The Cruise of the Midge. Michael Scott
Читать онлайн.| Название | The Cruise of the Midge |
|---|---|
| Автор произведения | Michael Scott |
| Жанр | Языкознание |
| Серия | |
| Издательство | Языкознание |
| Год выпуска | 0 |
| isbn | 4064066389642 |
Michael Scott
The Cruise of the Midge
Complete Edition (Vol. 1&2)
e-artnow, 2020
Contact: [email protected]
EAN: 4064066389642
Table of Contents
VOLUME 1
Table of Contents
CHAPTER I.
GAZELLES AND MIDGES—THE MIDGE'S WINGS ARE SINGED.
Born an Irishman, the son of an Irishwoman; educated in Scotland, the country of my father, an ancient mariner, who, as master and supercargo, had sailed his own ship for many years in the Virginia trade; removed to England at the age of seventeen, in consequence of his death; I had, by the time I arrived at majority, passed four years of my mercantile apprenticeship in my paternal uncle's counting-house, an extensive merchant in that modern Tyre, the enterprising town of Liverpool; during which period, young as I was, I had already made four voyages in different vessels of his to foreign parts—to the West Indies, the Brazils, the Costa Firme, and the United States of America.
Being naturally a rambling, harumscarum sort of a young chap, this sort of life jumped better with my disposition than being perched on the top of a tall mahogany tripod, poring over invoices, daybooks, journals, and ledgers, with the shining ebony-coloured desk jammed into the pit of my stomach below, and its arbour of bright brass rods constantly perverting the integrity of my curls above; so at the period when the scene opens, I had with much ado prevailed on my uncle to let me proceed once more on a cruise, instead of a senior clerk, in charge of two of his ships, bound to the African coast, to trade for ivory and gold dust, and to fill up with palm oil and hardwood timbers.
I had no small difficulty in carrying this point, as the extreme insalubrity of the climate, the chance of being plundered by the semi-piratical foreign slavers, to say nothing of the danger of a treacherous attack on the part of the natives themselves, weighed heavily against my going in my worthy uncle's mind; but I had set my heart on it, and where "there's a will, there's a way."
I will not conceal, however, that after all, when it came to the point, I do not believe he would have allowed me to depart, had it not been for a prank of mine, which put him into a towering passion with me about this time.
On the occasion of a rejoicing for one of our great victories, being hand-and-glove with all the skippers and mates of the vessels belonging to the concern, I smuggled up to our house on Everton Terrace, unknown to my uncle, two boat guns, six-pounder carronades, and a lot of fire-works, by bribing the brewer's man to carry them for me in his cart. Having achieved this part of my plan, with the aid of two young tars, I contrived to mount the guns in the summer-house, immediately beneath the dining-room window; and having loaded them, I set fire to slow matches, fitted to the touch-holes, just as the dinner bell rang; and then calmly took my place at table, facing mine uncle.
The old gentleman was rather a quiet-going codger, and during meals seldom annoyed his neighbours with too much conversation—in the present case, he had eaten his soup, his bit of fish, and was just raising his first glass of wine to his lips—when bang went one of my carronades, and smash fell the glass—the madeira flowing all down his lap. He had not recovered his equanimity, when bang went gun No. 2, and up shot a whole constellation of rockets and Roman candles, from the garden, whereat he fairly sprang off his chair, as if the explosion had taken place in the cushion of it, or he had been hoisted out of his socket by some sort of catamaran.
His first impulse was to run to the open window; whiz! a live rocket, or large squib, I forget which, flew in over his shoulder, and nearly popped down the throat of the old serving-man, who stood like a statue open mouthed before the sideboard, petrified with astonishment; as it was, it scorched the powdered curl over his left ear, missing his head by a mere hair's breadth.
The guns I could account for, but the erratic course of this missile surprised me exceedingly. At one fell swoop, it had cleared the sideboard of glasses, decanters, silver waiters, and the sinumbra lamp; driven my revered uncle to the top of the table for refuge; and then, as if still unsatisfied with all this mischief, it began to jump about under it, blazing and hissing like a fiery serpent, first in this corner, then under that chair; while old Peregrine, the waiting-man (whose ice had at length thawed), and I were dancing after it; knocking our heads together, and breaking our shins against chairs and the edges of the table, making glasses and decanters ring again, in a vain endeavour to seize hold of the stick. The row soon brought up the other servants, groom, cook, housemaid, &c. &c. &c., towards whom, as if possessed with some spirit of mischief, it fizzed through the door, in its transit, nearly taking one of the female domestics in reverse, whereat they all began to scream as if they had been murdered; then up stairs it rattled, as if desirous of visiting the drawing-room floor, poking its snout into every cranny, hissing and wriggling its tail, and putting the entire array to flight with its vagaries. It was too absurd to see a whole household of grown people thus chasing a live sky-rocket like so many children—"up stairs, down stairs, and in my lady's chamber"—so presently we were all, excepting the rocket itself, brought to a stand still, by fits of laughter.
Although it was clear the heroic firework was not to be captured alive, yet, at length, like the vapouring of a passionate man, it spluttered itself out, and was captured, stick and all, by the old cook, whose propriety it had invaded; and I returned to the dining-room.
My uncle had by this time reseated himself at the table, looking as black as thunder, with old Peregrine planted once more behind his