Philosopher Jack. Robert Michael Ballantyne

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СКАЧАТЬ developed into a tremendous cough. There was something almost awe-inspiring in the cough. The captain was a huge and rugged man. His cough was a terrible compound of a choke, a gasp, a rend, and a roar. Only lungs of sole-leather could have weathered it. Each paroxysm suggested the idea that the man’s vitals were being torn asunder; but not content with that, the exasperated mariner made matters worse by keeping up a continual growl of indignant remonstrance in a thunderous undertone.

      “Hah! that was a splitter. A few more hug—sh! ha! like that will burst the biler entirety. Polly—hallo!”

      The lurid sun appeared to listen for a moment, then opening its mouth it shouted, “Polly—ahoy!” as if it were hailing the maintop of a seventy-four.

      Immediately there was a slight movement in one corner of the room, and straightway from out a mass of marine-stores there emerged a fairy! At least, the little girl, of twelve or thereabouts, who suddenly appeared, with rich brown tumbling hair, pretty blue eyes, faultless figure, and ineffable sweetness in every lineament of her little face, might easily have passed for a fairy or an angel.

      “What! caught you napping?” growled the captain in the midst of a paroxysm.

      “Only a minute, father; I couldn’t help it,” replied Polly, with a little laugh, as she ran to the fireplace and took up a saucepan that simmered there.

      “Here, look alive! shove along! hand it up! I’m chokin’!”

      The child held the saucepan as high as she could towards the hammock. The captain, reaching down one of his great arms, caught it and took a steaming draught. It seemed to relieve him greatly.

      “You’re a trump for gruel, Polly,” he growled, returning the saucepan. “Now then, up with the pyramid, and give us a nor’-wester.”

      The child returned the saucepan to the fireplace, and then actively placed a chair nearly underneath the hammock. Upon the chair she set a stool, and on the top she perched herself. Thus she was enabled to grasp the lurid sun by two enormous whiskers, and, putting her lips out, gave it a charming “nor’-wester,” which was returned with hyperborean violence. Immediately after, Polly ducked her head, and thus escaped being blown away, like a Hindoo mutineer from a cannon’s mouth, as the captain went off in another fit.

      “Oh! father,” said Polly, quite solemnly, as she descended and looked up from a comparatively safe distance, “isn’t it awful?”

      “Yes, Poll, it’s about the wust ’un I’ve had since I came from Barbadoes; but the last panful has mollified it, I think, and your nor’-wester has Pollyfied it, so, turn into your bunk, old girl, an’ take a nap. You’ve much need of it, poor thing.”

      “No, father, if I get into my crib I’ll sleep so heavy that you won’t be able to wake me. I’ll just lie down where I was before.”

      “Well, well—among the rubbish if ye prefer it; no matter s’long as you have a snooze,” growled the captain as he turned over, while the fairy disappeared into the dark recess from which she had risen.

      Just then a tap was heard at the door. “Come in,” roared the captain. A tall, broad-shouldered, nautical-looking man entered, took off his hat, and stood before the hammock, whence the captain gave him a stern, searching glance, and opened fire on him with his pipe.

      “Forgive me if I intrude, Captain Samson,” said the stranger; “I know you, although you don’t know me. You start to-morrow or next day, I understand, for Melbourne?”

      “Wind and weather permittin’,” growled the captain. “Well, what then?”

      “Have you completed your crew?” asked the stranger.

      “Nearly. What then?” replied the captain with a touch of ferocity, for he felt sensations of an approaching paroxysm.

      “Will you engage me?” asked Philosopher Jack, for it was he.

      “In what capacity?” demanded the captain somewhat sarcastically.

      “As an ordinary seaman—or a boy if you will,” replied Edwin, with a smile.

      “No,” growled Samson, decisively, “I won’t engage you; men with kid gloves and white hands don’t suit me.”

      From the mere force of habit the young student had pulled on his gloves on leaving his lodging, and had only removed that of the right hand on entering the captain’s dwelling. He now inserted a finger at the wrist of the left-hand glove, ripped it off, and flung it with its fellow under the grate. Thereafter he gathered some ashes and soot from the fireplace, with which he put his hands on a footing with those of a coal-heaver.

      “Will you take me now, captain?” he said, returning to the hammock, and spreading out his hands.

      The captain gave vent to a short laugh, which brought on a tremendous fit, at the conclusion of which he gasped, “Yes, my lad, p’r’aps I will; but first I must know something about you.”

      “Certainly,” said the philosopher, and at once gave the captain a brief outline of his circumstances.

      “Well, you know your own affairs best” said Captain Samson when he had finished; “I’m no judge of such a case, but as you’re willin’ to ship, I’m willin’ to ship you. Come here before ten to-morrow. Good night. There, it’s a-comin’—hash—k—!”

      In the midst of another furious paroxysm Edwin Jack retired.

      Not long after, the captain raised himself on one elbow, listened intently for a few seconds, and, having satisfied himself that Polly was asleep, slipped from his hammock—as only seamen know how—and proceeded to dress with the utmost caution. He was evidently afraid of the little sleeper among the rubbish. It was quite interesting to observe the quiet speed with which he thrust his great limbs into his ample garments, gazing anxiously all the time at Polly’s corner.

      Issuing from his own door with the step of an elephantine mouse, the captain went rapidly through several streets to the house of an intimate friend, whom he found at supper with his wife and family.

      “Evenin’, Bailie Trench; how are ’ee, Mrs T? how’s everybody?” said the captain, in a hearty rasping voice, as he shook hands right and left, while one of his huge legs was taken possession of, and embraced, by the bailie’s only daughter, a pretty little girl of six.

      “Why, Samson,” exclaimed the bailie, after quiet had been restored, and his friend had been thrust into a chair with little Susan on his knee, “I thought you were laid up with influenza—eh?”

      “So I was, bailie, an’ so I am,” replied the captain; “leastwise I’m still on the sick-list, and was in my hammock till about half an hour ago, but I’m gettin’ round fast. The night air seems to do me a world o’ good—contrariwise to doctor’s expectations.”

      “Have some supper?” said Mrs Trench, who was a weakish lady with watery eyes.

      “No supper, Mrs T, thank ’ee; the fact is, I’ve come on business. I should be on my beam-ends by rights. I’m absent without leave, an’ have only a few minutes to spare. The passenger I spoke of has changed his mind and his berth is free, so I’m glad to be able to take your son Ben after all. But he’ll have to get ready quick, for the Lively Poll sails the day after to-morrow or next day—all bein’ well.”

      The eyes of young Benjamin Trench sparkled. He was a tall, СКАЧАТЬ