The Red Eric. Robert Michael Ballantyne
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there; for you must know that the sperm-whale has got a sort of ’ollow or big cavern in its ’ead, w’ich is full o’ the best oil, quite pure, that don’t need to be cleared, but is all ready to be baled out and stowed away in casks. Well, w’en the ’ole was cut in its skull I went down on my knees on the edge of it to peep in, when my knees they slipped on the blubber, and in I went ’ead-foremost, souse into the whale’s skull, and began to swim for life in the oil.
“Of course I began to roar for ’elp like a bull, and Rokens there, ’oo ’appened to be near, ’e let down the hend of a rope, but my ’ands was so slippy with oil I couldn’t ketch ’old of it; so ’e ’auls it up agin, and lets down a rope with a ’ook at the hend, and I got ’old of this and stuck it into the waistband o’ my trousers, and gave the word, ‘’Eave away, my ’earties;’ and sure enough so they did, and pulled me out in a trice. And that’s ’ow it was; and I lost a suit o’ clo’s, for nothing on ’arth would take the oil out, and I didn’t need to use pomatum for six months after.”
“No more you did,” cried Rokens, who had listened to the narrative with suppressed delight; “no more you did. I never see sich a glazed rat as you wos when you comed out o’ that hole, in all my life; an’ he wos jist like a eel; it wos all we could do to keep ’old on ’im, marm, he was so slippery.”
While the captain was laughing at the incident, and Rokens was narrating some of the minute details in the half-unwilling yet half-willing ears of the sisters, the door opened, and a young man entered hastily and apologised for being late.
“The fact is, Miss Dunning, had I not promised faithfully to come, I should not have made my appearance at all to-night.”
“Why, Glynn, what has kept you, lad?” interrupted the captain. “I thought you were a man of your word.”
“Ay, that’s the question, capting,” said Rokens, who evidently regarded the new arrival with no favourable feelings; “it’s always the way with them gentlemen sailors till they’re got into blue water and brought to their bearin’s.”
Mr Rokens had wisdom enough to give forth the last part of his speech in a muttered tone, for the youth was evidently a favourite with the captain, as was shown by the hearty manner in which he shook him by the hand.
“Messmates, this is Glynn Proctor, a friend o’ mine,” said Captain Dunning, in explanation: “he is going with us this voyage before the mast, so you’ll have to make the most of him as an equal to-night, for I intend to keep him in his proper place when afloat. He chooses to go as an ordinary seaman, against my advice, the scamp; so I’ll make him keep his head as low as the rest when aboard. You’ll to keep your time better, too, than you have done to-night, lad,” continued the captain, giving his young friend a slap on the shoulder. “What has detained you, eh?”
“Necessity, captain,” replied the youth, with a smile, as he sat down to table with an off-hand easy air that savoured of recklessness; “and I am prepared to state, upon oath if need be, that necessity is not ‘the mother of invention.’ If she had been, she would have enabled me to invent a way of escape from my persecutors in time to keep my promise to Miss Dunning.”
“Persecutors, Glynn!” exclaimed Martha; “to whom do you refer?”
“To the police of this good city.”
“Police!” echoed the captain, regarding his young friend seriously, while the doctor and the first mate and Tim Rokens listened in some surprise.
“Why, the fact is,” said Glynn, “that I have just escaped from the hands of the police, and if it had not been that I was obliged to make a very wide détour, in order to reach this house without being observed, I should have been here long ago.”
“Boy, boy, your hasty disposition will bring you into serious trouble one of these days,” said the captain, shaking his head. “What mischief have you been about?”
“Ay, there you go—it’s my usual fate,” cried Glynn, laughing. “If I chance to get into a scrape, you never think of inquiring whether it was my fault or my misfortune. This time, however, it was my misfortune, and if Miss Dunning will oblige me with a cup of tea, I’ll explain how it happened.
“Little more than two hours ago I left the ship to come here to tea, as I had promised to do. Nikel Sling, the long-legged cook you engaged this morning, went ashore with me. As we walked up the street together, I observed a big porter passing along with a heavy deal plank on his shoulder. The street was somewhat narrow and crowded at that part, and Sling had turned to look in at a shop-window just as the big fellow came up. The man shouted to my shipmate to get out o’ the way, but the noise in the street prevented him from hearing. Before I could turn to touch the cook’s arm, the fellow uttered an oath and ran the end of the plank against his head. Poor Sling was down in an instant. Before I well knew what I was about, I hit the porter between the eyes and down he went with a clatter, and the plank above him. In a moment three policemen had me by the collar. I tried to explain, but they wouldn’t listen. As I was being hurried away to the lock-up, it flashed across me that I should not only lose my tea and your pleasant society this evening, but be prevented from sailing to-morrow, so I gave a sudden twist, tripped up the man on my left, overturned the one on my right, and bolted.”
“They ran well, the rascals, and shouted like maniacs, but I got the start of ’em, dived down one street, up another, into a by-lane, over a back-garden wall, in at the back-door of a house and out at the front, took a round of two or three miles, and came in here from the west; and whatever other objections there may be to the whole proceeding, I cannot say that it has spoiled my appetite.”
“And so, sir,” said Captain Dunning, “you call this your ‘misfortune?’”
“Surely, captain,” said Glynn, putting down his cup and looking up in some surprise—“surely, you cannot blame me for punishing the rascal who behaved so brutally, without the slightest provocation, to my shipmate!”
“Hear, hear!” cried Rokens involuntarily.
“I do blame you, lad,” replied the captain seriously. “In the first place, you had no right to take the law into your own hands. In the second place, your knocking down the man did no good whatever to your shipmate; and in the third place, you’ve got yourself and me and the ship into a very unsatisfactory scrape.”
Rokens’ face, which had hitherto expressed approval of Glynn’s conduct, began to elongate as the captain went on in this strain; and the youth’s recklessness of manner altogether disappeared as inquired, “How so, captain? I have escaped, as you see; and poor Sling, of course, was not to blame, so he’ll be all safe aboard, and well, I hope, by this time.”
“There you’re mistaken, boy. They will have secured Sling and made him tell the name of his ship, and also the name of his pugnacious comrade.”
“And do you think he’d be so mean as to tell?” asked Glynn indignantly.
“You forget that the first act in this nice little melodrama was the knocking down of Sling, so that he could not know what happened after, and the police would not be so soft as to tell him why they wanted such information until after they had got it.”
Poor Glynn looked aghast, and Rokens was overwhelmed.
“It seems to me, I’d better go and see about this,” said Millons, rising and buttoning his coat with the air of a man who had business to transact and meant to transact it.
“Right, Millons,” answered the captain. “I’m sorry to break up our evening so soon, but we must get this man aboard by hook or crook as speedily as possible. You had better go too, doctor. Rokens and I will take care of this young scamp, who must be made a nigger of in order to be got on board, for his face, once seen by these sharp limbs of justice, is not likely soon to be forgotten.”
Glynn Proctor was indeed a youth whose personal appearance was calculated to make a lasting impression on most people. He was about eighteen years of age, but a strong, well-developed muscular frame, a firm mouth, a large chin, and an eagle eye, gave him the appearance of being much older. He was above