CHAPTER XIII: POMPEY MYSTIFIED.As the days slipped by and they worked farther north, thePolly Annbegan to encounter nipping weather. Raynor, who had no thick clothes, suffered a good deal, but fortunately most of his work was in the galley where it was apt to be uncomfortably warm.Noddy continued to play his tricks on Pompey, much to the latter’s mystification. The darky had come to believe that thePolly Annwas haunted. In this way Noddy worked on his superstitious feelings till the black was quite as anxious as the boys to leave the schooner. But they did not deem the time yet ripe to broach their plans to him.One day a fine pudding, made especially as a surprise for Terror Carson, vanished from the galley almost under Pompey’s nose. The negro was sorely puzzled.“Dey suah am ghostesses in mah galley,â€� he confided to others of the crew, who only laughed.“Alright, yo’ may laff, but ah done see two ghostesses wid mah own eyes de night ah dropped dat wheel. As spec’s dere’s bin such a power ob wickedness done on dis hyah boat dat de hants jes natch’ly sticks round it. Yas sah.â€�But when Pompey got back to his galley he was destined to be more mystified than ever. Lying on the top of the shelf, where he had placed it before its disappearance, was the pudding.“Good land ob Beulah, de debbil is in dis galley fo’ sho’,â€� sputtered Pompey. “Hey, boys! Whar am dem boys?â€�In a few minutes the boys came to answer his repeated calls, retaining grave faces with great difficulty while Pompey explained to them the mystery of the vanishing pudding.“Ah lays it dar an’ it am gone,â€� he said in an awestruck whisper. “When ah come back dar it is agin. Now if ghostesses don’ do dat what does?â€�“I dunno. It’s sure mysterious,â€� said the Bowery boy, “but say, Pompey, what’s that bit of paper stuck on the pudding?â€�“Mah goodness, dat mus’ be some rheumaticacion frum der spirits,â€� he exclaimed.He gingerly took hold of a scrap of paper that lay on the top of the pudding. There was writing on it. Jupe looked at it in stupefaction.“De spirits, or debbils or ghostesses or whoeber do dis yer voo-doo work am writing letters now,â€� he exclaimed in a dumbfounded tone.“What do they say?â€� asked the boys in tones of deep interest.“Um-ah, les see. Why, dey says hyah, it’s all wrote lak print: Obey de boys an’ be dere fren’ or de torture ob de parrellel oblongata parabolensis will be yours. Mah goodness! what am dat torture?â€�“I’ve heard dat it’s a special kin’ de spirits has,â€� said the Bowery boy, “part of it is to pull off your skin with red hot pincers. I don’t know the rest, but it’s worse.â€�“Wusser ’en red hot pincers. Gollyumption! Say, boys, ole Pompey allers bin good to you alls, ain’t he?â€�“Sure you have,â€� said Noddy, “but we’re going to ask you a special favor sometime. Will you do it for us?â€�“I sho’ will. Anything at all. Mah goodness if ah didn’t wouldn’ ah get dat parrot yells and parasols torture. Red hot pincers—ugh! Reckon dem spirits ain’t got no hearts at all.â€�One morning when Raynor came on deck he saw, lying on the sea, not more than half a mile off, an immense iceberg. Its pinnacles glittered in the bright sunlight.Other bergs floated to the south and east. Ragged fields of ice stretched about them in long floes. The schooner was beating northward in short tacks but did not appear to be making much progress. Just then Terror Carson came on deck. He looked about him and then spoke sharply to the man at the wheel.“Are we making any northing?â€� he asked, “Hold her on her course, you lubber.â€�“Faith, yer honor,â€� rejoined the man at the wheel, a true son of Erin, “it sorra a bit will she walk at all, at all.â€�“What ails her?â€� demanded Carson, his brows gathering in a scowl.“It’s the southward set of the current, sor, I’m thinking,â€� was the reply. “Divil a bit more north have we made the last hour than I could swing me mother’s ould cat by her tail. It’s wearisome wurruk, sor,—an thirsty, too.â€�“Well, there’ll be no drinking on this ship,â€� said Carson sharply, and strode forward. He hung over the bulwarks amidships, watching the icebergs intently. Raynor, at his work in the galley, observed him covertly. He thought Carson appeared worried at the close proximity of the floating mountains of ice.Before long Raynor summoned him to breakfast. When he came on deck again the icebergs were closer. He turned on the steersman in a spasm of fury.“You bog trotting land-lubber,â€� he roared out with stentorian lungs, “where are your eyes?â€�“Sure aich side of my nose, like any dacent Christian’s,â€� rejoined the man.“Confound your impudence,â€� thundered Carson, “don’t you see the ice closing in on us.â€�“Shure, I couldn’t git overboard and shove it back.â€�“You ought to have let me know of this,â€� growled Carson angrily. He summoned his mate to his side. Raynor contrived an errand that should bring him near them.“The channel is getting narrower,â€� he heard the captain say. “I never saw the growlers so thick up here at this time of the year before.â€�“Better put about, sir, if we don’t want to get nipped,â€� advised the mate.“I guess that’s good advice,â€� muttered Carson, “but I hate to turn our nose south again. ’Bout ship!â€� he bawled.“’Bout ship!â€� roared the mate. “Lively, boys, be smart! Leggo all tackles! Hard a-lee on your wheel! Smartly, now.â€�The schooner’s sails shivered and flapped as she came up into the wind. The crew hauled on ropes and halyards. Then the smart little schooner paid off handsomely and filled away on another tack.It was none too soon. Ahead of them, drawn together by the ocean currents, two great bergs crashed together with the force of titanic steam hammers.“If we’d been caught there, we’d have been smashed like an egg-shell,â€� observed Terror Carson, to his mate, without any particular emotion now that the danger was over.
As the days slipped by and they worked farther north, thePolly Annbegan to encounter nipping weather. Raynor, who had no thick clothes, suffered a good deal, but fortunately most of his work was in the galley where it was apt to be uncomfortably warm.
Noddy continued to play his tricks on Pompey, much to the latter’s mystification. The darky had come to believe that thePolly Annwas haunted. In this way Noddy worked on his superstitious feelings till the black was quite as anxious as the boys to leave the schooner. But they did not deem the time yet ripe to broach their plans to him.
One day a fine pudding, made especially as a surprise for Terror Carson, vanished from the galley almost under Pompey’s nose. The negro was sorely puzzled.
“Dey suah am ghostesses in mah galley,� he confided to others of the crew, who only laughed.
“Alright, yo’ may laff, but ah done see two ghostesses wid mah own eyes de night ah dropped dat wheel. As spec’s dere’s bin such a power ob wickedness done on dis hyah boat dat de hants jes natch’ly sticks round it. Yas sah.�
But when Pompey got back to his galley he was destined to be more mystified than ever. Lying on the top of the shelf, where he had placed it before its disappearance, was the pudding.
“Good land ob Beulah, de debbil is in dis galley fo’ sho’,� sputtered Pompey. “Hey, boys! Whar am dem boys?�
In a few minutes the boys came to answer his repeated calls, retaining grave faces with great difficulty while Pompey explained to them the mystery of the vanishing pudding.
“Ah lays it dar an’ it am gone,� he said in an awestruck whisper. “When ah come back dar it is agin. Now if ghostesses don’ do dat what does?�
“I dunno. It’s sure mysterious,� said the Bowery boy, “but say, Pompey, what’s that bit of paper stuck on the pudding?�
“Mah goodness, dat mus’ be some rheumaticacion frum der spirits,� he exclaimed.
He gingerly took hold of a scrap of paper that lay on the top of the pudding. There was writing on it. Jupe looked at it in stupefaction.
“De spirits, or debbils or ghostesses or whoeber do dis yer voo-doo work am writing letters now,� he exclaimed in a dumbfounded tone.
“What do they say?� asked the boys in tones of deep interest.
“Um-ah, les see. Why, dey says hyah, it’s all wrote lak print: Obey de boys an’ be dere fren’ or de torture ob de parrellel oblongata parabolensis will be yours. Mah goodness! what am dat torture?�
“I’ve heard dat it’s a special kin’ de spirits has,� said the Bowery boy, “part of it is to pull off your skin with red hot pincers. I don’t know the rest, but it’s worse.�
“Wusser ’en red hot pincers. Gollyumption! Say, boys, ole Pompey allers bin good to you alls, ain’t he?�
“Sure you have,� said Noddy, “but we’re going to ask you a special favor sometime. Will you do it for us?�
“I sho’ will. Anything at all. Mah goodness if ah didn’t wouldn’ ah get dat parrot yells and parasols torture. Red hot pincers—ugh! Reckon dem spirits ain’t got no hearts at all.â€�
One morning when Raynor came on deck he saw, lying on the sea, not more than half a mile off, an immense iceberg. Its pinnacles glittered in the bright sunlight.
Other bergs floated to the south and east. Ragged fields of ice stretched about them in long floes. The schooner was beating northward in short tacks but did not appear to be making much progress. Just then Terror Carson came on deck. He looked about him and then spoke sharply to the man at the wheel.
“Are we making any northing?� he asked, “Hold her on her course, you lubber.�
“Faith, yer honor,� rejoined the man at the wheel, a true son of Erin, “it sorra a bit will she walk at all, at all.�
“What ails her?� demanded Carson, his brows gathering in a scowl.
“It’s the southward set of the current, sor, I’m thinking,â€� was the reply. “Divil a bit more north have we made the last hour than I could swing me mother’s ould cat by her tail. It’s wearisome wurruk, sor,—an thirsty, too.â€�
“Well, there’ll be no drinking on this ship,� said Carson sharply, and strode forward. He hung over the bulwarks amidships, watching the icebergs intently. Raynor, at his work in the galley, observed him covertly. He thought Carson appeared worried at the close proximity of the floating mountains of ice.
Before long Raynor summoned him to breakfast. When he came on deck again the icebergs were closer. He turned on the steersman in a spasm of fury.
“You bog trotting land-lubber,� he roared out with stentorian lungs, “where are your eyes?�
“Sure aich side of my nose, like any dacent Christian’s,� rejoined the man.
“Confound your impudence,� thundered Carson, “don’t you see the ice closing in on us.�
“Shure, I couldn’t git overboard and shove it back.�
“You ought to have let me know of this,� growled Carson angrily. He summoned his mate to his side. Raynor contrived an errand that should bring him near them.
“The channel is getting narrower,� he heard the captain say. “I never saw the growlers so thick up here at this time of the year before.�
“Better put about, sir, if we don’t want to get nipped,� advised the mate.
“I guess that’s good advice,� muttered Carson, “but I hate to turn our nose south again. ’Bout ship!� he bawled.
“’Bout ship!� roared the mate. “Lively, boys, be smart! Leggo all tackles! Hard a-lee on your wheel! Smartly, now.�
The schooner’s sails shivered and flapped as she came up into the wind. The crew hauled on ropes and halyards. Then the smart little schooner paid off handsomely and filled away on another tack.
It was none too soon. Ahead of them, drawn together by the ocean currents, two great bergs crashed together with the force of titanic steam hammers.
“If we’d been caught there, we’d have been smashed like an egg-shell,� observed Terror Carson, to his mate, without any particular emotion now that the danger was over.