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- 4296
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.838Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 4223
- text
- merchant sailors, of tying fast in the rigging any lubberly landsman of
a passenger who may be detected taking excursions aloft, however
moderate the flight of the awkward fowl. This is called _“making a
spread eagle”_ of the man; and before he is liberated, a promise is
exacted, that before arriving in port, he shall furnish the ship’s
company with money enough for a treat all round.
Now this being one of the perquisites of sailors, they are always on
the keen look-out for an opportunity of levying such contributions upon
incautious strangers; though they never attempt it in presence of the
captain; as for the mates, they purposely avert their eyes, and are
earnestly engaged about something else, whenever they get an inkling of
this proceeding going on. But, with only one poor fellow of a
cabin-passenger on board of the Highlander, and _he_ such a quiet,
unobtrusive, unadventurous wight, there seemed little chance for
levying contributions.
One remarkably pleasant morning, however, what should be seen, half way
up the mizzen rigging, but the figure of our cabin-passenger, holding
on with might and main by all four limbs, and with his head fearfully
turned round, gazing off to the horizon. He looked as if he had the
nightmare; and in some sudden and unaccountable fit of insanity, he
must have been impelled to the taking up of that perilous position.
“Good heavens!” said the mate, who was a bit of a wag, “you will surely
fall, sir! Steward, spread a mattress on deck, under the gentleman!”
But no sooner was our Greenland sailor’s attention called to the sight,
than snatching up some rope-yarn, he ran softly up behind the
passenger, and without speaking a word, began binding him hand and
foot. The stranger was more dumb than ever with amazement; at last
violently remonstrated; but in vain; for as his fearfulness of falling
made him keep his hands glued to the ropes, and so prevented him from
any effectual resistance, he was soon made a handsome _spread-eagle_
of, to the great satisfaction of the crew.
It was now discovered for the first, that this singular passenger
stammered and stuttered very badly, which, perhaps, was the cause of
his reservedness.
“Wha-wha-what i-i-is this f-f-for?”
“Spread-eagle, sir,” said the Greenlander, thinking that those few
words would at once make the matter plain.
“Wha-wha-what that me-me-mean?”
“Treats all round, sir,” said the Greenlander, wondering at the other’s
obtusity, who, however, had never so much as heard of the thing before.
At last, upon his reluctant acquiescence in the demands of the sailor,
and handing him two half-crown pieces, the unfortunate passenger was
suffered to descend.
The last I ever saw of this man was his getting into a cab at Prince’s
Dock Gates in Liverpool, and driving off alone to parts unknown. He had
nothing but a valise with him, and an umbrella; but his pockets looked
stuffed out; perhaps he used them for carpet-bags.
I must now give some account of another and still more mysterious,
though very different, sort of an occupant of the cabin, of whom I have
previously hinted. What say you to a charming young girl?—just the girl
to sing the Dashing White Sergeant; a martial, military-looking girl;
her father must have been a general. Her hair was auburn; her eyes were
blue; her cheeks were white and red; and Captain Riga was her most
devoted.
To the curious questions of the sailors concerning who she was, the
steward used to answer, that she was the daughter of one of the
Liverpool dock-masters, who, for the benefit of her health and the
improvement of her mind, had sent her out to America in the Highlander,
under the captain’s charge, who was his particular friend; and that now
the young lady was returning home from her tour.
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