Dogs -- Fiction; Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Seafaring life -- Fiction
"Got for dam, dat is mutiny," muttered the corporal, who immediately
backed stern foremost down the hatchway, to report to his commandant the
state of affairs on deck. Mr Vanslyperken had already risen; he had
slept but one hour during the whole night, and that one hour was so
occupied with wild and fearful dreams that he awoke from his sleep
un-refreshed. He had dreamed that he was making every attempt to drown
Smallbones, but without effect, for, so soon as the lad was dead he came
to life again; he thought that Smallbones soul was incorporated in a
small animal something like a mouse, and that he had to dislodge it from
its tenement of clay; but as soon as he drove it from one part of the
body it would force its way back again into another; if he forced it out
by the mouth after incredible exertions, which made him perspire at
every pore, it would run back again into the ear; if forced from thence,
through the nostril, then in at the toe, or any other part; in short, he
laboured apparently in his dream for years, but without success. And
then the "change came o'er the spirit of his dream;" but still there was
analogy, for he was now trying to press his suit, which was now a liquid
in a phial, into the widow Vandersloosh, but in vain. He administered
it again and again, but it acted as an emetic, and she could not stomach
it, and then he found himself rejected by all--the widow kicked him,
Smallbones stamped upon him, even Snarleyyow flew at him and bit him; at
last, he fell with an enormous paving-stone round his neck, descending
into a horrible abyss head foremost, and, as he increased his velocity,
he awoke trembling and confused, and could sleep no more. This dream
was not one to put Mr Vanslyperken into good humour, and two severe
cuts on his cheek with the razor as he attempted to shave, for his hand
still trembled, had added to his discontent, when it was raised to its
climax by the entrance of Corporal Van Spitter, who made his report of
the mutinous conduct of the first officer. Never was Mr Vanslyperken
in such a tumult of rage; he pulled off some beaver from his hat to
staunch the blood, and wiping off the remainder of the lather, for he
put aside the operation of shaving till his hand was more steady, he
threw on his coat, and followed the corporal on deck, looked round with
a savage air, spied out the diminutive form of Jemmy Ducks, and desired
him to pipe "all hands to keel-haul."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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