“You ought now to think of your sins,” continued his tormentor. “It is never too late to repent, you know; and I should earnestly advise you to confess all the injuries you have done your fellow-creatures by imposing upon their stomachs the villanous specimens of your cookery you have from time to time set before them. Confess upon what pipe-clay and train-oil system you made your puddings,—confess the abominable trash you put together to manufacture into soups;—confess how many you have poisoned with your atrocious cocoa—confess——”
It is possible that the young midshipman might have said much more, but Roly Poly, who had listened to his injunctions at first with astonishment, and next with rage, lost all consideration for his approaching dissolution, and his yellow eyeballs flashed with fury. “What de debble you mean you fellar!” thundered out the enraged cook, approaching his companion, who wisely kept out of arms’ reach. “What de debble you mean ob pipe-clay and train-oil? What you mean ob bominable trash—what you mean ob poison wid trocious cocoa? You mean to sult me, Sar? You tink I put up wid your imprance, Sar? You spose I low one man to peak sick horble tings o’ nodder man.”
“Man!” exclaimed the youth, as he edged away from his pursuer,—“You don’t call yourself a man, surely? You know you’re nothing else but an old blacking bottle, turned inside out.”
“Blacka bottle!” shouted Roly Poly, while his face became livid with rage, and he looked utter annihilation at his insulter, “Blacka bottle! I blacka bottle you, I catch you!” and he waddled after the midshipman as fast as his fat legs would carry him, intent upon vengeance.
Loop kept dodging him about from one place to another, saying the most aggravating things he could think of, till the perspiration rolled down the black cheeks of the infuriated cook, and he seemed completely exhausted by his exertions. Roly Poly sat down at the foot of one of the masts to rest himself, breathing all sorts of threatenings against his tormentor; while the young midshipman, laughing at the success of his trick, nimbly ascended the yards, and took up a position just over the head of the victim of his mischief. The latter was congratulating himself that he was left at peace, and was endeavouring to recover the tranquillity of his temper, when he became conscious of something dropping down upon him; putting his hand to his woolly head, he discovered it was being covered with pitch, and, looking up, beheld Master Loop snugly balanced aloft, amusing himself by pouring from an old bucket some of the fluid that had polluted his person.
It would be in vain attempting to delineate the passion of the fat cook at this discovery. Furious with rage, he caught up a small hand-spike that lay near, and poised it in his hand with the intention of throwing it at his tormentor. Loop saw what he was about to do, and immediately, as rapidly as possible, moved from his position, and kept changing from place to place, with a quickness that baffled the fat cook’s aim; but when he had ascended to a greater height, and was passing from one point to another with a velocity that seemed impossible to be imitated, his foot slipped, and with a scream that made all on deck aware of his danger, he fell headlong into the sea.
The Albatross was proceeding at a moderate rate, and was about fifty miles off the coast of Spain. Oriel Porphyry was conversing with Zabra on the quarter-deck, when he noticed the accident. He, with others, rushed to the side; and, observing where the boy descended, he immediately threw off his upper garments, and plunged into the waves. There was a strong sea running at the time, and it required the arm of a powerful swimmer to force a way through the heaving billows. Upon arriving at the surface, after his plunge, Oriel struck out for the spot where the midshipman had fallen, but saw nothing of the object of his search. He dived about in every direction; but was equally unsuccessful. Anxious to endeavour to save the youth while a possibility remained of his rescue, he continued his exertions; but he met with nothing that could in the slightest degree, assist him in his object. Not a trace of the boy was to be seen. Disappointed and weary, he was about returning to the ship, when he caught the sound of a faint, bubbling cry at no great distance from him, and turning his eyes in that direction, he thought he could distinguish something like a human head in the trough of an advancing wave. He swum rapidly in that direction; and as he approached, saw it disappear from the surface. Down he dived after it as rapidly as his skill would allow; but though he swept the waters, far and near, with his arms, he touched nothing but the cold salt water; and after remaining beneath the surface till his strength and breath were nearly exhausted, he arose, dispirited and faint, into the open air.
While the most painful reflections were created in his mind, by the unsuccessful result of his labours, he suddenly observed a dark substance rise within a few feet of him; he struck out towards it in a moment, and grasping it firmly with his hand, to his deep and inexpressible delight discovered it to be the body of the lost midshipman. His face was pallid, his skin cold, and as Oriel found that he made no reply to his hurried inquiries, he was much afraid that the boy was either dead, or was in a state nearly approaching dissolution.