But we must return on board, where there was almost as much confusion as there had been on shore. The reappearance of Snarleyyow was considered supernatural, for Smallbones had distinctly told in what manner he had tied him up in the bread-bags, and thrown him into the canal. Whisperings and murmurings were heard all round the cutter’s decks. Obadiah Coble shrugged up his shoulders, as he took an extra quid. — Dick Short walked about with lips compressed, more taciturn than ever — Jansen shook his head, muttering, “Te tog is no tog.” — Bill Spurey had to repeat to the ship’s company the legend of his coming on board over and over again. The only persons who appeared not to have lost their courage were Jemmy Ducks and poor Smallbones, who had been put in his hammock to recover him from his refrigeration. The former said, “that if they were to sail with the devil, it could not be helped, pay and prize-money would still go on;” and the latter, who had quite recovered his self-possession, “vowed that dog or devil, he would never cease his attempts to destroy him — if he was the devil, or one of his imps, it was his duty as a Christian to oppose him, and he had no chance of better treatment if he were to remain quiet.” The snow-storm continued, and the men remained below, all but Jemmy Ducks, who leaned against the lee side of the cutter’s mast, and as the snow fell, sang, to a slow air, the following ditty, it probably being called to his recollection by the state of the weather.

  ’Twas at the landing-place that’s just below Mount Wyse,

  Poll lean’d against the sentry’s box, a tear in both her eyes;

  Her apron twisted round her arms, all for to keep them warm,

  Being a windy Christmas-day, and also a snow-storm.

  And Bet and Sue

  Both stood there too,

  A shivering by her side,

  They both were dumb,

  And both look’d glum,

  As they watch’d the ebbing tide.

  Poll put her arms a-kimbo,

  At the admiral’s house look’d she,

  To thoughts before in limbo,

  She now a vent gave free.

  You have sent the ship in a gale to work,

  On a lee shore to be jamm’d,

  I’ll give you a piece of my mind, old Turk,

  Port Admiral, you be damned.

  Chorus. — We’ll give you a piece of our mind, old Turk,

  Port Admiral, you be damned.

  Who ever heard in the sarvice of a frigate made to sail

  On Christmas-day, it blowing hard, with sleet, and snow, and hail?

  I wish I had the fishing of your back that is so bent,

  I’d use the galley poker hot unto your heart’s content.

  Here Bet and Sue

  Are with me too,

  A shivering by my side,

  They both are dumb,

  And both look glum,

  And watch the ebbing tide.

  Poll put her arms a-kimbo,

  At the admiral’s house look’d she,

  To thoughts that were in limbo,

  She now a vent gave free.

  You’ve got a roaring fire I’ll bet,

  In it your toes are jamm’d:

  Let’s give him a piece of our mind, my Bet,

  Port Admiral, you be damned.

  Chorus. — Let’s give him a piece of our mind, my Bet,

  Port Admiral, you be damned.

  I had the flour and plums all pick’d, and suet all chopp’d fine,

  To mix into a pudding rich for all the mess to dine;

  I pawn’d my ear-rings for the beef, it weigh’d at least a stone,

  Now my fancy man is sent to sea, and I am left alone.

  Here’s Bet and Sue

  Who stand here too,

  A shivering by my side;

  They both are dumb,

  They both look glum,

  And watch the ebbing tide.

  Poll put her arms a-kimbo,

  At the admiral’s house look’d she,

  To thoughts that were in limbo,

  She now a vent gave free.

  You’ve got a turkey, I’ll be bound,

  With which you will be cramm’d;

  I’ll give you a bit of my mind, old hound,

  Port Admiral, you be damned.

  Chorus. — I’ll give you a bit of my mind, old hound,

  Port Admiral, you be damned.

  I’m sure that in this weather they cannot cook their meat,

  To eat it raw on Christmas-day will be a pleasant treat;

  But let us all go home, girls; it’s no use waiting here,

  We’ll hope that Christmas-day to come they will have better cheer.

  So, Bet and Sue,

  Don’t stand here too,

  A shivering by my side;

  Don’t keep so dumb,

  Don’t look so glum,

  Nor watch the ebbing tide.

  Poll put her arms a-kimbo,

  At the admiral’s house look’d she,

  To thoughts that were in limbo,

  She now a vent gave free.

  So while they cut their raw salt junks,

  With dainties you’ll be cramm’d;

  Here’s once for all my mind, old hunks,

  Port Admiral, you be damned.

  Chorus. — So once for all our mind, old hunks,

  Port Admiral, you be damned.

  “Mein Gott! but dat is rank mutiny, Mynheer Shemmy Tucks,” observed Corporal Van Spitter, who had come upon the deck unperceived by Jemmy, and had listened to the song.

  “Mutiny, is it?” replied Jemmy; “and report this also —

  ”I’ll give you a bit of my mind, fat thief;

  You, corporal, may be damned.”

  “Dat is better and better — I mean to say, worser and worser,” replied the corporal.

  “Take care I don’t pitch you overboard,” replied Jemmy, in wrath.

  “Pat is most worse still,” said the corporal, stalking aft, and leaving Jemmy Ducks to follow up the train of his own thoughts.

  Jemmy, who had been roused by the corporal, and felt the snow insinuating itself into the nape of his neck, thought he might as well go down below.

  The corporal made his report, and Mr Vanslyperken made his comments, but he did no more, for he was aware that a mere trifle would cause a general mutiny. The recovery of Snarleyyow consoled him, and little thinking what had been the events of the preceding night, he thought he might as well prove his devotion to the widow, by paying his respects in a snow-storm — but not in the attire of the day before — Mr Vanslyperken was too economical for that; so he remained in his loose thread-bare great-coat and foul-weather hat. Having first locked up his dog in the cabin, and entrusted the key to the corporal, he went on shore, and presented himself at the widow’s door, which was opened by Babette, who with her person barred entrance: she did not wait for Vanslyperken to speak first.

  “Mynheer Vanslyperken, you can’t come in. Frau Vandersloosh is very ill in bed — the doctor says it’s a bad case — she cannot be seen.”

  “Ill!” exclaimed Vanslyperken; “your dear, charming mistress ill! Good heavens! what is the matter, my dear Babette?” replied Vanslyperken, with all the pretended interest of a devoted lover.

  “All through you, Mr Vanslyperken,” replied Babette.

  “Me!” exclaimed Vanslyperken.

  “Well, all through your nasty cur, which is the same thing.”

  “My dog! I little thought that he was left here,” replied the lieutenant; “but, Babette, let me in, if you please, for the snow falls fast, and—”

  “And you must not come in, Mr Vanslyperken,” replied Babette, pushing him back.

  “Good heavens! what is the matter?”

  Babette then narrated what had passed, and as she was very prolix, Mr Vanslyperken was a mass of snow on the windward side of him before she had finished, which she did, by pulling down her worsted stockings, and showing the wounds which she had received as her portion in the last night’s affray. Having thus given ocular evidence of the truth of what she had asserted, Babette then delivered the message of her mistress; to wit, “that until the dead body of Snarleyyow was laid at the porch where they now stood, he, Mr Vanslyperken, would never gain re-admission.” So saying, and not feeling it very pleasant to continue a conversation in a snow-storm, Babette very unceremoniously slammed the door in Mr Vanslyperken’s face, and left him to digest the communication with what appetite he might. Mr Vanslyperken, notwithstanding the cold weather, hastened from the door in a towering passion. The perspiration actually ran down his face, and mingled with the melting snow. “To be or not to be” — give up the widow or give up his darling Snarleyyow — a dog whom he loved the more, the more he was, through him, entangled in scrapes and vexations — a dog whom every one hated, and therefore he loved — a dog which had not a single recommendation, and therefore was highly prized — a dog assailed by all, and especially by that scarecrow Smallbones, to whom his death would be a victory — it was impossible. But then the widow — with such lots of guilders in the bank, and such a good income from the Lust Haus, he had long made up his mind to settle in possession. It was the haven which, in the vista of his mind, he had been so long, accustomed to dwell upon, and he could not give up the hope.

  Yet one must be sacrificed. No, he could part with neither. “I have it,” thought he; “I will make the widow believe that I have sacrificed the dog, and then, when I am once in possession, the dog shall come back again, and let her say a word if she dares: I’ll tame her, and pay her off for old scores.”

  Such was the determination of Mr Vanslyperken, as he walked back to the boat. His reverie was, however, broken by his breaking his nose against a lamp-post, which did not contribute to his good-humour. “Yes, yes, Frau Vandersloosh, we will see,” muttered Vanslyperken; “you would kill my dog, would you? It’s a dog’s life I’ll lead you when I’m once secure of you, Madame Vandersloosh. You cheated me out of my biscuit — we shall see;” and Mr Vanslyperken stepped into his boat and pulled on board.

  On his arrival he found that a messenger had come on board during his absence, with the letters of thanks from the king’s loving cousins, and with directions that he should return with them forthwith. This suited the views of Vanslyperken; he wrote a long letter to the widow, in which he expressed his willingness to sacrifice everything for her, not only to hang his dog, but to hang himself if she wished it — lamented his immediate orders for sailing, and hinted that, on his return, he ought to find her more favourable. The widow read the letter, and tossed it into the grate with a “Pish! I was not born yesterday, as the saying is,” cried the widow Vandersloosh.

  Chapter Thirteen.

  In which the Ship’s Company join in a Chorus, and the Corporal goes on a Cruise.

  Mr Vanslyperken is in his cabin, with Snarleyyow at his side, sitting upon his haunches, and looking in his master’s face, which wears an air of anxiety and discomfiture; the fact is, that Mr Vanslyperken is anything but content; he is angry with the widow, with the ship’s company, with the dog, and with himself; but his anger towards the dog is softened, for he feels that, if anything in this world loves him it is the dog — not that his affection is great, but as much as the dog’s nature will permit; and, at all events, if the animal’s attachment to him is not very strong, still he is certain that Snarleyyow hates everybody else. It is astonishing how powerful is the feeling that is derived from habit and association. Now that the life of his cur was demanded by one, and, as he was aware, sought for by many, Vanslyperken put a value upon him that was extraordinary. Snarleyyow had become a precious jewel in the eyes of his master, and what he suffered in anxiety and disappointment from the perverse disposition of the animal, only endeared him the more. “Yes, my poor dog,” apostrophised the lieutenant, “they would seek your life, nay, that hardhearted woman demands that you should be laid dead at her porch. All conspire against you, but be not afraid, my dog, your master will protect you against all.”

  Vanslyperken patted the animal on the head, which was not a little swelled from the blows received from the broom of Babette, and Snarleyyow rubbed his nose against his master’s trousers, and then raised himself up, by putting his paw upon his master’s knee. This brought the dog’s head more to the light, and Vanslyperken observed that one eye was swelled and closed. He examined it, and, to his horror, found that it had been beaten out by the broom of Babette. There was no doubt of it, and Mr Vanslyperken’s choler was extreme. “Now, may all the curses of ophthalmia seize the faggot,” cried the lieutenant; “I wish I had her here. My poor, poor dog!” and Vanslyperken kissed the os frontis of the cur, and what perhaps had never occurred since childhood, and, what nothing else could have brought about, Mr Vanslyperken wept — actually wept over an animal, which was not, from any qualification he possessed, worth the charges of the cord which would have hanged him. Surely the affections have sometimes a bent towards insanity.

  After a short time the lieutenant rang his bell, and ordered some warm water, to bathe the dog’s eye. Corporal Van Spitter, as Smallbones was in his hammock, answered the summons, and when he returned aft with the water, he made known to Mr Vanslyperken the mutinous expressions of Jemmy Ducks. The lieutenant’s small eye twinkled with satisfaction. “Damned the Admiral, did he! which one was it — Portsmouth or Plymouth?”

  This Corporal Van Spitter could not tell: but it was certain that Jemmy had damned his superior officer; “And moreover,” continued the corporal, “he damned me.” Now Mr Vanslyperken had a great hatred against Jemmy Ducks, because he amused the ship’s company, and he never could forgive anyone who made people happy; moreover, he wanted some object to visit his wrath upon: so he asked a few more questions, and then dismissed the corporal, put on his tarpaulin hat, put his speaking-trumpet under his arm, and went on deck, directing the corporal to appoint one of the marines to continue to bathe the eye of his favourite.

  Mr Vanslyperken looked at the dog-vane, and perceived that the wind was foul for sailing, and moreover, it would be dark in two hours, so he determined upon not starting till the next morning, and then he thought that he would punish Jemmy Ducks; but the question occurred to him whether he could do so or not. Was James Salisbury a boatswain by right or not? He received only the pay of a boatswain’s mate, but he was styled boatswain on the books. It was a nice point, and the balance was even. Mr Vanslyperken’s own wishes turned the scale, and he resolved to flog Jemmy Ducks if he could. We say, if he could; for as, at that time tyrannical oppression on the part of the superiors was winked at, and no complaints were listened to by the Admiralty, insubordination which was the natural result, was equally difficult to get over; and although on board of the larger vessels, the strong arm of power was certain to conquer, it was not always the case in the smaller, where the superiors were not in sufficient force, or backed by a numerous party of soldiers or marines, for there was then little difference between the two services. Mr Vanslyperken had had more than one mutiny on board of the vessels which he had commanded, and, in one instance, his whole ship’s company had taken the boats and gone on shore, leaving him by himself in the vessel, preferring to lose the pay due to them than to remain longer on board. They joined other ships in the service, and no notice was taken of their conduct by the authorities. Such was the state of half discipline at the period we speak of in the service of the king. The ships were, in every other point, equally badly fitted out and manned: peculation of every kind was carried to excess, and those who were in command thought more of their own interest than of anything else. Ship’s stores and provisions were constantly sold, and the want of the former was frequently the occasion of the loss of the vessel, and the sacrifice of the whole crew. Such maladministration is said to be the case even now in some of the continental navies. It is not until a long series of years have elapsed, that such regulations and arrangements as are at present so economically and beneficially administered to our navy can be fully established.

  Having settled the point so far, Mr Vanslyperken then proceeded to debate in his own mind whether he should flog Jemmy in harbour, or after he had sailed; and feeling that if there was any serious disturbance on the part of the men, they might quit the vessel if in harbour, he decided that he would wait until he had them in blue water. His thoughts then reverted to the widow, and, as he turned and turned again, he clenched his fists in his great-coat pockets, and was heard by those near him to grind his teeth.

  In the meantime, the news had been imparted by the marine, who came up into the galley for more warm water, that the dog had had one of his eyes put out, and it was strange the satisfaction which this intelligence appeared to give to the ship’s company. It was passed round like wildfire, and, when communicated, a beam of pleasure was soon apparent throughout the whole cutter, and for this simple reason, that the accident removed the fear rising from the supposition of the dog being supernatural, for the men argued, and with some reason, that if you could put out his eye you could kill him altogether; for if you could destroy a part you could destroy the whole. No one ever heard of the devil’s eye being put out — ergo, the dog could not be a devil, or one of his imps; so argued a knot of the men in conclave, and Jansen wound up by observing, “Dat de tog was only a tog after all.”