The Red Eric | Page 9

eat the bad egg with apparent relish. "I like 'em this
way--better than nothin', anyhow. Bless ye, marm, ye've no notion wot
sort o' things I've lived on aboard ship--"
Rokens came to an abrupt pause in consequence of the servant-girl, at a
sign from her mistresses (for she always received duplicate orders),
seizing his plate and carrying it off bodily. It was immediately replaced
by a clean one and a fresh egg. While Rokens somewhat nervously
tapped the head of Number 6, Miss Martha, in order to divert attention
from him, asked Mr Millons if sea-fare was always salt junk and hard
biscuit?
"Oh, no, madam," answered the first mate. "We've sometimes salt pork,
and vegetables now and agin; and pea-soup, and plum-duff--"
"Plum-duff, Ailie," interrupted the captain, in order to explain, "is just a

puddin' with few plums and fewer spices in it. Something like a
white-painted cannon-shot, with brown spots on it here and there."
"Is it good?" inquired Ailie.
"Oh, ain't it!" remarked Mr Rokens, who had just concluded Number 6,
and felt his self-possession somewhat restored. "Yes, miss, it is; but it
ain't equal to whale's-brain fritters, it ain't; them's first-chop."
"Have whales got brains?" inquired Miss Martha, in surprise.
"Brains!" echoed Miss Jane, in amazement.
"Yes, madam, they 'ave," answered the first mate, who had hitherto
maintained silence, but having finished tea was now ready for any
amount of talk; "and what's more remarkable still, they've got several
barrels of oil in their skulls besides."
"Dear me!" exclaimed the sisters.
"Yes, ladies, capital oil it is, too; fetches a 'igher price hin the markit
than the other sort."
"By the bye, Millons, didn't you once fall into a whale's skull, and get
nearly drowned in oil?" inquired the doctor.
"I did," answered the first mate, with the air of a man who regarded
such an event as a mere trifle, that, upon consideration, might almost be
considered as rather a pleasant incident than otherwise in one's history.
"Nearly drowned in oil!" exclaimed the sisters, while Ailie opened her
eyes in amazement, and Mr Rokens became alarmingly purple in the
face with suppressed chuckling.
"It's true," remarked Rokens, in a hoarse whisper to Miss Martha,
putting his hand up to his mouth, the better to convey the sound to her
ears; "I seed him tumble in, and helped to haul him out."
"Let's have the story, Millons," cried the captain, pushing forward his

cup to be replenished; "It's so long since I heard it, that I've almost
forgotten it. Another cup o' tea, Martha, my dear--not quite so strong as
the last, and three times as sweet. I'll drink `Success to the cup that
cheers, but don't inebriate.' Go ahead, Millons."
Nothing rejoiced the heart of Mr Millons more than being asked to tell
a story. Like most men who are excessively addicted to the habit, his
stories were usually very long and very dry; but he had a bluff
good-natured way of telling them, that rendered his yarns endurable on
shore, and positively desirable at sea. Fortunately for the reader, the
story he was now requested to relate was not a long one.
"It ain't quite a story," he began--and in beginning he cleared his throat
with emphasis, thrust his thumbs into the arm-holes of his vest, and
tilted his chair on its hind-legs--"it ain't quite a story; it's a hanecdote, a
sort of hincident, so to speak, and this is 'ow it 'appened:--
"Many years ago, w'en I was a very young man, or a big boy, I was on
a voyage to the South Seas after whales. Tim Rokens was my
messmate then, and has bin so almost ever since, off, and on." (Mr
Rokens nodded assent to this statement.) "Well, we came up with a big
whale, and fixed an iron cleverly in him at the first throw--"
"An iron?" inquired Miss Martha, to whose mind flat and Italian irons
naturally occurred.
"Yes, madam, an iron; we call the 'arpoons irons. Well, away went the
fish, like all alive! not down, but straight for'ard, takin' out the line at a
rate that nearly set the boat on fire, and away we went along with it. It
was a chase, that. For six hours, off and on, we stuck to that whale, and
pitched into 'im with 'arpoons and lances; but he seemed to have the
lives of a cat--nothin' would kill 'im. At last the 'arpooner gave him a
thrust in the life, an' up went the blood and water, and the fish went into
the flurries, and came nigh capsizin' the boat with its tail as it lashed the
water into foam. At last it gave in, and we had a four hours' pull after
that, to tow the carcase to the