Omoo: Adventures in the South SeasMelville, Herman
General
Omoo: Adventures in the South Seas
Melville, Herman
Adventure stories; Polynesia -- Description and travel -- Fiction
This was going a little too far. The ferment, into which the cooper’s
poltroonery had thrown the sailors, now brooked no restraint; and one
of them—a young American who went by the name of Salem—dashed out from
among the rest, and fetching the cooper a blow that sent him humming
over toward the consul, flourished a naked sheath-knife in the air, and
burst forth with “I’m the little fellow that can answer your questions;
just put them to me once, counsellor.” But the “counsellor” had no more
questions to ask just then; for at the alarming apparition of Salem’s
knife, and the extraordinary effect produced upon Bungs, he had popped
his head down the companion-way, and was holding it there.
Upon the mate’s assuring him, however, that it was all over, he looked
up, quite flustered, if not frightened, but evidently determined to put
as fierce a face on the matter as practicable. Speaking sharply, he
warned all present to “look out”; and then repeated the question,
whether there was enough to eat aboard. Everyone now turned spokesman;
and he was assailed by a perfect hurricane of yells, in which the oaths
fell like hailstones.
“How’s this! what d’ye mean?” he cried, upon the first lull; “who told
you all to speak at once? Here, you man with the knife, you’ll be
putting someone’s eyes out yet; d’ye hear, you sir? You seem to have a
good deal to say, who are you, pray; where did you ship?”
“I’m nothing more nor a bloody beach-comber,” retorted Salem, stepping
forward piratically and eyeing him; “and if you want to know, I shipped
at the Islands about four months ago.”
“Only four months ago? And here you have more to say than men who have
been aboard the whole voyage;” and the consul made a dash at looking
furious, but failed. “Let me hear no more from you, sir. Where’s that
respectable, gray-headed man, the cooper? he’s the one to answer my
questions.”
“There’s no ’spectable, gray-headed men aboard,” returned Salem; “we’re
all a parcel of mutineers and pirates!”
All this time, the mate was holding his peace; and Wilson, now
completely abashed, and at a loss what to do, took him by the arm, and
walked across the deck. Returning to the cabin-scuttle, after a close
conversation, he abruptly addressed the sailors, without taking any
further notice of what had just happened.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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