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Mother Carey's Chicken: Her Voyage to the Unknown Isle, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 11. How Jack Proved To Be An Impostor |
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_ CHAPTER ELEVEN. HOW JACK PROVED TO BE AN IMPOSTOR The damage could not be thoroughly ascertained, for a vast deal of mischief must have been done by the water poured into the hold, water which exercised the men's patience a good, deal before it was all cleared out; but the amount destroyed by fire when they worked down to the seat of the mishap was comparatively small, for the smouldering had produced a vast amount of smoke. One little matter which took place toward the next evening, when order was once more restored, the boats in their places, and everyone assured that there was no chance of a fresh outbreak, deserves recording. It was close upon dusk when, as Jimpny came slouching along the deck, he encountered the first-mate, and was about to turn aside; but Mr Gregory, who had been chatting with Mark, and patting Bruff, who had won the distinction of giving first warning of the fire, stopped him. "I'm rather rough sometimes with the men, Jimpny, and I have been particularly hard on you. I can't say a good word for you as a sailor, but you have saved this ship by coming aboard, and if Captain Strong--" "What about him?" said the captain. "Oh, I see; you were talking to Jimpny here. Ah! he has his strong points, you see, Gregory. I shall not forget what took place last night." "Don't talk about it, sir," said the stowaway in a shamefaced fashion. "Only too glad to have recollected about the matches." "Ah," said the mate; "and if you could only recollect the scoundrel who sent them, he should pay for the damage, eh, Captain Strong?" "Yes," said the captain; "it was a cruel trick, for the sake of saving a few pounds. But, as I said before, Jimpny, I shall not forget last night's work." "I thank you kindly, sir," said the man, "but I don't want nothing, only a chance to get on a bit." "And that," said the captain, "you have found." The damaged cargo was thrown overboard, the hold pumped dry, and exposed to the air as much as possible, and the risk they had all run began to be looked upon as a thing of the past. But there was one personage, if he could be so styled, who did not recover quite so quickly from the troubles of that night, and that was Jacko, who suffered so severely from the overpowering nature of the smoke in the hold that he became quite an invalid, and had to be brought up on deck by Billy Widgeon, and laid upon a wool mat in the sun. The poor animal was very ill, but his ludicrous aspect and caricature-like imitation of sick humanity excited laughter among passengers and men. He used to lie perfectly still, with his face contracted into comical wrinkles; but his eyes were bright and always on the move, while, if Bruff were away from his side for five minutes, he would begin to chatter uneasily, and then howl till the dog returned, to take hold of his arm, and pretend to bite him, ending by lying down and watching him with half-closed eyes. After a while Bruff would utter a remonstrant growl, for Jack would set to work trying to solve the problem why the dog's curly coat would not lie down smooth and straight; and in his efforts to produce that smoothness that he was accustomed to see upon his own skin, he sometimes tugged vigorously enough to cause pain. Mark was watching the pair one day, when Billy Widgeon came up. "Why don't he get better?" said Mark. "He ought to be all right by now." Billy Widgeon looked at the monkey, which seemed to be watching them both intently, and mysteriously drew Mark aside. "That there settles it, Mr Mark, sir," he said. "Settles what?" "'Bout his being so ill, sir. I see it all just then in his wicked old eyes." "I don't understand you, Billy." "Don't you? He's a-gammoning on us, sir." "Gammoning us?" "Yes, sir. That's his artfulness. He likes to be carried down to his snug warm bed, and carried up again, and set here in the sun, and being fed with figs and sweet biscuits and lumps of sugar. It's my 'pinion that he's as well as you and me." "No, no," said Mark. "I believe the poor thing is very ill." "I don't, sir, and if you'll let me, I'll cure him in a minute." "But you'd hurt him." "Well, sir, I might hurt his feelings, but I wouldn't hurt him nowheres else." "What will you do, then?" "Here, hold hard," said Billy in a whisper. "Don't talk so loud; he's a-watching of us." Mark glanced in the direction of the monkey, and sure enough the animal had drawn himself up a little, and was peering at them over the dog's back, as the latter lay down at full length in the sunshine. "That's his artfulness, Mr Mark, sir," whispered Billy. "I've had the keer of that there monkey ever since he come aboard, and have stood by him many's the time when the men was up to their larks, and wanted to make him pick up red-hot ha'pennies, and to give him pepper pills to eat. Why, there was one chap used to spend hours setting traps for him. What d'yer think he used to do?" "I don't know," replied Mark. "Well, I'll just tell you, sir: he used to shove a little thin old file through a cotton reel, and make a drill of it. You know what a drill is, sir?" "Yes, I've seen it used," said Mark; "worked to and fro with a steel bow and catgut." "That's him, sir; only my messmate hadn't no steel bow and no catgut, but he made hisself a sort of bow out of a bit o' cane and some string, and then he used to get a few nuts and stick 'em one at a time in a crack, and drill holes in the sides. When he'd done this, he used to sit o' nights and pick all the kernels out, a bit at a time, with a pin, just the same as you used to do with the periwinkles, sir." "That I never did," said Mark, laughing, as he seated himself outside the bulwark, and gazed down in the clear water while he listened. "Well, I used to, sir, and werry nice they is." "I daresay, but go on." "Well, sir, he used to pick all the kernels out, and when they was empty, fill 'em up with snuff, and plug the holes with a bit o' tar." "What for?" "That's just what I'm a-coming to, sir, only you keeps a-interrupting so. Then he used to put these here nuts full o' snuff in one pocket, and some good uns in the other, and wait till he see Jack. Fust time he did it, I didn't know there was any game on, and I see him give Jack a nut. He cracked it, and ate the kernel, and then my mate give him another, and he cracked and ate that, and held out his hand for more. This time he give him one full o' snuff, but Jack tasted the tar as stopped up the hole, and was too many for him. He wouldn't crack it, but chucked it away. I thought it was only a bad one, for I never smelt the snuff; but what does my mate do but begs a bit o' wheeling sacks o' the steward." "A bit of what?" said Mark. "Wheeling sacks, sir; what they fastens up letters with." "Oh, sealing wax," cried Mark. "Yes, sir, I said so--sealing wax, and stops up the holes with that. Jack didn't taste that, and first time he cracks one o' them bad uns he gets his mouth full o' snuff, and there he was a-coughing and sneezing for 'bout half an hour, while as soon as he see as it was a trick, he jumps on my back and bites me in the neck, and runs away to get up in the rigging and swear--oh my eye, but he did swear!" "Nonsense, Billy! a monkey can't swear." "But he did, sir. He went on calling us all the names he could lay his tongue to in monkey, and whenever my mate give him nuts again, he used to crack 'em on the deck with a marline-spike. Then my mate used to try it on with other tricks, but I wouldn't have it, and I've had no end o' rows with my messmates on account o' that little chap, for I've got to love him like a brother a'most--ah, more than you do your dog; but he's that howdacious artful that I get ashamed on him. He aren't got no more morals than a lobster, as would pinch his best friend's finger off as soon as look at him." "And Jack bites you, then, same as he would anyone else?" "More, sir; ever so much more. Why, I'm all over his bites." "And so you think he's shamming?" said Mark. "I'm sure of it, and I'm a-going to cure him." "What will you do?" "Well, I shall try him easy-like at first, sir, and if that don't do I shall try rope's end." "No, no, do it by kindness, Billy," said Mark. "Well, that would be kindness, sir. Monkey's only a monkey, but even a monkey ought to be taught to have some morals. You come along o' me." Mark leaped down, and followed the little sailor back to where Jack was lying watching them; and as soon as they reached the spot, Billy bent down, placed his hands upon his knees, and poured forth a stream of the most voluble vituperation ever invented by man. He called the monkey all the lazy, idle, good-for-nothing swabs, lubbers, and humbugs possible, while the effect was droll in the extreme. At first the little animal chattered at him, then he shook his head, then he grew angry, and at last curled himself up, covering his head with his long arms, and howled piteously. "That's a-touching of him up, sir," said Billy. "He knows it, you see. Why, you miserable little black-faced, bandy-legged sneak," he continued, addressing the monkey, "what's in my mind is to--" Woof! Billy Widgeon made a bound, and caught a rope, by whose help he swung himself up into the rigging. "Lay hold o' that dog, Mr Mark, sir," he cried. For Bruff, who had been lying down when this tirade began, slowly raised his head, then placed himself in a sitting posture, and ended by staring at Billy, till Jack gave a more piteous howl than any he had before uttered, when the dog gave vent to one low growling bark, and sprang at the sailor. "Ah!" said Billy, as soon as Bruff was quieted down, "you see he takes his part. Being a dog he don't know no better, sir. I must try another way." Billy slowly swung himself down, displaying wonderful muscular strength of arm as he did so, and beckoning Mark aside he continued: "I'm going to show you now, sir. Can you make your dog howl?" "Oh, yes, Billy, easily." "How will you do it?" "Shut him up somewhere, or chain him, and then call him. As soon as he finds he can't get to me, he'll make noise enough." "That's your sort," said Billy. "You bring him along, then." Mark called the dog, who leaped up and bounded to him, and five minutes later he was chained up under the main hatch and left, while Billy led the way back to the deck, and helped Mark up to a place of vantage, where they could see the monkey without being seen, and at the same time make the dog hear. "Now then, Mr Mark, sir. You call old Bruff." Mark obeyed, and there was a sharp bark in reply, then a volley of barks, a rattling of the chain, and, on the call being repeated, quite a howl. At the first bark Jack turned his head and listened, then, as the barking continued more angrily, he raised his head and looked in the direction from whence the sounds came. At the first howl he went upon his hands and knees, and uttered an uneasy kind of noise, but threw himself down again, and laid his head close to the deck, shuffling about uneasily. Then there was peace for a few moments. "Call him again, Mr Mark, sir," whispered Billy. Mark obeyed, and, leaning down, uttered the dog's name in a suppressed way, which sounded as if it came from a great distance. The result was a burst of barking, followed by a series of the most piteous howls, wild and prolonged, such as an animal might utter who was suffering from some terrible torture. "That'll fetch him," whispered Billy; and he seemed to be right, for, as the howling continued, Jack grew restless. He sat up, listened, threw himself down, turned over, then on the other side, and ended by bursting out into a fit of chattering, and going at full speed along the deck to the hatchway, down which he disappeared at a bound, old practice teaching him that he would drop upon the steps, and his experience being right. "Come along," said Billy chuckling. "I told you so, Mr Mark, sir; I told you so. I thought it was his games." Billy Widgeon took up the sheepskin rug, and carried it down below in the forecastle, while, when Bruff was let loose, and the two animals returned on deck, Jack walked slowly to his sunny corner, and stood staring about him as if unable to make out what it all meant, ending by lying down on the bare deck. But this did not seem to afford any satisfaction, and as if realising that his companion was quite well once more, Bruff charged at him, and rolled him over. Jack retaliated by getting hold of his curly coat with both hands, and making a playful bite at his neck, when the game went on, and for the next half-hour they were frisking and bounding about the deck till they were tired, and Bruff found a sunny spot for a nap, as Jack had sought refuge among the sails. _ |
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