‘Divil a bit do I fancy this work,’ said Terrence Mooney to one of his messmates; ‘it will bring bad luck upon the darling little brig, to have a man dangling by his neck up there, where blocks and ropes only belong. Arah, faith now, what was I after draining of the divil’s tail last night, if it wasn’t all for this yard arm business?’
‘And did’nt I drame too,’ continued Terence, after taking a turn or two between decks, where he was now watching the prisoners, ‘and did’nt I drame, too,’ said he, ‘that the brig run her nose into a water spout at say, and got rig’larly’ corned, a’ drinking salt water, and that she would have tumbled overboard intirely, but that Captain Channing kept all taut some how? Arab, divil a bit would I be after draining this if there was’nt something wrong.’
‘Don’t it all mane this hanging business, to be sure?’ put in his companion, who was the Irishman that joined the brig from the first prize.
‘It may be that, and so it is most like,’ continued Terence, ‘but I’ve had my misgivings, my boy, about lavin’ the ould woman, and not stopping to see her dacently buried, and put under ground.’
‘That was’nt jist rigular, Terence.’
‘And how could I help it at all; was’nt Captain Channing and the brig to sail that very hour that I agreed? to be sure I could’nt help it.’
‘It’s yourself that will be turning out a Jonah, and swallowing the whole of us,’ said his companion half seriously.
‘Way wid ye now,’ said Terence, ‘and don’t bother me.’
A solemn silence now reigned through the brig, which scarcely made a single foot of headway as she rose and fell gracefully in the long heavy swell of the Atlantic.—We have said that it was calm, aye, it was very still, for even the sea seemed as if holding its breath in anticipation of witnessing some unhallowed act. There was hardly a single sign of life manifested on board the Constance, save the sedate and quiet helmsman, or of death either, though to the observant eye resting upon that complicated yet graceful web of ropes and gear, a single whip was visible rigged to the fore yard arm. One end was led inboard, while the other ran along the yard through a block, and descended to the deck. This single rope thus disposed, told a story to the honest seamen, that led their countenances to express the sorrow, nay, almost fear, that we have alluded to. There was to be a fearful act accomplished, and they were to be the agents.
‘I do not like this business at all,’ said Capt. Channing to Lovell.