Page:Saturday Evening Gazette (June 7, 1856).pdf/7

Rh 

, May 26th, 1856. Messrs Editors—I send you for insertion in your journal, an an [sic] Enigma for solution by any of your numerous readers.

My whole is composed of twenty-three letters.

My 14, 15, 14, 13, 3, 13, 16, 11, 9, is the name of a distinguished Grecian warrior.

My 12, 11, 4, 18, 17, 21, 5, is the name of an ancient Venetian family.

My 4, 20, 13, 5, 20, 4, 20, is the name of a spirit.

My 19, 11, 21, 8, 4, 1, 23, 7, was an ancient seat of the Byron family.

My 6, 21, 14, 7, 22, 14, is the name of a college in England.

My 10, 11, 1, 2, is the name of an ancient nation.

My whole was the first exemplification of the power of the people in England. 2em


 * Remedy, is what we desire in case of sickness.

Upas, self preservation teaches us to avoid.

Hen, produces the egg, a favorite article of food.

Whew, is an expression of surprise.

Bride, is what every lady wishes to be.

Wake, is an institution peculiar to the Irish.

Die, is important to engravers.

Shriek, is advisable on the approach of a serpent. “Wake me up when Kirby dies,” was a favorite, and is now a well-remembered expression peculiar to the New York Bowery audience.

Boston, June 2, 1856.


 * Worth, is the best expression that can be found for true worth.

Thunder, is the expression of vengeful fate that is said to thunder through the sky.

Troth, is a plight that indiscreet people find themselves placed in.

Hinge, is a point on which great events and little always hinge.

Wrong, is a wrong that is deprecated by all right thinking men.

Tender, is what we all should wish a tender conscience to be.

Thong, is what a boy on behind sometimes gets.

Gourd, is what overshadowed Jonah.

Drought, is supposed to be detrimental to good crops.

The other, is the one we do not usually seek for.

Wound, is a wound that all are liable to feel.

Gin, is much admired in some circles.

Thought, is what was required in order to find our the whole which is “worth nothing when found.” Boston, June 2, 1856.

We enjoyed a pleasant ride after our ocean steed for some considerable time, but having no rein to check him with, we had to wait till exhausted nature compelled him to hold up. He at length came up only to find his enemies ready with the deadly lance to crimson his native element with his heart’s blood. As if stupifiedstupefied [sic], he lay motionless on the surface, giving us a chance to haul up to him; the mate, lance in hand, touched his vitals, and started him off, with the blood bursting in torrents from his spout-holes. But the fountains of life were too nearly exhausted to allow of much more travelling; it was evident from his motions that he was in his “flurry” (a term which whalemen apply to the last moments of the whale) and laying on our oars, at a safe distance we watched the dissolution of the monarch of the ocean. In mortal agony he rolled over and over, lashing the ocean into foam, and bringing his jaws together in such a peculiar manner that I rather felt as though I would not like to run the same risk that Jonah did.

The reservoir of life emptied of its last drop, he turned his head towards the sun, and with one convulsive tremor his huge body slowly rolled on its side, and he was ours. The birds of prey whose home is on the ocean, attracted by the scent of blood, gathered in myriads, awaiting the moment when stripped of its valuable covering, the carcass floats astern. The sharks, less polite than their feathered neighbors, and probably more voracious, (who ever saw a shark that wasn’t hungry?) go right in and bite large pieces out of the body as it lays along side. Occasionally one is brought to a sense of propriety by a blow from a spade, which severs his body in two.

Whilst we had thus successfully pursued our game, the second mate had been equally well engaged with another member of the school, so that when we began our triumphal march towards the ship, we had two leviathans in tow. Like most triumphal celebrations, the leaders got all the praise and profit, whilst Jack received more kicks than coppers.

The next process after making the whales fast to the ship, is to strip the blubber from the body; this is called “cutting in:” it is then cut in small pieces, and tried out. The process of taking care of a whale is so well known that I shall not here describe it, but pass on to other scenes. Whilst engaged one fine morning in the pleasant occupation of scrubbing decks, the mast-head sang out “Land Ho!” Just discernible, far ahead, lay New Zealand, a welcome sight to our sea-sick souls, and many were the telegraphic signals to the man at the wheel to steer straight. Our captain intended to touch here for fresh provisions, and being a little in doubt as to the exact location of Monganui, he signalled a small schooner which was coasting along to run down to us.

He bore away for us and had approached to within a quarter of a mile, when, as if seized with a sudden fear of the stars and stripes, he luffed up, and made off with all possible speed; our old man determined to have his information, and lowering a boat, soon gained his sides, and induced a seedy looking chap to pilot us in. This individual called himself the Police Magistrate, which I thought was quite an onerous station, there being only five families in the settlement, all English. We had just fairly got pointed to the bay when a second arrival took place; no less a personage that the head man of the place, whose situation under government was Captain of the Port. Stranger number No. 1, resigned his charge to this latter, and contented himself with a close scrutiny of the crew, for the purpose of identifying any diserter who might prefer the mountain air of New Zealand to the balmy breezes of the sea. The native crew who pulled the pilot aboard were just the ugliest looking devils I saw in the course of my travels; tatooed from “clew to earing,” and with perfectly diabolical features, they looked and acted the cannibal to perfection. They pretend to be civilized, but almost any body would hate to meet them in the woods at night, for even now they are fond of a tender leg or steak from the human body. In consideration of a head of tobacco, the old chief favored us with a war dance and song, which was decidedly wolfish; if Lucifer does not appoint this old heathen director of his orchestra when he leaves this vale of tears, it will be because he has no ear for music.

We had got within a convenient distance from the shore, when the order was given to get up the cable, preparatory to letting go the anchor; the men sprang with such unusual alacrity to execute this order that the suspicions of the captain were awakened, and he countermanded it. Fearful of losing his crew by desertion, he stood out to sea, and thus we lost our fresh provisions. At ten in the evening we were 50 miles from New Zealand. I was enjoying my watch fast in the embrace of Morpheus, when I was suddenly roused by the hoarse cry of “Larboard watch, ahoy!” It was not the usual time for calling the watch, and somewhat alarmed I rushed on deck, half dressed, expecting to find the ship ashore or in some other perilous situation. But a different occasion had called us out; three of the crew, disappointed in their hopes of obtaining liberty at Monganeri, had lowered a boat whilst the officers of the deck were aft, and disappeared in the darkness. The boat had been stove by a sperm whale a few days previous, and the hole, a foot in diameter, was stuffed with clothes. We lay back all night, and at daylight manned the masthead, and stood in towards the land. The mate with the glass soon discovered the boat, a mere speck on the horizon: all sail, even to studding sails, being made, we rapidly gained on them; the sympathies of the crew, almost to a man, were with the runaways. The helmsman evinced his by steering very wild, but the captain noticing him, sent a more pliant man to the wheel. We soon came up with them, and the captain valiantly took his stand on the bows, and threatened to shoot them if they did not heave too: with a boat full of water, and tired as they were, he was fearful they might yet escape him. But the poor devils were glad enough to get aboard again, their united exertions being barely sufficient to keep the boat from sinking.

We all suspected the punishment that awaited them; therefore it was with no feelings of surprise, but with hears boiling with indignation, that we saw the obedient thing who acted as our mate seize these three men up in the mizen rigging. All hands were called aft to witness punishment, whilst the captain, with a double piece of ratline stuff in his hand, walked up and down the deck, endeavoring to impress us with the idea that he was doing this with reluctance. His remarks being finished he, in the presence of thirty men, deliberately violated the law of the United States by flogging like dogs three men whose principal offence was attempting to escape from worse than African slavery. Many eyes were moist with tears, and many lips quivered with indignatinindignation [sic] to think that such scenes could be enacted under the American flag. After hanging in the rigging some little time, they were cut down, and sent forward with the consoling assurance that if this flogging made them sick they should have another one to cure them. Two of these men deserted at the Sandwich Islands, and the third came home in the ship remarkably well used for fear of his seeking redress at law.

These sketches of “our boarders” have become much sought after. People who have no particular interest in the parties personally, read them as sketches of character, while those to whom they are known—the boarders themselves, and visitors at our house, whom we may hereafter describe—live in them once more the old boarding-house days, with their remembrances of bread pudding and fish balls. There is a rod in pickle for the writer hereof, which one of “our boarders” is preparing, and which the readers of the Gazette shall have as a graceful close to the series. The writer pledges the gold pen with which he indites the sketches that it shall be printed in full, though if it transcend the strict limit of propriety, the writer has a remedy in a gutta percha cane that he shall use to the extent that the outrage demands, or, if the writer is absent, some chivalrous relative will do it for him.

Poor Elias R.! He was the harmonious spirit of our circle, with a fancy that he possessed a musical ability as great as Handel and Haydn. He was our authority in all matters of song, and, on the long evenings, as we were seated about the round table where Aunt Sarah, and Hannah, and Lizzie, were engaged at their work, it was the invariable rule that Elias should sing, and even now the old song of “Sparkling and Bright” is borne back to us on the breezes of memory. Its execution was of the harrowing description, and listeners were frozen to hear it, as at times sensitive people are frozen by the strains of hand organs in summer. But his song was stilled, and “sparking and bright” became obsolete in our house. Elias died young, and “made no sign.” The song that yet echoes in our ears is all that, to us, remains of him, save a dim recollection of harmlessness of character and a name without reproach.

A room-mate of Elias was little Silas—little Silas T., the printer, funny, fussy and full of frolic. His voice was heard the loudest in the mirth that at times shook the house. He was one of the “hards.” His antecedents were mischiefs that bore his own endorsement. He was a merry spirit; an embodiment of “Puck” that never was equalled. He led the boarders “up and down” in a weary manner. He was the dispeller of the blues at table, and made the late hours vocal with his song. Kind hearted, and generous to a fault, he had no enemy but himself. To himself, that fearful enemy, he sacrificed health, reputation, life! In our house, if we mistake not, the first teetotal temperance pledge in the country was framed. This was more than twenty years ago. It was an odd freak of our boarders that they would forego their drops. It was a rash resolve; but the pledge was made and duly signed, binding nine thirsty individuals to six months abstinence from alcoholic stimulants. But all were confident that it could be done, and the pledge was paraded, with its nine immortal signatures, upon the mantel-piece to strengthen wavering resolution and remind its signers, daily, of their solemn promise. The first week passed very well. The second, the tempter was at work, and it was easy to see that the chain that bound the boarders was not a chain of flowers. It chafed them. But a month was endured, when one day Silas, with a roguish twinkle in his eye, drew the pledge gently towards the edge of the mantel shelf on which it reposed; it balanced a moment and then fell down into the flue draft and became ashes. Then arose a question of principle among the tuneful nine: was their pledge nothing? Had its force ceased with its external form, or was it still a spiritual entity and still binding upon them. The burnt pledge, it was contended, nullified the promise, and seven of the immortal nine sustained this position. The two who refused to back out of their pledge still live, and are temperate men. One of them is worth money and the other isn’t—entirely the result of their temperance. There is a painful memory here of a Thanksgiving pudding lost to those two unfortunates, through a consciousness of wine in the sauce, but let it pass now, as it did then.

Silas became a soldier, and served his country in Mexico, as a Massachusetts volunteer, and subsequently was lost in a vessel bound to Tampico. His memory is mainly pleasant, dashed by a regret for habits that degraded his excellent nature to the dust, and dimmed the manly attributes that would have made him superior. Peace to his manes!

—Hatred is so durable and so obstinate, that reconciliation on a sick-bed is the greatest sign of death. A wise man will desire no more than what he may get justly, use soberly, distribute cheerfully, and live contentedly. The best way to humble a proud man is to take no notice of him. Revenge stops at nothing that is violent and wicked. The histories of all ages are full of the outrages that have been executed by this diabolical passion. Censure is the tax a man pays the public for being eminent. Men repent speaking ten times for once that they repent keeping silence.