Mardi, and a voyage thither, Vol. 1 (of 2)Melville, Herman
PhilosophyPhilosophy
Mardi, and a voyage thither, Vol. 1 (of 2)
Melville, Herman
Adventure stories; Polynesia -- Description and travel -- Fiction
At the Skyeman’s suggestion, we now proceeded to throw round the
brigantine’s head on the other tack. For until daylight we desired to
alter the vessel’s position as little as possible, fearful of coming
unawares upon reefs.
And here be it said, that for all his superstitious misgivings about
the brigantine; his imputing to her something equivalent to a purely
phantom-like nature, honest Jarl was nevertheless exceedingly downright
and practical in all hints and proceedings concerning her. Wherein, he
resembled my Right Reverend friend, Bishop Berkeley—truly, one of your
lords spiritual—who, metaphysically speaking, holding all objects to be
mere optical delusions, was, notwith- standing, extremely
matter-of-fact in all matters touching matter itself. Besides being
pervious to the points of pins, and possessing a palate capable of
appreciating plum-puddings:—which sentence reads off like a pattering
of hailstones.
Now, while we were employed bracing round the yards, whispering Jarl
must needs pester me again with his confounded suspicions of goblins on
board. He swore by the main-mast, that when the fore-yard swung round,
he had heard a half-stifled groan from that quarter; as if one of his
bugbears had been getting its aerial legs jammed. I laughed:—hinting
that goblins were incorporeal. Whereupon he besought me to ascend the
fore-rigging and test the matter for myself But here my mature judgment
got the better of my first crude opinion. I civilly declined. For
assuredly, there was still a possibility, that the fore-top might be
tenanted, and that too by living miscreants; and a pretty hap would be
mine, if, with hands full of rigging, and legs dangling in air, while
surmounting the oblique futtock- shrouds, some unseen arm should all at
once tumble me overboard. Therefore I held my peace; while Jarl went on
to declare, that with regard to the character of the brigantine, his
mind was now pretty fully made up;—she was an arrant impostor, a shade
of a ship, full of sailors’ ghosts, and before we knew where we were,
would dissolve in a supernatural squall, and leave us twain in the
water. In short, Jarl, the descendant of the superstitious old
Norsemen, was full of old Norse conceits, and all manner of Valhalla
marvels concerning the land of goblins and goblets. No wonder then,
that with this catastrophe in prospect, he again entreated me to quit
the ill-starred craft, carrying off nothing from her ghostly hull. But
I refused.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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