The Cruise of the Midge. Michael Scott

snout, would have touched the starboard corner of the aforesaid hole in his face—it could be dignified with no other name; for, in sober reality, it more resembled a gash in a pumpkin, made by a clumsy bill-hook, than any thing else.

      Lips he had none; and the first impression on one's mind when you saw him naturally led one to exclaim, Bless me—what an oddity! The man has no mouth—until he did make play with his potato-trap, and then to be sure it was like a gap suddenly split open in a piece of mottled freestone. It was altogether so much out of its latitude, that when he spoke it seemed aside, as the players say; and when he drank his wine, he looked for all the world as if he had been pouring it into his ear.

      So now, if the admiring reader will take the trouble to dress this Beauty, I will furnish the apparel. Imprimis, he wore a curious wee hat, with scarcely any brim, the remains of the nap bleached by a burning sun, and splashed and matted together from the pelting of numberless showers and the washing up of many a salt-sea spray, but carefully garnished, nevertheless, with a double stripe of fresh gold-lace, and a naval button on the left side. Add to this, an old-fashioned uniform coat, very far through, as we say; long-waisted, with remarkably short skirts, but the strap for the epaulet new and bright as the loop on the hat. Now, then, swathe him in a dingy white kerseymere waistcoat, over which dangles a great horn eye-glass, suspended by a magnificent new broad watered black ribbon; and, finally, take the trouble to shrowd the lower limbs of the Apollo in ancient duck trowsers, extending about half-way down the calf of the leg, if calf he had; leaving his pillar-like ankles conspicuously observable; and you will have a tolerably accurate idea of the presence and bearing of our amiable and accomplished shipmate, Mr. David Sprawl.

      Rum subject as he certainly was to look at, yet he was a most excellent warm-hearted person at bottom; straightforward and kind to the men; never blazoning or amplifying their faults, but generally, on the other hand, softening them; and often astonishing the poor fellows by his out-of-the-way and unexpected kindness and civility. Indeed, he plumed himself on the general polish of his manners, whether to equals or inferiors, and the Gazelles repaid the compliment by christening him, at one time, "Old Bloody Politeful," and "David Doublepipe" at another, from a peculiarity that we shall presently describe.

      You must know, therefore, that this remarkable personage was possessed of a very uncommon accomplishment, being neither more nor less than a natural ventriloquist, for he had two distinct voices, as if he had been a sort of living double flageolet; one a falsetto, small and liquid, and clear as the note of an octave flute; the other sonorous and rough, as the groaning of a trombone. In conversation, the alternations, apparently involuntary, were so startling and abrupt, that they sounded as if ever and anon the keys of the high and low notes of an organ had been alternately struck; so instantaneously were the small notes snapped off into the lower ones, and vice versa—so that a stranger would, in all probability, have concluded, had he not known the peculiarities of the Adonis, that a little midshipman was at one moment squeaking up the main hatchway from the hold; and at the next answered by a boatswain's mate on deck. Indeed, while the commodore and his subaltern pursued their rapid walk, backwards and forwards, on the quarterdeck, the fine, manly, sailor-like voice of the old man, as it intertwined with the octave flute note and the grumbling bass of David Sprawl, like a three-strand rope of gold thread, silver thread, and tarry spunyarn, might have given cause to believe that the two were accompanied in their perambulations by some invisible familiar, who chose to take part in the conversation, and to denote his presence through the ear, while to the eye he was but thin air. However, maugre appearances and the oddity of his conformation, friend Sprawl was physically the most powerful man on board; and that was saying something, let me tell you.

      Thus beloved by the men, to his brother-officers he was the most obliging and accommodating creature that ever was invented. Numberless were the petty feuds which he soldered, that, but for his warm-hearted intervention, might have eventuated in pistol-shots and gunpowder; and the mids of the ship actually adored him. If leave to go on shore, or any little immunity was desired by them, "Old Bloody Politeful" was the channel through which their requests ran; and if any bother was to be eschewed, or any little fault sheltered, or any sternness on the part of the commodore or any of the lieutenants to be mollified—in fine, if any propitiation of the higher powers was required, who interceded but "Davie Doublepipe?" In a word, men and midshipmen would have fought for him to the last gasp; and although they did laugh a little at his oddities now and then, they always came back to this—"He is the best seaman and the bravest man in the ship," as indeed repeated trials had proved him to be.

      The remarkable couple that I have taken so much pains to describe to you continued to stump along the quarterdeck, backwards and forwards, very rapidly; and at the end of every turn, Sprawl, in place of tacking with his face to his companion, invariably wore with his back to him, and so lumbersome and slowly, that the commodore usually had wheeled, and stood facing him, ready to set forth on his promenade long before Mr. Sprawl came round; so that, while his back was towards him, he had an opportunity of giving his broad shoulders a quizzical reconnoitring glance, which he instantly exchanged for the most sedate and sober expression, when our friend at length hove about and fronted him. This contrast between the fun of the commodore's expression when his subaltern's back was towards him, and its solemnity when he turned his face, was most laughable; more especially, that he always met Sprawl, as he came to the wind, with a sidling bow, before he made sail in his usual pace; which slight inclination the lieutenant answered with a formal inclination of his whole strange corpus, whereby he stopped his way to such a degree, that Sir Oliver had filled on the other tack, and shot three or four strides ahead; whereby Sprawl had to clap the steam on at a very high pressure, in order to scull up alongside of his superior, before he arrived at the other wheeling point, the break of the quarter-deck.

      The postponed dinner-hour having at length arrived, the commodore, making a formal salaam, dived to enjoy his meal, whereof I was the only partaker this day beside himself; and nothing particular occurred until the following morning.

      The next forenoon Dick Lanyard was the officer of the watch, and, about nine o'clock, the commodore, who had just come on deck, addressed him:—"Mr. Lanyard, do you see any thing of the small hooker yet, to windward there?"

      "I thought I saw something like her, sir, about half an hour ago; but a blue haze has come rolling down, and I cannot make any thing out at present."

      "She must be thereabouts somewhere, however," continued he, "as she was seen yesterday by the Yankee brig—so keep by the wind until four bells, Mr. Lanyard, and then call me, if you please."

      "Ay, ay, sir;" and he resumed his walk on the weather-side of the quarterdeck.

      In a couple of hours we were all on deck again; as the breeze freshened the mist blew off, and in half an hour the felucca was seen about three miles to windward of us, staggering along before it, like a large nautilus, under her solitary lateen sail;—presently she was close aboard of us.

      I was looking steadfastly at the little vessel as she came rolling down before the wind, keeping my eye on the man that was bending on the ensign haulyards. First of all, he began to hoist away the ensign, until it reached about half-way between the end of the long, drooping, wirelike yard and the deck; he then jerked it upwards and downwards for a minute, as if irresolute whether to run it chokeup, or haul it down again; at length it hung half-mast high, and blew out steadily.

      My mind suddenly misgave me, and I looked for the pennant; it was also hoisted half-mast—"Alas! alas! poor Donovan," I involuntarily exclaimed—but loud enough to be overheard by the commodore, who stood by—"another victim to this horrid coast."

      "What is wrong, Mr. Brail?" said Sir Oliver.

      "I fear Mr. Donovan is dead, sir. The felucca's ensign and pennant are half-mast, sir."

      "Bless me, no—surely not!" said the excellent old man;—"hand me the glass.—Too true—too true—where is all this to end?" said he with a sigh.

      The felucca was now within long pistol-shot of our weather-quarter, standing across our stern, with the purpose of rounding-to under our lee. At this time Sir Oliver was looking out close by the tafferel, with his trumpet in his hand. I was again peering through the glass.