Dogs -- Fiction; Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Seafaring life -- Fiction
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Snarley-yow, or The Dog Fiend, by Captain Marryat.
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"Snarley-yow", or "The Dog Fiend" was published in 1837, the eleventh
book to flow from Marryat's pen.
You could say that this book is a chronicle of the doings of various
hopeless people, who are constantly being unkind to one another, and in
particular, except for his owner, to the rather horrible dog. But no
matter what is put in hand to do the dog in, he always somehow seems to
survive, and to re-appear just as unattractive and nasty as ever.
That might be enough for the story, but in addition it is set in a
period of British history when the King was of Dutch origin, and so many
of his courtiers, and officials in general, also hailed from the
Netherlands. This meant that the naval vessel at the centre of the
story was travelling to and from the Netherlands a lot of the time,
which gave scope for various activities on the side, as it were.
Created as an eBook in 1998 by Nick Hodson, and reformatted in 2005.
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SNARLEY-YOW, OR THE DOG FIEND, BY CAPTAIN FREDERICK MARRYAT.
CHAPTER ONE.
INTRODUCTION OF DIVERS PARTIES AND A RED-HERRING.
It was in the month of January, 1699, that a one-masted vessel, with
black sides, was running along the coast near Beachy Head, at the rate
of about five miles per hour. The wind was from the northward and blew
keenly, the vessel was under easy sail, and the water was smooth. It
was now broad daylight, and the sun rose clear of clouds and vapour; but
he threw out light without heat. The upper parts of the spars, the
hammock rails, and the small iron guns which were mounted on the
vessel's decks, were covered with a white frost. The man at the helm
stood muffled up in a thick pea-jacket and mittens, which made his hands
appear as large as his feet. His nose was a pug of an intense bluish
red, one tint arising from the present cold, and the other from the
preventive checks which he had been so long accustomed to take to drive
out such an unpleasant intruder. His grizzled hair waved its locks
gently to the wind, and his face was distorted with an immoderate quid
of tobacco which protruded his right cheek. This personage was second
officer and steersman on board of the vessel, and his name was Obadiah
Coble. He had been baptised Obadiah about sixty years before; that is
to say, if he had been baptised at all. He stood so motionless at the
helm, that you might have imagined him to have been frozen there as he
stood, were it not that his eyes occasionally wandered from the compass
on the binnacle to the bows of the vessel, and that the breath from his
mouth, when it was thrown out into the clear frosty air, formed a smoke
like to that from the spout of a half-boiling tea-kettle.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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