Page:Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/527

518 been singular,  for — after  sundry  modest  requests to be  excused  on  the  score  that  “the  gen’l’m’n wouldn’t care  nowt  for  his  old  tales” — the  follow- ing was the  one  he  favoured  us  with. I will not bother the  compositors  and  reader  by  attempting to preserve  the  old  fellow’s  peculiar  phraseology, but will  give  the  story  as  I heard  it  as  nearly  as  I can,  without  sacrificing  orthography,  or  making  any great breaches  in  Priscian’s  head,  or  a fool  of myself  by  a landsman’s  misuse  of  the  nautical lingo.

“In the  year  ’twenty-six,”  said  Chips,  “just when I was  out  of  my  time,  I took  it  into  my  head to go  whaling,  not  as  carpenter,  but  before  the mast. I shipped on  board  the  old, one  of Gale’s  of  Deptford. We took  in  some  Shetlanders at Lerwick,  as  whalers  mostly  do,  as  hardy  chaps as any  afloat; but  one  of  them  died  before  we’d left Ronas  Head  a month. He was  a strange, silent fellow,  that  was  always  looking  over  his shoulder in  the  forecastle  at  night,  as  if  he  expected to see  something. We chaffed  him  about  it  at first,  but  he  wasn’t  a safe  man  to  plague. His mates told  us  all  kinds  of  queer  yarns  about  him; that he’d  been  away  from  the  Islands  for  ever  so long,  and  that  nobody  knew  where  he’d  been  to. All that  he'd  say  was  that  he’d  been  in  the ‘Spanish sendee,’  and  some  made  out  that  that meant a slaver,  some  a pirate,  some  one  thing, some another; but  none  of  them  any  good. The Shetlanders don’t  mind  smuggling,  but  they  are quite a pious  people  in  the  main,  and  they  didn’t relish the  way  in  which  this  man  cursed  and  swore, and was  for  ever  sneering  at  the  kirk. He struck a minister one  day  when  he’d  got  the  horrors,  and the parson  had  gone  to  look  after  him; saying, ‘that he  didn’t  want  any  spies  about  his  bed.’ His eyes  were  staring  at  the  wall  on  one  side  of him,  as  if  some  one  was  standing  there. They said that  he  had  got  the  horrors; but,  as  I’ve  told you, he  had  always  that  frightened  look  in  the dark, even  when  he  was  quite  sober. Something bad was  on  his  mind,  that’s  very  certain.

“The day  he  died  he  was  queerer  than  ever, keeping out  of  the  way  of  everybody  as  much  as he  could,  rolling  his  eyes  about  like  a madman, talking to  himself,  and  as  pale  as  a sheet. You’d better turn  in,  Galt,’  the  doctor  said  to  him; and down he  went  without  a word,  and  presently  the doctor sent  him  some  stuff,  thinking  he  was  in  a fever. My bunk  was  next  to  his,  and  when  I turned  in  at  eight  bells  I could  hear  him  hissing through his  clenched  teeth,  just  as  if  he  was trying to  keep  in  a shriek. It was  much  such  a night  as  this,  only  there  was  a deal  more  ice  ranging about than  what  we’ve  seen. I soon fell  asleep, for we  had  been  making-off  blubber  all  day,  and  I had  got  quite  tired  .over  the  casks. I might have been asleep  about  a couple  of  hours,  when  I was  woke by a horrid  scream — as  if  a soul  was  just  dropping into the  lower  regions. I tumbled out  in  next  to no  time,  and  so  did  the  other  chaps,  and  we  all  came crowding round  Galt’s  berth. He was  squeezed up against  the  side  (we  could  see,  when  we  lifted up  the  lantern)  as  if  he  wanted  to  drive  his  back into the  wood,  and  was  striking  out  with  his  right hand clutched  as  if  he’d  got  a knife  in  it,  and  his left with  all  the  fingers  spread  out. His face  was a horrid sight. It was  as  white  and  as  wet  as  the side of  a chalk-pit,  and  his  eyes  were  regularly a-light with  rage  and  fear. I don’t know  which there was  most  of  in  them.

“ ‘Take her  off! take her  off! ’ he yelled,  when he saw  us. ‘ You won’t! won’t you,  you  villains? Then, confound  you! go to  blazes  with  me! I’ll haunt you,  and  sink  the  ship! ’

“And then  his  face  gave  a twitch  like  a devil trying to  laugh,  and  he  fell  over  on  it  dead,  with his arms  still  stiff. We could  hardly  get  them down by  his  sides  without  breaking  them. The next day  but  one  we  buried  him,  and — you  may believe me  or  not,  as  you  like — but  I can  tell  you that his  body  didn’t  drop  into  the  sea,  but  was dragged down  the  moment  he  touched  the  water.

“The first  slack  day  afterwards  the  skipper had his  chest  brought  up,  and  tried  to  sell  his things: but none  of  us  would  bid; so  the  skipper and the  doctor,  like  good  fellows,  bid  against  each other, to  get  a good  round  sum  for  his  old  mother, whom he'd  never  cared  about,  his  mates  told  us. We didn’t  bid,  because  we  didn’t  think  it  would be lucky  to  put  on  anything  that  such  a man  as he  had  worn; but  we  made  out  a list  of  what each of  us  would  give  to  the  old  girl,  and  gave  it to  the  skipper  to  be  stopped  out  of  our  pay.

“Nevertheless, after  that,  we  had  nothing  but misfortunes. Next to  no  fish  came  in  sight. Scarce one  of  those  that  did  come,  could  we  get near; and when  we  happened  to  strike  one,  the line was  sure  to  break. One of  the  boats,  too, went down  all  of  a sudden,  just  as  if  it  had  been swallowed. Galt was  haunting  us  sure  enough. We didn’t  see  anything  of  him,  however,  until the sun  set  for  good. We were  lying  then,  frozen up, in  a great  floe,  some  sixty  miles  N.W.  of  the Devil’s Thumb. We could  just  make  it  out  when the sun  dipped — not  to  come  up  again  for  weeks to come. There we  were,  fairly  shut  in  for  the whole winter. Well, we  were  sawing  out  a dock for the  ship  by  moonlight,  when  suddenly — the bears had  done  growling,  and  the  wolves  howling for a bit,  and  everything  except  the  grating  saws was still  as  death,  for  there  wasn’t  a breath  of wind  blowing — all  of  a sudden,  I say,  we  heard shrieks and  laughing. We knocked  off  work,  and ran aboard  in  a minute — we  were  so  scared; and when we  ventured  to  look  over  the  bulwarks, there, about  two  miles  off,  we  could  see  the  boat’s crew we  had  lost  rushing  through  the  mist,  as  big as giants,  and  Galt  after  them,  even  bigger, striking out  just  as  he  did  when  he  died.

“Another time,  we  made  out  some  water  a mile  off,  with  a whale  floundering  about  in  it,  as if  she  was  puzzled  how  to  get  out. We launched the boats  over  the  ice,  gave  chase,  and  killed  her, and towed  her  alongside  the  floe  to  flinch. We were glad  enough  of  the  crang  ourselves,  for  we had  been  on  short  allowance  for  a long  time. The bears and  the  wolves  and  the  blue  foxes  scented it, and  came  down  for  their  share. We drew  off a bit to  let  them  come  near,  and  then  let  fly  and killed a lot  of  them,  too,  for  food. We had  made quite a jolly  pile  of  provisions,  and  were  just about to  spear  an  old  shark — fried  shark  doesn’t taste unlike  fried  sole,  when  you’re  hungry — that I was bumping  the  whale  with  its  ugly  snout,  to