Bob gave a self-satisfied grin, and proceeded. "Why, d'ye mind, I'd been fool enough to grease my heels from a hooker,—no matter whatsomever her name might be or where she sailed from, seeing as she carried a coach-whip at her main-truck and a rogue's yarn in her standing and running gear. But I was young and foolish, and my brains hadn't come to their proper growth; and one o' your land-sharks had got a grip o' me; and there I was a-capering ashore, and jumping about like a ring-tail monkey over a hot plantain; and so I brings up at the sign of the General Washingtub, and there used to be a lot of outrageous tarnation swankers meet there for a night's spree,—fellows as carried bright marlin'-spikes in their pockets for toothpicks, and what not, and sported Spanish dollars on their jackets for buttons. They belonged to a craft as laid in the harbour,—a reg'lar clipper, all legs and wings: she had a white cherry-bum for a figure-head; ounly there was a couple o' grease-horns sprouting out on the forehead, and she was as pretty a piece of timber upon the water as ever was modelled by the hand of the devil."
"Why, how do you know who moulded her frame, Bob?" inquired Jack provokingly. "It might have been some honest man's son, instead of the ould chap as you mentions. But if any one sees a beautiful hooker that's more beautifuller nor another, then she's logged down as the devil's own build, and rigged by the captain of the sweepers."
"Wharra you mean by dat, Massa Jack?" exclaimed Mungo Pearl, who held that honourable station, and felt his dignity offended by the allusion; "wharra you mean by dat, eh?"
"Just shut your black-hole," answered Jack with a knowing look; "don't the ould witches ride upon birch-brooms, and sweep through the air,—and arn't the devil their commander-in-chief? Well, then, in course he is captain o' the sweepers. But go along, Bob. I'll lay my allowance o' grog to-morrow she was painted black."
"Well, so she was, Jack," responded Martingal, "all but a narrow fiery red ribbon round her sides, as looked for all the world like a flash o' lightning darting out of a thunder-cloud; and her name was the In-fun-oh (Infernaux), but I'm d—d if there was any fun in the consarn arter all. Well, d'ye see, the hands were a jolly jovial set, with dollars as plentiful as boys' dumps, and they pitched 'em away at the lucky, and made all sneer again. The skipper was a civil-spoken gentleman, with a goodish-sized ugly figure-head of his own, one eye kivered over with a black patch, and the other summut like a stale mackerel's; but it never laid still, and was al'ays sluing round and round, 'cause it had to do double duty. Still he was a pleasantish sort of a chap, and had such a 'ticing way with him, that when he axed me to ship in the craft, I'm blow'd if I could say 'No,' though I felt summut dubersome about the consarn; and the more in regard of an ould tar telling me the black patch was all a sham, but he was obliged to kiver the eye up, 'cause it was a ball o' fire as looked like a glowing cinder in a fresh breeze. He'd sailed with him a voyage or two, and he swore that he had often seen the skipper clap his cigar under the false port and light it by his eye; and one night in a gale o' wind, when the binnacle-lamp couldn't be kept burning, he steered the ship a straight course by the compass from the brightness of his eye upon the card. Howsomever, I didn't much heed to all that 'ere, seeing as I knowed how to spin a tough yarn myself: and then there was the grog and the shiners, a sweet ship and civil dealing; and I'll just ax what's the use o' being nice about owners, as long as you do what's right and ship-shape? 'Still, messmate,' thinks I to myself, 'it's best not to be too much in a hurry;' so I backs and fills, just dropping with the tide of inclination, and now and then letting go the kedge o' contradiction to swing off from the shore; and at last I tould him 'I'd let him know next day.' Well, I goes to the ould tar as I mentioned afore, and I tells him all about it. 'Don't go for to sign articles in no such a craft as that 'ere,' says he in a moloncholy way.—'Why not?' says I, quite gleesome and careless, though there was a summut that comothered me all over when he spoke.—'I mustn't tell you,' says he; 'but take my advice, and never set foot on board a craft that arn't got no 'sponsible owners,' says he.—'You must tell me more nor that,' says I, 'or you may as well tell me nothing. You've been to sea in her, and are safe enough; why shouldn't I?'—'I advise you for your good,' says he again, all fatherlike and gently; 'you can do as you please. You talk of my safety,' and he looked cautiously round him; 'but it's the parsen as has done it for me.'—'Oh! I see how the land lies,' says I; 'you're a bit of a methodish, and so strained the yarns o' your conscience, 'cause you made a trip to the coast o' Guinea for black wool.'—He shook his head: 'Black wool, indeed,' says he; 'but no man as knows what I knows would ever lay hand to sheet home a topsel for a commander who ——' and he brought up his speech all standing.—'Who what?' axes I; but he wouldn't answer: and so, being a little hopstropulous in my mind, and willing to try the hooker, 'It's no matter,' says I, 'I'll have a shy at her if I loses my beaver. No man can expect to have the devil's luck and his own too.'—'That's it!' says he, starting out like a dogvane in a sudden puff.—'That's what?' axes I.—'The devil's luck!' says he: 'don't go for to ship in that craft. She's handsome to look at; but, like a painted scullerpar, or sea-poll-ker, or some such name, she's full o' dead men's bones.'—'Gammon!' says I boldly with my tongue, though I must own, shipmates, there was summut of a flusteration in my heart as made me rather timbersome; 'Gammon!' says I, 'what 'ud they do with such a cargo even in a slaver?'—'I sees you're wilful,' says he angrily; 'but log this down in your memory: if you do ship in that 'ere craft, you'll be d—d!'—'Then I'll be d—d if I don't:' says I, 'and so, ould crusty-gripes, here goes;' and away I started down to one of the keys just to take a look at her afore I entered woluntary; and there she lay snoozing as quiet as a cat on a hearth-rug, or a mouse in the caulker's oakum. Below, she was as black as the ace o' spades, and almost as sharp in the nose; but, aloft, her white tapering spars showed like a delicate lady's fingers in silk-net gloves——"
"Or holding a skein of silk," chimed in Sam Slick.
"Well, shipmates," continued Bob; "whilst I was taking a pretty long eye-drift over her hull and rigging, and casting my thoughts about the skipper, somebody taps me on the arm, and when I slued round, there he was himself, in properer personnee; and, 'Think o' the devil,' says I, 'and he's over your shoulder, saving your honour's presence, and I hopes no offence.' Well, I'm blessed but his eye—that's his onkivered one, messmates—twinkled and scaled over dark again, just for all the world like a revolving light, and 'Not no offence at all, my man,' says he; 'it's al'ays best to be plain-spoken in such consarns; we shall know one another better by-and-by. But how do you like the ship?'—'She's a sweet craft, your honour,' says I; 'and I should have no objection to a good berth on board her, provided we can come to reg'lar agreement.'—'We shall not quarrel, I dare say, my man,' says he, quite cool and insinivating; 'my people never grumble with their wages, and you see yourself they wants for nothing.'—'All well and good, your honour,' says I; 'and, to make short of the long of it, Bob Martingal's your own.' Well, his eye twinkled again, and there seemed to be such a heaving and setting just under the tails of his long togs, and a sort o' rustling down one leg of his trousers, that blow me if I could tell what to make on it; and 'I knew you'd be mine,' says he: 'we shall go to sea in the morning, so you'd better get your traps aboard as soon as possible.' Well, messmates, I bids him good morning; but, thinks I to myself, I'll just take a bit of a overhaul of the craft afore I brings my duds aboard; and so, jumping into a punt, a black fellow pulls me alongside, and away I goes on to the deck, and there the first person I seed was the skipper. How he came there was a puzzler, for d—the boat had left the key but our own since we parted a few minutes afore. 'And now, Bob,' says he, 'I suppose you are ready to sign.'—'All in good time, your honour,' says I. 'You're aboard afore me, but I'm blessed if I seed you come.'—'It warn't necessary you should,' says he; 'my boat travels quick, my man, and makes short miles.'—'All's the same for that, your honour,' says I, 'whether you man your barge or float off on the anchor-stock—it's all as one to Bob.'—'You're a 'cute lad,' says he, twinkling his eye, 'and must rise in the sarvice. Go below and visit your future shipmates.'—'Thanky, your honour,' says I, and down the hatchway I goes; and there were the messes, with fids o' roast beef and boiled yams in shining silver platters, with silver spoons, and bottles o' wine, all in grand style, as quite comflogisticated me; and 'What cheer—what cheer, shipmate?' says they; and then they axed me to take some grub with 'em, which in course I did. She'd a noble 'tween decks,—broad in the beam, with plenty o' room to swing hammocks; but, instead of finding ounly twenty hands, I'm blowed if there warn't more nor a hundred. So arter I'd had a good tuck-out, I goes on deck again and looks about me. She was a corvette, flush fore and aft, with a tier of port-holes, but ounly six guns mounted; and never even in a man-o'-war did I see everything so snug and neat. 'Well, your honour, I'm ready to sign articles,' says I.—'Very good,' says he; and down we goes into the cabin; and, my eyes! but there was a set-out,—gold candlesticks and lamps, and large silver figures, like young himps, and clear looking-glasses, and silk curtains, and handsome sofas; and there upon one on 'em sat a beautiful young creatur, with such a pair of large full eyes as blue as the sky, and white flaxen hair that hung like fleecy clouds about her forehead,—it made a fellow think of heaven and the angels: but she never smiled, shipmates,—there was a moloncholy about the lower part of her face as showed she warn't by no manner o' means happy; and whilst the skipper was getting the articles out of the locker, she motioned to me, but I couldn't make out what she meant. The skipper did, though; for he turned round in a fury, and stamped on the cabin deck as he lifted up the black patch, and a stream of light for all the world like the glow of a furnace through a chink in a dark night fell upon her. He had his back to me, so I couldn't make out where the light came from; but the poor young lady gave a skreek and fell backard on the sofa. Now, messmates, I'd obsarved that when he stamped with his foot that it warn't at all like a nat'ral human stamp, for it came down more like the hoof of a horse or a box; and thinks I to myself, 'I'm d—, Bob, but you're in for it now; the skipper must be a devil of a fellow to use such a lovely creatur arter that fashion.'—'You're right, my man,' says he, grinning like one o' them faces on the cat-head, 'he is a devil of a fellow.'—'I never spoke not never a word, your honour,' says I, thrown all aback by the concussion. 'No, but you thought it,' says he; 'don't trouble yourself to deny it: tell lies to everybody else, if you pleases, but it's no use selling 'em to me.'—'God forbid, your—' I was going to say 'honour,' but he stopped me with another stamp, and 'Never speak that name in my presence again,' says he; 'if you do, it ull be the worse for you. Come and sign the articles.' My eyes! shipmates, but I was in a pretty conflobergasticationment; there stood the skipper, with a bright steel pen in his hand as looked like a doctor's lanchet, and there close by his side, upon her beam-ends, laid that lovely young creatur, the sparkling jewels in her dress mocking the wretchedness of her countenance. 'Are you ready?' says he; and his onkivered eye rolled round and round, and seemed to send out sparks through the friction. 'Not exactly, your honour,' says I, 'for I carn't write, in regard o' my having sprained both ankles, and got a twist in my knee-joint when I warn't much higher than a quart pot.'—'That's a lie, Bob,' says he; and so it was, messmates, for I thought I must make some excuse to save time. 'Howsomever,' says he, 'you can make your mark.'—Thinks I so myself, 'I would pretty soon, my tight un, if I had you ashore.'—'I know it,' says he; 'but you're aboard now, and so you may either sign or not, just as it suits your fancy, my man; ounly understand this—if you don't sign, you shall be clapped in irons, and fed upon iron hoops and scupper-nails for the next six months, and I wish you a good disgestion.'—'Thanky, your honour,' says I; 'and what if I do sign?'—'Why then,' says he, 'you shall live like a fighting-cock, and have as much suction as the Prince of Whales.' Well, shipmates, I was just like the Yankee's schooner when she got jammed atwixt two winds, and so I thought there could be no very great damage in making a scratch or two upon a bit o' parchment; and 'All right, your honour,' says I; 'hand us over the pen: but your honour hasn't got not never an inkstand.'—'That's none o' your business,' says he; 'if you are resolved to sign, I'll find materials.'—'Very good,' says I; 'I'll just make my mark.'—'Hould up!' says he to the young lady; and she scringed all together in a heap, and shut her large blue eyes as she held up a beautiful white round arm, bare up to the shoulder: it looked as solid and as firm as a piece of marble stationery."
"Statuary, you mean," said Sam Slick, interrupting the narrative. "But I say, Bob, do you expect us to believe all this?"
"I believes every word on it," asserted Jemmy Ducks, who had been attentively listening, with his mouth wide open to catch all that was uttered: "what can you find onnat'ral or dubersome about it? The skipper was no doubt a black-hearted nigger."
"Nigger yousef, Massa Jemmy Ducks," exclaimed Mungo Pearl; "d—you black heart for twist 'em poultry neck."