The Adventures of Peregrine PickleSmollett, T. (Tobias)
General
The Adventures of Peregrine Pickle
Smollett, T. (Tobias)
Adventure stories; Fiction; Picaresque literature
It was then that Peregrine, pretending to recollect himself a little,
ran, with all the marks of disturbance and affright, and called up the
servants to the assistance of their master, whom they found in a cold
sweat upon the floor, his features betokening horror and confusion.
Hatchway raised him up, and having comforted him with a cup of Nantz,
began to inquire into the cause of his disorder: but he could not
extract one word of answer from his friend, who, after a considerable
pause, during which he seemed to be wrapt in profound contemplation,
pronounced aloud, “By the Lord! Jack, you may say what you wool; but
I'll be d-- if it was not Davy Jones himself. I know him by his saucer
eyes, his three rows of teeth, his horns and tail, and the blue smoke
that came out of his nostrils. What does the blackguard hell's baby
want with me? I'm sure I never committed murder, except in the way of my
profession, nor wronged any man whatsomever since I first went to sea.”
This same Davy Jones, according to the mythology of sailors, is the
fiend that presides over all the evil spirits of the deep, and is
often seen in various shapes, perching among the rigging on the eve of
hurricanes, shipwrecks, and other disasters, to which a seafaring life
is exposed; warning the devoted wretch of death and woe. No wonder then
that Trunnion was disturbed by a supposed visit of this demon, which, in
his opinion, foreboded some dreadful calamity.
CHAPTER XIV.
He is also, by their device, engaged in an Adventure with the Exciseman,
who does not find his Account in his own Drollery.
Howsomever preposterous and unaccountable that passion may be which
prompts persons, otherwise generous and sympathizing, to afflict
and perplex their fellow-creatures, certain it is, our confederates
entertained such a large proportion of it, that not satisfied with the
pranks they had already played, they still persecuted the commodore
without ceasing. In the course of his own history, the particulars of
which he delighted to recount, he had often rehearsed an adventure of
deer-stealing, in which, during the unthinking impetuosity of his
youth, he had been unfortunately concerned. Far from succeeding in that
achievement, he and his associates had, it seems, been made prisoners,
after an obstinate engagement with the keepers, and carried before
a neighbouring justice of the peace, who used Trunnion with great
indignity, and with his companions committed him to jail.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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