- end_line
- 13851
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:36.278Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 13798
- text
- your tyranny—by this manly beard, I swear, it was barbarous!
My noble captain, Jack Chase, was indignant. Not even all the special
favours he had received from Captain Claret, and the plenary pardon
extended to him for his desertion into the Peruvian service, could
restrain the expression of his feelings. But in his cooler moments,
Jack was a wise man; he at last deemed it but wisdom to succumb.
When he went to the barber he almost drew tears from his eyes. Seating
himself mournfully on the match-tub, he looked sideways, and said to
the barber, who was _slithering_ his sheep-shears in readiness to
begin: “My friend, I trust your scissors are consecrated. Let them not
touch this beard if they have yet to be dipped in holy water; beards
are sacred things, barber. Have you no feeling for beards, my friend?
think of it;” and mournfully he laid his deep-dyed, russet cheek upon
his hand. “Two summers have gone by since my chin has been reaped. I
was in Coquimbo then, on the Spanish Main; and when the husband-man was
sowing his Autumnal grain on the Vega, I started this blessed beard;
and when the vine-dressers were trimming their vines in the vineyards,
I first trimmed it to the sound of a flute. Ah! barber, have you no
heart? This beard has been caressed by the snow-white hand of the
lovely Tomasita of Tombez—the Castilian belle of all lower Peru. Think
of _that_, barber! I have worn it as an officer on the quarter-deck of
a Peruvian man-of-war. I have sported it at brilliant fandangoes in
Lima. I have been alow and aloft with it at sea. Yea, barber! it has
streamed like an Admiral’s pennant at the mast-head of this same
gallant frigate, the Neversink! Oh! barber, barber! it stabs me to the
heart.—Talk not of hauling down your ensigns and standards when
vanquished—what is _that_, barber! to striking the flag that Nature
herself has nailed to the mast!”
Here noble Jack’s feelings overcame him: he dropped from the animated
attitude into which his enthusiasm had momentarily transported him; his
proud head sunk upon his chest, and his long, sad beard almost grazed
the deck.
“Ay! trail your beards in grief and dishonour, oh crew of the
Neversink!” sighed Jack. “Barber, come closer—now, tell me, my friend,
have you obtained absolution for this deed you are about to commit? You
have not? Then, barber, I will absolve you; your hands shall be washed
of this sin; it is not you, but another; and though you are about to
shear off my manhood, yet, barber, I freely forgive you; kneel, kneel,
barber! that I may bless you, in token that I cherish no malice!”
So when this barber, who was the only tender-hearted one of his tribe,
had kneeled, been absolved, and then blessed, Jack gave up his beard
into his hands, and the barber, clipping it off with a sigh, held it
high aloft, and, parodying the style of the boatswain’s mates, cried
aloud, “D’ye hear, fore and aft? This is the beard of our matchless
Jack Chase, the noble captain of this frigate’s main-top!”
- title
- Chunk 5