Tom Cringle's Log Part 50

"A Jew fis.h.!.+" responded Wagtail.

"A Jew fis.h.!.+" said Aaron Bang.

"A Jew fis.h.!.+" said Paul Gelid.

"My dear Cringle," continued Wagtail, "when do you dine?"

"At three, as usual."

"Then, Mr Reefpoint, will you have the great kindness to cast off your sink, and hook that splendid fellow by the tail--only through the gristle--don't p.r.i.c.k him in the flesh--and let him meander about till half-past two?"

Reefy was half inclined to be angry at the idea of his Majesty's officer being converted into a cook's mate.

"Why," said I, "we shall put him in a tub of water, here on deck, Mr Wagtail, if you please."

"G.o.d bless me, no!" quoth the gastronome. "Why, he is strong as an eagle, and will smash himself to mummy in half an hour in a tub. No--no see, he weighs twelve pounds at the very lightest. Lord! Mr Cringle, I am surprised at you."

The fish was let overboard again, according to his desire, and hauled in at the very moment he indicated by his watch, when, having seen him cut up and cleaned, with his own eyes--I believe I may say with his own hands--he betook himself to his small crib to dress.

At dinner our Creole friend was very entertaining. Bang drew him out, and had him to talk on all his favourite topics in a most amusing manner. All at once Gelid lay back on his chair.

"My G.o.d," said he, "I have broken my tooth with that confounded hard biscuit--terrible--really: ah!"--and he screwed up his face, as if he had been eating sourcrout, or had heard of the death of a dear friend.

"Poo," quoth Aaron, "any comb maker will furnish you forth as good as new; those grinders you brag of are not your own, Gelid, you know that."

"Indeed, Aaron, my dear, I know nothing of the kind; but this I know, that I have broken a most lovely white front tooth, ah!"

"Oh, you be hanged," said Aaron; "why, you have been bechopped any time these ten years, I know."

The time wore on, and it might have been half past seven when we went on deck.

It was a very dark night--Tailtackle had the watch. "Any thing in sight, Mr Tailtackle?"

"Why, no, sir; but I have just asked your steward for your night gla.s.s, as, once or twice--but it is so thick--Pray, sir, how far are we off the Hole in the Wall?"

"Why, sixty miles at the least."

The Hole in the Wall is a very remarkable rock in the Crooked Island Pa.s.sage, greatly resembling, as the name betokens, a wall breached by the sea, or by battering cannon, which rises abruptly out of the water, to a height of forty feet.

"Then," quoth Tailtackle sharply, "there must be a sail close aboard of us, to windward there."

"Where?" said I. "Quick, send for my night-gla.s.s."

"I have it here in my hand, sir."

"Let me see"--and I peered through it until my eyes ached again. I could see nothing, and resumed my walk on the quarterdeck. Tailtackle, in the meantime, continued to look through the telescope, and as I turned from aft to walk forward, a few minutes after this--"Why, sir,"

said he, "it clears a bit, and I see the object that has puzzled me again."

"Eh? give me the gla.s.s"--in a second I caught it. "By Jupiter, you say true, Tailtackle! beat to quarters--quick--clear away the long gun forward there!"

All was bustle for a minute. I kept my eye on the object, but I could not make out more, than that it was a strange sail; I could neither judge of her size nor her rig, from the distance, and the extreme darkness of the night. At length I handed the gla.s.s to Tailtackle again. We were at this time standing in towards the Cuba sh.o.r.e, with a fine breeze, and going along seven knots, as near as could be.

"Give the gla.s.s to Mr Jigmaree, Mr Tailtackle, and come forward here, and see all snug."

The long gun was slewed round--both carronades were run out, all three being loaded, double shotted, and carefully primed--the whole crew, with our black supernumeraries, being at quarters.

"I see her quite distinct now, sir," sung out Timotheus.

"Well, what looks she like?"

"A large brig, sir, by the wind on the same tack--you can see her now without the gla.s.s--there--with the naked eye."

I looked, and certainly fancied I saw some towering object rising high and dark to windward, like some mighty spectre walking the deep, but I could discern nothing more.

"She is a large vessel, sure enough, sir," said Timothy once more "now she is hauling up her courses, sir--she takes in topgallant sails why, she is bearing up across our bows, sir--mind she don't rake us."

"The deuce!" said I. I now saw the chase very distinctly bear up. "Put the helm up--keep her away a bit--steady at that will do--fire a shot across her bows, Mr Tailtackle--and, Mr Reefpoint, show the private signal." The gun was fired, and the lights shown, but our spectral friend was all darkness and silence. "Mr Scarfemwell," said I to the carpenter, "stand by the long gun. Tailtackle, I don't like that chap open the magazine." By this time the strange sail was on our quarter, we shortened sail, while he, finding that his manoeuvre of crossing our bows had been foiled by our bearing up also, got the foretack on board again, and set his topgallant sails, all very cleverly. He was not far out of pistol-shot. Tailtackle, in his s.h.i.+rt and trowsers, and felt shoes, now stuck his head up the main hatchway.

"I would recommend your getting the hatches on, sir--that fellow is not honest, sir, take my word for it."

"Never mind, Mr Tailtackle, never mind. Forward, there; Mr Jigmaree, slap a round shot into him, since he won't speak, or heave-to--right between his masts, do you hear--are you ready?"

"All ready, sir."

"Fire." The gun was fired, and simultaneously we heard a crash on board the strange sail, followed by a piercing yell, similar to what the negroes raise over a dead comrade, and then a long melancholy howl.

"A slaver, and the shot has told, sir," said Mr Handlead, the master.

"Then we shall have some fun for it," thought I. I had scarcely spoken, when the brig once more shortened sail; and the instant that the foresail rose, he let fly his bow gun at us--then another, another, and another.

"Nine guns of a side, as I am a sinner," quoth jigmaree; and three of the shot struck us, mortally wounded one poor fellow, and damaged poor little Reefy by a splinter in the side.

"Stand by, men--take good aim--fire"--and we again let drive the long gun and carronade; but our friend was too quick for us, for by this time he had once more hauled his wind, and made sail as close to it as he could stagger. We crowded every thing in chase, but he had the heels of us, and in an hour he was once more nearly out of sight in the dark night, right to windward.

"Keep, at him, Mr Jigmaree;" and as I feared he was running us in under the land, I dived to consult the chart. There, in the cabin, I found Wagtail, Gelid, and Bang, sitting smoking on each side of the small table, with some brandy and water before them.

"Ah," quoth Gelid, "ah! fighting a little? Not pleasant in the evening, certainly."

"Confound you," said Aaron, "why will you bother at this awkward moment?"

Meanwhile Wagtail was a good deal discomposed.

"My dear fellow, hand me over that deviled biscuit."

Bang handed him over the dish, slipping into it some fragments of s.h.i.+p biscuit, as hard as flint. All this time I was busy poring over the chart. Wagtail took up a piece and popt it into his mouth.

"Zounds, Bang--my dear Aaron, what dentist are you in league with?

Gelid first breaks his pet fang, and now you"--