CHAPTER III.
THE YARN OF THE YELLOW MAST--CUTTING HAMMOCKS.
"Yer see," said old Bluefish, lighting his pipe, "it all happened onboard the Big Thunder. She was a splendid East Indiaman, and I wascaptain onto her."
"Captain? YOU captain?" exclaimed Snollygoster. "Come now, MassaBluefish, dat won't do, you know. Dat am de--"
"Hold yer tongue, yer red-mouthed savage, and let me spin my yarnwithout a break in the thread! Yer see," continued Bluefish, "it allhappened on board the Big Thunder. I went to bed feelin' fu'st-rate. Itwas kinder calm, with a prospect of being more so 'an ever. When I wakesup in the mornin' I was somewhat taken aback at seein' that a new posthad sprung up in the cabin durin' the night. It ran straight up throughthe center of the cabin and was as yaller as a chaw of cavendish, whenit's pretty well chawed.
"Well, while I lay there, wondering at the cussed affair, the firstlieutenant, he comes roarin' down the companionway, thumpin' at my doorlike mad:
"'Come in!' I sings out.
"He dropped in, accordin' to orders, lookin' like the very Old Scratch,and inspectin' the new post of the cabin with curious eyes.
"'What's up?' says I.
"'Captain, does yer see this 'ere yaller post?" says he solemnly.
"'I does,' I replies.
"'Captain,' says he, 'this 'ere yaller post takes its root somewhere atthe keel and grows up higher than the peak of the mainmast. An' what'smore,' says he, 'it all growed up in one night.'
"'Ye'r' talkin' like a ravin', incomprehensible, idiotic fool,' says I.
"'It may seem so,' says the lieutenant, 'but come an' see for yourself.'
"This wasn't no more'n fair. So I gits into my duds, and goes on deck.Thar, sure as yer live, this 'ere yaller post run straight up betweenthe mizzenmast and the tiller, reachin' about forty feet higher than thetallest mast on board. All the crew were standin' round, gaping, andnudging each other, and lookin' kinder skeered, when I begins to takeobservations from a philosophic point of view."
"From a _what_?" interrupted Tony Trybrace. "Takin' observations, from aphil--phil--philly--_what_?"
"Avast, you lubber, and let me spin my yarn! If yer ain't got noedication, is it _my_ fault? If you was brought up outside o' college,am I to blame? Avast, I tell yer.
"Well, as I was a-sayin'. I begins to look at the thing kinder sharp. SoI takes a cutlass down from the mast, and begins to cut little chips offthe yaller mast. What do yer think came out o' that 'ere yaller mast?"
"Pitch," suggested one.
"Turpentine," said another.
"Old Jamaica," suggested Old Nick.
"Not a bit of it," resumed the narrator. "Nothin' longer, nor shorter,nor hotter, nor reddern'n BLOOD. That 'ere's what came out o' that 'ereyaller mast. Blood, and nothin' else!
"Well, all of 'em were sort o' dumb-foundered when they see'd the bloodflowin', and some on 'em was more skeery 'n ever. But I turns to 'em,an' says I:
"'Does yer notice how slow the ship is goin'?'
"And they says:
"'Yes, we does. She isn't makin' much o' any headway, though the breezeare a fair capful.'
"'Well,' says I, 'and doesn't yer know the reason why?'
"'Not a bit on it,' says they.
"'_It's because ye'r' towin' a sword-fish under yer keelson_,' says I.'He's pierced the craft in the night, an' this 'ere yaller mast ain'tnothin' short of his cussed nose.'
"Well, they were all taken aback at this, yer see, an' now began tocrowd up an' examine the thing. It was perfectly round, about two feetthrough, an' the eend of it was as taperin' an' sharp as a needle. Sureas yer live, it was all true. Well, it was a question what to do withthe thing. Most on 'em was in favor of goin' down inter the hold, andcuttin' off the snout, in order to let the thing float; for, as it was,if we should come anywhar whar the water was less'n fifteen fathoms, weshould be stranded by the cussed critter afoul of us.
"'Not at all,' says I. 'We don't git a good tough mast for nothin' everyday in the week, and I'm in favor of cuttin' clear of the fish on theoutside.'
"They were all kinder astonished at this 'ere, but I didn't give 'embreathin'-time, but says again:
"'Now which one on yer'll volunteer to dive under the keel with ahandsaw and cut loose from the varmint on the outside?'
"Would yer believe it, not one on 'em wanted to go. So I says:
"'If ye'r' all so pesky skeered, why, _I'll_ go myself. Carpenter, bringme yer handsaw, an' jist sharpen her up while I'm disrobin' my gracefulform.'
"So the carpenter brings his handsaw, with a piece of bacon-fat togrease her with, and, when I gits ondressed, overboard I goes with thesaw between my teeth. I dove right under the keel in a jiffy, and thar,sure enough, lays the sword-fish, with his nose hard up ag'in' thetimbers, and his body danglin' down through the brine about seventy-fivefeet.
"'What are you goin' ter do?' says he.
"Says _who_?" broke in Tony.
"Yas, Massa Bluefish, who was it says dat?" demanded Snollygoster, withan incredulous look on his ebony face.
"Why, the sword-fish, yer ignorant lubbers! Doesn't yer know that theytalk like lawyers when they git inter a scrape? I knowed a feller whatheerd one of 'em sing the Star Spangled Banner fit to kill.
"Well, as I was a-sayin', says he ter me, 'What air you goin' ter do?'
"'Ter saw yer loose from the ship,' I corresponded.
"'All right,' says he," only I'm afeard it'll hurt some.'
"'I shouldn't wonder if it do,' says I; and with that I grabs his nozzlean' begins to saw like sixty.
"The way that poor devil hollered and snorted and flopped was a cautionto seafarin' men. The men above water swore it sounded like ninety-threeearthquakes piled on to a bu'stin' big volcano, an' I reckon it did. ButI kept on sawin' and sawin', till at last the varmint dropped off, whilethe sea for 'bout ten miles round the ship became perfectly crimson withhis blood. He made a big bite at me, but I ducked about like a porpoise,and succeeded in reachin' the deck without a scratch.
"The varmint was bent on vengeance, and made his appearance with hismouth wide open--big enough to have swallered a seventy-four, without somuch as a toothache. But we fired a broadside of shrapnel and red-hotshot down his throat, an' he went off, waggin' his tail as if he didn'tlike it.
"Well, yer see, the blood all ran out of the yaller mast, and left ithard and dry. So I jist had a set of spars and sails rigged on to thething, an' we arrove into Southampton with four masts."
Bluefish knocked the ashes out of his pipe, from which we judged thathis yarn was brought to a close.
"Am dat all true, Massa Bluefish?" asked the innocent giant of asnollygoster.
"Every word on it," was the solemn rejoinder. "It was a thing asoccurred in my actual experience."
Singular to relate, some of us had our doubts on this subject.
It was now bedtime for those who were not on duty, and we prepared toturn in.
I was up to seamen's tricks, and examined the stays of my hammockcarefully before getting into it. I found them firm, and was about toturn in for a long snooze, when a crash in another corner of theforecastle told me that _some_ one had had the trick played on him, atleast.
The dim light of the lantern revealed the state of the case. DickyDrake's hammock-strings had been all but severed, and he, upon turningin, had come down on the floor with a hard head-bump.
"Who did that? Where is he? Show him to me!" exclaimed the verdantyouth, in a rage, plucking out his jack-knife and running through thelaughing crew like a wild man.
"It was a mighty mean thing!" Tony Trybrace opined, roaring withlaughter.
"Dat's so. I wonder who did it?" Snollygoster asked.
Every one else had some suggestion to make, but the doer of the deed wasnot found; and Dicky Drake swallowed his fury, reslung his hammock andturned in.
We were all tired and sleepy. I, at least, was soon in the arms ofMorpheus, dreaming of the land I had left, and of the bright eyes thatwould
look so long in vain for my return.
Barney Blake, the Boy Privateer; or, The Cruise of the Queer Fish Page 3