Dogs -- Fiction; Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Seafaring life -- Fiction
"Mein Got, I have looked de forecastle, de quarter-deck, and de cabin--
he not anywhere."
"Overboard," replied Dick.
"I come to you, sir, to make inquiry," said the corporal.
"Turn out," said Dick, suiting the action to the words, and lighting
with his feet on the deck in his shirt.
While Short was dressing himself, the corporal summoned up all his
marines; and the noise occasioned by this turn out, and the conversation
overheard by those who were awake, soon gave the crew of the cutter to
understand that some accident had happened to their commander. Even
Smallbones had it whispered in his ear that Mr Vanslyperken had fallen
overboard, and he smiled as he lay in the dark, smarting with his
wounds, muttering to himself that Snarleyyow should soon follow his
master. By the time that Short was on the quarterdeck, Corporal Van
Spitter, who knew very well where to look for it, had, very much to the
disappointment of the crew found the body of Mr Vanslyperken, and the
marines had brought it aft to the cabin, and would have laid it on the
bed, had not Snarleyyow, who had no feeling in his composition,
positively denied its being put there.
Short came down and examined his superior officer.
"Is he dead," inquired the corporal with alarm.
"No," replied Short.
"Vat can it be then?" said the corporal.
"Stunned," replied Short.
"Mein Got! how could it happen?"
"Tumbled," replied Short.
"What shall we do, sir?" rejoined the corporal.
"Bed," replied Short, turning on his heel, and a minute after turning
into his hammock.
"Mein Got, the dog will not let him go to bed," exclaimed the corporal.
"Let's put him in," said one of the marines; "the dog won't bite his
master."
So the marines lifted up the still insensible Mr Vanslyperken, and
almost tossed him into his standing bed-place, right on the body of the
snarling dog, who, as soon as he could disengage himself from the
weight, revenged himself by making his teeth meet more than once through
the lantern cheek of his master, and then leaping off the bed, retreated
growling under the table.
"Well, you _are_ a nice dog," exclaimed one of the marines, looking
after Snarleyyow in his retreat.
Now, there was no medical assistance on board so small a vessel. Mr
Vanslyperken was allowed a small quantity of medicine, unguents,
etcetera; but these he always sold to an apothecary as soon as he had
procured them from the authorities. The teeth of the dog had, however,
their effect, and Mr Vanslyperken opened his eyes, and in a faint voice
cried, "Snarleyyow." Oh, if the dog had any spark of feeling, how must
he then have been stung with remorse at his ingratitude to so kind a
master! But he apparently showed none, at least report does not say
that any symptoms were manifest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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