The Green Hand: Adventures of a Naval LieutenantCupples, George
General
The Green Hand: Adventures of a Naval Lieutenant
Cupples, George
Sea stories; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction; Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction
"At another time it wouldn't have cost me a thought to go head-foremost
after him, when I heard his young mistress exclaiming, 'Oh, poor dear
Tippoo will be drowned!' but recollecting our hungry green friend on the
other side, I jumped down for the end of a rope to slip myself quietly
alongside with. However, at the very moment, Tom, the man-o'-war's-man,
happening to come up from the forehatchway to throw something overboard,
and seeing Miss Hyde's cockatoo, off went his shoes and jacket at once,
and I heard the splash as he struck the water. I had scarce time to
think, either, before I saw Mick O'Hooney's red head shoot up on deck,
and heard him sing out, 'Man overboard, be the powers, boys! Folly my
lader! Hurroo!' and over he sprang. 'Here's dip,' said another, and in
half a minute every man that could swim was floundering in the smooth
water alongside, or his head showing as it came up--pitching the
cockatoo to each other, and all ready to enjoy their bathe; though, for
my part, I made but one spring to the ship's starboard quarter, to use
the only chance of saving the thoughtless fellows from a bloody fate to
some of them.
"I knew the shark would be cautious at first, on such a sudden to-do,
and I had marked his whereabouts while the men were well toward the
bows; and 'hang it,' thought I, seeing the old woman's fat pug in my
way, 'Dianny, or die all; I bear no malice, but you must go for it, my
beauty!' As quick as thought, I made one turn of marline round her nose,
took off the pork, and lashed her fast on to the hook all standing, in
spite of her squeaks; then twisted the lady's shawl round the chain for
a blind to it, and flung the whole right over the larboard quarter,
where I guessed the old fellow would be slewing round astern to have a
look out before he went fairly in chase. I watched the line sink slowly
with the weight over the gunwale for half a minute, afraid to let him
see my head, and trembling for fear I should hear a cry from one of the
men: when jerk went the rope clear of a belaying-pin as he ran off with
his bait. I took a quick turn to hook him smartly in the throat, and
then eased off again till the 'cleets' brought him up with a 'surge' fit
to have parted the line, had it not been good new inch-and-a-half
rope--though, as it was, the big Indiaman would soon have sheered
stern-round to the force of it, if he'd only pulled fair.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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