Part 40 (2/2)

They had perceived the spar on the water, and hastened to secure the prize. They dragged us all in, gave us water, which appeared like nectar, and restored us to our fleeting senses. They made fast the boom, and towed it in-sh.o.r.e. We had not been ten minutes on our way, when Swinburne pointed to the fin of a large shark above the water.

”Look there, Mr Simple.” I shuddered, and made no answer; but I thanked G.o.d in my heart.

In two hours we were landed, but were too ill to walk. We were carried up to the hospital, bled, and put into cots. I had a brain fever which lasted six or seven days, during which O'Brien never left my bedside.

My head was shaved, all the skin came off my face like a mask, as well as off my back and shoulders. We were put into baths of brandy and water, and in three weeks were all recovered.

”That was but an unlucky schooner from beginning to end,” observed O'Brien, after I had narrated the events of my cruise. ”We had a bad beginning with her, and we had a bad ending. She's gone to the bottom, and the devil go with her; however, all's well that ends well, and Peter, you're worth a dozen dead men yet; but you occasion me a great deal of trouble and anxiety, that's the truth of it, and I doubt if I shall ever rear you, after all.”

I returned to my duty on board of the brig, which was now nearly ready for sea. One morning O'Brien came on board and said, ”Peter, I've a piece of news for you. Our gunner is appointed to the _Araxes_, and the admiral has given me a gunner's warrant for old Swinburne. Send for him on deck.”

Swinburne was summoned, and came rolling up the hatchway. ”Swinburne,”

said O'Brien, ”you have done your duty well, and you are now gunner of the _Rattlesnake_. Here is your warrant, and I've great pleasure in getting it for you.”

Swinburne turned the quid in his cheek, and then replied, ”May I be so bold as to ax, Captain O'Brien, whether I must wear one of them long tog, swallow-tailed coats--because if so, I'd prefer being a quarter-master?”

”A gunner may wear a jacket, Swinburne, if he likes: when you go on sh.o.r.e, you may bend the swallow-tail if you please.”

”Well, sir, then if that's the case, I'll take the warrant, because I know it will please the old woman.”

So saying, Swinburne hitched up his trowsers, and went down below. I may here observe, that Swinburne kept to his round jacket until our arrival in England, when the ”old woman,” his wife, who thought her dignity at stake, soon made him s.h.i.+p the swallow-tail; and after it was once on, Swinburne took a fancy to it himself, and always wore it, except when he was at sea.

The same evening, as I was coming with O'Brien from the governor's house, where I had dined, we pa.s.sed a building, lighted up. ”What can that be?” observed O'Brien: ”not a dignity ball--there is no music.”

Our curiosity induced us to enter, and we found it to be fitted up as a temporary chapel, filled with black and coloured people, who were ranged on the forms, and waiting for the preacher.

”It is a Methodist meeting,” said I to O'Brien.

”Never mind,” said he, ”let us hear what is going on.”

In a moment afterwards the pulpit was filled, not by a white man, as we had antic.i.p.ated, but by a tall negro. He was dressed in black, and his hair, which it was impossible to comb down straight, was plaited into fifty little tails, with lead tied at the end of them, like you sometimes see the mane of a horse: this produced a somewhat more clerical appearance. His throat was open, and collar laid back; the wristbands of his s.h.i.+rt very large and white, and he flourished a white cambric handkerchief.

”What a dandy he is!” whispered O'Brien.

I thought it almost too absurd, when he said he would take the liberty to praise G.o.d in the 17th hymn, and beg all the company to join chorus.

He then gave out the stanzas in the most strange p.r.o.nunciation.

”Gentle Jesus, G.o.d um lub,” etc.

When the hymn was finished, which was sung by the whole congregation, in most delightful discord--for every one chose his own key--he gave an extempore prayer, which was most unfortunately incomprehensible, and then commenced his discourse, which was on _Faith_. I shall omit the head and front of his offending, which would, perhaps, hardly be gratifying, although ludicrous. He reminded me of a monkey imitating a man; but what amused me most, was his finale, in which he told his audience that there could be no faith without charity. For a little while he descanted upon this generally, and at last became personal.

His words were, as well as I can recollect, nearly as follows:--

”And now you see, my dear bredren, how unpossible to go to heaven with all the faith in the world, without charity. Charity mean, give away.

Suppose you no give--you no ab charity; suppose you no ab charity--you no ab faith; suppose you no ab faith--you all go to h.e.l.l and be d.a.m.ned.

Now den, let me see if you ab charity. Here, you see, I come to save all your soul from h.e.l.l-fire; and h.e.l.l-fire dam hot, I can tell you.

Dere you all burn, like coal, till you turn white powder, and den burn on till you come black again: and so you go on, burn, burn, sometime white, sometime black, for ebber and ebber. The debil never allow Sangoree to cool tongue. No, no cocoa-nut milk--not a lilly drap of water; debil see you d.a.m.ned first. Suppose you ask, he poke um fire and laugh. Well, den, ab you charity? No, you ab not. You, Quashee, how you dare look me in the face? You keep shop--you sell egg--you sell yam--you sell pepper hot--but when you give to me? Eh! nebber, so help me G.o.d. Suppose you no send--you no ab charity, and you go to h.e.l.l.

You black Sambo,” continued he, pointing to a man in a corner, ”ab very fine boat, go out all day, catch fly-fish, bring um back, fry um, and sell for money: but when you send to me? not one little fish ebber find way to my mouth. What I tell you 'bout Peter and 'postles--all fishermen? good men; give 'way to poor. Sambo, you no ab charity; and 'spose you no repent this week, and send one very fine fish in plantain leaf, you go to h.e.l.l, and burn for ebber and ebber. Eh! so you will run away, Ma.s.sa Johnson,” cried he out to another, who was edging to the door; ”but you no run away from h.e.l.l-fire; when debil catch you he hold dam tight. You know you kill sheep and goat ebery day. You send bell ring all 'bout town for people to come buy; but when you send to me?

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