The Arkansas Advocate

From the Metropolitan.

SNARLEYYOW; OR, THE DOG FIEND.

BY CAPT. MARRYATT.

CHAPTER XII.

In which resolutions are entered into in all quarters, and Jemmy Ducks is accused of mutiny for singing a song in a snow storm.

What were the adventures of Snarleyyow after this awkward interference with his master's speculations upon the widow, until he jumped into the beef boat to go on board of the cutter, are lost forever; but it is to be supposed that he could not have remained the whole night without making himself disagreeable in some quarter or another. But, as we before observed, we know nothing about it; and, therefore, may be excused if we do not tell.

The Widow Vandersloosh slept but little that night: her soul was full of vengeance. But although smarting with the imprints of the cur's teeth, still she had an eye to business: the custom of the crew of the cutter was not to be despised; and as she thought of this, she gradually cooled down. It was not till four o'clock in the morning that she came to her decision; and it was a very prudent one, which was, to demand the dead body of the dog to be laid at her door before Mr. Vanslyperken should be allowed admittance. This was her right, and if he was sincere he would not refuse; if he did refuse, it was not at all clear that she should lose the custom of the seamen, over the major part of whom Vanslyperken then appeared to have very little control; and all of whom, she knew, detested him most cordially, as well as his dog. After which resolution the Widow Vandersloosh fell fast asleep.

But we must return on board, where there was almost as much confusion as there had been on shore.

The re-appearance of Snarleyyow was considered supernatural, for Smallbones had distinctly told in what manner he had tied him up in the bread bags, and thrown him into the canal. Whisperings and murmurings were heard all round the cutter's decks. Obadiah Coble shrugged up his shoulders and took an extra quid—Dick Short walked about with lips compressed, more taciturn than ever—Jansen shook his head, muttering, "Te tog is no tog"—Bill Spurey had to repeat to the ship's company the legend of his coming on board over and over again. The only persons who appeared not to have lost their courage were Jemmy Ducks and poor Smallbones, who had been put in his hammock to recover him from his refrigeration. The former said, that "if they were to sail with the devil, it could not be helped, pay and prize money would still go on;" and the latter, who had quite recovered his self-possession, vowed that "dog or devil, he would never cease his attempts to destroy him—if he was the devil, or one of his imps, it was his duty as a Christian to oppose him, and he had no chance of better treatment if he were to remain quiet." The snow storm continued, and the men remained below, all but Jemmy Ducks, who leaned against the lee side of the cutter's mast, and, as the snow fell, sung, to a slow air, the following ditty, it being probably called to his recollection by the state of the weather.

'Twas at the landing-place that's just below Mount Wyse,
Poll leaned against the sentry's box, a tear in both her eyes,
Her apron twisted round her arms, all for to keep them warm,
Being a windy Christmas day, and also a snow storm.
And Bet and Sue
Both stood there too,
A shivering by her side,
They both were dumb.
And both looked glum,
As they watched the ebbing tide.

Poll put her arms a-kimbo,
At the Admiral's house looked she,
To thoughts before in limbo,
She now a vent gave free.
You've sent the ship in a gale to work,
On a lee shore to be jammed,
I'll give you a piece of my mind, old Turk,
Port Admiral, you be d--d.

Chorus.—We'll give you a piece of our mind, old Turk,
Port Admiral, you be d--d.

Who ever heard in the service, of a frigate made to sail
On Christmas day, it blowing hard, with sleet, and snow, and hail?
I wish I had the fishing of your back that is so bent,
I'd use the galley poker hot unto your heart's content.

Here Bet and Sue
Are with me too,
A shivering by my side,
They both are dumb,
And both look glum,
And watch the ebbing tide.

Poll put her arms a-kimbo,
At the Admiral's house looked she,
To thoughts before in limbo,
She now a vent gave free.
You've got a roaring fire I'll bet,
In it your toes are jammed,
Let's give him a piece of our mind, my Bet,
Port Admiral, you be d--d.

Chorus.—Let's give him a piece of our mind, my Bet,
Port Admiral, you be d--d.

I had the flour and plums all picked, and suet all chopped fine,
To mix into a pudding rich for all the mess to dine;
I pawned my ear-rings for the beef, it weighed at least a stone,
Now my fancy man is sent to sea, and I am left alone.

Here's Bet and Sue,
Who stand here too,
A shivering by my side,
They both are dumb,
And both look glum.
And watch the ebbing tide.

Poll put her arms a-kimbo.
At the Admiral's house looked she,
To thoughts that were in limbo
She now a vent gave free:
You've got a turkey I'll be bound,
With it you will be crammed,
I'll give you a piece of my mind, old hound,
Port Admiral, you be d--d.

Chorus.—I'll give you a bit of my mind, old hound,
Port Admiral, you be d--d:

I'm sure that in this weather, they cannot cook their meat,
To eat it raw on Christmas day will be a pleasant treat;
But let us all go home, girls, its no use waiting here,
We'll hope that Christmas day to come, they will have better cheer.

So Bet and Sue
Don't stand here too,
A shivering by my side
Don't keep so dumb,
Don't look so glum,
And watch the ebbing tide:

Poll put her arms a-kimbo,
At the Admiral's house looked she,
To thoughts before in limbo,
She now a vent gave free.
So while they cut their raw salt junk,
With dainties you'll be crammed,
I'll give you a piece of my mind, old hunks,
Port Admiral, you be d--d.

Chorus.—So once for all our mind, old hunks.
Port Admiral, you be d--d.

"Mein Got, but dat is rank mutiny, Mynheer Jemmy Ducks," observed Corporal Van Spitter, who had come up on the deck unperceived by Jemmy, and had listened to the song.

"Mutiny, is it?" replied Jemmy, "and report this also, I'll give you a bit of my mind, fat thief, You corporal may be d---d."

"Dat is better and better—I mean to say, worser and worser," replied the corporal.

"Take care I don't pitch you overboard," replied Jemmy in wrath.

"Dat is most worst still!" said the corporal, stalking aft, and leaving Jemmy Ducks to follow up the train of his own reflections.

Jemmy, who had been roused by the corporal, and felt the snow insinuating itself into the nape of his neck, thought he might as well go down below.

The corporal made his report, and Mr. Vanslyperken made his comments, but he did no more, for he was aware that a mere trifle would raise a general mutiny. The recovery of Snarleyyow consoled him, and little thinking what had been the events of the preceding night, he thought he might as well prove his devotion to the widow, by paying his respects in a snow storm—but not in the attire of the day before. Mr. Vanslyperken was too economical for that, so he remained in his long threadbare great coat and foul weather hat. Having first locked up his dog in the cabin, and entrusted the key to the corporal, he went on shore and presented himself at the widow's door, which was opened by Babette, who with her person barred entrance: she did not wait for Vanslyperken to speak first.

"Mynheer Vanslyperken, you can't come in. Frau Vandersloosh is very ill in bed—the doctor says it is a bad case—you can't come in."

"Ill!" exclaimed Vanslyperken, "your dear, charming mistress ill! Good heavens, what is the matter, my dear Babette?" replied Vanslyperken, with all the pretended interest of a devoted lover.

"All through you, Mr. Vanslyperken," replied Babette.

"Me!" exclaimed Vanslyperken.

"Well; through your nasty cur, which is the same thing."

"My dog! I little thought that he was left here," replied the lieutenant, "but, Babette, let me in, if you please, for the snow falls fast, and—"

"And you must not come in, Mr. Vanslyperken," replied Babette, pushing him back.

"Good heavens, what is the matter?"

Babette then related what had passed, and as she was very prolix, Mr. Vanslyperken was a mass of snow on the windward side of him before she had finished, which she did, by pulling down her worsted stocking, and showing her wounds which she had received in the last night's affray. Having thus given ocular evidence of the truth of what she asserted; Babette then delivered the message of her mistress; to wit, "that until the dead body of Snarleyyow was laid at the porch where they now stood, he, Mr. Vanslyperken, would never gain re-admission." So saying, and not feeling it very pleasant to continue a conversation in a snow storm, Babette very unceremoniously slapped the door in Mr. Vanslyperken's face, and left him to digest the communication with what appetite he might. Mr. Vanslyperken, notwithstanding the cold weather, hurried from the door in a towering passion. The perspiration actually ran down his face and mingled with the melting snow. "To be or not to be"—give up the widow or give up his darling Snarleyyow—a dog whom he loved the more, the more he was, through him, entangled in scrapes and vexations—a dog whom every one hated; and therefore he loved—a dog which had not a single recommendation, and therefore he highly prized—a dog assailed by all, and especially that scarecrow Smallbones, to whom his death would be a victory—it was impossible. But then the widow with such lots of guilders in the bank, and such a good income from the Lust Haus, he had long made up to settle in possession. It was the haven which, in the vista of his mind, he had been so long accustomed to dwell upon; and he could not give up the hope.

Yet one must be sacrificed: No, he could not part with either. "I have it," thought he, "I will make the widow believe that I have sacrificed the dog, and then, when I am once in possession, the dog shall come back again, and let her say a word if she dares; I'll tame her, and pay her off for old scores."

Such was the determination of Mr. Vanslyperken, as he walked back to the boat. His reverie was, however, broken by his breaking his nose against a lamp post, which did not contribute to his good humor.

"Yes, yes, Frau Vandersloosh, we will see," muttered Vanslyperken, "you would kill my dog, would you? It's a dog's life I'll lead you, when I'm once secure of you: Madame Vandersloosh. You cheated me out of my biscuit—we shall see;" and Mr. Vanslyperken stepped into his boat and pulled on board.

On his arrival he found that a messenger had come on board during his absence, with the letters of thanks from the king's loving cousins, and with directions that he should return with them forthwith. This suited the views of Vanslyperken; he wrote a long letter to the widow in which he expressed his willingness to sacrifice every thing for her—not only to hang his dog, but to hang himself if she wished it—lamented his immediate orders for sailing, and hinted that on his return he ought to find her more favorable. The widow read the letter, and tossed it into the grate; "Pish! I was not born yesterday, as the saying is," cried the Widow Vandersloosh,

[To be Continued.]