now quite dark; he therefore hastened to the outhouse, and dragged out Snarleyyow in the bag, swung him over his shoulder, and walked out of the yard-door, proceeded to the canal in front of the widow’s house, looked round him, could perceive nobody, and then dragged the bag with its contents into the stagnant water below, just as Mr Vanslyperken, who had bidden adieu to the widow, came out of the house. There was a heavy splash—and silence. Had such been heard on the shores of the Bosphorus on such a night, it would have told some tale of unhappy love and a husband’s vengeance; but, at Amsterdam, it was nothing more than the drowning of a cur.
“Who’s there—is it Smallbones?” said Mr Vanslyperken.
“Yes, sir,” said Smallbones, with alarm.
“What was that noise I heard?”
“Noise, sir? Oh, I kicked a paving-stone into the canal.”
“And don’t you know there is a heavy fine for that, you scoundrel? And pray where are the bread-bags?”
“The bread-bags, sir? Oh, Mr Short took them to tie up some vegetables in them.”
“Mr Short! O, very well. Come along, sir, and no more throwing stones into the canal; why you might have killed somebody—there is a boat down there now, I hear the people talking.” And Mr Vanslyperken hastened to his boat, which was waiting for him; anxious to ascertain if Snarleyyow, as he fully expected, was in it. But to his grief and disappointment he was not there, and Mr Vanslyperken sat in the stern sheets, in no pleasant humour, thinking whether it was or was not a paving-stone which Smallbones had thrown into the canal, and resolving that if the dog did not appear, Smallbones should be keel-hauled. There was, however, one more chance, the dog might have been taken on board.
Chapter Nine.A Long Chapter, in which there is Lamentation, Singing, Bibbling, and Dancing.It may readily be supposed, that the first question asked by Mr Vanslyperken, on his gaining the quarter-deck, was, if Snarleyyow were on board. He was received with the military salute of Corporal Van Spitter, for Obadiah Coble, having been left commanding officer, had given himself leave, and, with a few men, had joined Bob Short and the first party at the Lust Haus, leaving the corporal as the next senior officer in charge. The answer in the negative was a great mortification to Mr Vanslyperken, and he descended to his cabin in no very good humour, and summoned Smallbones. But before Smallbones was summoned, he had time to whisper to one or two of the conspirators—“He’s gone.” It was enough; in less than a minute the whisper was passed throughout the cutter. “He’s gone,” was siffilated above and below, until it met the ears of even Corporal Van Spitter, who had it from a marine, who had it from another marine, who had it from a seaman, who—but it was, however, soon traced up to Smallbones by the indefatigable corporal—who considered it his duty to report the report to Mr Vanslyperken. Accordingly he descended to the cabin and knocked for admission.In the meantime Vanslyperken had been venting his ill-humour upon Smallbones, having, as he took off from his person, and replaced in his drawers, his unusual finery, administered an unusual quantity of kicks, as well as a severe blow on the head with his sheathed cutlass to the unfortunate lad, who repeated to himself, by way of consolation, the magic words—“He’s gone.”“If you please, sir,” said Corporal Van Spitter, “I’ve discovered from the ship’s company that the dogis gone.”“I know that, corporal,” replied Vanslyperken.“And, sir, the report has been traced to Smallbones.”“Indeed! Then it was you that said that the dog is gone—now, you villain, where is he?”“If you please, I did say that the dog was gone, and so he is: but I didn’t say that I knew where he was—no more I don’t. He’s runned away, and he’ll be back to-morrow; I’m sure he will.”“Corporal Van Spitter, if the dog is not on board again by eight o’clock to-morrow morning, you will get all ready for keel-hauling this scoundrel.”“Yes, mynheer,” replied the corporal, delighted at having something to do in the way of punishment.Smallbones made up a lachrymal face.“It’s very hard,” said he; “suppose the dog has fallen into the canal, is that my fault? If he’s a-gone to the bottom of the canal, that’s no reason why I’m to be dragged under the bottom of the cutter.”“Yes, yes,” replied Vanslyperken, “I’ll teach you to throw paving-stones off the wharf. Leave the cabin, sir.”Smallbones, whose guilty conscience flew into his pallid face at the mention of the paving-stones, immediately made a hasty retreat; and Vanslyperken turned into his bed and dreamt of vengeance.We must now return to the Lust Haus, and the party on shore; and our first task must be, to give the reader an idea of what a Lust Haus may be. It is, as its name imports, a resort for pleasure and amusement; and in this respect the Dutch are certainly very much in advance of the English, who have, in the pot-houses and low inns resorted to by seamen, no accommodation of the kind. There is barely room for Jack to foot it in a reel, the tap-room is so small; and as Jack is soon reeling after he is once on shore, it is a very great defect. Now, the Lust Haus is a room as large as an assembly-room in a country town, well lighted up with lamps and chandeliers, well warmed with stoves, where you have room to dance fifty reels at once, and still have plenty of accommodation at the chairs and tables ranged round on each side. At the end of the room is a raised chair, with a protecting railing, on which the musicians, to the number of seven or eight, are posted, and they continue during the evening to play when requested. The people of the Lust Haus furnish wine and spirits of every description, while cakes, nuts, walnuts, oranges, etcetera, are supplied from the baskets of numerous young women, who hand them round, and press their customers to purchase. Police-officers superintend these resorts, to remove those who are violent and interfere with the amusements of others. On the whole, it is a very gay scene, and is resorted to by seamen of all nations, with a sprinkling of those who are not sailors, but who like amusement, and there are plenty of females who are ready to dance with them, and to share their beer or grog. Be it further known, that there is a great deal of decorum in a Lust Haus, particularly among the latter sex; and altogether it is infinitely more rational and less debasing than the low pot-houses of Portsmouth or Plymouth.Such was the place of amusement kept by the Frau Vandersloosh, and in this large room had been seated, for some hours, Dick Short, Coble, Jansen, Jemmy Ducks, and some others of the crew of his Majesty’s cutter Yungfrau.The room was now full, but not crowded; it was too spacious well to be so. Some sixteen couples were dancing a quadrille to a lively tune played by the band, and among the dancers were to be seen old women, and children of tea or twelve; for it was not considered improper to be seen dancing at this humble assembly, and the neighbours frequently came in. The small tables and numerous chairs round the room were nearly all filled, beer was foaming from the mouths of the opened bottles, and there was the ringing of the glasses as they pledged each other. At several tables were assemblages of Dutch seamen, who smoked with all the phlegm of their nation, as they gravely looked upon the dancers. At another were to be seen some American seamen, scrupulously neat in their attire, and with an airdistinguée, from the superiority of their education, and all of them quiet and sober. The basket-women flitted about displaying, their stores, and invited every one to purchase fruit, and particularly hard-boiled eggs, which they had brought in at this hour, when those who dined at one might be expected to be hungry. Sailors’ wives were also there, and perhaps some who could not produce the marriage certificates; but as these were not asked for at the door, it was of no consequence. About the centre of the room, at two small tables joined together, were to be seen the party from the Yungfrau; some were drinking beer, some grog, and Jemmy Ducks was perched on the table, with his fiddle as usual held like a bass viol. He was known by those who frequented the house by the name of the Mannikin, and was a universal object of admiration and good-will. The quadrille was ended, and the music stopped playing.“Come now,” said Coble, tossing off his glass, “spell oh!—let’s have a song while they take their breath. Jemmy, strike up.”“Hurrah, for a song!” cries Jemmy. “Here goes.”Jemmy then tuned one string of his fiddle, which was a little out, and accompanying his voice, sang as follows: all those who were present immediately keeping silence, for they were used to Jemmy’s melody.’Twas on the twenty-fourth of June I sail’d away to sea,I turn’d my pockets in the lap of Susan on my knee;Says I, my dear, ’tis all I have, I wish that it was more.It can’t be help’d, says Susan then, you know we’ve spent galore.You know we’ve spent galore, my Bill,And merry have been we,Again you must your pockets fill,For Susan on your knee.“Chorus, my boys—!”For Susan on my knee, my boys,With Susan on my knee.The gale came on in thunder, lads, in lightning, and in foam,Before that we had sail’d away three hundred miles from home;And on the Sunday morning, lads, the coast was on our lee,Oh, then I thought of Portsmouth, and of Susan on my knee.For howling winds and waves to boot,With black rocks on the lee,Did not so well my fancy suit,As Susan on my knee.Chorus.—With Susan on my knee, my boys,With Susan on my knee.Next morning we were cast away upon the Frenchman’s shore,We saved our lives, but not our all, for we could save no more;They march’d us to a prison, so we lost our liberty,I peep’d between the bars, and sigh’d for Susan on my knee.For bread so black, and wine so sour,And a sou a-day to me,Made me long ten times an hour,For Susan on my knee.Chorus.—For Susan on my knee, my boys,For Susan on my knee.One night we smash’d our jailer’s skull, and off our boat did steer,And in the offing were pick’d up by a jolly privateer;We sail’d in her the cruise, my boys, and prizes did take we,I’ll be at Portsmouth soon, thinks I, with Susan on my knee.We shared three hundred pounds a man,I made all sail with glee,Again I danced and toss’d my can,With Susan on my knee.Chorus—With Susan on my knee, my boys,With Susan on my knee.“That’s prime, Jemmy. Now, my boys, all together,” cried Obadiah Coble.Chorus.—Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;We are all here for mirth and glee,We are all here for jollity.Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;Put your hats on to keep your beads warm,A little more grog will do us no harm.“Hurrah! Now, Bill Spurey, suppose you tip us a stave. But I say, Babette, you Dutch-built galliot, tell old Frank Slush to send us another dose of the stuff; and, d’ye hear, a short pipe for me, and a paper o’ baccy.”The short, fat Babette, whose proportions all the exercise of waiting upon the customers could not reduce, knew quite enough English to require no further explanation.“Come, Jemmy, my hearty, take your fingers off your fiddle, and hand in your pot,” continued Coble; “and then, if they are not going to dance, we’ll have another song. Bill Spurey, wet your whistle, and just clear the cobwebs out of your throat. Here’s more ’baccy, Short.”Short made no reply, but he shook out the ashes, and filled his pipe. The music did not strike up again, so Bill Spurey sang as follows:—Says the parson one day, as I cursed a Jew,Do you know, my lad, that we call it a sin!I fear of you sailors there are but few,St. Peter, to heaven, will ever let in.Says I, Mr Parson, to tell you my mind,No sailors to knock were ever yet seen,Those who travel by land may steer ’gainst wind,But we shape a course for Fiddler’s Green.For Fiddler’s Green, where seamen true,When here they’ve done their duty,The bowl of grog shall still renewAnd pledge to love and beauty.Says the parson, I hear you’ve married three wives,Now do you not know that that is a sin?You sailors, you lead such very bad lives,St. Peter, to heaven, will ne’er let you in.Parson, says I, in each port I’ve butone,And never had more, wherever I’ve been;Below I’m obliged to be chaste as a nun,But I’m promised a dozen at Fiddler’s Green.At Fiddler’s Green, where seamen true,When here they’ve done their duty,The bowl of grog shall still renew,And pledge to love and beauty.Says the parson, says he, you’re drunk, my man,And do you not know that that is a sin?If you sailors will ever be swinging your can,To heaven you surely will never get in.(Hiccup.) Parson, you may as well be mum,’Tis only on shore I’m this way seen;But oceans of punch, and rivers of rum,Await the sailor at Fiddler’s Green.At Fiddler’s Green, where seamen true,When here they’ve done their duty,The bowl of grog shall still renewAnd pledge to love and beauty.“Well reeled off, Billy,” cried Jemmy Ducks finishing with a flourish on his fiddle and a refrain of the air. “I don’t think we shall meet him and his dog at Fiddler’s Green—heh!”“No,” replied Short, taking his pipe from his lip.“No, no, Jemmy, a seaman true means one true in heart as well as in knowledge; but, like a blind fiddler, he’ll be led by his dog somewhere else.”“From vere de dog did come from,” observed Jansen.The band now struck up again, and played a waltz—a dance new to our country, but older than the Heptarchy. Jansen, with his pipe in his mouth, took one of the women by the waist, and steered round the room about as leisurely as a capstan heaving up. Dick Short also took another made four turns, reeled up against a Dutchman who was doing it withsang froid, and then suddenly left his partner, and dropped into his chair.“I say, Jemmy,” said Obadiah Coble, “why don’t you give a girl a twist round?”“Because I can’t, Oby; my compasses ain’t long enough to describe a circle. You and I are better here, old boy. I, because I’ve very little legs, and you, because you havn’t a leg to stand upon.”“Very true—not quite so young as I was forty years ago. Howsomever I mean this to be my last vessel. I shall bear up for one of the London dockyards as a rigger.”“Yes, that’ll do; only keep clear of the girt-lines, you’re too stiff for that.”“No, that would not exactly tell; I shall pick my own work, and that’s where I can bring my tarry trousers to an anchor—mousing the mainstay, or puddening the anchor, with the best of any. Dick, lend us a bit of ’baccy.”Short pulled out his box without saying a word. Coble took a quid, and Short thrust the box again into his pocket.In the meantime the waltz continued, and being a favourite dance, there were about fifty couple going round and round the room. Such was the variety in the dress, country, language, and appearance of the parties collected, that you might have imagined it a masquerade. It was, however, getting late, and Frau Vandersloosh had received the intimation of the people of the police who superintend these resorts, that it was the time for shutting up; so that, although the widow was sorry on her own account to disperse so merry and so thirsty a party as they were now becoming, so soon as the waltz was ended the musicians packed up their instruments and departed.This was a signal for many, but by no means for all, to depart; for music being over, and the house doors closed, a few who remained, provided they made no disturbance, were not interfered with by the police. Among those who stayed were the party from the Yungfrau, one or two American, and some Prussian sailors. Having closed up together,—“Come,” cried Jemmy, “now that we are quiet again, let’s have another song; and who is it to be—Dick Short?”“Short, my boy, come, you must sing.”“No,” replied Short.“Yes, yes—one verse,” said Spurey.“He never sings more,” replied Jemmy Ducks, “so he must give us that. Come, Short.”“Yes,” replied Short, taking the pipe out of his mouth, and wetting his lips with the grog.Shortstay apeak was the anchor,We had but ashortminute more,Inshort, I no longer could hanker,Forshortwas the cash in my store.I gave oneshortlook,As Poll heaved ashortsigh,Oneshorthug I took,Shortthe matter cut I,And off I went to sea.“Go on, Bob.”“No,” replied Short, resuming his pipe.“Well, then, chorus, my boys.”Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;We all are here for mirth and glee,We all are here for jollity.Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;Put your hats on, and keep your heads warm,A little more liquor will do us no harm.“Now then, Jemmy Ducks, it’s round to you again. Strike up, fiddle and all.”“Well, here goes,” said Jemmy Ducks.The captain stood on the carronade—first lieutenant, says he,Send all my merry men aft here, for they must list to me:I haven’t the gift of the gab, my sons—because I’m bred to the sea;That ship there is a Frenchman, who means to fight with we.Odds blood, hammer and tongs, long as I’ve been to sea,I’ve fought ’gainst every odds—but I’ve gain’d the victory.That ship there is a Frenchman, and if we don’t takeshe,’Tis a thousand bullets to one, that she will capturewe;I havn’t the gift of the gab, my boys; so each man to his gun;If she’s not mine in half an hour, I’ll flog each mother’s son.Odds bobs, hammer and tongs, long as I’ve been to sea,I’ve fought ’gainst every odds—and I’ve gain’d the victory.We fought for twenty minutes, when the Frenchman had enough;I little thought, said he, that your men were of such stuff;The captain took the Frenchman’s sword, a low bow made to he;I havn’t the gift of the gab, monsieur, but polite I wish to be.Odds bobs, hammer and tongs, long as I’ve been to sea,I’ve fought ’gainst every odds—and I’ve gain’d the victory.Our captain sent for all of us; my merry men, said he,I haven’t the gift of the gab, my lads, but yet I thankful be:You’ve done your duty handsomely, each man stood to his gun;If you hadn’t, you villains, as sure as day, I’d have flogg’d eachmother’s son.Odds bobs, hammer and tongs, as long as I’m at sea,I’ll fight ’gainst every odds—and I’ll gain the victory.Chorus.—Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;We all are here for mirth and glee,We all are here for jollity.Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;Put your hats on to keep your heads warm,A little more grog will do us no harm.“Now, Coble, we must have yours,” said Jemmy Ducks.“Mine! well, if you please; but half my notes are stranded. You’ll think that Snarleyyow is baying the moon. Howsomever, take it as it is.”Oh, what’s the use of piping, boys, I never yet could larn,The good of water from the eyes I never could disarn;Salt water we have sure enough without our pumping more;So let us leave all crying to the girls we leave on shore.They may pump,As in we jumpTo the boat, and say, “Good bye;”But as for men,Why, I say again,That crying’s all my eye.I went to school when quite a boy, and never larnt to read,The master tried both head and tail—at last it was agreedNo larning he could force in me, so they sent me off to sea;My mother wept and wrung her hands, and cried most bitterly.So she did pump,As I did jumpIn the boat, and said, “Good bye;”But as for me,Who was sent to sea,To cry was all my eye.I courted Poll, a buxom lass; when I return’d A.B.,I bought her ear-rings, hat, and shawl, a sixpence did break we;At last ’twas time to be on board, so, Poll, says I, farewell;She roar’d and said, that leaving her was like a funeral knell.So she did pump,As I did jumpIn the boat, and said, “Good bye;”But as for me,With the rate A B,To cry was all my eye.I soon went back, I shoved on shore, and Polly I did meet,For she was watching on the shore, her sweetheart for to greet;She threw her arms around me then, and much to my surprise,She vow’d she was so happy that she pump’d with both her eyes.So she did pump,As I did jumpTo kiss her lovingly;But, I say again,That as for men,Crying is all my eye.Then push the can around, my boys, and let us merry be;We’ll rig the pumps if a leak we spring, and work most merrily;Salt water we have sure enough, we’ll add not to its store,But drink, and laugh, and sing, and chat, and call again for more.The girls may pump,As in we jumpTo the boat, and say, “Good bye;”But as for we,Who sailors be,Crying is all my eye.“Bravo, Obadiah! now one more song, and then we’ll aboard. It won’t do to bowse your jib up too tight here,” said Jemmy; “for it’s rather dangerous navigation among all these canals—no room for yawing.”“No,” replied Dick Short.“Then,” said Jemmy, jumping off the table with his fiddle in his hand. “Let’s have the roarer by way of a finish—what d’ye say, my hearties?”Up they all rose, and gathered together in the centre of the room, save Jemmy Ducks, who, flourishing with his fiddle, commenced—Jack’s alive, and a merry dog,When he gets on shoreHe calls for his glass of grog,He drinks, and he calls for more.So drink, and call for what you please,Until you’ve had your whack, boys;We think no more of raging seas,Now that we’ve come back, boys.“Chorus, now—”With awhip, snip, high cum diddledy,The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;Smack, crack,—this is our jubilee:Huzza, my lads! we’ll keep the pot boiling.All the seamen joined in the chorus, which they accompanied both with their hands and feet, snapping their fingers atwhipandsnip, and smacking their hands atsmackandcrack, while they danced round in the most grotesque manner, to Jemmy’s fiddle and voice; the chorus ended in loud laughter, for they had now proved the words of the song to be true, and were all alive and merry. According to the rules of the song, Jemmy now called out for the next singer, Coble.Jack’s alive and merry, my boys,When he’s on blue water,In the battle’s rage and noise,And the main-deck slaughter.So drink and call for what you please,Until you’ve had your whack, boys;We’ll think no more of angry seas,Until that we go back, boys.Chorus—With awhip, snip, high cum diddledy,The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;Smack, crack,—this is our jubilee:Huzza, my lads! we’ll keep the pot boiling.Jansen and Jemmy Ducks, after the dancing chorus had finished—Yack alive and merry my boys,Ven he get himfrauAnd he vid her ringlet toys,As he take her paw.So drink, and call for vat you please,Until you hab your vack, boys;Ve’ll think no more of angry seas,Till ve standen back, boys.Chorus and laughter.With awhip, snip, high cum diddledy,The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;Smack, crack—this is our jubileeHuzza, my lads, we’ll keep the pot boiling.Bill Spurey—Jack’s alive and merry, boys,When he’s got the shiners;Heh! for rattle, fun, and noise,Hang all grumbling whiners.Then drink, and call for what you pleaseUntil you’ve had your whack, boys;We think no more of raging seas,Now that we’ve come back, boys.Chorus.—With awhip, snip, high cum diddledy,The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;Smack, crack—thisis our jubilee;Huzza, my lads we’ll keep the pot boiling.“Dick Short must sing.”“Yes,” replied Dick.Jack’s alive and full of fun,When his hulk is crazy,As he basks in Greenwich sunJolly still, though lazy.So drink, and call for what you please,Until you’ve had your whack, boys;We’ll think no more of raging seas,Now that we’ve come back, boys.Chorus—With awhip, snip, high cum diddledy.The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;Smack, crack—this is our jubilee;Huzza, my lads! we’ll keep the pot boiling.As this was the last chorus, it was repeated three or four times, and with hallooing, screaming, and dancing in mad gesticulation.“Hurrah, my lads,” cried Jemmy, “three cheers and a bravo.”It was high time that they went on board; so thought Frau Vandersloosh, who trembled for her chandeliers; so thought Babette, who had begun to yawn before the last song, and who had tired herself more with laughing at it; so thought they all, and they sallied forth out of the Lust Haus, with Jemmy Ducks having the advance, and fiddling to them the whole way down to the boat. Fortunately, not one of them fell into the canal, and in ten minutes they were all on board; they were not, however, permitted to turn into their hammocks without the important information being imparted to them, that Snarleyyow had disappeared.
It may readily be supposed, that the first question asked by Mr Vanslyperken, on his gaining the quarter-deck, was, if Snarleyyow were on board. He was received with the military salute of Corporal Van Spitter, for Obadiah Coble, having been left commanding officer, had given himself leave, and, with a few men, had joined Bob Short and the first party at the Lust Haus, leaving the corporal as the next senior officer in charge. The answer in the negative was a great mortification to Mr Vanslyperken, and he descended to his cabin in no very good humour, and summoned Smallbones. But before Smallbones was summoned, he had time to whisper to one or two of the conspirators—“He’s gone.” It was enough; in less than a minute the whisper was passed throughout the cutter. “He’s gone,” was siffilated above and below, until it met the ears of even Corporal Van Spitter, who had it from a marine, who had it from another marine, who had it from a seaman, who—but it was, however, soon traced up to Smallbones by the indefatigable corporal—who considered it his duty to report the report to Mr Vanslyperken. Accordingly he descended to the cabin and knocked for admission.
In the meantime Vanslyperken had been venting his ill-humour upon Smallbones, having, as he took off from his person, and replaced in his drawers, his unusual finery, administered an unusual quantity of kicks, as well as a severe blow on the head with his sheathed cutlass to the unfortunate lad, who repeated to himself, by way of consolation, the magic words—“He’s gone.”
“If you please, sir,” said Corporal Van Spitter, “I’ve discovered from the ship’s company that the dogis gone.”
“I know that, corporal,” replied Vanslyperken.
“And, sir, the report has been traced to Smallbones.”
“Indeed! Then it was you that said that the dog is gone—now, you villain, where is he?”
“If you please, I did say that the dog was gone, and so he is: but I didn’t say that I knew where he was—no more I don’t. He’s runned away, and he’ll be back to-morrow; I’m sure he will.”
“Corporal Van Spitter, if the dog is not on board again by eight o’clock to-morrow morning, you will get all ready for keel-hauling this scoundrel.”
“Yes, mynheer,” replied the corporal, delighted at having something to do in the way of punishment.
Smallbones made up a lachrymal face.
“It’s very hard,” said he; “suppose the dog has fallen into the canal, is that my fault? If he’s a-gone to the bottom of the canal, that’s no reason why I’m to be dragged under the bottom of the cutter.”
“Yes, yes,” replied Vanslyperken, “I’ll teach you to throw paving-stones off the wharf. Leave the cabin, sir.”
Smallbones, whose guilty conscience flew into his pallid face at the mention of the paving-stones, immediately made a hasty retreat; and Vanslyperken turned into his bed and dreamt of vengeance.
We must now return to the Lust Haus, and the party on shore; and our first task must be, to give the reader an idea of what a Lust Haus may be. It is, as its name imports, a resort for pleasure and amusement; and in this respect the Dutch are certainly very much in advance of the English, who have, in the pot-houses and low inns resorted to by seamen, no accommodation of the kind. There is barely room for Jack to foot it in a reel, the tap-room is so small; and as Jack is soon reeling after he is once on shore, it is a very great defect. Now, the Lust Haus is a room as large as an assembly-room in a country town, well lighted up with lamps and chandeliers, well warmed with stoves, where you have room to dance fifty reels at once, and still have plenty of accommodation at the chairs and tables ranged round on each side. At the end of the room is a raised chair, with a protecting railing, on which the musicians, to the number of seven or eight, are posted, and they continue during the evening to play when requested. The people of the Lust Haus furnish wine and spirits of every description, while cakes, nuts, walnuts, oranges, etcetera, are supplied from the baskets of numerous young women, who hand them round, and press their customers to purchase. Police-officers superintend these resorts, to remove those who are violent and interfere with the amusements of others. On the whole, it is a very gay scene, and is resorted to by seamen of all nations, with a sprinkling of those who are not sailors, but who like amusement, and there are plenty of females who are ready to dance with them, and to share their beer or grog. Be it further known, that there is a great deal of decorum in a Lust Haus, particularly among the latter sex; and altogether it is infinitely more rational and less debasing than the low pot-houses of Portsmouth or Plymouth.
Such was the place of amusement kept by the Frau Vandersloosh, and in this large room had been seated, for some hours, Dick Short, Coble, Jansen, Jemmy Ducks, and some others of the crew of his Majesty’s cutter Yungfrau.
The room was now full, but not crowded; it was too spacious well to be so. Some sixteen couples were dancing a quadrille to a lively tune played by the band, and among the dancers were to be seen old women, and children of tea or twelve; for it was not considered improper to be seen dancing at this humble assembly, and the neighbours frequently came in. The small tables and numerous chairs round the room were nearly all filled, beer was foaming from the mouths of the opened bottles, and there was the ringing of the glasses as they pledged each other. At several tables were assemblages of Dutch seamen, who smoked with all the phlegm of their nation, as they gravely looked upon the dancers. At another were to be seen some American seamen, scrupulously neat in their attire, and with an airdistinguée, from the superiority of their education, and all of them quiet and sober. The basket-women flitted about displaying, their stores, and invited every one to purchase fruit, and particularly hard-boiled eggs, which they had brought in at this hour, when those who dined at one might be expected to be hungry. Sailors’ wives were also there, and perhaps some who could not produce the marriage certificates; but as these were not asked for at the door, it was of no consequence. About the centre of the room, at two small tables joined together, were to be seen the party from the Yungfrau; some were drinking beer, some grog, and Jemmy Ducks was perched on the table, with his fiddle as usual held like a bass viol. He was known by those who frequented the house by the name of the Mannikin, and was a universal object of admiration and good-will. The quadrille was ended, and the music stopped playing.
“Come now,” said Coble, tossing off his glass, “spell oh!—let’s have a song while they take their breath. Jemmy, strike up.”
“Hurrah, for a song!” cries Jemmy. “Here goes.”
Jemmy then tuned one string of his fiddle, which was a little out, and accompanying his voice, sang as follows: all those who were present immediately keeping silence, for they were used to Jemmy’s melody.
’Twas on the twenty-fourth of June I sail’d away to sea,I turn’d my pockets in the lap of Susan on my knee;Says I, my dear, ’tis all I have, I wish that it was more.It can’t be help’d, says Susan then, you know we’ve spent galore.You know we’ve spent galore, my Bill,And merry have been we,Again you must your pockets fill,For Susan on your knee.
’Twas on the twenty-fourth of June I sail’d away to sea,I turn’d my pockets in the lap of Susan on my knee;Says I, my dear, ’tis all I have, I wish that it was more.It can’t be help’d, says Susan then, you know we’ve spent galore.You know we’ve spent galore, my Bill,And merry have been we,Again you must your pockets fill,For Susan on your knee.
“Chorus, my boys—!”
For Susan on my knee, my boys,With Susan on my knee.The gale came on in thunder, lads, in lightning, and in foam,Before that we had sail’d away three hundred miles from home;And on the Sunday morning, lads, the coast was on our lee,Oh, then I thought of Portsmouth, and of Susan on my knee.For howling winds and waves to boot,With black rocks on the lee,Did not so well my fancy suit,As Susan on my knee.Chorus.—With Susan on my knee, my boys,With Susan on my knee.Next morning we were cast away upon the Frenchman’s shore,We saved our lives, but not our all, for we could save no more;They march’d us to a prison, so we lost our liberty,I peep’d between the bars, and sigh’d for Susan on my knee.For bread so black, and wine so sour,And a sou a-day to me,Made me long ten times an hour,For Susan on my knee.Chorus.—For Susan on my knee, my boys,For Susan on my knee.One night we smash’d our jailer’s skull, and off our boat did steer,And in the offing were pick’d up by a jolly privateer;We sail’d in her the cruise, my boys, and prizes did take we,I’ll be at Portsmouth soon, thinks I, with Susan on my knee.We shared three hundred pounds a man,I made all sail with glee,Again I danced and toss’d my can,With Susan on my knee.Chorus—With Susan on my knee, my boys,With Susan on my knee.
For Susan on my knee, my boys,With Susan on my knee.The gale came on in thunder, lads, in lightning, and in foam,Before that we had sail’d away three hundred miles from home;And on the Sunday morning, lads, the coast was on our lee,Oh, then I thought of Portsmouth, and of Susan on my knee.For howling winds and waves to boot,With black rocks on the lee,Did not so well my fancy suit,As Susan on my knee.Chorus.—With Susan on my knee, my boys,With Susan on my knee.Next morning we were cast away upon the Frenchman’s shore,We saved our lives, but not our all, for we could save no more;They march’d us to a prison, so we lost our liberty,I peep’d between the bars, and sigh’d for Susan on my knee.For bread so black, and wine so sour,And a sou a-day to me,Made me long ten times an hour,For Susan on my knee.Chorus.—For Susan on my knee, my boys,For Susan on my knee.One night we smash’d our jailer’s skull, and off our boat did steer,And in the offing were pick’d up by a jolly privateer;We sail’d in her the cruise, my boys, and prizes did take we,I’ll be at Portsmouth soon, thinks I, with Susan on my knee.We shared three hundred pounds a man,I made all sail with glee,Again I danced and toss’d my can,With Susan on my knee.Chorus—With Susan on my knee, my boys,With Susan on my knee.
“That’s prime, Jemmy. Now, my boys, all together,” cried Obadiah Coble.
Chorus.—Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;We are all here for mirth and glee,We are all here for jollity.Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;Put your hats on to keep your beads warm,A little more grog will do us no harm.
Chorus.—Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;We are all here for mirth and glee,We are all here for jollity.Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;Put your hats on to keep your beads warm,A little more grog will do us no harm.
“Hurrah! Now, Bill Spurey, suppose you tip us a stave. But I say, Babette, you Dutch-built galliot, tell old Frank Slush to send us another dose of the stuff; and, d’ye hear, a short pipe for me, and a paper o’ baccy.”
The short, fat Babette, whose proportions all the exercise of waiting upon the customers could not reduce, knew quite enough English to require no further explanation.
“Come, Jemmy, my hearty, take your fingers off your fiddle, and hand in your pot,” continued Coble; “and then, if they are not going to dance, we’ll have another song. Bill Spurey, wet your whistle, and just clear the cobwebs out of your throat. Here’s more ’baccy, Short.”
Short made no reply, but he shook out the ashes, and filled his pipe. The music did not strike up again, so Bill Spurey sang as follows:—
Says the parson one day, as I cursed a Jew,Do you know, my lad, that we call it a sin!I fear of you sailors there are but few,St. Peter, to heaven, will ever let in.Says I, Mr Parson, to tell you my mind,No sailors to knock were ever yet seen,Those who travel by land may steer ’gainst wind,But we shape a course for Fiddler’s Green.For Fiddler’s Green, where seamen true,When here they’ve done their duty,The bowl of grog shall still renewAnd pledge to love and beauty.Says the parson, I hear you’ve married three wives,Now do you not know that that is a sin?You sailors, you lead such very bad lives,St. Peter, to heaven, will ne’er let you in.Parson, says I, in each port I’ve butone,And never had more, wherever I’ve been;Below I’m obliged to be chaste as a nun,But I’m promised a dozen at Fiddler’s Green.At Fiddler’s Green, where seamen true,When here they’ve done their duty,The bowl of grog shall still renew,And pledge to love and beauty.Says the parson, says he, you’re drunk, my man,And do you not know that that is a sin?If you sailors will ever be swinging your can,To heaven you surely will never get in.(Hiccup.) Parson, you may as well be mum,’Tis only on shore I’m this way seen;But oceans of punch, and rivers of rum,Await the sailor at Fiddler’s Green.At Fiddler’s Green, where seamen true,When here they’ve done their duty,The bowl of grog shall still renewAnd pledge to love and beauty.
Says the parson one day, as I cursed a Jew,Do you know, my lad, that we call it a sin!I fear of you sailors there are but few,St. Peter, to heaven, will ever let in.Says I, Mr Parson, to tell you my mind,No sailors to knock were ever yet seen,Those who travel by land may steer ’gainst wind,But we shape a course for Fiddler’s Green.For Fiddler’s Green, where seamen true,When here they’ve done their duty,The bowl of grog shall still renewAnd pledge to love and beauty.Says the parson, I hear you’ve married three wives,Now do you not know that that is a sin?You sailors, you lead such very bad lives,St. Peter, to heaven, will ne’er let you in.Parson, says I, in each port I’ve butone,And never had more, wherever I’ve been;Below I’m obliged to be chaste as a nun,But I’m promised a dozen at Fiddler’s Green.At Fiddler’s Green, where seamen true,When here they’ve done their duty,The bowl of grog shall still renew,And pledge to love and beauty.Says the parson, says he, you’re drunk, my man,And do you not know that that is a sin?If you sailors will ever be swinging your can,To heaven you surely will never get in.(Hiccup.) Parson, you may as well be mum,’Tis only on shore I’m this way seen;But oceans of punch, and rivers of rum,Await the sailor at Fiddler’s Green.At Fiddler’s Green, where seamen true,When here they’ve done their duty,The bowl of grog shall still renewAnd pledge to love and beauty.
“Well reeled off, Billy,” cried Jemmy Ducks finishing with a flourish on his fiddle and a refrain of the air. “I don’t think we shall meet him and his dog at Fiddler’s Green—heh!”
“No,” replied Short, taking his pipe from his lip.
“No, no, Jemmy, a seaman true means one true in heart as well as in knowledge; but, like a blind fiddler, he’ll be led by his dog somewhere else.”
“From vere de dog did come from,” observed Jansen.
The band now struck up again, and played a waltz—a dance new to our country, but older than the Heptarchy. Jansen, with his pipe in his mouth, took one of the women by the waist, and steered round the room about as leisurely as a capstan heaving up. Dick Short also took another made four turns, reeled up against a Dutchman who was doing it withsang froid, and then suddenly left his partner, and dropped into his chair.
“I say, Jemmy,” said Obadiah Coble, “why don’t you give a girl a twist round?”
“Because I can’t, Oby; my compasses ain’t long enough to describe a circle. You and I are better here, old boy. I, because I’ve very little legs, and you, because you havn’t a leg to stand upon.”
“Very true—not quite so young as I was forty years ago. Howsomever I mean this to be my last vessel. I shall bear up for one of the London dockyards as a rigger.”
“Yes, that’ll do; only keep clear of the girt-lines, you’re too stiff for that.”
“No, that would not exactly tell; I shall pick my own work, and that’s where I can bring my tarry trousers to an anchor—mousing the mainstay, or puddening the anchor, with the best of any. Dick, lend us a bit of ’baccy.”
Short pulled out his box without saying a word. Coble took a quid, and Short thrust the box again into his pocket.
In the meantime the waltz continued, and being a favourite dance, there were about fifty couple going round and round the room. Such was the variety in the dress, country, language, and appearance of the parties collected, that you might have imagined it a masquerade. It was, however, getting late, and Frau Vandersloosh had received the intimation of the people of the police who superintend these resorts, that it was the time for shutting up; so that, although the widow was sorry on her own account to disperse so merry and so thirsty a party as they were now becoming, so soon as the waltz was ended the musicians packed up their instruments and departed.
This was a signal for many, but by no means for all, to depart; for music being over, and the house doors closed, a few who remained, provided they made no disturbance, were not interfered with by the police. Among those who stayed were the party from the Yungfrau, one or two American, and some Prussian sailors. Having closed up together,—“Come,” cried Jemmy, “now that we are quiet again, let’s have another song; and who is it to be—Dick Short?”
“Short, my boy, come, you must sing.”
“No,” replied Short.
“Yes, yes—one verse,” said Spurey.
“He never sings more,” replied Jemmy Ducks, “so he must give us that. Come, Short.”
“Yes,” replied Short, taking the pipe out of his mouth, and wetting his lips with the grog.
Shortstay apeak was the anchor,We had but ashortminute more,Inshort, I no longer could hanker,Forshortwas the cash in my store.I gave oneshortlook,As Poll heaved ashortsigh,Oneshorthug I took,Shortthe matter cut I,And off I went to sea.
Shortstay apeak was the anchor,We had but ashortminute more,Inshort, I no longer could hanker,Forshortwas the cash in my store.I gave oneshortlook,As Poll heaved ashortsigh,Oneshorthug I took,Shortthe matter cut I,And off I went to sea.
“Go on, Bob.”
“No,” replied Short, resuming his pipe.
“Well, then, chorus, my boys.”
Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;We all are here for mirth and glee,We all are here for jollity.Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;Put your hats on, and keep your heads warm,A little more liquor will do us no harm.
Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;We all are here for mirth and glee,We all are here for jollity.Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;Put your hats on, and keep your heads warm,A little more liquor will do us no harm.
“Now then, Jemmy Ducks, it’s round to you again. Strike up, fiddle and all.”
“Well, here goes,” said Jemmy Ducks.
The captain stood on the carronade—first lieutenant, says he,Send all my merry men aft here, for they must list to me:I haven’t the gift of the gab, my sons—because I’m bred to the sea;That ship there is a Frenchman, who means to fight with we.Odds blood, hammer and tongs, long as I’ve been to sea,I’ve fought ’gainst every odds—but I’ve gain’d the victory.That ship there is a Frenchman, and if we don’t takeshe,’Tis a thousand bullets to one, that she will capturewe;I havn’t the gift of the gab, my boys; so each man to his gun;If she’s not mine in half an hour, I’ll flog each mother’s son.Odds bobs, hammer and tongs, long as I’ve been to sea,I’ve fought ’gainst every odds—and I’ve gain’d the victory.We fought for twenty minutes, when the Frenchman had enough;I little thought, said he, that your men were of such stuff;The captain took the Frenchman’s sword, a low bow made to he;I havn’t the gift of the gab, monsieur, but polite I wish to be.Odds bobs, hammer and tongs, long as I’ve been to sea,I’ve fought ’gainst every odds—and I’ve gain’d the victory.Our captain sent for all of us; my merry men, said he,I haven’t the gift of the gab, my lads, but yet I thankful be:You’ve done your duty handsomely, each man stood to his gun;If you hadn’t, you villains, as sure as day, I’d have flogg’d eachmother’s son.Odds bobs, hammer and tongs, as long as I’m at sea,I’ll fight ’gainst every odds—and I’ll gain the victory.Chorus.—Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;We all are here for mirth and glee,We all are here for jollity.Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;Put your hats on to keep your heads warm,A little more grog will do us no harm.
The captain stood on the carronade—first lieutenant, says he,Send all my merry men aft here, for they must list to me:I haven’t the gift of the gab, my sons—because I’m bred to the sea;That ship there is a Frenchman, who means to fight with we.Odds blood, hammer and tongs, long as I’ve been to sea,I’ve fought ’gainst every odds—but I’ve gain’d the victory.That ship there is a Frenchman, and if we don’t takeshe,’Tis a thousand bullets to one, that she will capturewe;I havn’t the gift of the gab, my boys; so each man to his gun;If she’s not mine in half an hour, I’ll flog each mother’s son.Odds bobs, hammer and tongs, long as I’ve been to sea,I’ve fought ’gainst every odds—and I’ve gain’d the victory.We fought for twenty minutes, when the Frenchman had enough;I little thought, said he, that your men were of such stuff;The captain took the Frenchman’s sword, a low bow made to he;I havn’t the gift of the gab, monsieur, but polite I wish to be.Odds bobs, hammer and tongs, long as I’ve been to sea,I’ve fought ’gainst every odds—and I’ve gain’d the victory.Our captain sent for all of us; my merry men, said he,I haven’t the gift of the gab, my lads, but yet I thankful be:You’ve done your duty handsomely, each man stood to his gun;If you hadn’t, you villains, as sure as day, I’d have flogg’d eachmother’s son.Odds bobs, hammer and tongs, as long as I’m at sea,I’ll fight ’gainst every odds—and I’ll gain the victory.Chorus.—Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;We all are here for mirth and glee,We all are here for jollity.Very good song, and very well sung,Jolly companions every one;Put your hats on to keep your heads warm,A little more grog will do us no harm.
“Now, Coble, we must have yours,” said Jemmy Ducks.
“Mine! well, if you please; but half my notes are stranded. You’ll think that Snarleyyow is baying the moon. Howsomever, take it as it is.”
Oh, what’s the use of piping, boys, I never yet could larn,The good of water from the eyes I never could disarn;Salt water we have sure enough without our pumping more;So let us leave all crying to the girls we leave on shore.They may pump,As in we jumpTo the boat, and say, “Good bye;”But as for men,Why, I say again,That crying’s all my eye.I went to school when quite a boy, and never larnt to read,The master tried both head and tail—at last it was agreedNo larning he could force in me, so they sent me off to sea;My mother wept and wrung her hands, and cried most bitterly.So she did pump,As I did jumpIn the boat, and said, “Good bye;”But as for me,Who was sent to sea,To cry was all my eye.I courted Poll, a buxom lass; when I return’d A.B.,I bought her ear-rings, hat, and shawl, a sixpence did break we;At last ’twas time to be on board, so, Poll, says I, farewell;She roar’d and said, that leaving her was like a funeral knell.So she did pump,As I did jumpIn the boat, and said, “Good bye;”But as for me,With the rate A B,To cry was all my eye.I soon went back, I shoved on shore, and Polly I did meet,For she was watching on the shore, her sweetheart for to greet;She threw her arms around me then, and much to my surprise,She vow’d she was so happy that she pump’d with both her eyes.So she did pump,As I did jumpTo kiss her lovingly;But, I say again,That as for men,Crying is all my eye.Then push the can around, my boys, and let us merry be;We’ll rig the pumps if a leak we spring, and work most merrily;Salt water we have sure enough, we’ll add not to its store,But drink, and laugh, and sing, and chat, and call again for more.The girls may pump,As in we jumpTo the boat, and say, “Good bye;”But as for we,Who sailors be,Crying is all my eye.
Oh, what’s the use of piping, boys, I never yet could larn,The good of water from the eyes I never could disarn;Salt water we have sure enough without our pumping more;So let us leave all crying to the girls we leave on shore.They may pump,As in we jumpTo the boat, and say, “Good bye;”But as for men,Why, I say again,That crying’s all my eye.I went to school when quite a boy, and never larnt to read,The master tried both head and tail—at last it was agreedNo larning he could force in me, so they sent me off to sea;My mother wept and wrung her hands, and cried most bitterly.So she did pump,As I did jumpIn the boat, and said, “Good bye;”But as for me,Who was sent to sea,To cry was all my eye.I courted Poll, a buxom lass; when I return’d A.B.,I bought her ear-rings, hat, and shawl, a sixpence did break we;At last ’twas time to be on board, so, Poll, says I, farewell;She roar’d and said, that leaving her was like a funeral knell.So she did pump,As I did jumpIn the boat, and said, “Good bye;”But as for me,With the rate A B,To cry was all my eye.I soon went back, I shoved on shore, and Polly I did meet,For she was watching on the shore, her sweetheart for to greet;She threw her arms around me then, and much to my surprise,She vow’d she was so happy that she pump’d with both her eyes.So she did pump,As I did jumpTo kiss her lovingly;But, I say again,That as for men,Crying is all my eye.Then push the can around, my boys, and let us merry be;We’ll rig the pumps if a leak we spring, and work most merrily;Salt water we have sure enough, we’ll add not to its store,But drink, and laugh, and sing, and chat, and call again for more.The girls may pump,As in we jumpTo the boat, and say, “Good bye;”But as for we,Who sailors be,Crying is all my eye.
“Bravo, Obadiah! now one more song, and then we’ll aboard. It won’t do to bowse your jib up too tight here,” said Jemmy; “for it’s rather dangerous navigation among all these canals—no room for yawing.”
“No,” replied Dick Short.
“Then,” said Jemmy, jumping off the table with his fiddle in his hand. “Let’s have the roarer by way of a finish—what d’ye say, my hearties?”
Up they all rose, and gathered together in the centre of the room, save Jemmy Ducks, who, flourishing with his fiddle, commenced—
Jack’s alive, and a merry dog,When he gets on shoreHe calls for his glass of grog,He drinks, and he calls for more.So drink, and call for what you please,Until you’ve had your whack, boys;We think no more of raging seas,Now that we’ve come back, boys.
Jack’s alive, and a merry dog,When he gets on shoreHe calls for his glass of grog,He drinks, and he calls for more.So drink, and call for what you please,Until you’ve had your whack, boys;We think no more of raging seas,Now that we’ve come back, boys.
“Chorus, now—”
With awhip, snip, high cum diddledy,The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;Smack, crack,—this is our jubilee:Huzza, my lads! we’ll keep the pot boiling.
With awhip, snip, high cum diddledy,The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;Smack, crack,—this is our jubilee:Huzza, my lads! we’ll keep the pot boiling.
All the seamen joined in the chorus, which they accompanied both with their hands and feet, snapping their fingers atwhipandsnip, and smacking their hands atsmackandcrack, while they danced round in the most grotesque manner, to Jemmy’s fiddle and voice; the chorus ended in loud laughter, for they had now proved the words of the song to be true, and were all alive and merry. According to the rules of the song, Jemmy now called out for the next singer, Coble.
Jack’s alive and merry, my boys,When he’s on blue water,In the battle’s rage and noise,And the main-deck slaughter.So drink and call for what you please,Until you’ve had your whack, boys;We’ll think no more of angry seas,Until that we go back, boys.Chorus—With awhip, snip, high cum diddledy,The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;Smack, crack,—this is our jubilee:Huzza, my lads! we’ll keep the pot boiling.
Jack’s alive and merry, my boys,When he’s on blue water,In the battle’s rage and noise,And the main-deck slaughter.So drink and call for what you please,Until you’ve had your whack, boys;We’ll think no more of angry seas,Until that we go back, boys.Chorus—With awhip, snip, high cum diddledy,The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;Smack, crack,—this is our jubilee:Huzza, my lads! we’ll keep the pot boiling.
Jansen and Jemmy Ducks, after the dancing chorus had finished—
Yack alive and merry my boys,Ven he get himfrauAnd he vid her ringlet toys,As he take her paw.So drink, and call for vat you please,Until you hab your vack, boys;Ve’ll think no more of angry seas,Till ve standen back, boys.
Yack alive and merry my boys,Ven he get himfrauAnd he vid her ringlet toys,As he take her paw.So drink, and call for vat you please,Until you hab your vack, boys;Ve’ll think no more of angry seas,Till ve standen back, boys.
Chorus and laughter.
With awhip, snip, high cum diddledy,The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;Smack, crack—this is our jubileeHuzza, my lads, we’ll keep the pot boiling.
With awhip, snip, high cum diddledy,The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;Smack, crack—this is our jubileeHuzza, my lads, we’ll keep the pot boiling.
Bill Spurey—
Jack’s alive and merry, boys,When he’s got the shiners;Heh! for rattle, fun, and noise,Hang all grumbling whiners.Then drink, and call for what you pleaseUntil you’ve had your whack, boys;We think no more of raging seas,Now that we’ve come back, boys.Chorus.—With awhip, snip, high cum diddledy,The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;Smack, crack—thisis our jubilee;Huzza, my lads we’ll keep the pot boiling.
Jack’s alive and merry, boys,When he’s got the shiners;Heh! for rattle, fun, and noise,Hang all grumbling whiners.Then drink, and call for what you pleaseUntil you’ve had your whack, boys;We think no more of raging seas,Now that we’ve come back, boys.Chorus.—With awhip, snip, high cum diddledy,The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;Smack, crack—thisis our jubilee;Huzza, my lads we’ll keep the pot boiling.
“Dick Short must sing.”
“Yes,” replied Dick.
Jack’s alive and full of fun,When his hulk is crazy,As he basks in Greenwich sunJolly still, though lazy.So drink, and call for what you please,Until you’ve had your whack, boys;We’ll think no more of raging seas,Now that we’ve come back, boys.Chorus—With awhip, snip, high cum diddledy.The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;Smack, crack—this is our jubilee;Huzza, my lads! we’ll keep the pot boiling.
Jack’s alive and full of fun,When his hulk is crazy,As he basks in Greenwich sunJolly still, though lazy.So drink, and call for what you please,Until you’ve had your whack, boys;We’ll think no more of raging seas,Now that we’ve come back, boys.Chorus—With awhip, snip, high cum diddledy.The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;Smack, crack—this is our jubilee;Huzza, my lads! we’ll keep the pot boiling.
As this was the last chorus, it was repeated three or four times, and with hallooing, screaming, and dancing in mad gesticulation.
“Hurrah, my lads,” cried Jemmy, “three cheers and a bravo.”
It was high time that they went on board; so thought Frau Vandersloosh, who trembled for her chandeliers; so thought Babette, who had begun to yawn before the last song, and who had tired herself more with laughing at it; so thought they all, and they sallied forth out of the Lust Haus, with Jemmy Ducks having the advance, and fiddling to them the whole way down to the boat. Fortunately, not one of them fell into the canal, and in ten minutes they were all on board; they were not, however, permitted to turn into their hammocks without the important information being imparted to them, that Snarleyyow had disappeared.