PAUL SICK AT HEART. 171 Such was the miserable end of the ruffian over him. Some one may say that my account of this horrid scene ought not to be related. But, as we frequently hear of the infliction of the knout in Russia, it is proper to know what it is. Paul Preston is the narrator of what he saw as well as what he experienced in his travels in foreign countries, and of the various characteristics of their inhabitants. Walking away from the place in a melancholy mood, I reflected on the wretched consequences of crime; and breathing a prayer to be kept from temptation and delivered from evil, I determined never again to be present when the horrid punishment of the knout was inflicted. CHAPTER VII. Paul Preston and Frank Berkeley go on board a King's Ship. Ben Bloxidge and Patrick O'Grady. The Yarn about the Serpent. The strange tale of the Hippopotamos. Reflection. Paul Preston's Moonlight Frank and Paul leave Dantzick for Am AS Frank became impatient to hear from his father, we took the first opportunity that offered to leave St.Petersburgh for Dantzick; but, falling in with a queen's ship in the Baltic, we got permission to go on board, thinking to pick up some of the habits of seamen, for I had never been on board a king's ship before. The captain was every inch a sailor, and the men were true blues. They manifested so much character that I could willingly have remained on board a whole year. It was a new scene to Frank, too; so that our time passed very pleasantly. The order, cleanliness, and strict discipline observed throughout the whole ship astonished me. Of all men in the world sailors are the most given to invent marvellous tales, and to believe them when invent A SAILOR'S STORY. 173 ed by others their love of fun will account for the one propensity, and their superstition for the other. One day it was a dead calm, the ship's timbers no more stirred than if they were on the stocks; and the hands had nothing to do but drink their allowance of grog, spin yarns, and chew pigtail tobacco. To spin a yarn is the sailor-phrase for telling a wonderful story, and the facility with which they relate tale after tale is really surprising. Of all spinners Ben Bloxidge was the most ready. According to his account, he had been where nobody else had ever been, and seen what no eyes but his own ever had seen or will see. Some of the hands would swallow a great deal, but the bouncers told by Ben Bloxidge were too big to be swallowed by any one but Patrick O'Grady. Patrick was a raw-boned ignorant young Irishman, fearfully superstitious, and so credulous that even the improbable stories of Ben Bloxidge were believed as Gospel. He used to sit with his great eyes fixed on Ben as the latter poured out his fresh-invented rigmaroles, forgetting the very quid in his mouth, and gaping as though the things described by Ben Bloxidge were passing before him. Ben, well knowing that he could cram Patrick with just what he pleased, usually addressed his yarns to him, sure of being listened to with the most profound attention. I will give a specimen of these tough stories. "Did you ever see any sarpents, Ben, when you was in the hot countries ?" asked one of the men. 66 66 Sarpents?-ay, as thick as herrings in a shoal," replied Ben. Why in Madagasky they wears 'em round their legs instead o' buckle garters, tying them in a double knot to prevent 'em from slipping. I had a pair o' black 'uns myself till I wore 'em out; they 're the most comfortablest things in the world." Some of the crew half choked themselves in trying to stop their grinning, but Patrick O'Grady looked at Ben gravely, believing every word; whilst Ben as gravely went on with his yarn. "I recollects, when lying off Ceylon, that the water-rats, that are there about as big as young puppies, gnaw'd up all our cables; so, what should the captain do, but mans the long-boat, and sends off a few spare hands to catch a sarpent to make a cable on. We beat about for some time among the bushes; at last we sees one they call a bore (boa), and smack at it we went, but it took a dozen of us to haul him down to the water's edge. Why, bless your hearts! he was as strong as a young elephant, and reached from the figure-head to the cabin-windows; howsom A SAILOR'S STORY. 175 ever we lashed his tail tight to the capstan, and he made as pretty a cable as ever had an anchor at the end on it." "That's as good a bouncer as I've heard o' one while !" sung out another of the hands. "How did you lash his head to the anchor, Ben ?" "Mind your own reckoning, you swab you," replied Ben," and leave me to take care of my own log. We wanted no anchor, for the sarpent had fangs a foot long, and he hookt hold o' the rocks at the bottom o' the sea as naterally as if he'd been brought up to't from his cradle." Patrick O'Grady's mouth opened wider and wider. "And how long did he sarve you for a cable ?" asked |