- end_line
- 3937
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T07:57:55.409Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 3870
- text
- partitioning had been thrown down, and the whole interior converted
into one spacious and airy marine hall; for absence of fine furniture
and picturesque disarray of odd appurtenances, somewhat answering to
the wide, cluttered hall of some eccentric bachelor-squire in the
country, who hangs his shooting-jacket and tobacco-pouch on deer
antlers, and keeps his fishing-rod, tongs, and walking-stick in the
same corner.
The similitude was heightened, if not originally suggested, by glimpses
of the surrounding sea; since, in one aspect, the country and the ocean
seem cousins-german.
The floor of the cuddy was matted. Overhead, four or five old muskets
were stuck into horizontal holes along the beams. On one side was a
claw-footed old table lashed to the deck; a thumbed missal on it, and
over it a small, meagre crucifix attached to the bulk-head. Under the
table lay a dented cutlass or two, with a hacked harpoon, among some
melancholy old rigging, like a heap of poor friars’ girdles. There were
also two long, sharp-ribbed settees of Malacca cane, black with age,
and uncomfortable to look at as inquisitors’ racks, with a large,
misshapen arm-chair, which, furnished with a rude barber’s crotch at
the back, working with a screw, seemed some grotesque engine of
torment. A flag locker was in one corner, open, exposing various
colored bunting, some rolled up, others half unrolled, still others
tumbled. Opposite was a cumbrous washstand, of black mahogany, all of
one block, with a pedestal, like a font, and over it a railed shelf,
containing combs, brushes, and other implements of the toilet. A torn
hammock of stained grass swung near; the sheets tossed, and the pillow
wrinkled up like a brow, as if who ever slept here slept but illy, with
alternate visitations of sad thoughts and bad dreams.
The further extremity of the cuddy, overhanging the ship’s stern, was
pierced with three openings, windows or port-holes, according as men or
cannon might peer, socially or unsocially, out of them. At present
neither men nor cannon were seen, though huge ring-bolts and other
rusty iron fixtures of the wood-work hinted of twenty-four-pounders.
Glancing towards the hammock as he entered, Captain Delano said, “You
sleep here, Don Benito?”
“Yes, Señor, since we got into mild weather.”
“This seems a sort of dormitory, sitting-room, sail-loft, chapel,
armory, and private closet all together, Don Benito,” added Captain
Delano, looking round.
“Yes, Señor; events have not been favorable to much order in my
arrangements.”
Here the servant, napkin on arm, made a motion as if waiting his
master’s good pleasure. Don Benito signified his readiness, when,
seating him in the Malacca arm-chair, and for the guest’s convenience
drawing opposite one of the settees, the servant commenced operations
by throwing back his master’s collar and loosening his cravat.
There is something in the negro which, in a peculiar way, fits him for
avocations about one’s person. Most negroes are natural valets and
hair-dressers; taking to the comb and brush congenially as to the
castinets, and flourishing them apparently with almost equal
satisfaction. There is, too, a smooth tact about them in this
employment, with a marvelous, noiseless, gliding briskness, not
ungraceful in its way, singularly pleasing to behold, and still more so
to be the manipulated subject of. And above all is the great gift of
good-humor. Not the mere grin or laugh is here meant. Those were
unsuitable. But a certain easy cheerfulness, harmonious in every glance
and gesture; as though God had set the whole negro to some pleasant
tune.
- title
- Chunk 15