Dorymates: A Tale of the Fishing BanksMunroe, Kirk
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Dorymates: A Tale of the Fishing Banks
Munroe, Kirk
Newfoundland and Labrador -- Fiction
Just then, walking stiffly on account of his wounded leg, Wolfe came aft
in search of Breeze, and was filled with amazement at what he saw. For
once his ready tongue failed him, and he stood staring at the little
group in silence. He wondered what could have affected them so deeply,
and if they had ever met before, or whether he were not witnessing the
effects of a mild species of insanity, as exhibited by the stranger.
“At any rate,” he said to himself, “I’ll not interfere with them, for
Breeze seems to have a quieting way with the old gentleman, and maybe
hearing another strange voice might send him off again.”
All at once his attention was attracted by the sudden appearance of the
most uncouth and altogether peculiar human face he had ever seen. The
head to which it belonged had just been lifted cautiously above the
cabin companion-way, and the great eyes, which seemed to Wolfe to be
wholly white, were rolling wildly at the sight of the strangers. The
face was the color of black ashes, the flat nose expanded into a pair of
enormous nostrils, while the lips were of unusual thickness, even for a
full-blooded negro. This strange face was set off, and in a manner
overshadowed, by a pair of most remarkable ears. Not only were they
large, but they projected almost at right angles from the head, which
gave them the appearance of always being pricked forward with an air of
extreme attention or curiosity. Above and in front of these the head was
covered with a thick growth of kinky hair, which had been for so long
brushed, pulled, or otherwise trained forward that it surrounded the
face like a sort of a furry hood. On account of it some wag in the
far-away country from which this odd-looking individual came had called
him “Nimbus,” and this name had clung to him ever since. He was so short
as to be almost a dwarf, but his body was thick-set, and powerful enough
to belong to a giant. The length of his arms was extraordinary, and so
was the size of his feet, but his legs were so ridiculously short that
he waddled rather than walked. He was as strong as two ordinary strong
men, and at the same time he was tender-hearted, obliging, good-natured,
a fair sailor, and a capital cook. He was a Guinea negro, from the west
coast of Africa, but had passed the greater part of his life in the
galleys of sailing-vessels, and had thus visited most of the principal
ports of the world. He was fond of occasionally returning to his own
country, which he managed to do about once in every two or three years.
Such was the individual who now appeared at the top of the
companion-ladder, and exclaimed,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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