Tom Finch's Monkey, and how he dined with the Admiraland other yarns. 

by John C. Hutcheson________________________________________________________________This is quite a short book, containing five short late Victorianstories. 

The first of these concerns a monkey on board ship, which was dressed upas an officer, and as such introduced to a visiting Admiral, who invitesall the officers to dinner, stressing that he hoped to entertain the onewho didn't speak much. 

The second story is an informative one about icebergs. 

The third concerns a yachting cruise in the Aegean Sea, among the GreekIslands, in which they save the live of a Greek. There is an encounterwith bandits, from which they are surprisingly released without furtherharm. Why would that be, I wonder. 

The fourth concerns a "sighting of a sea-serpent of extraordinarydimensions", by HMS Daedalus in 1848. 

And the fifth is a story about the curious events at a cricket match. ________________________________________________________________TOM FINCH'S MONKEY, AND HOW HE DINED WITH THE ADMIRALAND OTHER YARNS. 

BY JOHN C. HUTCHESON

CHAPTER ONE. 

AND HOW HE DINED WITH THE ADMIRAL. 

We were cruising off Callao on the Pacific station when it all happened, and I daresay there are a good many others who will recollect all aboutit as well as myself. But to explain the matter properly I must go backa little in my dates; for, instead of Callao at the commencement of myyarn, you must read Calabar. 

You see, I was in the _Porpoise_ at the time, a small old-fashioned, paddle-wheel steamer that had been ordered across from the West Coast ofAfrica by "my lords" of the Admiralty to reinforce our squadron in SouthAmerican waters on account of a war breaking out between Chili and Peru. Being a "sub" on board of her, and consequently subject to theauthorities that be, when the _Porpoise_ was obliged to abandon thefragrant mangrove swamps at the mouth of the Congo river, where we hadbeen enjoying ourselves for over a twelvemonth amidst the delights of adeadly miasma that brought on perpetual low fever, and as constant aconsumption of quinine and bottled beer to counteract its effects, I wasof course forced to accompany her across the Atlantic and round the Hornto her allotted destination. 

Thence "this plain unvarnished tale, " which is as clear as mud in aditch, although you needn't believe it if you don't like--there is nocompulsion required to make hungry people eat roast mutton!

Tom Finch, the lieutenant in command of the _Porpoise_, who had got hispromotion through the death vacancy of his senior at Cape Coast Castle--he was just ahead of me on the roster, luckily for him--was one of thejolliest fellows I ever sailed with or under, since I entered theservice; and I'm sure I've known a few "swabs" in my time!

Unlike some junior officers I could name, when suddenly intrusted withthe reins of power, there was nothing of the martinet about Tom, even onthe first day he assumed his new rank, when a little extra pompositymight have been excusable. But no, he gave himself no airs or graceswhatever. 

He was the same Tom Finch who had chaffed and larked and talkedconfidence with me in the gunroom, now that he trod the quarter-deck "inall his war paint, " as I told him somewhat impudently, the "skipper" ofHMS _Porpoise_, "paddle sloop, 6 guns, " as she was described in the_Navy List_--the same unaffected, jovial, good-natured sailor whomeverybody liked, men and messmates alike. His only weakness was a lovefor practical joking, which he would carry out sometimes, perhaps, to arather ticklish extent--for his own good, that is, as he never knowinglydid anyone else an injury by it. 

"What will you do with your monkey?" I said, when the mail brought inour orders from the commodore on the West Coast for us to sail for MonteVideo at once, and there await our further instructions--which would besent on from England; "what will you do with him when we go?"

"Take him with me of course, " answered Tom; "why shouldn't I?"

"Well, I don't see any reason against it certainly, " I replied; "nowthat you are captain of the ship, and can do as you please withoutasking anybody's leave. "

"Poor Griffin, " said Tom, "he _did_ object to Jocko's society; that wasthe reason I always used to keep the dear fellow ashore; however, as yousay, Gerald, I am my own master and can do as I like now. You don'tthink the crew dislike my monkey, do you?" he added eagerly. 

He was such a kind-hearted obliging chap, that if he thought that eventhe loblolly boy objected to the presence of Jocko on board, he wouldhave banished him from the ship for ever, especially from the very factof his being the commander and having no one to dispute his authority. 

"Oh dear, no, certainly not, " I replied at once, with "effusion, " as theFrench say in their idiom. "The men like him better than you do, ifthat is possible; and I don't know what they would do without him, Ionly thought the change of climate might be deleterious to his health, that's all!"

"Deleterious indeed, Gerald! wherever did you pick up such a fine word?I suppose you have been interviewing old Jalap about your liver, eh, youhypochondriacal young donkey! Why, Monte Video is a regular paradisefor the monkey tribe, and Jocko will be in his element there!"

"But I don't suppose we'll stop there, Tom; didn't you say that youthought it probable that we would have to go round Cape Horn and jointhe squadron at Callao?"

I may here explain that while on the quarter-deck, I invariablyaddressed Tom Finch as "Sir, " for was he not my commanding officer?But, while below, or when off duty, he insisted on my retaining my oldcustom of calling him by his Christian name, the same as when we weretogether in the gunroom, and he only a "sub. "

"And if we _do_ go round the Horn, what then, Mr Sub-lieutenantFollett?" said he. 

"Won't Jocko find it cold: you know it's winter time there now?"

"And can't I have him clothed like a Christian, stupid, and keep him bythe fire, or in the cook's cabin, where he will be so warm, that he'llfancy himself in his native clime?"

"Oh, yes, " said I, "I quite forgot that his dearest friend next to youwas Pompey!" alluding to the ship's cook, a sable African, who came veryprobably from the same locality as the monkey; the two being very muchalike, not only in the colour of their complexions, but in theirfeatures and facial development. 

"Yes, " said Tom reflectively, "Pompey will take care he doesn't freeze. He could not be fonder of him than his own brother would be; he might, indeed, _be_ his relative, if Darwin's theory should prove to be true!However, I must see about getting Jocko rigged out properly in a decentsailor's suit so that he may get accustomed to the clothing before wecome to the cold latitudes. I daresay my marine, who is a smart fellow, can manage to cut down a guernsey frock and a pair of canvas or sergetrousers to fit the brute: I will give an order on the paymaster forthem at once and Smith can set to work on them without delay;" and hebustled out of his cabin to carry his intentions into effect. 

Not being intimately acquainted with even the rudimentary elements ofnatural history, I cannot say to what order or genus of the monkeyfamily Jocko belonged; but, roughly speaking, I think he was a specimenof chimpanzee or small gorilla, as he had no tail, and when he walkederect, which was his favourite position, he looked uncommonly like the"superior animal. "

Tom Finch had shot the monkey's mother in the bush when on a huntingexcursion up the interior of the country, which he indulged in on firstcoming to the coast; and having captured and nursed the youngster withthe utmost solicitude, Jocko repaid his master's attention by learningso many tricks and imitating the deportment, of those with whom he wasbrought in contact so carefully, that he was now, at the time of which Ispeak, such a thoroughly educated and well-bred monkey as to be "umpurfit genelman, " as Pompey, the cook, said--one "fit to shine in anycircle, " especially on ship-board, where he was an endless source ofamusement to us all, from the lieutenant-commander down to the loblollyboy aforesaid. 

Pursuant to Tom Finch's directions and the exertions of his marineservant Smith, before we left the mouth of the Congo our friend Jockowas decorously habited in a smart seafaring costume; and, long ere wehad crossed the Atlantic and arrived at Monte Video, the intelligentanimal had got so habituated to his new rig that the difficulty wouldhave been to persuade him to go about once more in his former unclothedstate--and yet some sceptics say that monkeys aren't human! You shouldonly have seen him walking up and down the quarter-deck, or on thebridge by Tom's side, he looked for all the world like a juvenile"reefer!"

It was in the cabin, however, that Jocko's acquirements came out in thestrongest relief. Tom had taught him to sit at table and use a spoon orfork in helping himself from his plate as naturally as possible; and, asfor drinking, you should only have seen him pour out a tumbler ofbottled stout, for which he had an inordinate relish, and tossing itdown his throat, give a sigh of the deepest satisfaction when he hadfinished it, when, replacing his glass on the table, he would lean backin his chair as if overcome by the exertion. 

Before he had been clothed in sailor fashion, Jocko used to be very fondof skylarking with the men forward, stealing their mess utensils andscampering up and down the rigging to evade pursuit when hismischievousness had been found out; but, after that period, he seemed tobecome possessed of a wonderful amount of dignity which made him give uphis wild frolicsomeness, and leave off his previous habits, for he neverwent to the forecastle again, but restricted himself to the officers'quarters aft. This he did, too, in spite of the coaxings of the crew, who were very fond of him, and the fact of Tom often kicking him out ofhis cabin, where he would take possession of his sofa whenever he hadthe chance, wrapping himself in Tom's boat-cloak and reclininggracefully on the cushions. One of Jocko's chief amusements also was inwatching the machinery when in motion; and he would spend hours inlooking down at it through the engine-room hatch. 

Once, when the skylight was up, he had a narrow squeak for his life;for, carried away by his excitement, in trying to put his hands--paws Ishould say--on the revolving shaft, he tumbled through; and, but for thechief engineer seeing him in time and stopping the engines, which werejust then going slow, poor Jocko would have come to grief. 

This accident, however, never broke him of the habit of inspecting themachinery. It had a sort of weird attraction for him which he could notresist. Possibly, he might have been a sort of incubating Watt orBrunel, who knows? But, alas, he never became sufficiently developed or"evolved" from his quadrumanous condition to answer the question inperson, as the engines which were his hobby in the end compassed hisuntimely death!

Those paddle-wheel steamers that were built for the navy some fortyyears ago, although designed for capturing Cuban slavers, were certainlynot remarkable for their speed, and the _Porpoise_ was no exception toher class; so, what with her naturally slow rate of progression throughthe water, and the strict Admiralty circular limiting the consumption ofcoal even on special service like ours, we did not make a very rapidpassage across the south Atlantic to Monte Video. This place ischarmingly situated on the estuary of the Rio de la Plata, and veryappropriately named; for it can be seen far away off, for miles at sea, and itself commands magnificent views of its own beautiful harbour andthe surrounding inland scenery. 

Here despatches awaited us, as Tom Finch had previously been informed atCape Coast Castle would be the case, ordering the _Porpoise_ to proceedimmediately to the Pacific and join the admiral on that station atCallao; and, accordingly, after one of the briefest of stays at a portwhich I have always longed since to have a more extendedacquaintanceship with, we up anchor and paddled away to our assignedrendezvous--not by way of the "Horn, " which we did not go round, as Ihad imagined we would, for it was far too stormy; but, through theStraits of Magellan, which are easy enough of passage to a steamer, independent almost of winds and currents, although somewhat perilous tosailing vessels, especially during the winter months. 

Jocko seemed to feel the cold as soon as we began to run down towardsTerra del Fuego, and had some additional garments placed round him; buttrue to what he evidently thought was his new and proper position, hewould not take up his quarters with his "old friend and brother, "Pompey, in the cook's caboose, preferring to shiver in Tom's cabin tillhe almost turned blue. 

"Bress dat Massa Jocko!" Pompey would say after a vain attempt to coaxhim to share his hospitality. "I can't make he out nohow! Guess hetinks himself buckra ossifer and bery fine genelman, now de captin takeum into cabin, sure; but, he no rale genelman to turn up nose at um olefrens! No, sah, I no spik to him no more!" and the negro cook wouldretire with ill-suppressed anger, which was all the more amusing to usfrom its having been occasioned by a monkey!

On our getting round into the Pacific, and sighting the coast towardsValparaiso, where we had to stop and coal once more, the _Porpoise_ nothaving much storage room in her old bunkers, Jocko got more on friendlyterms with the thermometer, making faces and jabbering away in hislingo, which unfortunately no one but himself could understand, just asif he were still in his native clime on the African continent. 

Occasionally, too, as if his spirits carried him away on his restorationto warmer latitudes, he would indulge in one of his old skylarking boutswith the crew, and even made advances to Pompey in his caboose, whichthat worthy, in spite of his indignation at the manner in which he hadbeen treated by Jocko when he assumed the dignity of the _toga virilis_, was only too glad to welcome and reciprocate; but, after one of theseunusual unbendings, the monkey grew even more dignified andinapproachable than before, except to Tom and myself, who could doanything with him, and he then confined himself exclusively to the cabinand quarter-deck. 

At Valparaiso we got further despatches hurrying us up to the Peruviancoast, where the admiral much wanted to use us as a despatch vessel; so, taking in as much coal as our old tub, the _Porpoise_, could cram intoher, we started for Callao, steaming hard day and night all this time--but it took us no less than ten days to reach our port at last. 

The admiral's ship was in the offing as we entered the harbour; and, without the slightest warning or time for preparation after we had madeour muster, the old gentleman signalled, much to Tom's discomposure, that he was coming on board of us for inspection at once. 

"A pretty kettle of fish!" exclaimed Tom; "just as if he couldn't give afellow time to paint up a bit and look tidy after sweltering all thepitch off her for eighteen months on the coast, and scuttling across theAtlantic as if the deuce were after us, and not a day allowed us tooverhaul and make the old ship look presentable--why, it's too bad!"

"You needn't grumble, sir, " said I--we were both on the quarter-decknow, and the _friend_ had, of course, to yield to the _office_--"I'msure the admiral won't be able to find much fault with the _Porpoise_, even if he were predetermined to do so, as she's in apple-pie order!"

And so she was; while her crew, who almost worshipped Tom and would havefollowed him to a man anywhere, were in the highest state of disciplineand health, the African fever having disappeared almost as soon as welost sight of the pestilential West Coast and got into blue water. 

"Do you think so, Follett?" he said more calmly. 

"Certainly, " I answered, "I would back her against any other vessel onthe station for being in the highest state of efficiency. "

"I'm glad you think so, Gerald, " he said to me aside, so that themiddies who went to man the side ropes for the admiral at the gangwaycould not hear him. "You know these big guns are always sharp on afellow who holds a first command; and, as I have no interest to back meup at the Admiralty board, I don't want a bad report to go in againstme, and a black mark be set before my name for ever!"

"Don't you fear, Tom, " said I cheerfully, "you'll pass muster withflying colours!"

Well, the admiral came on board and the inspection turned out just as Iexpected. 

Not only was the gallant chief satisfied with the condition of the_Porpoise_; but, after having mustered the men at quarters, and havingthem exercised at gun-drill and cutlasses, he was so pleased that hepublicly complimented Tom Finch on the state of his ship and crew, saying that they were not only creditable to him, but to the servicegenerally. 

So far, so good. 

When the admiral, however, descended presently to Tom's cabin to signpapers, and perhaps to give a look around him, too, to see how such anefficient officer comported himself when "at home" so to speak, Tom'sevil genius placed Master Jocko in the way. 

There he was, seated on the sofa, dressed up in some nondescript sort ofuniform with which the youngsters had invested him during Tom's absenceon deck--the young imps were always up to some of their larks--and beingof a kindred disposition himself, Tom was never hard on them for theirtricks. 

The monkey had on a blue coat and trousers with a red sash across hischest and a Turkish fez on his head, which gave him the appearance ofone of the many Chilian field marshals, and generals, and colonels whomwe had seen at Valparaiso, his wizened, dried-up face adding to thedelusion. 

As luck would have it, too, what should Jocko do, as the admiral and Tomentered the cabin, but rise from the sofa; and taking off the cap fromhis head with one of his paws, while the other was laid deferentially onhis chest, he made a most polite bow, in the manner he had always beenused to do, when either of us greeted him on coming in. 

"Who's this gentleman?" said the admiral pleasantly, taking off _his_cocked hat likewise, and returning the salute--"I suppose someone you'vegiven a passage to on the way, eh?"

Tom was at his wit's end, as he told me afterwards, for the moment; buthis native "nous" came to the rescue, and, combined with his love of apractical joke, suggested a loophole of escape. 

"Oh, sir, " said he, "this is one of the aides-de-camp of the Chiliangeneralissimo, a Senor Carrambo, who begged me to land him at Callao onsome urgent private business. Of course, I know, sir, of thehostilities between his native state and Peru, and that as a neutral Iought not to offer any means of communication between the two powers;but, sir, as you see for yourself, he's a very harmless sort of fellow, and--"

"Hush!" said the admiral, apparently shocked at Tom's speaking out insuch an off-hand way his opinion of the foreign gentleman, as he tookJocko to be. 

"Oh, bless you, " went on Tom, forgetting for the moment to whom he wasspeaking--"he cannot understand a word of English, and I can't make outa single word of his Chilian Spanish--but he's very polite. "

"So I see, " replied the admiral affably, as master Jocko made anotherobeisance at this juncture; "pray ask him to accompany you on board theflagship with me to dinner. Tell him I shall feel honoured by hiscompany, as indeed I shall be by yours. "

To say he was thunderstruck at the admiral's request would not conveythe slightest idea of Tom's mental condition when he found himself insuch a dilemma. He could have bitten off his tongue for its having gothim into such a scrape, by telling the fib about the monkey in the firstinstance; but it was too late now, for the admiral had turned to leavethe cabin, and the marine was at the door, besides others, who wouldhear any explanation he might make. 

Tom determined, therefore, with a courage that was almost heroic, tocarry the thing through to the bitter end--giving me a pathetic wink toinstruct everybody to "keep the thing dark" on board--for none knewabout Jocko excepting our ship's company. 

Furtively shoving the fez down over the monkey's head, so that it almostconcealed its features, he threw the boat-cloak that rested on the sofaaround him; and, taking hold of his paw, marched in the admiral's waketo the gangway, and thence down into the chief's barge alongside, wherethe admiral and he and Jocko took their seats in state in the stern-sheets and were rowed off to the flagship--our crew manning the riggingas they left and giving three hearty cheers!

"I like to see that proof of affection in your men, " said the admiral, as he witnessed this unofficial performance. "They are proud of theircommander, and, I am sure, you have a crew to be proud of!"

Tom bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment. He knew well enough whathad occasioned the enthusiasm of the blue-jackets, and bit his lips torestrain his laughter, which so suffocated him that he felt he wouldburst if he had to keep it in much longer!

All he could do now was to brazen out the imposture, and he huddled theboat-cloak round Jocko so as to conceal his form. 

"Poor Senor Carrambo is suffering fearfully from the ague, " he said inexplanation to the admiral of this little attention on his part--"I'mafraid he should not have ventured out of the cabin. "

"A good glass of sherry will soon warm him, " said the admiral smiling, "and I think I shall be able to offer him one. "

"He's rather partial to bottled ale or stout, " suggested Tom, "and hemay possibly prefer that. "

"Rather a queer taste for a Spaniard, " said the admiral, as the bargereached the side of the flagship; "but I think I can also gratify onboard my ship this predilection of Senor--"

"Carrambo, " prompted Tom. 

"Yes, Carrambo, " added the admiral as he mounted the accommodationladder of the flagship--Tom Finch with Jocko on his arm following in hiswake, as before, amidst the mutual salutes of the admiral and theofficers, to the state cabin of the chief. 

Seated at the dinner-table, to which all were summoned with all properceremony to the exhilarating tune of the "Roast beef of old England, "Jocko, who had a chair alongside of Tom, behaved with the utmostdecorum. 

He indeed appeared to eat little but bread, biscuit, tart, and fruit;but, beyond a grimace, which must have caused the admiral to reflectthat of all the ugly persons he ever beheld in his life, this Chilianofficer was certainly the ugliest, nothing particularly happened, andthe dinner passed off without an exposure. 

Tom, the admiral observed, frequently helped "the generalissimo's aide-de-camp, " especially in pouring out his wine, which he limited in amarked degree; but the jocular lieutenant-commander passed this off bysaying that his distinguished friend--whom he exchanged a word withoccasionally, of some outlandish language, a mixture of Spanish and HighDutch, with a sprinkling of the Chinese tongue--was in the most feeblehealth and acting under the doctor's directions regarding his diet:--that was the reason also, he explained, of his remaining cloaked andwith his head-covering on at the admiral's table, for which he craved athousand pardons!

After dinner, Tom would have given worlds to have beaten a retreat tohis own ship, as several officers came into the saloon while coffee washanded round, and he dreaded each moment that Jocko would disgracehimself and the bubble would burst; but no, there the admiral, wouldkeep him, talking all the time, and directing most of his attentiontowards the pseudo "Senor Carrambo, " for whose benefit Tom had totranslate, or pretend to translate, what was said. 

Tom said he never got so punished for a joke in his life before, and hetook very good care not to let his sense of the ridiculous put him insuch a plight again, as for more than two mortal hours he suffered allthe tortures of a condemned criminal; as he said, he would rather havebeen shot at once!

But when the admiral shook hands with him on his departure, Tom feltworst of all. 

"Good-bye, lieutenant, " said the admiral, "and thanks for yourintroduction to `Senor Carrambo. ' I admired the condition anddiscipline of your ship to-day, Mr Finch, and, in forming my opinion ofyour character I must say that you carry out a joke better than anyone Iever met. _But you should remember, lieutenant, that those who have theend of the laugh, enjoy the joke best_. Good-night, I shall communicatewith you to-morrow!"

Poor Tom! after believing that the admiral had suspected nothing up tothe last moment, to be thus undeceived. 

It was heartrending!

Gone was his commission, he thought, at one fell blow, with all thepleasant dreams of promotion that had flashed across his brain after theadmiral's encomiums on him that afternoon; and he would have to thinkhimself very lucky if he were not tried by court-martial and dismissedthe service with disgrace. 

It was paying dearly for a practical joke, played off on the spur of themoment, truly!

When he reached the _Porpoise_ he felt so disgusted that he kicked poorJocko, boat-cloak, fez and all, down the main hatch, gruffly ordered hisgig to be triced up to the davits, and went below to brood over hisanticipated disgrace in the solitude of his own cabin, where I presentlyfound him. 

After a great deal of persuasion, I got him to indite a letter ofapology to the admiral, detailing all Jocko's perfections, and how hehad been constantly an inmate of his cabin; while assuring him that thepassing off the monkey as a "foreigner" had not been a planned thing, but was only the result of an accident and his own unaccountable love offun, although the falsehood he had been guilty of was mostreprehensible. 

Indeed, as I made him observe, if it had not been for the admiralhimself suggesting the imposture, he, Tom, would never have dreamt ofit; but, he concluded, he would regret it all his life, for he had notonly told a lie, but the whole matter appeared like a deliberatelycontemplated insult to his superior officer. 

This letter Tom, still acting under my advice, sent off immediately tothe flagship, as it was yet not late, and within half an hour hereceived an answer which made him dance an Indian war-dance of delightaround the cabin table, where he and I were awaiting the news that wasto make or mar poor Tom's future life. 

The admiral's ran thus:--

 "Flag, at sea, July, 18---. 

 "Dear Commander, "I accept your apology, and forgive the joke which I enjoyed, I believe, more than you did, having discovered Master Jocko's identity from the first moment when he took his Turkish fez off to salute me in the cabin, on my entering--you young rascal! I would not have missed for a hundred pounds the agony you were in all the time you were sitting at my table, and, I really think, I had the best of the joke!

 "Come and breakfast with me and I will tell you the reason _why I address you as_ above--I suppose he never told you, but your father was one of my dearest friends. 

 "Yours, with best compliments to `Senor Carrambo, '

 "Anson. "

"By George, Tom, " said I when we had both perused this letter, "you arein luck! He doesn't call you _Commander_ for nothing!"

"No, I suppose not, " said he, "at all events, Gerald, he's a trump! Irecollect my old father saying something once about asking him to put ina good word for me; but, I daresay he forgot all about it: but I am nonethe worse for it now, eh?"

"No, " said I, "thanks to Jocko!"

The next day Tom Finch had his commission made out by the admiral'ssecretary as commander of the _Blanche_, while I was promoted to hisplace in the _Porpoise_, owing to the good word he put in for me when hebreakfasted with the jolly old chief; and we both of us were busy enoughthe next few months on the station, protecting British interests andstopping would-be privateers from having such a festive time as theyexpected during the period that hostilities lasted between the two rivalSouth American republics at the time of which I speak; then wars betweenChili and Peru, and the rest of these very independent states, being ofas periodic occurrence of the yellow fever in the Gulf of Mexico!

Poor Jocko, as I hinted at before, came finally to grief in a very sadway. 

We were chasing a suspicious looking blockade-runner, a short time afterhe had his remarkable invitation to dine with the admiral; our engineswere moving a little more rapidly than usual; and, Jocko, who wasperched on the skylight above, was looking at them with the most intenseinterest. 

All at once, the platform on which he was resting slipped, and thetalented monkey fell into the engine-room, in the midst of themachinery--there was one sharp agonised squeak, and the last page ofpoor Jocko's history was marked with the word _Finis_. 

CHAPTER TWO. 

ESCAPE OF THE "CRANKY JANE. "

A STORY ABOUT AN ICEBERG. 

One day, some three years ago or so, I chanced to be down at Sheernessdockyard, and, while there, utilised my time by inspecting the variousvessels scattered about this naval repository. Some of the specimensexhibited all the latest "improvements" in marine architecture, beingbuilt to develop every destructive property--huge floating citadels andinfernal machines; while others were old, and now useless, types of thepast "wooden walls of old England, " ships that once had braved theperils of the main in all the panoply of their spreading canvas, andwhose broadsides had thundered at Trafalgar, making music in the ears ofthe immortal Nelson and his compeers. 

Amongst the different craft that caught my eye--old hulks, placidlyresting their weary timbers on the muddy bosom of the Medway, dismantled, dismasted, and having pent-houses like the roofs of barnsover their upper decks in lieu of awnings; armour-plated cruisers, inthe First Class Steam Reserve, ready to be commissioned at a moment'snotice; and ships in various degrees of construction, on the buildingslips and in dry dock--was a vessel which seemed to be undergoing theoperation of "padding her hull, " if the phrase be admissible asexplaining what I noticed about her, the planking, from which the coppersheathing had been previously stripped, being doubled, apparently, andprotected in weak places by additional beams and braces being fixed tothe sides. Of course, I may be all wrong in this, but it was whatseemed to me to be the case. 

On inquiry I learnt that the vessel was the _Alert_, which it may berecollected was one of the two ships in the Arctic expedition commandedby Sir George Nares. I wondered why so many workmen were busy abouther, hammering, sawing, planing, riveting, fitting and boring holes withgiant gimlets, so I asked the reason for this unwonted activity, when itmight have been reasonably supposed that the vessel had played her partin the service, and might have been allowed to pass the remainder of herdays afloat, in an honourable retreat up the estuary on which thedockyard stands. 

But, no. 

I was informed that the _Alert_ had yet many more days of Arcticexperience in store for her, our government having placed her at thedisposal of the United States authorities to take part in the relief ofLieutenant Greeley's Polar expedition. --I may here mention inparenthesis that the vessel subsequently successfully performed the taskcommitted to her substantial frame; and it was mainly by means of thestores deposited by her in a _cache_ in Smith Sound that the survivorsof the expedition were enabled to be transported home again in safety. --I, really, only mention the vessel's name on account of the man who toldme about her--a gentleman who entered into conversation with me aboutthe cold regions of the north generally, and of the escapes of shipsfrom icebergs in particular. 

He was a seafaring man. I could see that at a glance, although he wasnot one I should have thought who had donned her majesty's uniform, forhe lacked that dapper look that the blue-jackets of the service areusually distinguished by; but he was a veritable old salt, or "shell-back, " none the less, sniffing of the ocean all over, and having hisface seamed with those little venous streaks of pink (as if he indulgedin a dab of rouge on the sly occasionally) which variegate the tannedcountenances of men exposed to all the rigours of the elements, and whoencounter with an equal mind the freezing blast of the frozen sea or theblazing sun of Africa. 

I told this worthy that once, when on a voyage in one of the Inman lineof steamers from Halifax to Liverpool, I had gone--or rather the vesselhad, to be more correct--perilously near an iceberg, when my nauticalfriend proceeded to give vent to his own exposition of the "glacialtheory, " saying that a lot of nonsense was written about the ice in theArctic regions by people who never went beyond their own firesides athome and had never seen an iceberg. It made him mad, he said, to readit!

"I daresay you've read a lot of rubbish on the subject?" said the oldgentleman, getting excited about the matter, as if he only wanted a goodstart to be off and away on his hobby. 

"I daresay I have, " I replied. 

"Well, what with all the fiction that has been written and the fabulousstories told of the Arctic and its belongings, the `green hand' whomakes the voyage for the first time is full of expectations concerningall the wonderful sights he's going to see in `the perennial realms ofice and snow'--that's the phrase the newspaper chaps always use--expectations which are bound to be disappointed, --and why?"

"I'm sure I can't tell!" said I. 

"Because the things that he fancies he's going to see don't reallyexist, nor never yet did in spite of what book-learned people may say!The voyager who goes north for the first time is bound, let us say forillustration, for Baffin's Bay; and, from what he has learnt beforehand, bears and walruses, seals and sea-lions, whale blubber and the Esquimauxwho eat it, all occupy some considerable share of his imagination. But, above all these, the first thing that he looks forward to see are theicebergs, or floating mountains of ice, which are so especially thecreation of the cold regions, to which he is sailing. These icebergs, sir, form the staple background of every Arctic view, without which nonewould be deemed for a moment complete. Their gigantic peaks and jaggedprecipices are familiar to most, in a score of pictures and engravingsdrawn by artists who were never beyond the Lizard Lights; and really, Ibelieve that if one was sketched that wasn't at least a thousand feethigh or more, and didn't have a polar bear perched on top and a fullrigged ship sailing right underneath it, why, the generality of peoplewould think it wasn't a bit like the real thing!"

"And what is the `real thing' like?" I asked with some curiosity. 

"There you have me, " said the old sailor, who had from his speechevidently received a good education; and if once "before the mast" hadnow certainly risen to something much higher. "To men whose minds havebeen wrought up to such a pitch of fancy and expectation, the firstsight of a real iceberg is a complete take-down to their imagination. Your ship is pitching about, say, in the cross seas near the mouth ofDavis Strait, preparatory to entering within the smooth water of theArctic circle, when in the far distance your eye catches sight of a lumpof ice, looking, as it rises and falls sluggishly in the trough of thesea, not unlike a hencoop covered with snow, after it had been pitchedoverboard by some passing ship, or like a gigantic lump of foam tossedon the crest of a wave. If the day is sunless, the reflection of lightwhich gives it that glistening appearance, so remarkable as the midnightsun glances among an array of these objects, is wanting to add dignityto the contour of what it is a rude dissipation of life's young dream tolearn is an iceberg--though on a very small scale. It is simply a wave-worn straggler from the fleet which will soon be met sailing southwardout of the Greenland fjords. The warm waters of the Atlantic will inthe course of a few days be too much for it. The sun will be at work onit; it will get undermined by the wash of the breakers, until, beingtop-heavy, it will speedily capsize. Then the war between the ice andthe elements will begin afresh, until the once stately ice-mountain willbecome the `bergy bit, ' as whalers call the slowly-lessening mass ofcrumbling, spongy ice, until it finally disappears in the waters; butonly to rise again in the form of vapour, which the cold of the northwill convert into snow, the parent of that inland ice about the polarregions which forms the source of subsequent icebergs afresh--theprocess being always going on, never ending!"

"Why, you are quite a philosopher, " I observed. 

"A bit of a one, sir, " said the old gentleman with a smile. "Those whogo down to the sea in ships, you know, see wonders in the deep! But, tocontinue what I was telling you about the icebergs. As your shipproceeds further north they become more numerous and of largerdimensions, until, as you pass the entrance of some of those greatfjords, or inlets, which intersect the Greenland coast-line, they pourout in such numbers that the wary mariner is thankful for the continuousdaylight and summer seas that enable him so easily to avoid thesefloating rocks. Here are several broken-up ones floating about in theWaigat, a narrow strait between the island of Disco and the mainland ofGreenland, and in close vicinity to several fjords noted for sending bigbergs adrift in the channel way to float southward. These are the `ice-mountains' of the fancy artist. One ashore close into the land, and yetnot stranded or on account of its depth in the water getting into anyvery shallow soundings, you may see in your mind's eye, as I've seenthem scores of times in reality. It presents to your notice a dullwhite mass of untransparent ice--not transparent, with objects to beseen through it on the other side, as I have noticed in more than onepicture of the North Pole taken by an artist on the spot! This mass isgenerally jagged at the top with saw-like edges, and it doesn't so verymuch resemble those Gothic cathedral spires as Arctic writers try tomake out. Still, on the whole, the shape of this monster floating massof ice is very striking to those seeing it for the first time; and whenyou come to look at it more closely, its size and general character losenothing by having the details ciphered down, as a Yankee skipper wouldsay. "

"Are the icebergs very big?" I inquired. 

"Well, " said the old gentleman, quite pleased at being asked forinformation on the subject, and evidently wishing to convert me to hisown practical way of thinking in opposition to Arctic fiction-mongers, "they may sometimes be seen of a hundred and fifty feet high, occasionally reaching to a couple of hundred, while sometimes I've seenan iceberg that towered up more than double that height; but themajority of them do not exceed a hundred feet at most. The colour, asI've said, is not emerald green, as most folks think--that is, notunless it is seen under what science-folks call the prismatic action oflight--but a dull white that is almost opaque. The sides are, generally, dripping with the little streams of water formed by themelting of the ice, and glistening in the rays of the sun; but a dullwhite is the principal colour of the mass. Its base is broader than itssummit, and is here and there hollowed into little caverns by the actionof the waves. The pinnacles seen in the pictures of the illustratedpapers I've spoken of are not very plain. Indeed, both the one we aresupposing and the other bergs, that are always, like the `birds of afeather' of the proverb, to be seen close together, are flattened on thetop; and if here and there worn into fantastic shapes by the weather, they mostly go back to a shape which may be roughly described as broaderat the base than the top; otherwise the berg would speedily capsize. When this happens, they go over with a tremendous splash, rocking andchurning up the sea for miles round, and sending wave circles spreadingand widening out as from the whirlpool in the centre, in the same way aswhen a child pitches a stone into a pond. 

"On some of the bergs are masses of earth, gravel and stone, provingthat they must lately have been connected with the land; for owing tothe old bergs becoming undermined by the waves, they soon turn over, andso of course send _their_ load to the bottom. An examination of thesides of the ice-mass also shows to the eye some other peculiarities. The greater part of the ice is white and thoroughly full of air-bubbles, which lie in very thin lines parallel to each other; but throughout thewhite ice there are numerous slight cracks or streaks, of an intenselyblue and transparent ice, which, on being exposed to heat, beforemelting, I've been told by the surgeon of the ship I was in, dissolveinto large angular grains. These blue cracks cross and cross over againin the mass of the berg, and may possibly be water which has melted andbeen frozen again either on the surface of the berg, or in its crevassesor cracks, when it was a part of the glacier from which it first came. But, besides the blue ice, in some icebergs may be seen a kind ofconglomerate of ice-blocks of various sizes, the spaces between thembeing filled up with snow or crumbled ice. This conglomerate existsusually in cracks, though it is found also in layers, and even formslarge masses of the larger bergs, mixed up with stones and earthylumps. "

"Did you ever have any adventure amongst the icebergs?" I asked the oldgentleman at this juncture, thinking I had quite enough of thescientific aspect of the subject, and dreading lest he might divefurther into the original composition of ice. 

"Not in the Arctic Ocean, " he replied; "but once, when I was only acommon sailor before the mast and aboard a vessel in the Australiantrade, I came across icebergs in the southern latitudes which weremighty perilous; and one of these bergs was, by the way, bigger than anyI ever saw in northern seas. "

"Tell me all about it, " I said, glad to get him on to a regular seayarn. 

The old gentleman was nothing loth; and I noticed that the moment hebegan to speak of his old experiences as a merchant seaman, he droppedthe somewhat affected phraseology in which he had previously beenexpounding his theories for my information concerning the polar regionsand the formation of icebergs--thenceforth speaking much more naturallyin the ordinary vernacular of Jack tars. 

"I suppose it's forty years ago, more or less, " he began, "since Ishipped in the brig _Jane_, John Jiggins master, bound from London toMelbourne with an assorted cargo. 

"She was a decent-sized brig enough, and handy to manage when she hadplenty of sea-room, and a wind right aft; but on a bowline, or when thewind was on the quarter, and there was a bit of a sea on, she kept sucha stiff weather-helm, and was such a downright cranky vessel, neverbending down to a breeze or lifting to the swell, that it was no wonderthat as soon as the hands got used to her ways, and tumbled to hercontrary points--and she was that contrary sometimes as to remind you ofa woman's temper on washing days, most ladies then being notparticularly pleasant, and feeling more inclined to drive a man mad, rather than to coax and wheedle him--as soon as we all got used to herways, I say, we christened her the `_Cranky Jane_, ' and that she wasmore or less, barring when she had a fair wind, with an easy sea andeverything agreeable for her, as I said before. 

"Old Cap'en Jiggins, however, wasn't of our way of thinking. 

"He was the part owner as well as master of the vessel; and loved theold brig--the `Janey' he called her, the old fool!--like the very appleof his eye, always praising her up to the nines and not allowing anybodyto say a word against her sea-going qualities. 

"Sometimes, when the man at the wheel would be swearing at the lubberlycraft in a silent way, so that you could see he was suffocating himselfwith passion and ready to burst himself, for the way in which she wouldfall off, or bowse up into the wind's eye, and try to go her own way, like a horse that gets the bit between his teeth and sets his ears back, then you'd hear old Jiggins a-talking to himself about the blessed oldtub. 

"`That's it, my beauty! Look how she rides, the darling, like a duck!What a clipper she is, to be sure; so easy to handle! a child couldsteer her with a piece of thread!'

"When, p'raps it took all one man's strength, and perhaps two, to bringup the beast a single point to the wind!

"In spite of Cap'en Jiggins' praise, I never sailed in such an out-and-out obstinate craft as that identical _Cranky Jane_. She seemed to havebeen laid down on the lines and constructed, plank by plank, especiallyto spile a man's temper! Somehow or other, with the very lightest ofbreezes--except, as I've said before, we had the wind right dead aft--wecould never get her to lay to her course and keep it. She was alwaysfalling off and breaking away in every way but the right one, andwanting to go just in the very opposite direction, to what we did;exactly like Paddy's pig when he's taking it to market, and he has towhisper in its ear that he's going to Cork, when he really wants to meetthe dealer at Bandon!

"This peculiarity of the brig, of course, very naturally set the menagainst her; as, although what is usually called a `dry ship'--that is, the hands could sleep comfortably in the forecastle, instead of beingdrenched through day and night, by the seas she took in over the bows, as is the case in some clippers I've sailed in--she was so dreadfullyhard to steer that a man's trick at the wheel was like going on thetreadmill! And yet, that very peculiarity and contrariness that made uscuss and swear too, only induced Captain Jiggins to say occasionallywhen she was most outrageous wide in her yawing, `Pretty dear!' or somesuch trash--this very peculiarity, I say, saved all our lives from themost dreadful fate, and brought us home safe to England afterencountering one of the most deadly perils of the deep. Curious, isn'tit? But I'll tell you all about it. Here goes for the yarn. 

"We had done the voyage out in pretty fair time from London to PortPhilip; for, most of the way, the wind was fair and almost dead aft fromthe meridian of the Cape of Good Hope, down in the `roaring forties, 'till we got to the Heads. Consequently, the brig couldn't help herselfbut go straight onward, when the trades were shoving her along and whilenobody wanted her to tack, or beat up, or otherwise perform any of thosedelicate little points of seamanship which a true sailor likes to seehis ship go through, almost against his own interest, sometimes, as faras hard work is concerned in reefing and furling and taking in sail, orpiling on the canvas and `letting her rip. ' So long as nothing of thissort was wanted from her the brig was as easy-going as you could wishand all probably that Cap'en Jiggins thought her; but, you had only justto try to get her to sail up in the wind's eye or run with the breeze abit ahead of the beam, and you'd soon have seen for yourself howcantankerous she could be!

"No, it was all plain sailing to Port Philip Heads; and even after wehad unloaded our home cargo, and went round, first to Sydney, andafterwards to the Fiji Islands--I shan't forget Suva Suva Bay in ahurry, I can tell you. So far, everything went serene; for, no matterwhere we wanted to go--and you see, the skipper wasn't tied to anyespecial port to seek a cargo, but being part owner, could pleasehimself by going to the best market; which, being a shrewd man, with hishead screwed on straight, you can bet he did!--no matter where we wantedto go, as I say, the wind seemed to favour us, for it was always rightastern, and everything set below and aloft, and the wind blowing usthere beautifully right before it all the way--just as the old _Jane_liked it, sweet and not too strong!

"So far, going out to Australia, and looking in at Sydney and Fiji andthe islands for cargo, and loading up choke-full with just everythingthat our skipper counted at the highest freight, with no dead weight tobreak the brig's back--so far, everything went `high-falutin'' as theYanks say; but when we came to leave Polynesia--it ought to bechristened Magnesia, I consider, for it contains a bigger continent, with a larger number of islands than Europe--and shape a coursehomewards to the white cliffs of Old Albion, that we longed to see againafter our long absence, for we were away good two years in all, thecap'en thinking nothing of time, being his own charterer, so long as hegot a good cargo from port to port, and we were engaged on a tradingvoyage, and not merely out and home again directly--then it was that the_Cranky Jane_ came out in her true colours, and made us love her--ohyes! just as the skipper did--over the left!

"Why, sir, she was that aggravating, that, as Bill the boatswain and Iagreed, we should have liked to run her ashore on the very first land wecame to, beach her and chop her up there and then for firewood; and wewouldn't have been content till we had burned up the very last fragmentof her obstinate old hull!

"After leaving Suva Suva Bay, Fiji, where we filled up the lastremaining space in the _Cranky Jane's_ hold with copra--which is a lotof cocoa-nuts smashed up so as to stow easy, out of which they make oilat home for moderator lamps--we went south further than I ever wentbefore in any ship. Captain Jiggins, as I heard him explaining to thefirst officer when I was taking my trick at the wheel, and blessing thebrig as usual for her stiff helm, intended making the quickest passagethat ever was made, he said, by striking down into them outlandishlatitudes before he steered east and made the Horn; and I suppose heknew what he was about, as he was as good a navigator as ever handled asextant. _He_ called it great circle sailing; but _I_ called it queer-sailing; and so did most of the hands, barring Bill the boatswain, whosaid the captain was right; but anyways, right or wrong, it led us intoan ugly corner, as you shall hear. 

"Well, we went down the latitudes like one o'clock, the brig, runningfree before the north-east monsoon as if she were sailing for a wager ina barge-race on the Thames; and the weather as fine as you please, warmand sunny--too much so, sometimes--so that a man hadn't to do a strokeof work on board, save to take his turn at the wheel. Watch on deck, and watch below, we had nothing to do but loll about, with a stray pullat a brace here and a sheet there, or else walk into our grub and thenturn into our bunks; for Cap'en Jiggins was the proper sort of skipper. None of your making work for him when there was nothing to do; but whenthe hands were wanted, why he did expect them to look alive, and have noskulking--small blame to him, say I, for one!

"We had run down below the parallel of Cape Horn, pretty considerable Ishould think, when we at last had to ask the old brig to bear upeastwards to lie her proper course; and then you should have seen thetricks she played--confound her! Why, we had to treat her as gingerlyas if she were a yacht rounding a mark-boat to make her bear up a pointor go to the wind; although I'll give her the credit of saying, if shewere cranky--and she was that, and no mistake--she made no leeway, whichwas a blessing at all events. 

"It was some days after we had altered our course to East South East, with as much more easterly as we could get out of her--and that wasn'tmuch, try all we could, with as much fore and aft sail as we could geton her--when the weather began to change, and the wind, which had beensteadily blowing from the north-east, chopped round a bit more ahead, the sea getting up, and a stray squall coming now and again, which madeus more alert trimming the sails, and taking in and letting out canvasas occasion arose. It was no use, however, trying to drive the brig tothe eastward any longer with this wind shifting about, humour her as wemight; so the skipper altered her course again more to the south, although we were then as far down as we ought to have gone. 

"`The darling, ' says he to the first officer when he gave the order tolay her head South South East, `she's a little playful with the heavycargo we've got on board, and wants to keep warm as long as she can!Let her run a hundred miles or so more south, and then we'll fetch up tothe Horn, and be able to spin along like winking, just as the beautifulcreature wants!'

"Well! it did make us mad to hear the old man talk like this about theclumsy old tub; but of course we couldn't help ourselves, so we onlygrinned, and said to each other, --`Catch us coming again in the _CrankyJane_ when once we're safe ashore!'

"Would you believe it? The blessed brig, although the new course shewas on brought the wind aft instead of on her beam, she was thatspiteful over it, that, as it was blowing much stronger than it hadbeen, it took two of us to keep her head from deviating from her propertrack, and we had hard work to prevent her from breaking off more thanshe did. 

"The wind came on towards the afternoon to blow harder and harder; andby nightfall--you know it gets dark as soon as the sun goes down inthose latitudes--we had to shorten sail so much that the _Cranky Jane_was staggering along at the rate of nearly fourteen knots an hour withreefed top-sails and jib and main-sail besides the stay-sails. 

"The weather got wilder and wilder as time went on, the heavens quitedark overhead, except an occasional glint of a star which didn't knowwhether he ought to show or not; but still, although we were pretty farbelow the equator, the night was warm and even sultry, so that weexpected a hurricane, or cyclone, or something of that sort, for it wasquite unnatural to feel as if in the tropics when fifty degrees south!

"The cap'en, I know, thought it would blow by and by, for before heturned in he caused even the reefed top-sails and stay-sails to be takenin, and left her snug for the night, with only a close-reefed main-sailand the jib on her. 

"`Keep a good look-out, Mr Stanchion, ' says he to the chief officer, ashe went down the companion-ladder to his cabin, `and call me if there'sthe slightest change. '

"`Ay, ay, sir, ' says Mr Stanchion; and so the skipper goes below with acheerful good-night, in spite of the weather looking dirty and squallsbeing handy before morning. 

"Now, as luck would have it--as some folks say, although others put itdown to something more than luck--Mr Stanchion wasn't like one of thosejolly, devil-may-care, slap-dash sort of officers, that your regularshell-backs like best. He was a silent, quiet, reflective man, wholooked and spoke as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth; and yet hethought deeper and further than your dash-and-go gentlemen, who act onthe spur of the moment without cogitating. 

"As soon as the skipper had turned in, he did a thing which perhaps notone officer in a hundred would have done in his place, considering wewere on the open ocean out of the track of passing vessels, and that itwasn't much darker than it is on most nights when there's no moon, andthe sky is cloudy. 

"What do you think it was? Why, he put a man on the look-out on theforecastle, just as if we were going up channel, or in a crowded sea-way! The skipper had meant him to look-out himself, but anotherwouldn't be amiss, he said. 

"Providentially, too, the very man whom he accidentally selected was thevery best person he could have placed as look-out, if he had picked thewhole crew over from the captain downward; although the mate did notknow this when he sang out to him to go on the forecastle. 

"This was Pat O'Brien--`Paddy, ' as all the hands called him--anIrishman, of course, as you would judge from his name, who had been inone of the Arctic expeditions, which we were speaking of just now. Hewent out with Sir Leopold McClintock I think; but all I know is, that heonce was up a whole winter in the Polar Sea, and there had got laid onhis back with scurvy, besides having his toes frost-bitten, as hefrequently told us when yarning amongst the crew of an evening. 

"Generally speaking, he was a careless, happy-go-lucky fellow, and onemight have wondered that Mr Stanchion called him from out the watchthat had just came on deck; but, as I said before, the mate could notpossibly have made a better selection, as it turned out afterwards. 

"Pat O'Brien was a comic chap, full of fun, and always making jokes; sothat as soon as he opened his mouth almost to say anything the otherfellows would laugh, for they knew that some lark was coming. 

"`Be jabers, ' says Pat, as he goes forward in obedience to the chiefofficer's order, `it's a nice pleasant look-out I'll have all bymeeself! while you're coilin' the ropes here, I'll be thinkin' of mycolleen there!' and he went out on the foc'sl. 

"By and by we could hear him muttering to himself. `Wurrah, wurrah!Holy mother, can't you let me be aisy!' he sang out presently aloud asif he was suffering from something, or in pain. 

"`Look-out, ahoy!' hails Mr Stanchion from aft; `what's the matterahead--what are you making all that row about?'

"`Sure an' it's my poor feet, save yer honour, that are hurting of me, they feels the frost terrible!'

"The first mate naturally thought Master Paddy was trying to play offone of his capers on him--for it wouldn't be the first time he tried thegame on; so this answer got up his temper, making him shout back ananswer to the Irishman that would tell him he wasn't going to catch himnapping. 

"`Nonsense, man, ' he calls out--`frost? Why, you are dreaming! Thethermometer is up to over sixty degrees, and it's warm enough almost forthe tropics. '

"The hands, of course, thought too that Pat was only joking in his usualway and endeavouring to make fun of Mr Stanchion; and they waited tohear what would come next from the Irishman, knowing that he was noteasily shut up when once he had made up his mind for anything. However, they soon could tell from the tone of voice in which Pat spoke againthat he wasn't joking this time, or else he was acting very well incarrying out his joke on the mate; for as we were laughing about his`poor feet, ' which was a slang term in those days, Paddy calls out againin reply to the mate:--

"`Faix, ' says he, `it's ne'er a lie I'm telling, yer honour. Be jabers!my feet feel as if they were in the ice now, and frost-bitten all over!'

"Another officer in Mr Stanchion's place would, as likely as not, haveconsigned poor Pat to a warmer locality in order to warm his limbsthere; but Mr Stanchion, as I've said, was a man of a different stamp, and a reflective one, too; and the words of the Irishman made him thinkof something he had read once of a frost-bitten limb having beendiscovered by a well-known meteorologist to be an unfailing weather-token of the approach of cold. Instead, therefore, of angrily tellingPat to hold his tongue and look-out as he ought, Mr Stanchion wentforward and joined him; we on deck, of course, being on the look-out atonce. 

"Presently, we could see the chief officer and the Irishman on theforecastle, peering out together over the ship's bows as if looking forsomething. 

"`I'm certain, sir, ' I heard Pat say earnestly, `we're near ice whenevermy feet feels the cold, yer honour; and there, be jabers, there's theice-blink, as they calls it in the Arctic seas, and we're amongst theicebergs, as sure as you live!'

"At the same moment, the atmosphere lightened up with a whitish bluelight--somewhat like pale moonshine--and Mr Stanchion shouted out atthe top of his voice, louder than we ever dreamt he could speak--`Harda-starboard! Down with the helm for your life!'

"Bill, the boatswain, and I, who were together at the wheel, jammed downthe spokes with all our strength; but the blessed brig wouldn't come upto the wind as we wanted her. She wouldn't, although we both almosthung on the wheel and wrenched it off the deck. `Hard up with the helm, men, do you hear?' again sings out the chief officer, rushing aft as hespoke. `Hard up, men! all our lives are at stake!'

"And the brig wouldn't come up, try all we could. Bill and I could havescreamed with rage; but in another minute we were laughing with joy. 

"The light got clear; and there, to our horror, just where we wanted thedear old brig to go--and she wouldn't go, like a sensible creature, although we cursed her for not obeying the helm--was an enormous icebergrising out of the depths of the ocean, and towering above the masts ofthe poor _Jane_, which I feel loth to call `cranky' any longer--as highalmost as the eyes could see, like the cliffs at Dover, only a hundredyards higher, without exaggeration! If the brig had come up to thewind, as Mr Stanchion sang out for us to make her, why, two minutesafter, she would have struck full into the iceberg, and running, as shewas, good fourteen knots and more under her jib and main-sail, her bowswould have stoved in, and we'd all have been in Davy Jones's lockerbefore we could have said Jack Robinson!

"As it was, we weren't out of danger by any means. There were icebergsto the right of us; icebergs astern of us, by which we had passedprobably when Pat first complained of feeling the cold; icebergs aheadof us, through which we would have gingerly to make our way, for we hadno option with the gale that was blowing but to keep the same course wewere on, as to lie to amidst all that ice would be more dangerous eventhan moving on; and the big, enormous berg we had just escaped was onour left, or port side properly speaking--looking, for all the world, like a curving range of cliffs on some rock-bound coast, as it spreadout more than five or six miles in length. It was certainly the biggesticeberg I ever saw in my life, beating to nothing all that I afterwardsnoticed in the Arctic seas when I went north in the _Polaris_; andperhaps that is the reason why all the ice mounds I saw there became sodwarfed by comparison that they looked quite insignificant. 

"Pat kept on the forecastle, looking out and directing the course of thevessel, as the cap'en, who had just come on deck, roused by the noise, thought the Irishman's experience in the Arctic seas would make him moreuseful even than himself in coursing the ship. 

"The skipper was right as usual; and Pat had soon a chance of showingthat his choice had not been misplaced. 

"`Kape her away! kape her away!' Pat shouted out in a minute or twoafter the cap'en had come on deck `The top of the berg is loosenin', yerhonour; and sure it's falling on us it will be in a brace of shakes!Kape her away, or, be jabers, it's lost we'll be for sartin!'

"The old brig, although she wouldn't come up to the wind when we wantedher, and thus saved our lives by disobeying orders, now answered herhelm promptly without any demur, and dashed away from the mass of icebefore the gale at, I should be ashamed to say what speed. 

"Bless the old _Cranky Jane_! How could we ever have reviled her anddespised her? She seemed almost as if she had human intelligence and akind of foresight. 

"We only just weathered the berg when the summit toppled over with acrash, missing the after-part of the brig by a very few yards, andchurning up the sea far around with a sort of creamy surf, that dashedover our decks, and swept us fore and aft. 

"It was a marvellous escape, and only second to that we had just beforehad in avoiding running on to the same gigantic mass of floating ice, which had probably come up from the Antarctic regions for the summerseason--at least, that was Pat O'Brien's explanation for our meetingwith it there. 

"All that night and next morning we were passing through bergs of everysize, big and little, although none were so large as the one which hadbeen so risky to us--bergs that in their splendid architecture andmagnificence, with fantastic peaks and fine pinnacles, that glittered inthe rising sun with all the colours of the rainbow, flashing out raysand lights of violet and purple, topaz blue and emerald green, blushrose and pink and red, mingled with shades of crimson and gleams ofgold, with a frosting over all of silver and bright white light--Thosewho haven't seen an iceberg at sea at sunrise have no idea of the depthand breadth of beauty in nature, though I, one who has served his timebefore the mast, says so. But, avast with such flummery and wordage!"

"Good gracious me!" I exclaimed, aghast at the old gentleman turninground so completely from the statement he had made when we first enteredinto conversation. "I thought you said just now that all icebergs werea dull white without any other colour, save a streak of blue sometimesrunning through them like a vein; and yet, here you are painting them inall the varied tints of the rainbow!"

He was not a bit put out, however, by this accusation of inconsistency. 

"This was how they looked at sunrise, which, like a brilliant sunset, asyou know, makes a very great difference in the appearance of objects, causing even the most common things to look brilliant, and dignifyingthe common so as to make it look sublime! But, with your permission, "added the old gentleman courteously, "I will finish my story of thebrig's escape. 

"After we passed all the ice, the wind came round, as the captain saidit would, right favourable for our course; and the _Cranky Jane_ behavedlike a good one. We made all our easting on one tack, and passed theCape still a good distance to the south, but in as good a latitude as wecould have passed it in for the weather we had, which was first-rate. 

"And when we began to mount northwards again, towards the little islandwhich we all prize so much, although it is but a little spot on the mapof Europe, why, the wind changed too, still almost due aft as the dearold _Cranky Jane_ liked, much to the delight and joy of everybody onboard, especially the skipper, who exclaimed, as he rubbed his handstogether in joy, and walked up and down the poop, --`Bless the darling, she's a walker! And I wouldn't swop her for the best clipper in theChina trade!'

"We had a good land-fall all right, entering the Channel shortly aftersighting the Lizard, making the quickest passage ever known for asailing brig from Fiji; and, in spite of all the dear old craft'sshortcomings and temper and weather-helm, myself and the rest of thecrew, including of course Pat O'Brien and his `poor feet, ' were willing, even after all the perils we had passed through, and the dangers we hadescaped, every mother's son of us, with Captain Jiggins' permission, andthe chief officer's favour, to sign articles, and ship for anothervoyage in the old _Cranky Jane_; and, what is more, we did too, stickingto the brig till she went to pieces off Cape Lewis to the south of NewZealand in her last voyage out. That's all!"

So saying, the old gentleman, bowing to me politely, took his departurefrom Sheerness dockyard, which I also left soon afterwards, pleased withall that I had seen and more than glad of having visited the place ifonly for the chance it afforded me of hearing his yarn. 

CHAPTER THREE. 

THE GREEK BANDIT. 

A REMINISCENCE OF A YACHTING CRUISE IN THE AEGEAN SEA. 

Some few years ago, when I was a youngster, I had what was then thegreat desire of my heart gratified by being allowed to accompany a partyon a yachting cruise to the Mediterranean. 

How I enjoyed myself, and how tragically our cruise nearly terminated, Iwill now proceed to tell. 

There were six of us in all on board the yacht. There was dad, one;Captain Buncombe, two; Mr Joe Moynham, three; Bob, four; myself, Charley, five; and dog Rollo, six--though I think, by rights, I ought tohave counted Rollo first, as he was the best of us all, and certainlythought the least of himself--brave, fine, black, curly old fellow thathe was!

Just as you fellows in England were having the nastiest part of thewinter, when there is no skating or snowballing, and only drenching rainand easterly winds, that bring colds and coughs and mumps, we wereenjoying the loveliest of blue skies and jolly warm weather, that madeswimming in the sea a luxury, and ices after dinner seem like a taste ofnectar. We did enjoy ourselves; and had a splendid cruise up the oldMediterranean, going everywhere and seeing everything that was to beseen. Oh, it was jolly! The yacht stopped at Gibraltar, where weclimbed the rock and saw the monkeys that lived in the caverns on thetop; at Malta, where we went up the "Nothing to Eat" stairs mentioned in_Midshipman Easy_: and then, sailing up the Levant, the _Moonshine_--shewas eighty tons, and the crack of the RYS--was laid up at anchor for along time at Alexandria, while we went ashore, going through the SuezCanal, across the desert to Cairo, and thence to the pyramids, afterwhich we started for Greece. 

You must know, before we get any further, that Bob and I didn't want togo anywhere near Greece at all! We had good reasons for this dislike. There were dad and Captain Buncombe--who was what people call anarchaeologist, fond of grubbing up old stones and skeletons, and digginglike an old mole amongst ruins--continually talking all day long aboutMarathon and Hymettus, the Parthenon and Chersonese, the Acropolis, andTheseus and Odysseus and all the rest of them, bothering our lives outwith questions about Homer and the _Iliad_, and all such stuff; so, Iput it to you candidly, whether it wasn't almost as bad as being backagain at school, making a fellow feel small who was shaky in his Greekand had a bad memory for history?

However, we had scarcely anchored in the Piraeus when some eventshappened which drove the classics out of the heads of our elders; and Imay say that thenceforth we heard no more about the ancients. 

There had been a sharp squall shortly before, in which we had beenamused by seeing the smart little zebeques, with their snowy whitelateen sails, flying before the wind like a flock of small birdsfrightened by a hawk; and the _Moonshine_ was just coming up to the windin order to let go her anchor, when Bob and I, who were close togetheron the forecastle, watching the men preparing for running out andbitting the cable, saw, almost at the same moment, a man's head in thewater right in front of the yacht's forefoot; then--it all happened assuddenly as a flash of lightning--his hands were thrown up as if inentreaty, although we heard no cry, and he disappeared. 

"Man overboard!" sang out one of the crew, who was pulling away at thejib down-haul in order to stow the sail, the halliards having been castloose, "Man overboard!" in a voice which rang through the vessel foreand aft, and attracted everybody's attention. 

"Hi! Rollo, good dog!" cried out Bob, turning round sharp to where thebrave old fellow had been lying on the deck not a moment before, flopping his tail lazily, and with his great red tongue lolling out, asthough he laughed cheerily at everything going on around him. 

"Hi! Rollo!" said I too, in almost the same breath with Bob. "Fetchhim out, good dog!" and I turned round also. 

But the dog was gone. 

Bob and I were "nonplussed. " We had both seen Rollo there not--why, nota second before. And now he was gone. 

However, we soon discovered the noble fellow and the cause of hisabsence. 

The cry of "Man overboard!" had startled everybody, so that the anchorhad not been let go; and the steersman's attention, naturally, havingbeen taken up, the yacht had paid off again instead of bringing up, andher head had swung; consequently, what had been ahead of us just beforewas now astern, and we were quite confused as to our bearings. 

While we were looking in perplexity in every direction but the rightone, Captain Buncombe, who was at the wheel, and perhaps anxious toatone for his carelessness in letting the _Moonshine_ swing round, shouted out "Bravo!" waving his hat like a madman. Of course all ourseveral pairs of eyes were turned on him at once. 

"There he is--there he is--the brave old fellow!" cried the captain, letting go the helm in his eagerness, and pointing with his hat--wavinghand to the water under the stern. "Look aft, you duffers! Where areyour eyes? Bravo, Rollo! good dog! Hold up, old fellow! I'm coming tohelp you!" and with these words, before you could say "Jack Robinson, "Captain Buncombe had thrown off his coat, pitched away the hat he hadbeen waving, jumped over the taffrail of the yacht into the bosom of theblue Aegean Sea, and was rapidly swimming to where we could see dear oldRollo's black head and splashing paws as he supported a man in theyacht's wake, and tried to drag him towards us in the _Moonshine_. 

We gave a "Hooray!" which you might have heard at Charing Cross if youhad been listening!

Captain Buncombe and Rollo, with their burden, were so near the yachtthat there was no necessity for lowering the gig as we had hastened todo; and in a very little time we hauled them on board--Rollo jumpingabout in the highest spirits, as if he had been just having a quiet larkon his own account; but the rescued person was limp and insensible, though he presently came to by the aid of hot-water bottles andblankets. The _Moonshine_ then made another start, and succeeded betterin anchoring in a respectable fashion, as she had always been accustomedto do. 

The man was a handsome young fellow, with black hair and piercing eyes--a Greek, he told us in French which he spoke fluently--although he hadnot that treacherous cast of countenance which most of his countrymenpossess. He was profuse in the thanks which he bestowed broadcast forour saving him from drowning, although Rollo had really all the creditof it. His name was Stephanos Pericles, he said, and he was crossing toSalamis, when the squall came on, and his boat was upset. He had beendragged under water by the boat and almost suffocated before he couldget to the surface, being quite exhausted when the dog gripped him. ForRollo had seen him before any of us, and had not waited for ourdirections as to what to do. 

"I'm a soldier, " he said, proudly tapping his chest, and looking roundat dad and the captain, and Mr Moynham. "I've eaten your bread, "--hehad dinner with us after he had got all right again, and we had settleddown into that general routine in which our meals were attended to withthe strictest punctuality--"and I shall never forget you have saved mylife. By that bread I have eaten, I will repay you, I swear!"

Then turning to Bob and I, who were sitting on each side of him, andRollo, who stuck close to him, as if under the idea that having savedhim he was now his property--"And much thanks to you, little Englishmen, and your dogs I vill nevare forget, no nevare!"

He couldn't speak English as well as French. The evening had closednow, so Captain Buncombe told the crew to get the boat ready, and theGreek with many more fervent expressions of gratitude, was rowed ashore. 

The next morning we had landed and after pottering about the portproceeded up to Athens, which much disappointed all of us, especiallydad and the captain. It had a garish and stucco-like appearance; whilethe people looked as if they were costumed for a fancy ball, being notapparently at home in their national dress, picturesque though it was. It was quite nightmarish for Bob and me to read the names on the shopfronts in the streets, and see the newspapers printed in the old Greekcharacters. Fancy "Modiste, " and "Perruquier, " as they will have theFrench terms spelt, in the letters sacred to Euripides and Xenophon. Itseemed like walking in a dream!

We had inspected Athens, as I've said, and visited the plain ofMarathon, which was offered by the Greeks to Lord Byron for sixteenthousand piastres, or about eight hundred pounds--alas for glory!--andreturned on board the yacht for dinner again, when we were told that amessenger had been off in our absence and left a parcel for us. What doyou think it contained? Guess. 

Well, there was a splendid shawl, worth more than a hundred guineas, forCaptain Buncombe, and a handsome jewelled pipe for dad; while Mr JoeMoynham had a case of Greek wines for his special self!

Bob and I were not forgotten either. He had a fine gun, with the stockinlaid with ivory, and carved beautifully; and I, a yataghan, decoratedwith a jewelled hilt, that was even more valuable than dad's pipe. Rollo was presented with a grand gold collar, which Mr Joe Moynham saidwas like the one that Malachi, one of the Irish kings, wore in the daysof Brian Boru; and, if you please, a lot of little purses, eachcontaining a handsome present, were sent also in the parcel--a good bigone, you may be sure--for distribution amongst the crew. It wasprincely gratitude, wasn't it, in spite of the slighting way in whichMr Moynham had spoken of the modern Greeks and their ways? However, hehad to "take it all back, " as he said, when he drank the health ofMonsieur Pericles--who seemed, by the way, to be much better off thanhis illustrious ancestor, and whom we put down as the Sultan Haroun elRaschid in disguise--in a glass of the very wine that he had sent onboard the yacht. 

But that wasn't the end of it all, by any means:-- why, I am only justcoming to my real story now. 

Time rolled on--when I say "time, " of course, I only mean hours and daysas we mean, not years and centuries as the ancients calculated the lapseof time--and we managed to see everything that sight-seers see in thecity of Minerva. 

Having nothing else to look at close at hand, therefore, we determinedto go on our travels, like Ulysses; not amongst the islands, which wehad already visited, but towards the mountains, Captain Buncombe havingmade a vow ere he left England to see the ruins of Thebes, after which, he said, he would have no further object in life, and would perform theJapanese feat of the "happy despatch!"

We had horses, and mules, and donkeys for the journey; that is, dad andthe captain rode horses, there were mules for our traps and food, whichwe had to take along with us, thanks to the hospitality of the regionswe were going to, while the donkeys were for Bob and me and Mr Moynham. That gentleman, who would be very positive when he liked, declared thatno earthly consideration should compel him to mount the Bucephalus thatwas provided for him. He said that a horse was expressly stated by KingDavid to be "a vain thing to save a man, " and so why should he goagainst that ruling?

The first part of our journey went off as jolly as possible: the way wasgood; the scenery--although I confess I didn't trouble my head very muchabout it--though dad and the captain were in raptures with it--magnificent; the halts, just at the right time, although all in classicplaces, whose names Bob and I hated the sound of; the food was first-rate, and Mr Moynham so funny, that he nearly made me roll off mydonkey every now and then with laughter. But towards evening, when wewere all ascending a steep hill, with rocks and thick shrubbery on eachside of it, through a narrow defile, a harsh voice suddenly exclaimedthrough the gloom, something that sounded like the Greek imperativeStatheets! _Stop_! and then again another monosyllable, which wecertainly understood better, "Halt!" A gun was also fired off at thesame time; and, by the flash of the discharge we could see several longgleaming rifle barrels peering out from the bushes on either side of theway. 

"Brigands!" ejaculated the guides together, tumbling prostrate on theground pell-mell, as if they had been swept down. 

"Fascia a terra! Ventre a terre!" shouted out the same hoarse voiceagain, and a volley was fired over our heads. 

"Pleasant!" said Mr Moynham, throwing himself down with his face to theground like the cowardly guides. "But I suppose we'd better do as thesegentry require, or else they'll be hitting us under the fifthbuttonhole; and, what would become of us then?"

"Fascia a terra!" repeated the leader of the brigands, emerging from aclump of shrubbery at the head of the pass, motioning his arms violentlyat dad and the captain, who were inclined to show fight at first; butdiscretion proved the better part of valour, and they both dropped thepistols they had hurriedly drawn from their pockets, seeing that therifle barrels covered them, sinking down prone on the earth like therest of us. 

Rollo, however, poor brave old fellow, made one dash at the ruffian ashe threatened dad; and, seizing him by the throat, dashed him to theground. 

Poor fellow, the next moment he had a stiletto jammed into him, whichmade him sink down bleeding, with a faint howl, to which Bob and Iresponded with a cry, as if we felt the blow ourselves!

The moment dad and Captain Buncombe heard Rollo's howl and our cry, theyjumped up again like lightning, and began hitting out right and left atthe brigands who now surrounded us; and Mr Moynham was not behind, Ican tell you! He butted one big chap right in the pit of the stomach, and sent him tumbling down the defile, his body rattling against thestones, and he swearing like mad all the time. Bob and I scrambled atthem as best we could, catching hold of their legs and tripping them up;but they were too many for us, for the cowardly guides did not stir handor foot to help us, but lay stretched like logs along the ground, although they were unbound. We were certain that they were in leaguewith the robbers; and so, without doubt, they were, for, if they hadonly assisted us, now that their assailants had dropped their firearms, and were engaged in a regular rough-and-tumble fight, we could havemastered them, I'm sure, as, counting Bob and myself in, we were nearlyman for man as many as they were. 

The struggle did not last long, although dad and the captain held outbravely to the last, flooring the brigands one after another, andknocking them down as if they had been nine-pins. They were presentlytied securely, with their arms behind them, and menaced with death ifthey stirred, by a brawny ruffian touching each of their heads with apistol barrel. As for Bob and me, they did not think it necessary totie us. 

"Well, this is a delightful ending to our picnic, " said Mr Moynham inlugubrious tones, as we all lay on the ground, with the exception of theguides, who appeared to mingle freely with the robbers, who were groupedin picturesque attitudes around us, leaning on their carbines. "Iwonder what's their little game?"

The leader presently gave an order, and our seniors were then eachlifted on to a horse or mule, and tied securely there. 

"At all events, " said Mr Moynham, who kept up his spirits stillwonderfully, "we sha'n't fall off, that's one comfort, and so we'll havethe less bruises after the scrimmage!"

Although the chief brigand scowled at me, he allowed me to lift poorRollo, who was not dead as I had feared, and I bandaged his neck wherethe wound was with my handkerchief, and took him up in front of me. 

The leader then spoke vehemently in his own language to one of thetreacherous guides, who approached dad as if to speak. 

"Away, scoundrel!" said dad, wrathfully. "Don't speak to me; I wouldkill you if I were free, for leading us into this ambush!"

The man, however, urged again by the chief, who raised his pistolominously at dad, approached him once more. 

"The Albanian chief says that if twenty thousand piastres apiece, or onehundred thousand piastres in all, are not paid for you by sunset hereto-morrow evening, you shall all be shot in cold blood, and your doom beon your own heads. "

"Tell your chief, or thief, or whatever ruffian he is, that none of uswill pay a penny. Our friends at Athens will miss us, and you'll havethe palikari after you all in hot haste if I'm not back to-night safe. "

"The English lord forgets that he left word that he might remain for twodays on the mountains, and his friends will not think him missing beforeto-morrow night: at that time, the English lord and his friends, and thelittle lords, will be all dead men if the ransom be not paid. "

"What on earth shall I do, Buncombe?" asked dad of the captain. "ShallI write an order on my bankers for the money to be sent? One hundredthousand piastres will be about five thousand pounds--I don't knowwhether my credit will be good for that amount?"

"Your credit and mine will be sufficient, " Captain Buncombe said; "onecan't trifle with these fellows, for the villains keep their word, I'mtold. "

The guide again spoke by the chief's order to dad, as if the tenor ofthe captain's words were understood. 

"The Albanian chief declares that if the ransom be not paid by sunsetto-morrow at latest, every one of you shall be shot, and your heads cutoff and sent back to Athens in token of your fate. "

"Ugh!" said Mr Moynham, shuddering; "I certainly have been a Torythroughout all my life, but I should not like to follow Charles theFirst's example. "

"I declare it's disgraceful, " said Captain Buncombe; "I'll apply to theambassador. This brigandage is the curse of Greece. I'll--"

"That won't help us now, " said dad. "I suppose we must write for theransom, although under protests; for, however much we have to pay, wemust remember that our lives are in jeopardy; and that's the mainconsideration. "

The advice was good; so, a joint letter was despatched to certaininfluential friends, as well as dad's banker at Athens, urging that theransom should be sent in a certain way, to be handed over, as thebrigand chief arranged, as we were given up, so that there should be notreachery on either side. The false guides then went off cheerfullydown hill towards the plains, whilst our cavalcade, encompassed by thebrigands, moved towards those mountain fastnesses, "where they residedwhen they were at home, " as Mr Moynham said. 

Up and down hill and dale, we seemed in the darkness to be penetratingmiles into the country; until, at last, passing, as well as we could seefrom the gloom, which was almost impenetrable, through a narrow glenbetween steep peaks, we suddenly turned a corner of a projecting rock, and found ourselves on an elevated plateau on the top of the mountains, where a strange scene awaited us. A number of ruddy watch-fires wereburning with red and smoky light, and around these sat, reclined, ormoved about, in a variety of active employments, a number of dark forms, most of which were robust Arnauts, clad in their national dress, whichin the distance is not unlike that seen among Highlandmen, consisting asit does of a snowy white kilt, green velvet jacket, and bright-colouredscarf wound round the waist. Here and there, the glare from thefirelight was reflected from the barrels of guns, rifles, andmatchlocks, which the owners were cleaning or examining; while, beforeseveral of the fires cooking operations were going on. Kids, wholesheep, and pieces of raw flesh, were being slowly broiled, hanging frombits of stick stuck in the ground, or suspended by pieces of stringattached to the branches of the overhanging trees that encircled theplateau. This added to the "effect" of the scene. 

"Quite operatic, and better than old Drury, " I heard Mr Moynham say;but we were all too depressed and uncomfortable from our constrainedattitudes to feel inclined to appreciate the picturesque, the brigandshaving taken us off the horses, and flung us down on the ground, havingthis time bound even Bob and myself; indeed, they treated us with evenless attention than they would have bestowed on anything eatable, judging by the care they evinced in their cuisine, although they did notoffer us anything either to eat or drink, much to Mr Moynham's greatchagrin especially, nor did they give us the slightest covering toprotect us from the night air when the waning watch-fires told us thatbedtime--save the mark--had arrived. I suppose they thought that it didnot much matter if we did catch cold, considering that we were going tobe shot within twenty-four hours!

Tired out with fatigue, we finally sank to rest in the same place wherewe were first pitched down, not awaking till late the next morning, whenwe found most of the brigands had departed--to look-out for other"welcome guests" like ourselves, I suppose! Only three were left toguard us, but they were quite enough, considering that we were tied upfast, and couldn't move if we wished. 

How slowly that day dragged out! We thought it would never end. Theygave us some hard coarse dry bread to eat and water to drink, nothingelse; and the hours dragged themselves slowly along, as if they wouldnever end. 

Our hopes gradually sank, as the sun declined in the heavens, for wewatched the progress of the glowing orb with almost the devoted zeal ofthe followers of Zoroaster. 

At last, just as it was within half an hour of sunset as nearly as wecould calculate, we heard a tumult as of many voices in the ravineleading to the plateau; and, presently, the man whom we had conceived tobe the leader of the brigands advanced towards us, in company with hisband, now largely reinforced by others. At a word from him our bondswere untied, and we were assisted to our feet, on which we could notstand firmly for some little time, on account of the want of circulationof our blood during the long time we had been in such constrainedattitudes. 

The guide who had previously acted the part of interpreter afterbetraying us--although, by the way, he told us before he left us that hebelonged to the band, and thus, perhaps, had only acted honourablyaccording to his creed--then translated what the leader had to say. 

Our ransom had been paid, and we were free to go down the mountains. The horses, mules, and everything belonging to us would be restored, anda trusty guide--the speaker, of course--would put us in the direct routeto Athens, but as near the city as possible; and, finally, the chiefbegged that we would excuse the rough treatment to which we had beensubjected, as he had a great regard for us!

"It was all very well to dissemble his love, " quoted Mr Moynham;"but, --why did he kick us down-stairs?"

"The chief!--which chief, or thief?" said dad sternly. He did not feelparticularly pleased with the Arnauts or their leader. "I've had enoughof the scoundrels already, and the sooner I lose sight of them thebetter! What do you mean by the chief?"

"He means me!" said a gorgeous individual, all green velvet jacket, andgold braid, and red sash, with a cap set rakishly on the side of hishead, in the front of which glittered a diamond of surpassingbrilliancy. 

We had noticed this individual before, but not especially, and he hadbeen rather hidden by the figure of the man we looked upon as theleader: now he stepped forward, and we could see his face plainly, as werecognised the voice. 

Who do you think it was?

Why, Stephanos Pericles, the man whom we had saved from drowning, andwho had sent us those handsome presents!

"Why have we met with this treatment at your hands?" said papa, puzzledat the Greek's behaviour. 

"You have nothing to complain of, " said Stephanos, with an air ofcourteous nobility which exasperated the captain to that degree that Isaw him clenching and unclenching his fists, and dancing about, as MrMoynham said afterwards, "like a hen on a hot griddle. "

"My dear sir, you have nothing really to complain of, " said the Greek. "You saved my life, I admit, and I think I politely expressed myobligations at the time. In return I now present you with five lives, independently of that of the dog, which, I am sorry to see, has beenhurt. "

"But the ransom?" said dad. 

"Oh, I'm sorry I had to insist on that, " said Stephanos, placidly; "butit is one of our rules to enforce such in all cases, and I'm sorry thatI could not let you off, although my friendship yearned to set you freewithout it. You must really please excuse the treatment you have metwith. If I had known who honoured me with their company, I'm sure youwould have had no reason to be dissatisfied with my hospitality. The_next_ time you favour me with your presence, my lord--"

"The next time you catch me here, or anywhere else on Greek ground, "laughed my father in a hearty "Ho! ho!" in which all of us joined, "youmay cut me up into kabobs and cook and eat me, and welcome; for I knowI'll then deserve it!"

We got back safe aboard the _Moonshine_ all right, setting sail from thePiraeus next day; but it was a good trick of the brigand chief, wasn'tit--though I can't say much for his gratitude after all, spite of thosemagnificent presents, which there was little reason to wonder at hisoffering us, considering the easy manner in which he got his money?

The cut in Rollo's neck healed soon, and he is now as right as ever hewas, excepting a slight scar which tells where the stiletto or daggerwent, and he wears still the collar of gold that Stephanos Periclespresented him with. As for the rest of our party, all of us got homesafe with the _Moonshine_, which is now fitting out at Ryde for thecoming regatta, where I hope she'll come off as successfully in carryingoff prizes as "THE GREEK BANDIT. "

CHAPTER FOUR. 

JIM NEWMAN'S YARN: OR, A SIGHT OF THE SEA SERPENT. 

"Was you ever up the Niger, sir?"

"Why, of course not, Jim! you know that I've never been on the Africanstation, or any other for that matter. But why do you ask thequestion?"

"Don't know 'xactly, sir. P'raps that blessed sea-fog reminds me of it, somehow or other--though there's little likeness, as far as that goes, between the west coast and Portsmouth, is there, sir?"

"I don't suppose there is, " I said; "but what puts the Niger, of allplaces in the world, in your head at the present moment?"

"Ah, that'd tell a tale, sir, " he answered, cocking his left eye in aknowing manner, and giving the quid in his mouth a turn. "Ah, that'dtell a tale, sir!"

Jim Newman, an old man-of-war's man--now retired from the navy, and whoeked out his pension by letting boats for hire to summer visitors--wasleaning against an old coal barge that formed his "office, " drawn uphigh and dry on the beach, midway between Southsea Castle and PortsmouthHarbour, and gazing out steadily across the channel of the Solent, tothe Isle of Wight beyond. He and I were old friends of long standing, and I was never so happy as when I could persuade him--albeit it did notneed much persuasion--to open the storehouse of his memory, and spin ayarn about his old experiences afloat in the whilom wooden walls ofEngland, when crack frigates were the rage instead of screw steamerswith armour-plates. We had been talking of all sorts of servicegossip--the war, the weather, what not--when he suddenly asked me thequestion about the great African river that has given poor Sambo "alocal habitation and a name. "

Although the gushing tears of April had hardly washed away the traces ofthe wild March winds, the weather had suddenly become almost tropical inits heat. There was not the slightest breath of air stirring, and thesea lay lazily asleep, only throbbing now and then with a faintspasmodic motion, which barely stirred the shingle on the shore, muchless plashed on the beach; while a thick, heavy white mist was steadilycreeping up from the sea, shutting out, first the island, and then theroadstead at Spithead from view, and overlapping the whole landscape inthick woolly folds, moist yet warm. Jim had said that the sea-fog, coming as it did, was a sign of heat, and that we should have a regularold-fashioned hot summer, unlike those of recent years. 

"Ah, sir, " he repeated, "I could tell a tale about that deadly Nigerriver, and the Gaboon, and the whole treacherous coast, if I liked, fromLagos down to the Congo--ay, I could! It was that 'ere sea-fog that putAfriker into my head, Master Charles; I know that blessed white mist, a-rising up like a curtain, well, I do! The `white man's shroud, ' theniggers used to call it--and many a poor beggar it has sarved to shroud, too, in that killing climate, confound it!"

"Well, Jim, tell us about the Niger to begin with, " said I, so as tobring him up to the scratch without delay; for, when Jim once got on themoralising or sentimental tack, he generally ended by getting angry witheverybody and everything around him; and when he got angry, there was anend to his stories for that day at least. 

"All right, your honour, " said the old fellow, calming down at once intohis usual serenity again, and giving his quid another shift as he bracedhimself well up against the old barge, on the half-deck of which I wasseated with my legs dangling down--"All right, your honour! If it's ayarn you're after, why I had best weigh anchor at once and make anoffing, or else we shan't be able to see a handspike afore us!"

"Heave ahead, Jim!" said I impatiently; "you are as long as a three-decker in getting under way!"

With this encouragement, he cleared his throat with his customaryhoarse, choking sort of cough, like an old raven, and commenced hisnarrative without any further demur. 

"It's more'n twenty years now since I left the service--ay, thirty yearswould be more like it; and almost my very last cruise was on the WestAfrican station. I had four years of it, and I recollect it well; for, before I left the blessed, murdering coast, with its poisonous lagoonscovered with thick green slime, and sickly smells, and burning sands, Iseed a sight there that I shall never forget as long as I live, andwhich would make me recklect Afrikey well enough if nothing else would!"

"That's right, Jim, fire away!" said I, settling myself comfortably onmy seat to enjoy the yarn. "What was it that you saw?"

"Steady! Let her go easy, your honour; I'm a-coming to that soonenough. It was in the old _Amphitrite_ I was at the time--she's broken-up and burnt for firewood long ago, poor old thing!--and we was a-lyingin the Bight of Benin, alongside of a slaver which we had captured theday before off Whydah. She was a Brazilian schooner with nearly fivehundred wretched creatures on board, so closely packed that you couldnot find space enough to put your foot fairly on her deck in any place. The slaves had only been a night on board her; but the stench was soawful, from so many unfortunate niggers being squeezed so tightlytogether like herrings in a barrel, and under a hot sun too, that wewere longing to send the schooner away to Sierra Leone, and get rid ofthe horrid smell, which was worse than the swamps ashore! Well, I wasin the morning watch after we had towed in the slaver to the Bights, having carried away her foremast with a round shot in making her bringto, and was just going forward to turn in as the next watch came ondeck, when who should hail me but my mate, Gil Saul, coming in from thebowsprit, where he had been on the look-out--it was him as was mypardner here when I first started as a shore hand in letting out boats, but he lost the number of his mess long ago like our old ship the_Amphitrite_. 

"As he came up to me his face was as white as your shirt, and he wastrembling all over as if he was going to have a fit of the fever andague. 

"`Lor', Gil Saul, ' sez I, `what's come over you, mate? are you going onthe sick list, or what?'

"`Hush, Jim, ' sez he, quite terror-stricken. `Don't speak like that;I've seen a ghost, and I knows I shall be a dead man afore the day'sout!'

"With that I burst into a larf. 

"`Bless your eyes, Gil, ' sez I, `tell that to the marines, my bo'! youcan't get over me on that tack. You won't find any respectable ghostsleaving dear old England for the sake of this dirty, sweltering westcoast, which no Christian would come to from choice, let alone a ghost!'

"`But, Jim, ' he sez, leaning his hand on my arm to detain me as I wasgoing down below, `this wasn't a h'English ghost as I sees just now. Itwas the most outlandish foreign reptile you ever see. A long, big, black snake like a crocodile, only twice the length of the old corvette;with a head like a bird, and eyes as big and fiery as our side-lights. It was a terrible creature, Jim, and its eyes flamed out like lightning, and it snorted like a horse as it swam by the ship. I've had a warning, old shipmate, and I'll be a dead man before to-morrow morning, I know!'

"The poor chap shook with fright as he spoke, though he was as brave aman as we had aboard; so I knew that he had been drinking and was in astate of delirium tremendibus, or else he was sickening for the Africanfever, which those who once have never forget. I therefore tried topacify him and explain away his fancy. 

"`That's a good un, Gil Saul, ' I sez. `Don't you let none of the otherhands hear what you've told me, that you've seen the great sea sarpint, or you'll never get the end of it. '

"Gil got angry at this, forgetting his fright in his passion at mydoubting his word like. 

"`But it was the sea sarpint, I tells you, or its own brother if itwasn't. Didn't I see it with my own eyes, and I was as wide awake asyou are, and not caulking?'

"`The sea sarpint!' I repeated scornfully, laughing again in a way thatmade Gil wild. `Who ever heard tell of such a thing, except in a Yankeeyarn?'

"`And why shouldn't there be a big snake in the sea the same as thereare big snakes on land like the Bow constreetar, as is read of in booksof history, Jim Newman? Some folks are so cocksure, that they won'tbelieve nothing but what they sees for themselves. I wonder who athome, now, would credit that there are some monkeys here in Afrikey thatare bigger than a man and walk upright; and you yourself, Jim, have toldme that when you were in Australy you seed rabbits that were more thanten foot high when they stood on their hind-legs, and that could jump ahundred yards at one leap. '

"`So I have, Gil Saul, ' sez I, a bit nettled at what he said, and theway he said it, `and what I says I stick to. I have seen at Port Philipkangaroos, which are just like big rabbits with upright ears, as big asI've said; and I've seen 'em, too, jump more than twice the distance anyhorse could. '

"`And why then, ' sez he, argumentifying on to me like a shot, `and whythen shouldn't there be such a thing as the sea sarpint?'

"This flummuxed me a bit, for I couldn't find an answer handy, so I axedhim another question to get out of my quandary. 

"`But why, Gil, did you say you had seed a ghost, when it was asarpint?'

"This time _he_ was bothered for a moment. 

"`Because, Jim, ' sez he, after a while, `it appeared so awful to me whenI saw it coming out of the white mist with its glaring red eyes andterrible beak. It was a ghost I feels, if it wasn't the sea sarpint;and whether or no it bodes no good to the man wot sees it, I know. I'ma doomed man. '

"I couldn't shake him from that belief, though I thought the whole thingwas fancy on his part, and I turned into my hammock soon after we gotbelow, without a thought more about the matter--it didn't stop my caulk, I know. But, ah! that was only in the early morning. Before the daywas done, as Gil had said, that conversation was recalled to me in aterrible way--ah, a terrible way!" the old sailor repeated impressively, taking off his tarpaulin hat, and wiping his forehead with hishandkerchief, as if the recollection of the past awed him even now. Helooked so serious that I could not laugh, inclined as I was to ridiculeany such story as that of the fabled sea serpent, which one looks forperiodically as a transatlantic myth to crop up in dull seasons in thecolumns of American newspapers. 

"And did you see it too?" I asked; "and Gil Saul's prophecy turns outtrue?"

"You shall hear, " he answered gravely; "I'm not spinning a yarn, as youcall it, Master Charles; I'm telling you the truth. "

"Go on, Jim, " said I, to reassure him. "I'm listening, all attention. "

"At eight bells that day, another man-of-war come in, bringing an emptyslaver she had taken before she had shipped her cargo. In this vesselwe were able to separate some of the poor wretches packed on board ourBrazilian schooner, and so send them comfortably on to Sierra Leone, which was what we were waiting to do, as I've told you already; and nowbeing free to go cruising again, we hove up anchor and made our way downthe coast to watch for another slaver which we had heard news of by theman-o'-war that came in to relieve us. 

"We had a spanking breeze all day, for a wonder, as it generally failsat noon; but towards the evening, when we had made some eighty miles orso from the Bights, it fell suddenly dead calm, as if the wind had beenshut off slap without warning. It was bright before, but the moment thecalm came a thick white mist rose around the vessel, just like thatwhich came just now from seaward, and has hidden the island and Spitheadfrom view; you see how it's reminded me now of the west coast and theNiger river, Master Charles, don't you?"

"Ay, " said I, "Jim, I see what you were driving at. "

"Those thick mists, " he continued, "always rise on the shores of Afrikeyin the early mornings--just as there was a thick one when Gil had seenhis ghost, as he said--and they comes up again when the sun sets; butyou never sees 'em when the sun's a-shining bright as it was thatarternoon. It was the rummiest weather I ever see. By and by, the mistlifted a bit, and then there were clumps of fog dancing about on thesurface of the sea, which was oily and calm, just like patches of treeson a lawn. Sometimes these fog curtains would come down and settleround the ship, so that you couldn't see to the t'other side of the deckfor a minute, and they brought a fearful bad smell with them, the verysmell of the lagoons ashore with a dash of the niggers aboard the slaveschooner, only a thousand times worse, and we miles and miles away fromthe land. It was most unaccountable, and most uncomfortable. Icouldn't make it out at all. 

"Jest as I was a-puzzling my brains as to the reason of these fog banksand the stench they brought with them, Gil Saul came on deck too, andsheered up alongside of me as I was looking out over the side. His facewas a worse sight than the morning; for, instead of his looking white, the colour of his skin was grey and ashy, like the face of a corpse. Italarmed me so that I cried out at once--

"`Go down below, Gil! Go down and report yourself to the doctor!'

"`No, ' sez he, `it ain't the doctor an will cure me, Jim; I feel itcoming over me again as I felt this morning. I shall see that sarpintor ghost again, I feel sure. '

"What with his face and his words, and the bad smell from the fog, Iconfess I began to feel queer myself--not frightened exactly--but I'dhave much rather have been on Southsea common in the broad daylight thanwhere I was at that moment, I can tell you. "

"Did you see anything, Jim?" I asked the old sailor at this juncture. 

"I seed nothing, Master Charles, _as yet_ but I felt something, I can'ttell what or how to explain; it was a sort of all-overish feeling, as ifsomething was a-walking over my grave, as folks say, summat uncanny, Ido assure you. 

"The captain and the first lieutenant was on the quarter-deck, thelatter with his telescope to his eye a-gazing at something forwardapparently, that he was trying to discern amongst the clumps of fog. Iwas nigh them, and being to leeward could hear what they said. 

"The first lieutenant, I hears him, turns to the captain over hisshoulder speaking like, and sez he--

"`Captain Manter, I can't make it out exactly, but it's most curious;'and then turning to me, he sez, `Newman, go down to my steward and axhim to give you my night-glass. '

"I went down and fetched the glass and handed it to him, he giving met'other one to hold; and he claps the night-glass to his eye. 

"`By Jove, Captain Manter, ' sez he presently, `I was right, it is thegreatest marine monster I ever saw!'

"`Pooh!' says the captain, taking the glass from him and lookinghimself. `It's only a waterspout, they come sometimes along with thisappearance of the sea!' But presently I heard him mutter somethingunder his voice to the lieutenant, and then he said aloud, `It is bestto be prepared;' and a moment after that he gave an order, and theboatswain piped up and we beat to quarters. It was very strange that, wasn't it? And so every man on board thought. 

"A very faint breeze was springing up again, and I was on the weatherside of the ship, which was towards the land from which the wind came, when suddenly Gil Saul, who was in the same battery and captain of mycrew, grips my arm tight. `It's coming! it's coming!' he said right inmy ear, and then the same horrible foul smell wafted right over the shipagain, and a noise was heard just as if a herd of wild horses weresucking up water together. 

"At this moment the fog lifted for a bit, and we could see clear forabout a couple of miles to windward, where the captain and firstlieutenant and all the hands had their eyes fixed as if expectingsomething. 

"By George! you could have knocked me down with a feather, I tell you!I never saw such a sight in my life, and may I never see such anotheragain! There, with his head well out of the water, shaped like a bigbird, and higher in the air than the main truck of the ship, was agigantic reptile like a sarpint, only bigger than you ever dreamt of. He was wriggling through the water at a fearful rate, and going nearlythe same course as ourselves, with a wake behind him bigger than a line-of-battle ship with paddle-wheels, and his length--judging by what I sawof him--was about half a mile at least, not mentioning what part of hisbody was below the water; while he must have been broader across thanthe largest sperm whale, for he showed good five feet of freeboard. 

"The captain and first lieutenant were flabbergasted, I could see; butCaptain Manter was as brave an officer as ever stepped, and he pulledhimself together in a minute, as the fog, which had only lifted for aminute, came down again shutting out everything from view so that wecould not see a yard from the side. `Don't be alarmed, my men, ' hesings out in his cheery voice, so that every hand could hear him, `it'sonly a waterspout that is magnified by the fog; and as it gets nearerwe'll give it the starboard broadside to clear it up and burst it. '

"`Ay! ay!' sez the men with a cheer, while the smell grew more awful andthe snorting gushing sound we had heard before so loud that it was quitedeafening, just immediately after the captain spoke, when it had stoppedawhile. 

"As for poor Gil, he had never lost the grip of my arm since we sightedthe reptile, although he had the lanyard of his gun in his right handall the same. 

"`Fire!' sez the captain; and, in a moment, the whole starboardbroadside was fired off, point blank across the water, in a line withthe deck, as Captain Manter had ordered us to depress the guns, the old_Amphitrite_ rocking to her keel with the explosion. 

"Well, sir, as true as I'm standing here a-talking to you, at the veryinstant the guns belched out their fire and smoke, and the cannon-ballswith which they were loaded, there was a most treemenjus roar and a dashof water alongside the ship, and the waves came over us as if we were ona lee shore; and then, as the men stood appalled at the things going onaround them, which was what no mortal ever seed before, Gil clasped myarm more tightly, loosening his right hand from the lanyard of the gunwhich he had now fired, and shrieked out, `There! there!'

"Master Charles, it were awful! A long heavy body seemed to be rearedup high in the air right athwart the vessel, and plunged far away in thesea to leeward; and, as the body passed over our heads, I looked up withGil, and saw the fearful fiery eyes of the biggest snake that evercrawled on the earth, though this was flying in the air, and round hishideous head, that had a long beak like a bird, was a curious fringe orfrill all yellowish green, just like what a lizard puffs out under histhroat when in a rage. I could see no more, for the thing was over usand gone a mile or more to leeward in a wink of the eye, the fogdrifting after it and hiding it from sight. Besides which, I wasoccupied with Gil, who had sank down on the deck in a dead swoon. 

"Whatever it was, the thing carried away our main topmast with theyards, and everything clean from the caps as if it had been shot away, and there wasn't a trace of them floating in the sea around, as we couldsee. 

"`A close thing that!' said the captain, after the shock was over, speaking to the lieutenant, although all hands could hear him, for itwas as still as possible now. `A close thing, Mr Freemantle. I'veknown a waterspout do even more damage than this; so let us bethankful!'

"And then all hands were piped to clear the wreck, and make the shipsnug; for we had some bad weather afterwards, and had to put into SierraLeone to refit. 

"Gil was in a swoon for a long time after; and then he took the feverbad, and only recovered by the skin of his teeth; but he never forgotwhat he had seen, nor I either, nor any of the hands, though we nevertalked about it. We knew we had seen something unearthly; even thecaptain and Lieutenant Freemantle, though they put down the damage to awaterspout for fear of alarming the men, knew differently, as we did. We had seen the great sea sarpint, if anybody had, every man-jack of usaboard! It was a warning, too, as poor Gil Saul had declared; for, strange to say, except himself and me, not a soul as was on board the_Amphitrite_ when the reptile overhauled us, lived to see Old Englandagain. The bones of all the others were left to bleach on the burningsands of the east coast of Africa, which has killed ten thousand more ofour own countrymen with its deadly climate than we have saved slavesfrom slavery!"

"But, Jim, " said I, as the old sailor paused at the end of his yarn. "Do you think it was really the sea serpent? Might it not have been awaterspout, or a bit of floating wreck, which you saw in the fog?"

Jim Newman got grumpy at once, at the bare insinuation of such a thing. 

"Waterspouts and bits of wreck, " said he sarcastically, "generallytravel at the rate of twenty miles an hour when there is no wind to movethem along, and a dead calm, don't they? Waterspouts and bits of wrecksmell like polecats when you're a hundred miles from land, don't they?Waterspouts and bits of wreck roar like a million wild bulls, and snortand swish as they go through the water like a thousand express trainsgoing through a tunnel, don't they?"

I was silenced by Jim's sarcasm, and humbly begged his pardon fordoubting the veracity of his eyesight. 

"Besides, Master Charles, " he urged, when he had once more been restoredto his usual equanimity; "besides, you must remember that nearly in thesame parts, and about the same time--in the beginning of the month ofAugust, 1848--the sea sarpint, as people who have never seen it are sofond of joking of, was seen by the captain and crew of HMS _Daedalus_and the event was put down in the ship's log, and reported officially tothe Admiralty. I suppose you won't go for to doubt the statement whichwas made by a captain in the navy, a gentleman, and a man of honour, andsupported by the evidence of the lieutenant of the watch, the master, amidshipman, the quartermaster, boatswain's mate, and the man at thewheel--the rest of the ship's company being below at the time?"

"No, Jim, " said I, "that's straight enough. "

"We was in latitude 5 degrees 30 minutes north, and longitude about 3degrees east, " continued the old sailor, "when we saw it on the 1st ofAugust, 1848, and they in latitude 24 degrees 44 minutes south, andlongitude 9 degrees 22 minutes east, when they saw it on the 6th of thesame month; so the curious reptile--for reptile he was--must have putthe steam on when he left us!"

"Stirred up, probably, by your starboard broadside?" said I. 

"Jest so, " went on Jim. "But, he steered just in the direction to meetthem when he went off from us, keeping a southward and eastward course;and I daresay, if he liked, he could have made a hundred knots an houras easy as we could sail ten on a bowline with a stiff breeze. "

"And so you really have seen the great sea serpent?" said I, when theold man-of-war's man had shifted his quid once more, thus implying thathe had finished. 

"Not a doubt of it, sir; and by the same token he was as long as fromhere to the Spit Buoy, and as broad as one of them circular forts outthere. "

"That's a very good yarn, Jim, " said I; "but do you mean to say that yousaw the monster with your own eyes, Jim, as well as all the rest ofyou?"

"I saw him, I tell you, Master Charles, as plain as I see you now; andas true as I am standing by your side the sarpint jumped right over the_Amphitrite_ when Gil Saul and I was a-looking up, and carried away ourmaintopmast and everything belonging to it!"

"Well, it must have been wonderful, Jim, " said I. 

"Ay, ay, sir, " said he, "but you'd ha' thought it a precious sight morewonderful if you had chanced to see it, like me!"

I may add, that, shortly afterwards, I really took the trouble tooverhaul a pile of the local papers to see whether Jim's account of thereport made by the captain of the _Daedalus_ to the Lords of theAdmiralty was substantially true; and, strange to say, I discoveredamongst the numbers of the _Hampshire Telegraph_ for the year 1848, thefollowing copy of a letter forwarded by Captain McQubae to the admiralin command at Devonport dockyard at the date mentioned:--

 "Her Majesty's Ship _Daedalus_

 "Hamoaze, October 11th, 1848. 

 "Sir, --In reply to your letter of this day's date, requiring information as to the truth of a statement published in the _Globe_ newspaper, of a sea serpent of extraordinary dimensions having been seen from her Majesty's ship _Daedalus_, under my command, on her passage from the East Indies, I have the honour to acquaint you, for the information of my Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, that at five o'clock, PM, on the 6th of August last, in latitude 24 degrees 44 minutes south, and longitude 9 degrees 22 minutes east, the weather dark and cloudy, wind fresh from the North West, with a long ocean swell from the South West, the ship on the port tack heading North East by North, something very unusual was seen by Mr Sartons, midshipman, rapidly approaching the ship from before the beam. The circumstance was immediately reported by him to the officer of the watch, Lieutenant Edgar Drummond, with whom and Mr William Barrett, the master, I was at the time walking the quarter-deck. The ship's company were at supper. 

 "On our attention being called to the object it was discovered to be an enormous serpent, with head and shoulders kept about four feet constantly above the surface of the sea, and as nearly as we could approximate, by comparing it with the length of what our main-topsail- yard would show in the water, there was at the very least sixty feet of the animal _a fleur d'eau_, no portion of which was, to our perception, used in propelling it through the water, either by vertical or horizontal undulation. It passed rapidly, but so close under our lee quarter that had it been a man of my acquaintance I should have easily recognised his features with the naked eye; and it did not, either in approaching the ship or after it had passed our wake, deviate in the slightest degree from its course to the South West, which it held on at the pace of from twelve to fifteen miles per hour, apparently on some determined purpose. 

 "The diameter of the serpent was about fifteen or sixteen inches behind the head, which was, without any doubt, that of a snake, and never, during the twenty minutes that it continued in sight of our glasses once below the surface of the water; its colour a dark brown, with yellowish white about the throat. It had no fins, but something like the mane of a horse, or rather a bunch of sea-weed, washed about its back. It was seen by the quartermaster, the boatswain's mate, and the man at the wheel, in addition to myself and officers above- mentioned. 

 "I am having a drawing of the serpent made from a sketch taken immediately after it was seen, which I hope to have ready for transmission to my Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty by to-morrow's posts. 

 "I have, etcetera, "Peter McQubae, Captain. 

 "To Admiral Sir WH Gage, GCH, Devonport. "

Consequently, having this testimony, which was amply verified by theother witnesses at the time, I see no reason to doubt the truth of JimNewman's yarn about THE GREAT SEA SERPENT!

CHAPTER FIVE. 

"OUR SCRATCH ELEVEN. "

This all happened a year or two before I went to sea, and so doesn'tcome under the ordinary designation of a "yarn, " which, I take it, should only be about the doings of seafaring men and those who have totoil over the ocean for a living; still, as it concerns myself, I giveit in pretty nearly the exact words I told it the other day to a partyof youngsters who had just come in from cricketing and asked me for astory. 

I never played in such a match in my life before or since, I began; but, there, I had better commence at the right end, and then you'll be ableto judge for yourselves. 

Charley Bates, of course, was dead against it from the first. 

"I tell you it's all nonsense, " he said, when we mooted the subject tohim. "How on earth can we get up a decent eleven to play chaps likethose, who have been touring it all over the country, and lickingprofessionals even on their own ground? It's impossible, and adownright absurdity. We can't do it. "

"But, Charley, " suggested Sidney Grant, a tall, fair-haired fellow, andour best bat--he could swipe away at leg balls; and as for straightdrives, well, he'd send 'em over a bowler's head, just out of his reach, and right to the boundary wall, at such a rate, like an express traingoing through the air, that they defied stopping. "But, Charley, " hesuggested, "we've got some good ones left of our team, and I daresay wecan pick up some fresh hands from amongst the visitors to make up a fairscratch lot. "

"It would be a scratch lot, " sneered Charley--"a lot that would bescratched out with duck's eggs, and make us the laughing-stock of theplace. "

"Oh, that's all nonsense!" Sidney said, decisively. 

Besides being our best bat, he was the captain of the Little PeddlingtonCricket Club, which, as it was far into the month of August, had gotsomewhat dispersed through some of the team having gone off on thosecheap excursions to London, to the Continent, and elsewhere, that arerife at most of the seaside places on the south coast during the season. But now that the great travelling team of the "Piccadilly Inimitables"purposed paying a passing visit to our rural shades, it of coursebehoved the Little Peddlington Cricket Club to challenge the celebratedamateurs to a match, albeit we were so woefully weak from the absence ofmany of our best members, or else be for ever disgraced amongst thepatrons of the noble game. 

It was this very point we were debating now, our captain havingcollected the remnants of the club together in solemn caucus, todeliberate on the situation and see what was to be done. 

"I don't see why we shouldn't challenge the Inimitables, " he went on. "The worst that can happen to us is to get licked; but we might make agood fight for it, and if vanquished we should not be covered withdishonour. There are five of us here of the first eleven to form anucleus with: Charley Bates--whom I mention first, not by reason of hissuperior skill with the willow, " the captain slily put in, "as that isknown to all of us, but on account of his being the oldest member of theLittle Peddlington Cricket Club present, with the exception of myself--Jack Limpet, who is a very good all-round player if he didn't brag quiteso much, "--this was one at me--"Tom Atkins, John Hardy, and last, thoughby no means least, my worthy self. Thus we've five good men and true, whom we have tried already in many a fray, to rely on; and I daresay wecan pick out two or three likely youngsters from the juniors, while someof those new fellows amongst the visitors that came down last week wouldlend us a hand. There were three of them especially that I noticedyesterday practising, whom I should certainly like to have in the elevenif I could get them to join us. "

"They'd be glad enough if you'd ask them, " grumbled Charley Bates, whoalways seemed to prefer looking at the disagreeable side of things; "butI don't think much of their play. And as for the juveniles, there isn'tone worth his salt. "

"Yes, there is, " said John Hardy, who seldom spoke; but when he did openhis mouth, generally did so to the purpose. "That young fellow JamesBlack is first-class both at batting and bowling. I've watched him manya time. He ought to have been in the eleven long ago. "

"Do you think so?" said Sidney inquiringly. "I'm afraid I've overlookedhim. I'll make a note of his name, even if we don't have him with us toplay against the Inimitables. "

Without much further demur, Sidney Grant proceeded to settle that he andJohn Hardy should form themselves into a deputation and wait upon thecommittee of the visitors' cricket club, requesting them to furnish theassistance of the three members whom our captain had specified, to theLittle Peddlington Eleven, which would be also duly recruited from theranks of its junior team, not forgetting young James Black, in order toenable them to challenge the Piccadilly Inimitables, and try to stoptheir triumphal progress round the south coast. 

Charley Bates objected, naturally, as might have been imagined from theposition he took at first. He objected not only to the visitors beingasked to join our scratch team and represent the Little Peddlingtonians, but also specially--just because John Hardy mentioned his name, and forno other earthly reason--to the fact of young Black's being selectedfrom the junior eleven. He was over-ruled, however, on both points, much to his chagrin, as he was in the habit generally of getting his ownway by bullying the rest, and he left the meeting in the greatestdisgust, saying that he wouldn't play, and thus "make himself a party tothe disgrace that was looming over the club, " in their defeat by theInimitables, which he confidently expected. 

"He's too fond of figuring in public to care to take a back seat when weare all in it, and bite off his nose to spite his face!" said Tom Atkinswhen he went away from us in his dudgeon, shaking off the dust from hiscricketing shoes, so to speak, in testimony against us. "Master Charleywill come round and join us when he sees we are in for the match, youbet!"

And so he did, at the last moment. The other members having cordiallysupported the captain's several propositions, they were carriedunanimously by our quorum of four, and immediately acted upon. YoungBlack, with two other juniors, and three of the best men we could pickout from the visitors that were at Little Peddlington for the seasonthat year--and there were some first-rate cricketers, too, amongstthem--made up our scratch eleven, Charley Bates relenting when he foundthat we would have played without him. And a challenge having been sentto the Piccadilly Inimitables without delay, which they as promptlyaccepted, the match was fixed to come off, on our ground, of course, onthe opening days of the ensuing week--provided, as the secretary of ouropponents' club, very offensively as we thought, added in a postscriptto his communication, the contest was not settled on the first day'splay. But they reckoned without their host when they tackled the LittlePeddlingtonians, as you will see. 

We fellows who formed the Little Peddlington Cricket Club were for themost part studying there under a noted tutor, who prepared us for thearmy, Woolwich, or India; but we admitted a few of the townspeople. 

A cricket match at such a retired spot opened a field of excitement toboth residents and summer tourists alike. Even an ordinary contest, such as we sometimes indulged in with the Hammerton or Smithwick clubs, or the Bognor garrison, would have aroused considerable interest in thevicinity of Little Peddlington; but when it became known that we weregoing to play the celebrated Piccadilly Inimitables, who had lickedLancashire and Yorkshire, and almost every county eleven they had met intheir cricketing tour from the north to the south of England, there wasnothing else talked about from one end of our seaside town to the other, the news spreading to the adjacent hamlets, and villages beyond, untilit reached the cathedral city twenty miles away. 

Under these circumstances it cannot be wondered at that when Monday, theopening day of the match--which turned out beautifully fine for awonder, as it always rained on the very slightest provocation at LittlePeddlington--arrived, there was such a crowd of carriages and drags, filled to their utmost capacity, as to astonish even the memory of thatfar-famed individual "the oldest inhabitant. " These were drawn up in asort of semicircle around our cricket ground--a charmingly situated spotwith a very wide area, and nicely sheltered by rows of waving elms fromthe hot August sun--and besides the "carriage folk, " as the rusticstermed them, came on foot everybody in the neighbourhood, besides allLittle Peddlington itself. 

The Piccadilly Inimitables arrived early in the morning, having stoppedovernight at Brighton, where they had scored their last victory over theSussex eleven, and which place was not so remote from Little Peddlingtonas you might suppose, consequently we were able to commence the match ingood time, and as our club won the toss for first innings we buckled toat once for the fray, sending in John Hardy, who had the reputation withus of being a "sticker, " and the grumbling Charley Bates, to the wicketspunctually at eleven o'clock. 

The bowling at the beginning was rather shady, the Inimitables not beingaccustomed to the ground, which our batsmen, of course, were perfectlyfamiliar with; so runs got piled on in a way that raised our hopespretty considerably, especially when Sidney Grant took Charley Bates'splace--that worthy having in his second over skied a ball that wasimmediately caught, sending him out for five runs, two singles and athree, or two more than he had totalled in his last match. 

It was a sight to see Sidney as he cut and drove the slow and fastbowlers of our opponents' team for four almost every over; whilst JohnHardy backed him up ably by remaining, as he was instructed, strictly onthe defensive, and blocking every ball that came at all near his wicketSidney was the run-getter; he had simply to run. 

We had scored thirty-eight for the loss of only one wicket, and thecaptain seemed to be well set and good to make the century--as he haddone a month before in our match with the Smithwick Club--when a newbowler went on at the lower end of the ground, and "a change came overthe spirit of our dream. "

"I don't like the way that chap walks up to the wicket, " said Tom Atkinsto me. "I saw him taking Sidney's measure when he was serving as long-stop, and if he doesn't play carefully, he'll bowl him out almost withhis first ball. "

"Not he, " said I sanguinely. "He seems too confident. "

"Ah well! we'll see, " replied Tom. 

That new bowler was something awful. He sent in the balls at such apace that they came on the wicket like battering-rams, and their twistwas so great that they would pitch about a mile off and appear to bewides, when all of a sudden they would spin in on a treacherous curve, right on to a fellow's leg-stump. John Hardy stood them well enough, blocking away with a calm sense of duty, and never attempting to strikeone. But poor Sidney lost his head in a very short time, and hittingout wildly at what he thought was a short ball, it rose right over theshoulder of his bat and carried off his bails in the neatest mannerpossible--two wickets for forty-one runs, as the captain had onlymanaged to put on three runs since that fiend in human form had come onto bowl. 

Of course there was a wild shout of victory from the Inimitables whenour best bat was disposed of, and corresponding woe in our camp, whichwas sympathisingly shared in by all the Little Peddlingtons around, andin the midst of the excitement I went to the wicket to fill the lamentedvacancy. 

"Mind, Jack, " said Sidney, who did not allow the sense of defeat toovercome his duty, "and be certain to play those balls well back. Itwas all through my stepping out to them that caused my collapse. Onlybe cautious and take things coolly, and you and Prester John will tirehim out. "

"Oh, yes, " sneered Charley Bates, whose temper had not been improved byhis getting out for five, when, in spite of his assurances of thesuperiority of our antagonists, he had looked forward to getting thehighest score against them, --"Oh, yes. Tire him out! Why, the chaphasn't got into the use of his arm yet. He'll send Jack Limpet's stumpsflying presently. But I shall laugh when Tom Atkins faces his balls!Our comic man won't have anything to joke about then, I'll warrant. "

He was a nasty fellow that Charley Bates! I don't know anything moreungenerous than to try and dishearten a fellow just when he is going tothe wicket, and knows what a responsibility he has resting on him! But, then, what can you expect from such a chap? I'm glad he got out forfive. I wish he had been bowled for nix. 

With these pleasant thoughts in my mind I walked leisurely up theground, from where I had been standing by the scoring tent watching thegame, and with an inward sinking at my heart faced the "Slogger, " as wehad christened our opponents' terrible bowler. 

For a couple of overs I got on very well. Acting on the captain'sadvice I stopped in my own ground, playing all the Slogger's ballscarefully back, and by this means managed to score two good leg hits inthe fourth over, that sent up six to my account, in addition to threesingles, which I had put on by careful watchfulness at first. 

Just then, however, Prester John made a hit for a wonder--a straightdrive for five; and fired with emulation I let out at the next ball Ireceived. Throwing all caution and the captain's commands to the winds, I did "let out with a vengeance, " as Tom Atkins said on my return to thetent, for I "let in" the ball, which, coming in with a swish, snapped myleg-stump in two, sending the pieces flying sky high in the air!

Three wickets for fifty-seven runs, two for byes; so far, the scoringwas not bad; but in a very short time Pelion was piled on Ossa in thehistory of our disasters. Prester John got run out through the absurdfolly of Tom Atkins, who stopped actually in mid-wicket to laugh at somenonsense or other that had at that moment flashed across the vision ofwhat he called his "mind;" and with his fall our chances sank rapidly tozero, wicket after wicket being taken without a run being scored, untilthe whole of us were out for a total still under sixty. 

It was maddening! But what annoyed John Hardy even more than that assTom Atkins having run him out was that the captain had never given youngJames Black any opportunity of showing his batting skill, as, beingpersuaded by Charley Bates, who pooh-poohed the youngster's abilities_in toto_, he had only sent him in as "last-man, " and Black hadn't, ofcourse, the chance of playing a ball. Sidney, however, promised toright the matter in our second innings, should our opponents give ustime to play one, and not occupy the wickets, as seemed very probable, for the two days over which the match could only extend: and with thispromise Prester John and his protege, young Jemmy Black, were fain to becontent. 

The three recruits we had engaged from amongst the visitors to join ourscratch eleven had, up to the present, done nothing to warrant ourcaptain's encomiums on their skill--at least in the batting line, whichthey had only essayed as yet; it remained to be proved whether they wereworth anything in the field; if not, then our chances of receiving ahollow licking were uncommonly bright, as Charley Bates pointed out withhis customary cheerful irony. 

Well, after luncheon, when we entertained them in the most hospitablemanner, as if we loved them instead of feeling sentiments the reverse ofamicable towards them, the Inimitables went in for their first innings;and the way they set to work scoring from the moment they commenced tohandle the bat, prognosticated that Charley Bates' evil surmise as toour defeat would be speedily realised. 

I think I have already hinted that I somewhat prided myself on mybowling, being celebrated amongst the members of the Little PeddlingtonCricket Club for sending in slows of such a judicious pitch that theygenerally got the man caught out who attempted to drive them, while, should he contemptuously block them, they had such an underhand twistthat they would invariably run into the wickets, although they mightn'tseem to have strength to go the distance? From this speciality of mineI was looked upon as a tower of strength in the bowling line to theclub; and, consequently, I and one of our visitor recruits, Tomkins byname, were intrusted with the ball at the first start. 

Tomkins bowled swift with a pretty fair pitch, and I bowled slow, deadon to the wicket every time; but the two men of the Inimitables whobegan the batting on their side-men who have gained almost a Europeanreputation in the handling of the willow, and I wouldn't like to hurttheir feelings by mentioning their names now--seemed to play with us asthey liked, hitting the ball to every part of the ground, and scoringthrees and fours, and even sixes, in the most demoralising mannerpossible. They hadn't been in a quarter of an hour when they passed ourmiserable total, amidst the cheers of their own party--in which thefickle Little Peddlingtonians now joined, and the blue looks of ourmen--and it appeared as if their scoring would, like Tennyson's brook, "go on for ever. "

"We must put a stop to this, " said Sidney, when seventy went up on thescoring-board, "and change the bowling, " which he did, by going onhimself at my end and putting one of the other visitors, who was alsosupposed to be a dab with the ball, in the place of Tomkins. 

For a time, this did a little good, as it stopped the rapidity of thescoring; but after an over or two, the batsmen, neither of whom had beenyet displaced, began putting up the runs again, even quicker than theyhad done with us; and the hundred was passed almost within the hour fromthe time they started. 

"By George, Limpet, " said the captain, calling me to him out of thefield, "you must go on again at the upper end, changing places with thatchap. Try a full pitch, and we'll catch that long-legged beggar out;he's so confident now that he would hit at anything. "

Going on again, as Sidney had directed, I tried a full-pitched ballafter a short delivery or two, and the "long-legged beggar" skied it, amidst the breathless suspense of our team. 

Unfortunately, however, no one was there to catch it when it fell to theground a long way beyond cover-point, and the Inimitables scored six forit--disgusting!

"That Atkins deserves to be expelled the club!" said the captain in arage. "He can't put on a bit of steam when it's necessary to use hislegs, although he could run Prester John out for a ball that wasn'tworth moving for. Play!" And the game went on again. 

Giving my opponent another brace of short balls to take him off hisguard, I watched my opportunity again and treated him again to a fullone, which he skied, as before, to the same point. 

This time, however, he did not escape scatheless. Young Black, whom Ihad strangely missed from his position at long-stop since I commenced tobowl the over, stepped out from beneath the shadow of the trees, wherehe had concealed himself in the meantime, and amidst the ringingplaudits, not only of our lot but of the spectators as well--who turnedround in our favour at the first breath of success--caught the ball withthe utmost _sangfroid_, sending it a moment afterwards spinning in theair triumphantly, in the true cricketonian manner, as an acknowledgmentof the feat and accompanying cheers. 

It wasn't much to brag of, getting out the long-limbed one, as it wasonly one wicket for one hundred and seventeen runs; but when the secondman went shortly after without increasing the score, our hopes began torise. They were hopes based on sand, however. The two newcomers beganmaking runs just like their predecessors, and completely mastered thebowling. 

Every member of the club had now been tried with the ball, besides thethree visitors, who certainly bowled fairly well, but nothinghysterically brilliant. Even Charley Bates had a turn, although I don'tbelieve he had ever hit the wicket in his life; and on his surrenderingthe ball, after presenting our opponents with three wides and any numberof byes, our captain was at his wits' end. He didn't know who he couldset on to bowl. 

"Try young Black, " suggested Hardy at this juncture, when we were havinga short interval of rest from our exhilarating game of leather-hunting, which had now been going on for two hours and more. 

"Young Black, indeed!" repeated Charley Bates with intense scorn. 

"Well, " said Prester John, "he can't possibly do worse than you. "

And the remark was so painfully true that even Charley could not but seethe point of it, and he said no more. 

On being called, Jemmy Black came up with a broad grin on his face, which looked exactly like one of those public-house signs you sometimessee in country villages, of "The Rising Sun, " or "The Sun in Splendour. "He was otherwise a dapper little fellow, although scarcely five feet inheight, and strongly built, his legs and arms being very muscular. 

He endeavoured to receive with proper gravity and dignity the ball fromSidney, who gave him a few words of appropriate advice, but he failedutterly in the attempt. That grin would not leave his face: it was asmuch a part of his physiognomy as his nose, I believe!

Little chap as he was, however, his advent produced a change at once. His first three overs were maidens, balls that were dead on to thewicket, and so true and ticklish that the Inimitable champions did notdare to play them. In the next, bang went one of the two stickers' leg-stump at young Black's first ball; with the second he caught and bowledthe fresh man who came in, before he scored at all--four wickets for ahundred and fifty runs, not one of which had been put on since he cameon to bowl. Things began to look up, or, at all events, did not appearin so sombre a light as they had done previously. 

"Bravo, Black!" resounded from every part of the field; but the littlefellow took no notice of the applause, beyond grinning more widely thanever, "his mouth stretching from ear to ear, " as Charley Bates said, green with envy and jealousy of the other's performance. 

The new bowler seemed to demoralise the batsmen even as they hadpreviously demoralised us, for I had a bit of luck a little further on, taking one wicket by a low-pitched ball, and getting another man outwith a catch; and then Black, as if he had been only playing with theInimitables hitherto, braced himself up to the struggle, and beganlaying the stumps low right and left. 

It was a wonder that such a small chap could send in the balls at theterrific speed he did, balls that set leg-guards and pads at defiance, and splintered one of the batsmen's spring-handled bats as if it hadbeen match wood; but he did it. 

His last over in that first innings of the Inimitables, however, was thecrowning point in his victorious career. With four consecutive balls hetook the four last wickets of our opponents, and sent them off theground without putting up a run--the whole eleven being out for onehundred and fifty-six runs--or not quite the century beyond us; and theprincipal feature of Black's triumph was, that from the moment hehandled the leather, the Inimitables only scored six to the good, butone run of which was off his bowling. 

I should like you to beat that analysis, if you can!

With the disposal of our antagonists so easily at the end, we began oursecond innings with more sanguine expectations than could have beenimagined from our previous prostration. 

"Black had better go in as first man along with you, Hardy, and see whathe can do, " our captain said. 

The two accordingly went to the wickets at the beginning of the innings;and there they remained without giving a single chance until theconclusion of the day's play, when the stumps were drawn at seveno'clock in the evening. 

Young Black had scored by that time no less than eighty off his own bat, and Hardy forty-one, after being in to their own cheek exactly as longas the Inimitables' whole innings lasted. It was glorious, one hundredand eighteen without the loss of a wicket, and the bowling and fieldingmust have been good, as there were only seven extras all that long whileour men had been in. Why, that placed us thirty-one runs to the good atthe close of the first day's play. Who would have thought it?

The next morning play began as punctually as on the first day, and thecrowd to witness the match was even greater than before, many coming nowwho had stayed away previously, expecting our wholesale defeat in oneinnings; and "young Ebony, " as Black was called affectionately, andPrester John resumed their places at the wickets amidst the tremendouscheering from the whole of the hamlet and twenty miles round. 

The bowlers of the Inimitables were on their metal now if they neverwere; but they bowled, and changed their bowling, in vain, for youngJemmy Black continued his brilliant hitting without any cessation, whilePrester John remained on the defensive, except some very safe balltempted him, until our score turned the two hundred in our secondinnings. 

Prester John here retired by reason of his placing a ball in short-slip's hands; but on our captain taking his place and facing Black, therun-getting went steadily on until we were considerably a hundred overour antagonists. Young Black had not given a chance, save one closeshave of a run out, when he got clean bowled for one hundred and fifty-one. Fancy that; and off such first-class bowling, too!

It was as much as Hardy and I could do to prevent him being torn inpieces by the excited spectators, who rushed in _en masse_ when heabandoned the wicket he had defended so well, his face all the timeexpanding into one huge grin, which appeared to convert it into allmouth and nothing else. 

Sidney and I, and one or two others, scored well, although nothing likewhat our two champion stickers had done; and the whole of our secondinnings terminated for two hundred and eighty-eight runs, thus leavingthe Inimitables no less than a hundred and ninety-one to get to tie us, and one more to win. I fancy that was something like a feather in thecap of the Little Peddlington Cricket Club, although it was all owing toyoung Jemmy Black, whose bowling, when the Inimitables went in to maketheir final effort, was on a par with his magnificent batting. We hadfinished our second innings just before lunch time; so immediately afterthat meal the great travelling team, who were going to do such wonderswhen they came to annihilate the Little Peddlingtonians--I can't helpcrowing a little now it is all over--went to the wickets to finish thematch, or spin it out, if they could, so that it might end in a draw. 

Young Black was all there, however, and so was I, too, for, whether byhis example or what, I know not, I never bowled so well before or sincein my life. Really, between us two, and the efficient assistance of ourfieldsmen, who seemed also spurred up to extra exertions, even CharleyBates and Tom Atkins distinguishing themselves for their quickness ofeye and fleetness of foot, the Piccadilly Inimitables got all put outlong before time was called, for the inglorious total of our own firstinnings--fifty-nine. Hurrah!

We had conquered by a hundred and thirty-two runs, and licked the mostcelebrated amateur club in England. It would be a vain task to try andrecount our delighted surprise, so I'll leave it alone. Thenceforwardthe rest of the chronicles of the Little Peddlington Cricket Club arethey not written in gold? At all events, I know this, that we neverforgot what happened to us in that ever-memorable match, with only "OurScratch Eleven. "