"
"If you please, sir," replied the mizen-top-man, touching his hat, "I'se
got worms, and they say that smoking be good for them."
"Good for them!" said the first lieutenant; "yes, very good for them,
but very bad for you. Why, my good fellow, they'll thrive upon tobacco
until they grow as large as conger eels. Heat is what the worms are fond
of; but cold--cold will kill them. Now I'll cure you. Quarter-master,
come here. Walk this boy up and down the weather-gangway, and every time
you get forward abreast of the main-tack block, put his mouth to
windward, squeeze him sharp by the nape of the neck until he opens his
mouth wide, and there keep him and let the cold air blow down his
throat, while you count ten; then walk him aft, and when you are forward
again, proceed as before.--Cold kills worms, my poor boy, not tobacco--I
wonder that you are not dead by this time."
The quarter-master, who liked the joke, as did all the seamen, seized
hold of the lad, and as soon as they arrived forward, gave him such a
squeeze of the neck as to force him to open his mouth, if it were only
to cry with pain. The wind was very fresh, and blew into his mouth so
strong, that it actually whistled while he was forced to keep it open;
and thus, he was obliged to walk up and down, cooling his inside, for
nearly two hours, when the first lieutenant sent for him, and told him,
that he thought all the worms must be dead by that time; but if they
were not, the lad was not to apply his own remedies, but come to him for
another dose.
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