An Old Sailor's Yarns Part 11

Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo--without his roe, like a dried herring. O flesh, flesh! how art thou fishified!

ROMEO AND JULIET.

Upon his return to his dear native town, Morton was received by his father with his usual quiet affection; for old Mr. Morton was one of that nearly obsolete school of parents, husbands, and members of society, that do not think their duties in either relation require any sounding of trumpets, and who are of opinion that those who feel most deeply and sincerely religion, Christian charity, or human affections, are generally people who seldom make any parade of either. This sect seems to be very nearly extinct, or at least their leading principles, I have been told, are exploded from the creeds of modern saints; but as my acquaintance with modern saints is, thank G.o.d, very limited, I cannot vouch for the fact.

It was not long after Morton's return, when the young people of his own age and standing began to perceive an alteration in his manners, and that he, who was a leader in their gay parties, was now a moping, stupid, silent, dull creature, without any of his former animation and gaiety. The young ladies took it for granted that he was in love; and as it was evident that he was not in love with any of them, why of course some nymph in the Pacific had stolen his heart; and as, moreover, they had no idea of the existence in that remote and unknown quarter of creation of any females more fascinating than the amphibious and lascivious damsels of the Sandwich Islands, (to convert whom from the error of their ways, more missionaries have been sent out, or volunteered their services, than to all the rest of the "poor ignorant heathen" put together,) or the ladies of the North West Coast, who smell too strong of train-oil to comprehend the truths of Christianity, or rather of Calvanism, which is altogether another affair, and who are in consequence left in their original and antediluvian darkness.

Impressed with this idea, and feeling both grieved and mortified that so excellent a young gentleman as Charles Morton should give himself up to such an absurd and, in their estimation, unnatural pa.s.sion, the young ladies of New Bedford determined to tease him out of it; much upon the same principle as the Roman emperors endeavored to suppress the Christian religion by exposing its professors to wild beasts: the wild beasts grew fat upon Christians, and Christianity grew fat and strong upon persecution. Perhaps if the diademed tyrants had treated it with indifference, the effects would have been otherwise.

Whenever poor Morton was met in company, he was always the object of ridicule to these lively and well-meaning young ladies.

"Pray, Charles, do tell us something about this lady-love of yours; what's her complexion?"

"How much train-oil does she drink in the course of a day?" said another.

"Or how much raw shark serves her for a meal?" asked a third.

"Does she wear a spritsail-yard through the gristle of her nose?" said a fourth.

"Or a bra.s.s ring in her under lip?" said a fifth.

"Is she tattooed on both cheeks, or only on one?" said a sixth.

Such was the peculiar style of banter to which he was sure to be subjected, whenever he went into company; and in a short time he abstained from visits, and devoted his time to perfecting himself in his nautical studies, and making diligent inquiries after vessels bound round Cape Horn. If ever you noticed it, madam, a man in love does not relish jokes at the expense of his idol. "Ne lude c.u.m sacris,"

ecclesiastically rendered, signifies, do not make fun of the clergy; but among lovers it means, do not speak of my love with levity or contempt.

I remember when I was in love for the third or fourth time--I was then studying trigonometry and navigation--my pa.s.sion being unable to expend itself in sonnets to my mistress's eyebrow, I gave way to geometrical flights of fancy, and took the alt.i.tude of every apple-tree and well-pole in the neighborhood, and made my advances to _her_ upon the principles of traverse sailing.

Nor was old Mr. Morton unconscious of the great alteration in his son's behaviour while at home, so unlike any thing he had ever observed before in him, and he saw the change with no small pain.

"The poor boy cannot have fallen in love," said the senior to himself; "there is nothing more amiable than a copper-colored squaw, beyond Cape Horn."

One Sat.u.r.day evening, the old man, being comfortably installed in his leather-cushioned arm-chair, with his pipe and pitcher of cider (for merchants, forty years since, drank cider at a dollar the barrel, instead of London particular Madeira at five dollars the gallon, and the consequences were--no matter what), commenced the conversation:

"Ahem! well, Charles, my son, do you intend going to sea again, or would you prefer commencing business ash.o.r.e? You are now at the age when most young men think of settling down for life. Let's see--you are five-and-twenty, are you not?"

"Five-and-twenty next month, father."

"Aye, true; well, it's strange, now I can never recollect your age without looking into the bible there. I recollect, now, it was so stormy that we did not dare to carry you to the meeting-house, and so Parson Fales christened you in this very room."

"I wish," said Charles, speaking with difficulty, "I wish, my dear sir, to make one more voyage round the Cape as soon as possible, and then I don't care if I never see a ship again."

"Well, that's strange enough; why, what have you seen in that part of the world so very enticing?"

"Enticing, indeed!" said the young man, springing from his chair, and hurrying across the room in agitation; "something that I must possess, or die!"

"Why, what a plague--why, what's got into the boy?" said the old gentleman, dashing down his pipe; "you haven't got be-devilled after those island girls, like a young fellow that I knew from Boston, who got so bewitched after the copper-skinned, amphibious jades, that his father was finally obliged to locate him there, as a sort of agent."

"O! no, no, no! she is as white as my own mother, well born, well educated, and a Protestant," said the son, hurrying his words upon each other; for he felt that the ice was broken, and saw the old gentleman's countenance lengthening fast; "oh, father, if you could but see her--if you but knew her--"

"Hum," quoth pa, "I dare say that sixty and twenty-five would agree to a charm on such a subject; but pray, how the deuce came this well born, well educated, white, protestant damsel in the Pacific, where the devil himself would never dream of looking for such a phenomenon?"

"It is a long story," said Charles.

"If that's the case," said the senior Mr. Morton, "you had better step down cellar, and draw another mug of cider."

So saying, he replenished his pipe, and disposed himself in an att.i.tude of calm resignation. As our readers are already acquainted with the history of the rise and progress of young Morton's love, we shall say no more of his narrative than that towards the close of it, his father was surprised out of his gravity, and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the word "d--nation!" with great emphasis, at the same time, flinging his pipe into the fire, and exclaiming by way of sermon to his short and pithy text,

"Why the d--l didn't you bring her with you, you foolish boy?

Why, you have no more s.p.u.n.k than a hooked cod-fish! You'll never see her again, if you make fifty voyages round the cape; she's in a nunnery by this time, or, what is more likely, married to that Don What-d'ye-call-him."

Charles could only repeat his conviction that neither event had taken place, and his firm reliance upon Isabella's constancy.

"Fiddle-de-dee! A woman's constancy! I would as soon take Continental money at par!" was his father's reply.

Their conversation on this interesting topic was protracted to a late hour, when they retired, the old gentleman to--sleep as sound as usual, and Charles to yield himself most unreservedly to the illusions of sanguine, youthful hope and love--that love that one never has _very_ severely but once in his life; for love is like a squall at sea; the inexperienced landsman sees nothing alarming in the aspect of the heavens, and is both astonished and vexed at the bustle and hurry, the "thunder of the captain and the shouting;" but when it comes "b.u.t.t-eend foremost," he suffers a thousand times more from his fears than the oldest sailors. After one has become acquainted with the disorder, he can distinguish its premonitory symptoms, and crush it in the bud, or let it run on to a matrimonial crisis. For my own part, I can always ascertain, at its first accession, whether it is about to a.s.sume a chronic form, or pa.s.s off with a few acute attacks.

CHAPTER X

O for a horse with wings!

CYMBELINE.

Morton's low spirits and anxiety, on his return home, arose entirely from his having ascertained that there was no vessel then fitting out for the Pacific, except whalemen; and as their route always depends upon circ.u.mstances, and can never be calculated beforehand with any degree of certainty, he declined several advantageous offers in them. A few days after the eclairciss.e.m.e.nt with his father, he learned to his inexpressible joy, that there was a ship fitting out at Salem for what was in those days somewhat facetiously denominated a "trading voyage;"

that is, an exclusively smuggling one.

To Salem, then, he hastened, furnished with most ample and satisfactory letters of introduction and recommendation. He waited upon the owners of the ship, and was by them referred to Captain Slowly, then on board. At the very first glimpse of this gentleman, he felt convinced that there was no chance for a situation on board. Captain Slowly was one of those mahogany-faced, moderate, slow-moving, slow-speaking, slow-eating people, that one occasionally meets with in New England, who are the very reverse of Yankee inquisitiveness, and never answer the most ordinary question, not even "What o'clock is it?" in less than half an hour; men who, in short, as they never ask any questions themselves, think it not worth their while to answer any. We have been several times horrified by such people, and our fingers have always itched to knock them down.

"Good morning, Captain Slowly," said our friend Morton.

The captain, hearing himself addressed, went on very deliberately with the examination of a jib-sheet block that he held in his hand, turning it over and over, and spinning the sheave round with his finger, much after the manner of a monkey, with any object he does not understand--as, for instance, a nut that he cannot crack--and at last replied,

"Morning."

"I understand," said Morton, almost mad with impatience, "that you are in want of a first officer; or at least, so says Mr.----."

Captain Slowly, having cast the stops off a coil of running rigging, the main-top-gallant clewline, that lay at his feet, and fathomed it from one end to the other, examining all the chafed places with great attention, answered with, "Was you wanting to go out in the ship?"

"Yes sir," said Morton, who saw what kind of a dead-and-alive animal he had to deal with, and was determined to have an answer from him, if he beat it out with his fists; and though his heart revolted at the bare thoughts of pa.s.sing at least a year in the same ship with such a stupid creature, yet it seemed to be his only chance for reaching the coast of Mexico in season; "yes sir, and the owners have directed me to you; they know that I am very desirous of going out in the ship, and they approve very much of my recommendations and certificates. My name is Charles Morton; I am the son of old General Jonathan Morton, of New Bedford; I was out last voyage with Captain Isaiah Hazard, of Nantucket, in the whaling ship Orion; I am perfectly well acquainted with the west coast of South America, from Baldivia to St. Joseph, and up the Gulf of California; I am about five-and-twenty years of age, and have been three voyages as mate of a vessel; for further particulars, I beg leave to refer you to the papers in my pockets; I am somewhat in a hurry, and should feel very much obliged if you would let me have your answer as speedily as possible."

Captain Slowly, who had never heard an oration of one quarter part the length addressed to himself before, seemed for a few minutes completely bewildered. At last, after drawing a prodigious long breath, he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "Well, I declare, I never."

Morton, having waited a reasonable time to give the man a chance to recover his scattered faculties, at last asked, "Well, Captain Slowly, what do you think of it? shall we make a bargain?"

The captain was now completely startled out of his half existent state, and began to talk and act like a man of middle earth; that is, he began to ask questions.