Фредерик Марриет
Snarleyyow, or, the Dog Fiend
"Yes, mynheer; there be togs with tail and togs without tail."
"But the loss of blood–what must be done to stop the bleeding?"
"Dat d–n woman Moggy, when I say te tog die–tog bleed to death, she say, tell Mynheer Vanslyperken dat de best ting for cure de cur be de red hot poker."
Here Vanslyperken stamped his feet and swore horribly.
"She say, mynheer, it stop all de bleeding."
"I wish she had a hot poker down her body," exclaimed Vanslyperken, bitterly.
"Go for the swab, corporal, and send Smallbones here."
Smallbones made his appearance.
"Did you come for–to want me, sir?"
"Yes, sir. I understand from the corporal that you held the dog while that woman cut off his tail."
"If so be as how as the corporal says that ere," cried Smallbones, striking the palm of his left hand with his right fist, "why I am jiggered if he don't tell a lie as big as himself–that's all. That ere man is my mortal henemy; and if that ere dog gets into trouble I'm a sartain to be in trouble too. What should I cut the dog's tail off for, I should like for to know? I arn't so hungry as all that, any how."
The idea of eating his dog's tail increased the choler of Mr Vanslyperken. With looks of malignant vengeance he ordered Smallbones out of the cabin.
"Shall I shy this here overboard, sir?" said Smallbones, taking up the dog's tail, which lay on the table.
"Drop it, sir," roared Vanslyperken.
Smallbones walked away, grinning with delight, but his face was turned from Mr Vanslyperken.
The corporal returned, swabbed up the blood, and reported that the bleeding had stopped. Mr Vanslyperken had no further orders for him–he wished to be left alone. He leaned his head upon his hand, and remained for some time in a melancholy reverie, with his eyes fixed upon the tail, which lay before him–that tail, now a "bleeding piece of earth," which never was to welcome him with a wag again. What passed in Vanslyperken's mind during this time, it would be too difficult and too long to repeat, for the mind flies over time and space with the rapidity of the lightning's flash. At last he rose, took up the dog's tail, put it into his pocket, went on deck, ordered his boat, and pulled on shore.
Chapter XXXVII
In which Mr Vanslyperken drives a very hard bargain
We will be just and candid in our opinion relative to the historical facts which we are now narrating. Party spirit, and various other feelings, independent of misrepresentation do, at the time, induce people to form their judgment, to say the best, harshly, and but too often, incorrectly. It is for posterity to calmly weigh the evidence handed down, and to examine into the merits of a case divested of party bias. Actuated by these feelings, we do not hesitate to assert, that, in the point at question, Mr Vanslyperken had great cause for being displeased; and that the conduct of Moggy Salisbury, in cutting off the tail of Snarleyyow was, in our opinion, not justifiable.
There is a respect for property, inculcated and protected by the laws, which should never be departed from; and, whatever may have been the aggressions on the part of Mr Vanslyperken, or of the dog, still a tail is a tail, and whether mangy or not, is bond fide a part of the living body; and this aggression must inevitably come under the head of the cutting and maiming act, which act, however, it must, with the same candour which will ever guide our pen, be acknowledged, was not passed until a much later period than that to the history of which our narrative refers.
Having thus, with all deference, offered our humble opinion, we shall revert to facts. Mr Vanslyperken went on shore, with the dog's tail in his pocket. He walked with rapid strides towards the half-way houses, in one of which was the room tenanted by his aged mother; for, to whom else could he apply for consolation in this case of severe distress? That it was Moggy Salisbury who gave the cruel blow, was a fact completely substantiated by evidence; but that it was Smallbones who held the dog, and who thereby became an active participator, and therefore equally culpable, was a surmise to which the insinuations of the corporal had given all the authority of direct evidence. And, as Mr Vanslyperken felt that Moggy was not only out of his power, but even if in his power, that he dare not retaliate upon her, for reasons which we have already explained to our readers; it was, therefore, clear to him, that Smallbones was the party upon whom his indignation could be the most safely vented: and, moreover, that in so doing, he was only paying off a long accumulating debt of hatred and ill-will. But, at the same time, Mr Vanslyperken had made up his mind that a lad who could be floated out to the Nab buoy and back again without sinking–who could have a bullet through his head without a mark remaining–and who could swallow a whole twopenny-worth of arsenic without feeling more than a twinge in his stomach, was not so very easy to be made away with. That the corporal's vision was no fiction, was evident–the lad was not to be hurt by mortal man; but although the widow's arsenic had failed, Mr Vanslyperken, in his superstition, accounted for it on the grounds that the woman was not the active agent on the occasion, having only prepared the herring, it not having been received from her hands by Smallbones. The reader may recollect that, in the last interview between Vanslyperken and his mother, the latter had thrown out hints that if she took Smallbones in hand he would not have such miraculous escapes as he had had, as, in all she undertook, she did her business thoroughly. Bearing this in mind, Mr Vanslyperken went to pour forth his sorrows, and to obtain the assistance of his much-to-be-respected and venerable mother.
"Well, child, what is it–is it money you bring?" cried the old woman, when Vanslyperken entered the room.
"No, mother," replied Vanslyperken, throwing himself on the only chair in the room, except the one with the legs cut off half-way up, upon which his mother was accustomed to rock herself before the grate.
"No, mother; but I have brought something–and I come to you for advice and assistance."
"Brought no money–yet brought something!–well, child, what have you brought?"
"This!" exclaimed Vanslyperken, throwing the dog's tail down upon the table.
"This!" repeated the old beldame, lifting up the tail, and examining it as well as she could, as the vibration of her palsied members were communicated to the article–and pray, child, what is this?"
"Are you blind, old woman," replied Vanslyperken in wrath, "not to perceive that it is my poor dog's tail?"
"Blind old woman! and dog's tail, eh! Blind old woman, eh! Mr Cornelius, you dare to call me a blind old woman, and to bring here the mangy tail of a dog–and to lay it on my table! Is this your duty, sirrah? How dare you take such liberties? There, sir," cried the hag in a rage, catching hold of the tail, and sending it flying out of the casement, which was open–"there, sir–and now you may follow your tail. D'ye hear?–leave the room instantly, or I'll cleave your craven skull. Blind old woman, forsooth–undutiful child–"
Vanslyperken, in spite of his mother's indignation, could not prevent his eyes from following the tail of his dog, as it sailed through the ambient air surrounding the half-way houses, and was glad to observe it landed among some cabbage-leaves thrown into the road, without attracting notice. Satisfied that he should regain his treasure when he quitted the house, he now turned round to deprecate his mother's wrath, who had not yet completed the sentence which we have quoted above.
"I supplicate your pardon, my dear mother," said Vanslyperken, who felt that in her present humour he was not likely to gain the point with her that he had in contemplation. "I was so vexed–so irritated–that I knew not what I was saying."
"Blind old woman, indeed," repeated the beldame.
"I again beg you to forgive me, dearest mother," continued Vanslyperken.
"All about a dog's tail cut off. Better off than on–so much the less mange on the snarling cur."
This was touching up Vanslyperken on the raw; but he had a great object in view, and he restrained his feelings.
"I was wrong, mother–very wrong–but I have done all I can, I have begged your pardon. I came here for your advice and assistance."
"What advice or assistance can you expect from a blind old woman?" retorted the old hag. "And what advice or assistance does so undutiful a child deserve?"
It was some time before the ruffled temper of the beldame could be appeased: at last, Vanslyperken succeeded. He then entered into a detail of all that had passed, and concluded by observing, "that as Smallbones was not to be injured by mortal man, he had come to her for assistance."
"That is to say–you have come to me to ask me to knock the lad's brains out–to take away his life–to murder him, in fact. Say, Cornelius, is it not so?"
"It is exactly so, my dearest mother. I know your courage–your–"
"Yes, yes, I understand all that; but, now hear me, child. There are deeds which are done, and which I have done, but those deeds are only done upon strong impulses. Murder is one, but people murder for two reasons only–for revenge and for gold. People don't do such acts as are to torture their minds here, and perhaps be punished hereafter–that is, if there be one, child. I say, people don't do such deeds as these, merely because a graceless son comes to them, and says, 'if you please, mother.' Do you understand that, child? I've blood enough on my hands already–good blood too–they are not defiled with the scum of a parish boy, nor shall they be, without–"
"Without what, mother?"
"Have I not told you, Cornelius, that there are but two great excitements–revenge and gold? I have no revenge against the lad. If you have–if you consider that a dog's, tail demands a human victim–well and good–do the deed yourself."
"I would," cried Vanslyperken, "but I have tried in vain. It must be done by woman."
"Then hear me, Cornelius; if it must be done by woman, you must find a woman to do it, and you must pay her for the deed. Murder is at a high price. You apply to me–I am content to do the deed; but I must have gold–and plenty too."
Vanslyperken paused before he replied. The old woman had charge of all his money–she was on the verge of the grave–for what could she require his gold?–could she be so foolish?–it was insanity. Vanslyperken was right–it was insanity, for avarice is no better.
"Do you mean, mother," replied Vanslyperken, "that you want gold from me?"
"From whom else?" demanded the old woman sharply.
"Take it, then, mother–take as many pieces as you please."
"I must have all that there is in that chest, Cornelius."
"All, mother?"
"Yes, all; and what is it, after all? What price is too high for blood which calls for retribution? Besides, Cornelius, it must be all yours again when I die; but I shall not die yet–no, no."
"Well, mother," replied Vanslyperken, "if it must be so, it shall all be yours–not that I can see what difference it makes, whether it is called yours or mine."
"Then why not give it freely? Why do you hesitate to give to your poor old mother what may be again yours before the leaf again falls? Ask yourself why, Cornelius, and then you have my answer. The gold is here in my charge, but it is not my gold–it is yours. You little think how often I've laid in bed and longed that it was all mine. Then I would count it–count it again and again–watch over it, not as I do now as a mere deposit in my charge, but as a mother would watch and smile upon her first-born child. There is a talisman in that word mine, that not approaching death can wean from life. It is our natures, child–say, then, is all that gold mine?"
Vanslyperken paused; he also felt the magic of the word; and although it was but a nominal and temporary divestment of the property, even that gave him a severe struggle; but his avarice was overcome by his feelings of revenge, and he answered solemnly, "As I hope for revenge, mother, all that gold is yours, provided that you do the deed."
Here the old hag burst into a sort of shrieking laugh. "Send him here, child;" and the almost unearthly cachinnation was continued–"send him here, child–I can't go to seek him–and it is done–only bring him here."
So soon as this compact had been completed, Vanslyperken and his mother had a consultation; and it was agreed, that it would be advisable not to attempt the deed until the day before the cutter sailed, as it would remove all suspicion, and be supposed that the boy had deserted. This arrangement having been made, Vanslyperken made rather a hasty retreat. The fact was, that he was anxious to recover the fragment of Snarleyyow, which his mother had so contemptuously thrown out of the casement.
Chapter XXXVIII
In which Mr Vanslyperken is taken for a witch
Mr Vanslyperken hastened into the street, and walked towards the heap of cabbage-leaves, in which he observed the object of his wishes to have fallen; but there was some one there before him, an old sow, very busy groping among the refuse. Although Vanslyperken came on shore without even a stick in his hand, he had no fear of a pig, and walked up boldly to drive her away, fully convinced that, although she might like cabbage, not being exactly carnivorous, he should find the tail in status quo. But it appeared that the sow not only would not stand being interfered with, but, moreover, was carnivorously inclined; for she was at that very moment routing the tail about with her nose, and received Vanslyperken's advance with a very irascible grunt, throwing her head up at him with a savage augh; and then again busied herself with the fragment of Snarleyyow. Vanslyperken, who had started back, perceived that the sow was engaged with the very article in question; and finding it was a service of more danger than he had expected, picked up one or two large stones, and threw them at the animal to drive her away. This mode of attack had the effect desired in one respect; the sow made a retreat, but at the same time she would not retreat without the bonne bouche, which she carried away in her mouth.
Vanslyperken followed; but the sow proved that she could fight as well as run, every minute turning round to bay, and chumping and grumbling in a very formidable manner. At last, after Vanslyperken had chased for a quarter of a mile, he received unexpected assistance from a large dog, who bounded from the side of the road, where he lay in the sun, and seizing the sow by the ear, made her drop the tail to save her own bacon.
Vanslyperken was delighted; he hastened up as fast as he could to regain his treasure, when, to his mortification, the great dog, who had left the sow, arrived at the spot before him, and after smelling at the not one bone, but many bones of contention, he took it in his mouth, and trotted off to his former berth in the sunshine, laid himself down, and the tail before him.
"Surely one dog won't eat another dog's tail," thought Vanslyperken, as he walked up to the animal; but an eye like fire, a deep growl, and exposure of a range of teeth equal to a hyena's, convinced Mr Vanslyperken that it would be wise to retreat–which he did, to a respectable distance, and attempted to coax the dog. "Poor doggy, there's a dog," cried Vanslyperken, snapping his fingers, and approaching gradually. To his horror, the dog did the same thing exactly: he rose, and approached Mr Vanslyperken gradually, and snapped his fingers: not content with that, he flew at him, and tore the skirt of his great-coat clean off, and also the hinder part of his trousers for Mr Vanslyperken immediately turned tail, and the dog appeared resolved to have his tail as well as that of his darling cur. Satisfied with about half a yard of broadcloth as a trophy, the dog returned to his former situation, and remained with the tail of the coat and the tail of the cur before him, with his fierce eyes fixed upon Mr Vanslyperken, who had now retreated to a greater distance.
But this transaction was not unobserved by several of the people who inhabited the street of cottages. Many eyes were directed to where Mr Vanslyperken and the sow and dog had been at issue, and many were the conjectures thereon.
When the dog retreated with the skirt of the great-coat, many came out to ascertain what was the cause of the dispute, and among others, the man to whom the dog belonged, and who lived at the cottage opposite to where the dog had lain down. He observed Vanslyperken, looking very much like a vessel whose sails have been split in a gale, and very rueful at the same time, standing at a certain distance, quite undecided how to act, and he called out to him, "What is it you may want with my dog, man?"
Man! Vanslyperken thought this designation an affront; whereas, in our opinion, Vanslyperken was an affront to the name of man. "Man!" exclaimed Vanslyperken; "why your dog has taken my property!"
"Then take your property," replied the other, tossing to him the skirt of his coat, which he had taken from the dog.
By this time there was a crowd collected from out of the various surrounding tenements.
"That's not all," exclaimed Vanslyperken; "he has got my dog's tail there."
"Your dog's tail!" exclaimed the man, "what do you mean? Is it this ragged mangy thing you would have?" and the man took the tail of Snarleyyow, and held it up to the view of the assembled crowd.
"Yes," replied Vanslyperken, coming towards the man with eagerness; "that is what I want," and he held out his hand to receive it.
"And pray, may I ask," replied the other, looking very suspiciously at Vanslyperken, "what can you want with this piece of carrion?"
"To make soup of," replied another, laughing; "he can't afford ox-tail."
Vanslyperken made an eager snatch at his treasure; but the man lifted it up on the other side, out of his reach.
"Let us have a look at this chap," said the first, examining Vanslyperken, whose peaked nose and chin, small ferret eyes, and downcast look were certainly not in his favour; neither were his old and now tattered habiliments. Certainly no one would have taken Vanslyperken for a king's officer–unfortunately they took him for something else.
"Now tell me, fellow, what were you going to do with this?" inquired the man in a severe tone.
"I sha'n't tell you," replied Vanslyperken.
"Why that's the chap that I sees go in and out of the room where that old hell-fire witch lives, who curses all day long."
"I thought as much," observed the man, who still held up the cur's tail. "Now I appeal to you all, what can a fellow want with such as this–ay, my good people, and want it so much too, as to risk being torn to pieces for it–if he arn't inclined to evil practices?"
"That's sartain sure," replied another.
"A witch–a witch!" cried the whole crowd.
"Let's duck him–tie his thumbs–away with him–come along, my lads, away with him."
Although there were not, at the time we write about, regular witch-finders, as in the time of James I., still the feeling against witches, and the belief that they practised, still existed. They were no longer handed over to summary and capital punishment, but whenever suspected they were sure to meet with very rough treatment. Such was the fate of Mr Vanslyperken, who was now seized by the crowd, buffeted, and spit upon, and dragged to the parish pump, there being, fortunately for him, no horse-pond near. After having been well beaten, pelted with mud, his clothes torn off his back, his hat taken away and stamped upon, he was held under the pump and drenched for nearly half-an-hour, until he lay beneath the spout in a state of complete exhaustion. The crowd were then satisfied, and he was left to get away how he could, which he did, after a time, in a most deplorable plight, bare-headed, in his shirt and torn trousers. He contrived to walk as far as to the house where his mother resided, was admitted to her room, when he fell exhausted on the bed. The old woman was astonished; and having some gin in her cupboard, revived him by administering a small quantity, and, in the course of half-an-hour, Vanslyperken could tell his story; but all the consolation he received from the old beldame was, "Serve you right too, for being such an ass. I suppose you'll be bringing the stupid people about my ears soon–they've hooted me before now. Ah, well–I'll not be pumped upon for nothing–my knife is a sharp one."
Vanslyperken had clothes under his mother's charge, and he dressed himself in another suit, and then hastened away, much mortified and confounded with the latter events of the day. The result of his arrangements with his mother was, however, a balm to his wounded spirit, and he looked upon Smallbones as already dead. He hastened down into his cabin, as soon as he arrived on board, to ascertain the condition of Snarleyyow, whom he found as well as could be expected, and occasionally making unavailing attempts to lick the stump of his tail.
"My poor dog!" exclaimed Vanslyperken, "what have you suffered, and what have I suffered for you? Alas! if I am to suffer as I have to-day for only your tail, what shall I go through for your whole body?" And, as Vanslyperken recalled his misfortunes, so did his love increase for the animal who was the cause of them. Why so, we cannot tell, except that it has been so from the beginning, is so now, and always will be the case, for the best of all possible reasons–that it is human nature.
