“One of two things,” I replied: “he was either a lunatic, or else never saw the ‘ocean wave.’ In the latter case, he was, at least, a fool.”
“That,” rejoined the captain, “reminds me of a certain Doctor—a friend of mine—who once took a voyage with me. He was much elated with the idea of going to sea, and, as we sailed from port, and he gazed out upon the endless expanse before us, he was perfectly enraptured. But, by and by, as we got out where it was a little rough, he became sea-sick—terribly so—and I found him aft, in a little while, hanging over the bulwark, and ready to turn inside out. O, wasn’t he sick! ‘Hallo, Doctor,’ said I; ‘not sick, I hope?’ ‘O, Lordy! yes,’ said he. ‘O, dear!’ Then I thought his stomach itself would come up. ‘What do you now think of the man who wrote, “A life on the ocean wave?” I was cruel enough to ask. ‘Think!’ said he. ‘I think—bawk!—think he was a d——d fool! Bawk! Bawk! O, Lordy, O!’”
CHAPTER XLII.
More of the Dreadful Sea.
WITH Thursday morning came an east wind: it was moderate, at first, but freshened up, and blew positively strong; the sky became heavily overcast with clouds, the rain fell—so did the mercury in the barometer—and there was every indication of an easterly gale.
Still, as night came on, and it had not yet amounted to a gale, the ship was kept running before the wind under her three lower top-sails, and we made pretty good time toward New York.
I retired that night not quite at ease, but still sufficiently so to rest well; and as the vessel was kept before the wind all night, and did not rock much, I didn’t tumble out of my berth, as one may reasonably expect to do when the vessel rolls heavily.
I am not in the habit of paying any attention to dreams, or of relating them; but one that visited me that night was so inexpressibly ludicrous, that I must “out with it.”
I dreamed that I, in company with a very black African, armed with an axe, was in a deep, thick wood in California, looking for a pole to make sled-soles of, when a big bear made his appearance, and immediately “went for” us. The darkey dropped the axe, sprung upon a stump near by, and squatted on the top of it, trembling with terror; but I, not being in a condition to retreat with speed, caught up the axe, threw down my crutch, balanced myself on my foot, and as the bear came on and reared up to hug me to death, I aimed a blow at his head. But it missed his head and cut off one of his fore-paws—a bear has four of them, you know—the blood spurting forth from the stump, in a way that was quite gratifying to me. He was not placed hors du combat, however, but persisted in his attack on me with extraordinary vigor. I aimed another blow at the seat of his intellect; but, singularly enough, missed it again, and cut off the other fore-paw. As I did so, the axe flew from my hands, and fell at the foot of a big tree, thirty feet distant. The bear, not yet discomfitted, growled savagely, showed his teeth, and came dancing at me, holding up his bloody stumps, as though still determined, even with them, to crush me. Finding myself unarmed, and without so much leisure time as to pick up my crutch, I turned about and made a hop toward the stump on which the darkey sat. The bear hopped after me. I had thought of climbing up on the stump, but the frightened darkey occupied all the space there; so I just kept on retreating round the stump, hopping as fast as I could, and close at my heel came the bloody bear, hopping, too, as fast as he could.
The whole picture, with the scared nigger on the stump in the center,—his thick lips mumbling unintelligible words of fright, and his white eyes starting out so that they could have been knocked off with a club, without touching his flat nose—was so unprecedentedly ludicrous, that terrified, as I fancied I was, I laughed outright, in the very midst of my visionary peril; and so awoke.
It was daylight; the roar of the agitated sea struck on my ear; the waves were dashing over the stern of the ship and rolling over the roof of the cabin; the winds were howling without; the ship was plunging and pitching, rising in the misty air and sinking into the depths among the waves: it was blowing a regular gale. I got up and was making my way toward the cabin door, when the captain entered.