Still Jack is a little
mischievous, that's sartain. In the Euridiscy we had as fine a ship's
company as was ever piped aloft--'Steady, starboard, my man, you're
half-a-pint off your course;'--we dropped our anchor in Port Royal, and
we thought that there was mischief brewing, for thirty-eight sharks
followed the ship into the harbour, and played about us day and night. I
used to watch them during the night watch, as their fins, above water,
skimmed along, leaving a trail of light behind them; and the second
night I said to the sentry abaft, as I was looking at them smelling
under the counter--'Soldier,' says I, 'them sharks are mustering under
the orders of Yellow Jack,' and I no sooner mentioned Yellow Jack, than
the sharks gave a frisky plunge, every one of them, as much as to say,
'Yes, so we are, d----n your eyes.' The soldier was so frightened that
he would have fallen overboard, if I hadn't caught him by the scruff of
the neck, for he was standing on the top of the taffrail. As it was, he
dropped his musket over the stern, which the sharks dashed at from every
quarter, making the sea look like fire--and he had it charged to his
wages, L1 16s. I think. However, the fate of his musket gave him an idea
of what would have happened to him if he had fallen in instead of it--
and he never got on the taffrail again. 'Steady, port--mind your helm,
Smith--you can listen to my yarn all the same.' Well, Mr Simple, Yellow
Jack came, sure enough. First the purser was called to account for all
his roguery.
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