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Old Tobacco Shop

<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> <h3>THE CABIN-BOY'S REVENGE</h3> It was a soft moonlight night in southern seas. Our party of adventurers, with Mr. Mizzen in their midst, were sitting quietly on the after part of the deck, enjoying the balmy air and watching the bright track which the full moon made on the water. The sea was very calm. There was only a light breeze, and The Sieve was hardly moving. Mr. Mizzen was scratching the head of Marmaduke the parrot, who was perched on the Able Seaman's wrist. From the forward part of the deck, where the skippers and mates were sitting in a party of their own, could be heard the tinkle of a guitar and the sound of a voice singing. "One always enjoys," said Mr. Punch, "a bit of singing by moonlight on the water. Hi remember when I was a lad—" "Why don't you sing for us yourself?" said Toby. "Oh, do!" cried several of the others. Mr. Punch looked down at the deck bashfully. "Hi should be wery glad to oblige," said he, "but I 'ave a slight cold, and besides, Hi only know one song." "What is the name of it?" said Aunt Amanda. "Kathleen Mavourneen," said Mr. Punch. "That's a very good song," said Aunt Amanda. "Sing it." "Wait a minute," said Mr. Mizzen, "and I'll get the guitar. I can play it."[Pg 94] While he was gone, and while the others were talking, Freddie felt a hand on his arm, and looking down saw the Cabin-boy sitting on the deck beside his chair, and winking up at him with a strange excited look on his face. The Cabin-boy pulled Freddie's head down, and whispered in his ear. "S-s-s-sh! K-k-keep your eyes o-o-ope-open! Something's going to happen to-to-tonight! You'll see! Down with M-m-mizzen and M-m-marmaduke!" Freddie gazed at the Cabin-boy in some alarm, and was about to ask a question, when Mr. Mizzen returned with the guitar. "Now we're ready," said he, taking his seat and putting Marmaduke on the rail of the ship. "Here's the chord. All right, Mr. Punch." "Hi really 'ave such a cold—" said Mr. Punch. "That's understood," said Toby. "Now then, strike up." Mr. Punch cleared his throat very loud, and coughed once or twice, and began to sing: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Kathleen Mavourneen, the gr'y dorn is bryking, The 'orn of the 'unter is 'eard on the 'ill." </div> </div> "Ha! ha! ha! ha!" roared Toby. "The 'orn of the 'unter! Blamed if I ever hear the like of that before! My stars! What's the matter, Mr. Punch, can't you put in a little 'h' now and then? The 'orn of the 'unter! Oh my stars! Ha! ha! ha! ha!" Mr. Punch was deeply offended. "Hit is quite sufficient," said he. "Hi shall sing no more." And nothing that anybody could say could induce him to go on. "Toby Littleback," said Aunt Amanda, "it's just like you, all over. Now you ask Mr. Punch's pardon, right this minute." Toby apologized, and Mr. Punch said that it was of no consequence whatever; but he would not sing.[Pg 95] "Then I guess you'll have to sing for us yourself, Mizzen," said Toby. "Right-o," said Mr. Mizzen, thrumming on his guitar. "What'll it be?" The Cabin-boy sniffed and spoke in an undertone close to Freddie's ear. "He'll be s-s-singing on the other s-s-side of his f-f-face before this night's o-o-over, you mark m-m-m-my wo-wo-words!" "Lady and gentlemen"—began Mr. Mizzen. "Ker-choo!" sneezed the parrot. "A wet sh-sh-sheet and a f-f-flowing s-s-s-sea! Three cheers f-f-for the—Ker-choo! Three cheers f-f-for hay f-f-fe-fever!" "Down with b-b-b-both of 'em!" whispered the Cabin-boy fiercely in Freddie's ear. "Suppose you sing us something about yourself," said Aunt Amanda. "Ay, ay, ma'am," said Mr. Mizzen; and after playing a few chords and quivers on the guitar, he began to sing, in a voice like a fog-horn muffled by a heavy fog, the following song concerning the <h4>LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF L. MIZZEN</h4> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "When I was a lad I was bad as I could be, Wouldn't say 'Thank you' nor 'Please,' not me, And at church I wouldn't kneel but only on one knee, And at school I wouldn't study my A B C, And I couldn't conscientious with the Golden Rule agree, Nor understand the secret of its popularitee, Nor get a ounce of pleasure from the Rule of Three,— I was bad right through; sweared 'hully gee,' And worse sometimes, like 'jiminee;' Scrawled with a pencil on my jographee,[Pg 96] Stole birds' eggs in the huckleberry tree,— Oh, I was bad; tried to learn a flea How to keep his balance on a rolling pea,— Oh, regular bad; and my ma, said she, 'If you don't be better than what you be, I'll put you in the cupboard and turn the key.' But I wouldn't and I wouldn't, no sirree, </div> <div class="stanza"> So I ran away to sea; Yes, I ran away to sea; </div> <div class="stanza"> With a little gingham, bottle of cambric tea, And a penny wrapped up in my hankerchee, </div> <div class="stanza"> For I wanted to be free, So I ran away to sea." </div> </div> Mr. Mizzen stopped, and looked towards the stern of the ship. "I thought," said he, "I kind of noticed something queer about the stern rail; looked as if it was lower. But I guess I'm mistaken." Everyone looked, but saw nothing amiss. The Cabin-boy tittered into Freddie's ear. "Would you like to hear the second verse?" said the Able Seaman. "Yes, yes! Go on!" said several voices at once. "Here goes, then," said Mr. Mizzen, thrumming on the guitar. "After I ran away to sea, I had a good many adventures, and some of 'em—anyway— <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "When I was young I followed the Equator From Pole to Pole in the ship Perambulator, A four-wheeled schooner, a smoky old freighter, Loaded with sulphur for an old dead crater In the Andes Mountains, and a night or two later With a three-knot gale blowing loud and rude As the dark grows darker and the gale increases[Pg 97] Of a sudden we strike and we goes all to pieces On the forty-seventh parallel of latitude. And then and there we formed a committee And went in a body up to London City And walked up the steps and pulled the little bell, And spoke out bold to the Lords of Creation Where they sat in their wigs making rules of navigation, And explained to 'em the dangers of the Deadly Parallel. 'Take 'em down and pull 'em in,' That's the way we did begin: ''Tisn't leaks nor 'tisn't whiskey Makes the sailor's life so risky, It's the parallel as lies acrost our track. It's the Deadly Parallel, lying there so long and black, Is the subject of our moderate petition; 'Tisn't much that we are wishin', But we humbly beg permission To implore,— Coil 'em up, we implore, where they won't be in the way, Out of sight, safe ashore, we humbly pray; For there's many a tidy bark Strikes against 'em in the dark And is never never heard of any more. So we'll thank you heartilee If so very kind you'll be And remove this awful danger from the sea.' But we couldn't make 'em do it; No, they simply wouldn't do it; And the bailiff shoved us gently from the door. And we wept uncommon salty,[Pg 98] For their reason did seem faulty, Any way that we could view it: And the reason which they gave us Why they really couldn't save us Was because the thing had ne'er been done before; No, such a thing had ne'er been done before." </div> </div> Mr. Mizzen stopped again, and looked along the deck and up at the masts, and said, "I can't get it out of my head that the deck is slanting a little more than usual; the ship doesn't seem to come up well at the stern. However,—would you like to hear any more of this song?" Everybody begged him to go on. The Cabin-boy plucked Freddie's sleeve. "I've done it. You'll s-s-s-see! Won't that M-m-marmaduke and that M-m-m-mizzen sing another tune when they f-f-f-find out?" Freddie looked at him in amazement; but the Able Seaman was commencing the third verse of his song: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "When I was older, and bold as you please, I shipped on the good ship Firkin of Cheese, For a v'yage of discovery in the far South Seas, To gather up a cargo of ambergris That grows in a cave on the amber trees Where the medicine men, all fine M.D.'s, For the sake of the usual medical fees, Crawl in by night on their hands and knees In a strictly ethical manner to seize The amber fruit that is used to grease The itching palm in Shekel's Disease,— On a long long v'yage, as busy as bees, Never stopping for a moment to take our ease, Never changing our course, except when the breeze Took to blowing to windward,—we had slipped by degrees[Pg 99] Down the oozy slopes of the Hebrides, And passed through the locks of the Florida Keys, Which in getting through was a rather tight squeeze, But danger is nothing to men like these, When suddenly the lookout, a Portuguese Who had better been below a-shelling peas, Shrieked out, 'They are coming! By twos and threes! On the starboard bow! We are lost!—" </div> </div> "We're lost! we're lost! we're lost!" came a terrible cry from the forward part of the ship, as if in echo of Mr. Mizzen's song. "We're lost! The dippers! The dippers!" Everyone jumped up, even Aunt Amanda. The Cabin-boy whispered in Freddie's ear, in great excitement, "N-n-n-now you'll s-see!" A man came running down the deck, followed by all the skippers and mates. As he halted before Mr. Mizzen, he was evidently the Cook, by the white cook's cap he wore on his head. He took off his cap and wiped his forehead with his hand. He was in a state of mixed alarm and anger. "We're lost!" he cried, and actually tore his hair with his hands. "It's that rascally Cabin-boy! The dippers is gone! Every last one of them! And the ship leakin' by the barrelful! Let me get at that boy once, and I'll learn him! Fryin' on a slow fire would be too good for him! Swore he'd get even, he did, and now he's gone and done it! Stole all the dippers—he's the one that done it, you can bet your last biscuit! There ain't a dipper left in the ship, and the water pourin' in by the barrelful! I just found it out, while them lazy skippers and mates was lying around doing nothing! Gimme one sea-cook for all the skippers[Pg 100] on the ocean, that's what I say! Every last dipper gone! gone! We're lost!" Everyone looked around for the Cabin-boy. He was nowhere to be seen, but his laugh was heard overhead, and his face was then seen looking down from the rigging just above. "I've d-d-d-done it," he cried, shrieking with laughter. "I'm even with you n-n-n-n-now! M-m-m-m-mizzen he l-l-l-learned the parrot to m-m-m-mock me, he did, and Cook he b-b-b-basted me in the g-g-g-galley all the t-t-t-t-time, and now I'm e-e-e-even with all of 'em. They ain't g-g-g-going to t-t-t-torment me no m-m-m-m-more! I stole the dippers and th-th-th-threw 'em overboard, every last one of 'em, and n-n-n-now you're g-g-g-going to s-s-sink, sink, si-i-ink, d-d-d-down, down, d-d-d-down, to the bottom of the—bottom of the s-s-s-sea!" He laughed louder than before, and the angry Cook sprang forward to climb up after him, but just then the ship gave a violent lurch backwards, nearly upsetting everyone, and settled down by the stern, so that that end of the boat was completely under water. Aunt Amanda screamed. Toby and Mr. Punch came to her at once and supported her on each side. There was a great hubbub. Everyone tried to speak at once. Freddie felt his hand grasped in the strong hand of Mr. Toby, and he began to feel somewhat less afraid. Over the hubbub could be heard the Cabin-boy's wild laugh. "Everybody quiet!" shouted Mr. Mizzen. "We must think what we had better do." "Yes, yes," cried a number of voices. "What are we going to do?" "I wish," said Mr. Mizzen, thoughtfully, "I wish we had thought to bring a rowboat with us." "What!" cried Aunt Amanda. "Do you mean to tell[Pg 101] me that you came away on this long journey without an extra boat?" "We didn't think of it," said Mr. Mizzen. "We had plenty of dippers, and we never thought of anybody's throwing them overboard." "No! no!" cried all the skippers and mates together. "We never thought of that!" "Then bring out the life-preservers at once!" said Aunt Amanda. "And be quick about it!" "We haven't any," said Mr. Mizzen. "What would have been the use of life-preservers if the dippers were all on board? We never thought we would need them." "No! no!" cried all the skippers and mates together. "We never thought of that!" "Then think of something now," said Aunt Amanda. "Don't you see the ship's settling deeper in the water?" The ship was in fact deeper in the water. It was sinking rapidly. The deck began to list so much towards the stern that it was difficult to stand on it. The ship was making no headway whatever. The breeze was even lighter than before, and the sails were hanging limp. It would have taken a stiff wind indeed to have moved that water-logged boat; and it lay as if moored to a float, going up and down heavily in the long swell. "Do you—er—think," said the Old Codger with the Wooden Leg, "that we are in—er—danger?" "Danger!" cried Aunt Amanda. "Something must be done! Are you going to let us drown without turning a hand?" "There's only one thing to do," said Mr. Mizzen, "and I don't know whether it will work or not; but we can try it. Boys, bring up all the mattresses from the cabins, and a coil of rope! Look alive, now!" The skippers and mates ran off in great haste and[Pg 102] disappeared down the hatchways. In a few minutes they had laid on the deck a great pile of mattresses. While this was being done, Aunt Amanda, whose bonnet and shawl had been brought to her by one of the men, tied her bonnet-strings under her chin and put her shawl about her shoulders, in readiness for departure. "Now then," said Mr. Mizzen, "lash the mattresses together." The men proved themselves very handy with ropes. With Mr. Mizzen's help, they lashed together securely a good number of the mattresses, and the first result of their work was a mattress raft some fifteen feet square, and some four or five feet thick. A supply of oil-cloth was found in the store-room, and this was bound by ropes all over and under and around the raft. "I don't know whether it will do," said Mr. Mizzen, "but anyway there's nothing else that will do. Now, lads, over the side with her!" All the men lent a hand, and the mattress raft was hoisted over the side and on to the water. To the satisfaction of everyone, it floated there quietly and easily, with its top well above the surface of the sea. "Lucky it's a smooth sea," said Mr. Mizzen. "We ought to be pleased with the state of the weather; couldn't be better; I feel quite joyful about it." "Oh, you do," said Aunt Amanda. "Well, I don't feel joyful about it. What next?" "Put the provisions aboard," said the Able Seaman; whereupon some of the men placed on the raft a small barrel of water and some tins of meat, soup, biscuit, and other things. "If you please," said Mr. Mizzen, when this had been done, "I think the passengers had better get aboard. When you're aboard, we'll make another raft for ourselves. Are you ready?" The passengers were helped aboard the raft, one[Pg 103] after another. Although the raft bobbed up and down on the swell, it was not a difficult matter for the men and the boy to get on, for it was held fast against the side of the ship at a point where it was about even with the deck-rail. Freddie gave a good spring, and was on in no time; Mr. Hanlon, who did not seem in the least uneasy, got aboard with the agility of a cat; there was no trouble with anyone except Aunt Amanda, whose lameness impeded her movements a good deal. As the Sly Old Fox, with his high silk hat on his head, was about to step over the side, he turned and said: "I feel it my duty, Mr. Mizzen, to register a complaint against the outrageous treatment to which we are being subjected. I submit under protest, sir; under protest. If I had for one moment imagined—" "Oh bosh," said Toby. "Push him over, Mizzen." And the Sly Old Fox was in fact somewhat rudely pushed over on to the raft. None of the others made any objection. Mr. Punch, who usually talked a good deal, was noticeably silent; and when Toby offered him a hand to help him over, he said stiffly: "Hi thank you sir, but I do not require any hassistance." When the Churchwarden took his seat in the middle of the raft, it went down alarmingly; but nothing happened, and when the Old Codger with the Wooden Leg was aboard, the party was complete. All the others sat around the Churchwarden, as close as they could huddle. It was evident that the raft would float them, at least until it should become water-logged, or a gale of wind should blow. The men on the ship now let go of the raft, and proceeded to lash together[Pg 104] the remaining mattresses for themselves. The raft floated quietly away from the ship. Aunt Amanda's arm was about Freddie. He did not feel, however, that he needed her protection. He had already forgotten his first alarm, and he was feeling most of all what an extraordinary adventure it was that had befallen him; the men from the ship would be nearby on the other rafts, the sea was calm, the air was warm, and they would probably be picked up by some vessel before the food gave out. He supposed there were very few boys who had ever sailed the open sea on a mattress. "Well, Freddie," said Mr. Toby, as the raft continued to float slowly away from the ship, "what do you think of this, eh? Have you got the map of Correction Island with you?" "Yes, sir, I have. It's in my pocket." "Good! Don't lose it. We may get to the Island after all, some day; you never can tell. By the way, Warden, have you got your Odour of Sanctity?" "Safe in my pocket," said the Churchwarden. "What about you? Have you got the Chinaman's head?" "What? Me? The Chinaman's head? Oh merciful fathers! I clean forgot it!" cried Toby. "Blamed if I didn't leave it in my room on the ship! Never thought about it once! If that don't beat all! What'll we do? We can't get back! We're floating away! Great jumping Joan! What'll we do?" "Well!" gasped Aunt Amanda. "Won't you never get a head on your shoulders, you Toby Littleback? Can't you never remember anything? I declare, Toby Littleback, you are the most addlepated, exasperating,—Oh dear, we'd better hail the ship, quick!" The party on the raft set up a loud cry, which was answered from the ship. "The Chinaman's head!" shouted Toby. "On the[Pg 105] dresser in my cabin! I forgot it! Run and get it! Quick! We're floating away!" "Ay, ay, sir!" came a voice from the ship. The company on the raft waited anxiously. In a very few moments, which seemed like a great many, a hail came from the side of the ship, and they could see the Cabin-boy standing at a point of the deck where it was now sloped high out of the water, and he was holding the Chinaman's head aloft in both hands, as if about to throw it towards the raft. "Don't throw it!" shouted Toby. "Tie a rope to it first!" But he was too late. The Cabin-boy raised the Chinaman's head higher, swinging his body sideways, and as a dark figure came up behind him and tried to seize his arm, he gave a mighty heave and toss, and sent the Chinaman's head flying through the air in the direction of the raft. For a second it glistened in the moonlight. In another second it descended towards the raft, and almost reached it; but not quite; it came down within five feet of it, and fell like a shot plump into the ocean. It splashed, and that was all. The Chinaman's head was gone. A wail went up from the company on the raft at this terrible disaster. How terrible it really was they did not even yet understand, but they were soon to learn. Freddie was almost ready to burst into tears. Aunt Amanda was so exasperated that she could scarcely speak. The others seemed to be stupefied. "Oh! oh! oh!" cried Aunt Amanda. "You Toby, you! Now you've done it for good. Why, why, why can't you never remember anything? It's your fault, and don't you never try to lay it to that Cabin-boy! And now what'll we do if we ever get separated from Mr. Mizzen? How'll we ever call him up to help[Pg 106] us out of trouble if we get into it? Here's a pretty kettle of fish, now ain't it? I hope and pray we can stick close to Mr. Mizzen until we're all safe and—" "Look there!" cried Mr. Punch. "Bless me heyes, what do I see? Look at the ship!" It was high time to look at the ship. No sooner had the Chinaman's head disappeared into the depths of the ocean, than a change began to come over the ship. It grew paler and thinner in the moonlight. The green shutters along the side faded away one by one. The dark hull became lighter; the sails grew so thin that at last the watchers could see the stars shining through them. The whole ship seemed to waver and dissolve into a pale mist. It did not sink; no, the bow was still high out of the water, and all the masts and sails were visible. It simply faded away where it stood. As it was becoming more and more vague, the voice of Marmaduke the parrot came across the water out of the rigging; a far-away voice, which grew fainter and fainter as the ship grew dimmer, until it died away as if in the distance. "Th-th-th-three ch-ch-cheers!" it said. "Th-th-th-three ch-ch-cheers for l-l-l-l-liver and onions—th-th-three ch-ch-cheers—l-l-l-liver—and—" As Marmaduke's voice died away, the ship dissolved like a pale ghost and vanished. The Sieve was gone. The party of adventurers sat on their mattress raft in the midst of the wide ocean, with never a ship to be seen; the long sea-swell rolled placidly over the place where their ship had been. They sat huddled together in silence around the Churchwarden, too horrified to speak a word. The moon glistened on the Sly Old Codger's high silk hat. <hr class="major" /> [Pg 107] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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