Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
"Where
has he come from?" said one of the men in a low tone to his companion, who
was standing by him at that moment.
"How
can I tell?" replied his companion. "He may have dropped from the
clouds; he seems to be examining the road; perhaps he is going back."
The
stranger sat all this time with the most extreme and provoking coolness and
unconcern; he deigned us but a passing notice, but it was very slight.
He
was a tall, spare man—what is termed long and lathy—but he was evidently a
powerful man. He had a broad chest, and long, sinewy arms, a hooked nose, and a
black, eagle eye. His hair was curly, but frosted by age; it seemed as though
it had been tinged with white at the extremities, but he was hale and active
otherwise, to judge from appearances.
Notwithstanding
all this, there was a singular repulsiveness about him that I could not imagine
the cause, or describe; at the same time there was an air of determination in
his wild and singular-looking eyes, and over their whole there was decidedly an
air and an appearance so sinister as to be positively disagreeable.
"Well,"
said I, after we had stood some minutes, "where did you come from,
shipmate?"
He
looked at me and then up at the sky, in a knowing manner.
"Come,
come, that won't do; you have none of Peter Wilkins's wings, and couldn't come
on the aerial dodge; it won't do; how did you get here?"
He
gave me an awful wink, and made a sort of involuntary movement, which jumped
him up a few inches, and he bumped down again on the water-cask.
"That's
as much as to say," thought I, "that he's sat himself on it."
"I'll
go and inform the captain," said I, "of this affair; he'll hardly
believe me when I tell him, I am sure."
So
saying, I left the deck and went to the cabin, where the captain was at
breakfast, and related to him what I had seen respecting the stranger. The
captain looked at me with an air of disbelief, and said,—
"What?—do
you mean to say there's a man on board we haven't seen before?"
"Yes,
I do, captain. I never saw him afore, and he's sitting beating his heels on the
water-cask on deck."
"The
devil!"
"He
is, I assure you, sir; and he won't answer any questions."
"I'll
see to that. I'll see if I can't make the lubber say something, providing his
tongue's not cut out. But how came he on board? Confound it, he can't be the
devil, and dropped from the moon."
"Don't
know, captain," said I. "He is evil-looking enough, to my mind, to be
the father of evil, but it's ill bespeaking attentions from that quarter at any
time."
"Go
on, lad; I'll come up after you."
I
left the cabin, and I heard the captain coming after me. When I got on deck, I
saw he had not moved from the place where I left him. There was a general
commotion among the crew when they heard of the occurrence, and all crowded
round him, save the man at the wheel, who had to remain at his post.
The
captain now came forward, and the men fell a little back as he approached. For
a moment the captain stood silent, attentively examining the stranger, who was
excessively cool, and stood the scrutiny with the same unconcern that he would
had the captain been looking at his watch.
"Well,
my man," said the captain, "how did you come here?"
"I'm
part of the cargo," he said, with an indescribable leer.
"Part
of the cargo be d——d!" said the captain, in sudden rage, for he thought
the stranger was coming his jokes too strong. "I know you are not in the
bills of lading."
"I'm
contraband," replied the stranger; "and my uncle's the great chain of
Tartary."
The
captain stared, as well he might, and did not speak for some minutes; all the
while the stranger kept kicking his heels against the water-casks and squinting
up at the skies; it made us feel very queer.
"Well,
I must confess you are not in the regular way of trading."
"Oh,
no," said the stranger; "I am contraband—entirely contraband."
"And
how did you come on board?"
At
this question the stranger again looked curiously up at the skies, and
continued to do so for more than a minute; he then turned his gaze upon the
captain.
"No,
no," said the captain; "eloquent dumb show won't do with me; you
didn't come, like Mother Shipton, upon a birch broom. How did you come on board
my vessel?"
"I
walked on board," said the stranger.
"You
walked on board; and where did you conceal yourself?"
"Below."
"Very
good; and why didn't you stay below altogether?"
"Because
I wanted fresh air. I'm in a delicate state of health, you see; it doesn't do
to stay in a confined place too long."
"Confound
the binnacle!" said the captain; it was his usual oath when anything
bothered him, and he could not make it out. "Confound the binnacle!—what a
delicate-looking animal you are. I wish you had stayed where you were; your
delicacy would have been all the same to me. Delicate, indeed!"
"Yes,
very," said the stranger, coolly.
There
was something so comic in the assertion of his delicateness of health, that we
should all have laughed; but we were somewhat scared, and had not the
inclination.
"How
have you lived since you came on board?" inquired the captain.
"Very
indifferently."
"But
how? What have you eaten? and what have you drank?"
"Nothing,
I assure you. All I did while was below was—"
"What?"
"Why,
I sucked my thumbs like a polar bear in its winter quarters."
And
as he spoke the stranger put his two thumbs into his mouth, and extraordinary
thumbs they were, too, for each would have filled an ordinary man's mouth.
"These,"
said the stranger, pulling them out, and gazing at them wistfully, and with a
deep sigh he continued,—
"These
were thumbs at one time; but they are nothing now to what they were."
"Confound
the binnacle!" muttered the captain to himself, and then he added, aloud,—
"It's
cheap living, however; but where are you going to, and why did you come
aboard?"
"I
wanted a cheap cruise, and I am going there and back."
"Why,
that's where we are going," said the captain.
"Then
we are brothers," exclaimed the stranger, hopping off the water-cask like
a kangaroo, and bounding towards the captain, holding out his hand as though he
would have shaken hands with him.
"No,
no," said the captain; "I can't do it."
"Can't
do it!" exclaimed the stranger, angrily. "What do you mean?"
"That
I can't have anything to do with contraband articles; I am a fair trader, and
do all above board. I haven't a chaplain on board, or he should offer up
prayers for your preservation, and the recovery of your health, which seems so
delicate."
"That
be—"
The
stranger didn't finish the sentence; he merely screwed his mouth up into an
incomprehensible shape, and puffed out a lot of breath, with some force, and
which sounded very much like a whistle: but, oh, what thick breath he had, it
was as much like smoke as anything I ever saw, and so my shipmate said.
"I
say, captain," said the stranger, as he saw him pacing the deck.
"Well."
"Just
send me up some beef and biscuit, and some coffee royal—be sure it's royal, do
you hear, because I'm partial to brandy, it's the only good thing there is on
earth."
I
shall not easily forget the captain's look as he turned towards the stranger,
and gave his huge shoulders a shrug, as much as to say,—
"Well,
I can't help it now; he's here, and I can't throw him overboard."
The
coffee, beef, and biscuit were sent him, and the stranger seemed to eat them
with great
gout
, and drank
the coffee with much relish, and returned the things, saying,
"Your
captain is an excellent cook; give him my compliments."
I
thought the captain would think that was but a left-handed compliment, and look
more angry than pleased, but no notice was taken of it.
It
was strange, but this man had impressed upon all in the vessel some singular
notion of his being more than he should be—more than a mere mortal, and not one
endeavoured to interfere with him; the captain was a stout and dare-devil a
fellow as you would well met with, yet he seemed tacitly to acknowledge more
than he would say, for he never after took any further notice of the stranger
nor he of him.
They
had barely any conversation, simply a civil word when they first met, and so
forth; but there was little or no conversation of any kind between them.
The
stranger slept upon deck, and lived upon deck entirely; he never once went
below after we saw him, and his own account of being below so long.
This
was very well, but the night-watch did not enjoy his society, and would have
willingly dispensed with it at that hour so particularly lonely and dejected
upon the broad ocean, and perhaps a thousand miles away from the nearest point
of land.
At
this dread and lonely hour, when no sound reaches the ear and disturbs the
wrapt stillness of the night, save the whistling of the wind through the
cordage, or an occasional dash of water against the vessel's side, the thoughts
of the sailor are fixed on far distant objects—his own native land and the
friends and loved ones he has left behind him.
He
then thinks of the wilderness before, behind, and around him; of the immense body
of water, almost in places bottomless; gazing upon such a scene, and with
thoughts as strange and indefinite as the very boundless expanse before him, it
is no wonder if he should become superstitious; the time and place would,
indeed unbidden, conjure up thoughts and feelings of a fearful character and
intensity.
The
stranger at such times would occupy his favourite seat on the water cask, and
looking up at the sky and then on the ocean, and between whiles he would
whistle a strange, wild, unknown melody.
The
flesh of the sailors used to creep up in knots and bumps when they heard it;
the wind used to whistle as an accompaniment and pronounce fearful sounds to
their ears.
The
wind had been highly favourable from the first, and since the stranger had been
discovered it had blown fresh, and we went along at a rapid rate, stemming the
water, and dashing the spray off from the bows, and cutting the water like a
shark.
This
was very singular to us, we couldn't understand it, neither could the captain,
and we looked very suspiciously at the stranger, and wished him at the bottom,
for the freshness of the wind now became a gale, and yet the ship came through
the water steadily, and away we went before the wind, as if the devil drove us;
and mind I don't mean to say he didn't.
The
gale increased to a hurricane, and though we had not a stitch of canvass out,
yet we drove before the gale as if we had been shot out of the mouth of a gun.
The
stranger still sat on the water casks, and all night long he kept up his infernal
whistle. Now, sailors don't like to hear any one whistle when there's such a
gale blowing over their heads—it's like asking for more; but he would persist,
and the louder and stronger the wind blew, the louder he whistled.
At
length there came a storm of rain, lightning, and wind. We were tossed
mountains high, and the foam rose over the vessel, and often entirely over our
heads, and the men were lashed to their posts to prevent being washed away.
But
the stranger still lay on the water casks, kicking his heels and whistling his
infernal tune, always the same. He wasn't washed away nor moved by the action
of the water; indeed, we heartily hoped and expected to see both him and the
water cask floated overboard at every minute; but, as the captain said,—
"Confound
the binnacle! the old water tub seems as if it were screwed on to the deck, and
won't move off and he on the top of it."
There
was a strong inclination to throw him overboard, and the men conversed in low
whispers, and came round the captain, saying,—
"We
have come, captain, to ask you what you think of this strange man who has come
so mysteriously on board?"
"I
can't tell what to think, lads; he's past thinking about—he's something above
my comprehension altogether, I promise you."
"Well,
then, we are thinking much of the same thing, captain."
"What
do you mean?"
"That
he ain't exactly one of our sort."
"No,
he's no sailor, certainly; and yet, for a land lubber, he's about as rum a
customer as ever I met with."
"So
he is, sir."
"He
stands salt water well; and I must say that I couldn't lay a top of those water
casks in that style very well."