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- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.149Z
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- CHAPTER XXXVIII.
LITTLE JULIA SAILS WITHOUT US
To make good the hint thrown out by the consul upon the conclusion of
the Farce of the Affidavits, we were again brought before him within
the time specified.
It was the same thing over again: he got nothing out of us, and we were
remanded; our resolute behaviour annoying him prodigiously.
What we observed led us to form the idea that, on first learning the
state of affairs on board the Julia, Wilson must have addressed his
invalid friend, the captain, something in the following style:
“Guy, my poor fellow, don’t worry yourself now about those rascally
sailors of yours. I’ll dress them out for you—just leave it all to me,
and set your mind at rest.”
But handcuffs and stocks, big looks, threats, dark hints, and
depositions, had all gone for nought.
Conscious that, as matters now stood, nothing serious could grow out of
what had happened; and never dreaming that our being sent home for
trial had ever been really thought of, we thoroughly understood Wilson,
and laughed at him accordingly.
Since leaving the Julia, we had caught no glimpse of the mate; but we
often heard of him.
It seemed that he remained on board, keeping house in the cabin for
himself and Viner; who, going to see him according to promise, was
induced to remain a guest. These two cronies now had fine times;
tapping the captain’s quarter-casks, playing cards on the transom, and
giving balls of an evening to the ladies ashore. In short, they cut up
so many queer capers that the missionaries complained of them to the
consul; and Jermin received a sharp reprimand.
This so affected him that he still drank more freely than before; and
one afternoon, when mellow as a grape, he took umbrage at a canoe full
of natives, who, on being hailed from the deck to come aboard and show
their papers, got frightened, and paddled for the shore.
Lowering a boat instantly, he equipped Wymontoo and the Dane with a
cutlass apiece, and seizing another himself, off they started in
pursuit, the ship’s ensign flying in the boat’s stern. The alarmed
islanders, beaching their canoe, with loud cries fled through the
village, the mate after them, slashing his naked weapon to right and
left. A crowd soon collected; and the “Karhowree toonee,” or crazy
stranger, was quickly taken before Wilson.
Now, it so chanced that, in a native house hard by, the consul and
Captain Guy were having a quiet game at cribbage by themselves, a
decanter on the table standing sentry. The obstreperous Jermin was
brought in; and finding the two thus pleasantly occupied, it had a
soothing effect upon him; and he insisted upon taking a hand at the
cards, and a drink of the brandy. As the consul was nearly as tipsy as
himself, and the captain dared not object for fear of giving offence,
at it they went—all three of them—and made a night of it; the mate’s
delinquencies being summarily passed over, and his captors sent away.
An incident worth relating grew out of this freak.
There wandered about Papeetee, at this time, a shrivelled little fright
of an Englishwoman, known among sailors as “Old Mother Tot.” From New
Zealand to the Sandwich Islands, she had been all over the South Seas;
keeping a rude hut of entertainment for mariners, and supplying them
with rum and dice. Upon the missionary islands, of course, such conduct
was severely punishable; and at various places, Mother Tot’s
establishment had been shut up, and its proprietor made to quit in the
first vessel that could be hired to land her elsewhere. But, with a
perseverance invincible, wherever she went she always started afresh;
and so became notorious everywhere.
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