Dogs -- Fiction; Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Seafaring life -- Fiction
"Yes, mynheer," replied the corporal, drawing the curtains of the bed;
and then quietly picking up the various articles on the floor, the table
and chairs which had been overturned.
Alas! fear is the mate of guilt. All this horrible visitation was
simply that Mr Vanslyperken had heard the corporal's tremendous
snoring, as he slept in the chair, and which his imagination had turned
into the words, "Mortal man." The first exclamation of Mr Vanslyperken
had awoke the corporal, who, aware of the impropriety of his situation,
had attempted to retreat; in so doing he had overturned the table and
chairs, with the bottles and glasses upon them.
Fearful of discovery upon this unexpected noise, he had hastened out of
the cabin, slammed the door, and waked up Snarleyyow; but he knew, from
the exclamations of Vanslyperken, that the lieutenant was frightened out
of his wits: so he very boldly returned with a candle to ascertain the
result of the disturbance, and was delighted to find that the lieutenant
was still under the delusion.
So soon as he had replaced everything, the corporal took a chair, and
finding that he had fortunately put the cork into the stone bottle
before he fell asleep, and that there was still one or two glasses in
it, he drank them off, and waited patiently for daylight. By this time
Vanslyperken was again asleep and snoring; so the corporal took away all
the broken fragments, put the things in order, and left the cabin.
When Vanslyperken awoke and rang his bell, Smallbones entered.
Vanslyperken got up, and finding the cabin as it was left the night
before, was more than ever persuaded that he had been supernaturally
visited. Fear made him quite civil to the lad, whose life he now
considered, as the ship's company did that of the dog's, it was quite
useless for him, at least, to attempt, and thus ends this chapter of
horrors.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.
IN WHICH THERE IS NOTHING VERY PARTICULAR OR VERY INTERESTING.
We must now change the scene for a short time, and introduce to our
readers a company assembled in the best inn which, at that time, was to
be found in the town of Cherbourg. The room in which they were
assembled was large in dimensions, but with a low ceiling--the windows
were diminutive, and gave but a subdued light, on account of the
vicinity of the houses opposite. The window-frames were small, and cut
diamond-wise; and in the centre of each of the panes was a round of
coarsely-painted glass. A narrow table ran nearly the length of the
room, and, at each end of it there was a large chimney, in both of which
logs of wood were burning cheerfully. What are now termed _chaises
longues_, were drawn to the sides of the table, or leaning against the
walls of the room, which were without ornament, and neatly coloured with
yellow ochre.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account