“Vell, Mistre Johnson, dat is von very vondeful, vot you call it!” exclaimed Colonel Pinchard, who had joined us.
“A big, thundering bouncer!” cried a voice from behind the boatswain’s back. He turned sharply round, but did not discover the speaker. He shook his fist in that direction, however, with a comic expression in his eye, saying—
“Bouncer or no bouncer, mister whoever you are, I beg that you’ll understand clearly, that I will allow no man, whoever he may be, to labour under the misapprehension that I ever depart one tenth of a point from the strict line of truth; and that reminds me that I promised you, Mr Merry, and you, Mr Grey, to narrate an event which occurred during the next voyage I made. I wasn’t long in finding a ship, for the certificates with which the owners of the Diddleus had furnished me were highly satisfactory; in fact, merit like mine couldn’t, in those days, languish in obscurity; though, by the bye, I ought not exactly to sing my own praises; but when a man has a due consciousness of his own superior talents, the feeling will ooze out now and then, do all he can to conceal it. Things are altered now: merit’s claims are no longer allowed, or I should be living on shore now.” Mr Johnson pointed significantly at the Admiral’s pen.
“Ah! oui! I vonce read of von great man, Sinbad de Sailor, and von oder man, Captain Lemuel Gulliver. You vary like dem gentlemen,” observed Colonel Pinchard, with the politest of bows, to the boatswain.
“Sinbad! and Gulliver!” shouted the boatswain indignantly. “If there are two fellows whose names I hate more than others, they are those. Take them all in all, I consider them, without exception, the biggest liars who have ever lived; and if there is a character I detest more than another, it is that of a man who departs in the slightest degree from the truth; no one can longer have confidence in what he says: and, for my own part, I’d rather lose my right hand, and my head into the bargain, than have the shadow of a reason for supposing that the words I was uttering would run the remotest chance of not being implicitly believed.”
The boatswain’s eye kept rolling round on his auditory with a self-satisfied glance, and a twinkle withal, as much as to say, “You I care about understand me perfectly, and if there are any geese who don’t, they are welcome to swallow all they can digest.”
“Ah! I had just found a fresh ship. She was the Lady Stiggins, a fine brig, well armed, and bound round Cape Horn. We had a somewhat roving commission, and were first to touch out here at Jamaica, and one or two others of these gems of the tropics—these islands, full of sugar-candy and blackamoors.
“I was not at first a favourite with the crew, for not having had an opportunity of testing my qualifications, but having heard some of my veracious narratives, they were inclined to look upon me as an empty braggadocio, a character they very naturally despised; but I soon gave them reason to alter their opinion, when I was quickly raised to that position in their estimation which I ever after enjoyed.
“We were about a day’s sail from this same harbour of Port Royal, and were expecting to make the land next morning, when it fell calm. It was the hottest time of the year. The sun sent his rays down on our heads as if he were a furnace a few yards off, making the pitch in the seams of our decks bubble and squeak, like bacon in a frying-pan; and I remember that a basket of eggs in the cabin were hatched in a few minutes, and looking up from a book I was reading, I saw a whole brood of chickens and ducks squattering about the deck, not knowing where they’d come from, or what to do with themselves. The chickens, however, soon went to roost in a corner, for it was too hot to keep awake, and the ducks waddled up on deck, and were making the best of their way over the vessel’s side into the element in which they delight, when we turned them into a water-butt, which contented them mightily.
“But this was not the story I was going to tell you. Everyone on board felt like the ducks and chickens, overcome by the heat; so that at last, not considering the risk they ran, many of the men stripped off their clothes and jumped overboard.