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Updated: June 25, 2025
He took occasion to relate the circumstances just before the "people from the house" arrived, and as the reader may perhaps prefer Buzzby's account to ours, we give it as it was delivered. "You see, it happened this way," began Buzzby. "Hand us a coal, Buzzby, to light my pipe, before ye begin," said Peter Grim.
"I've had a premonition of this it's the last stroke, Tave here, in his home among us and his mother! and, in duty bound, I, of all others, must be the man to finish the ugly job " Octavius Buzzby's face worked strangely. "It's tough for you, Colonel, but I guess a Maine man knows his whole duty only, for God's sake, don't ask me!" It was a groan rather than an ejaculation.
It was with unbounded delight, therefore, that he found his old companion, now a youth of twenty, was to go out as surgeon of the ship, and he could scarce contain himself, as he ran down to Buzzby's cottage to tell him the good news, and ask him to join. Of course Buzzby was ready to go, and, what was of far greater importance in the matter, his wife threw no obstacle in the way.
It was one of the expedients that lasted longest in keeping up the spirits of the men. The rat-hunting referred to in the foregoing "summery" was not a mere fiction of Buzzby's brain. It was a veritable fact. Notwithstanding the extreme cold of this inhospitable climate, the rats in the ship increased to such a degree that at last they became a perfect nuisance.
"Most beautiful!" said Leo, who sat beside the Captain and his friends on the North Pole enjoying the view through the open doorway of the hut, and sipping a cup of coffee. "It reminds me," said Alf, "of Buzzby's lines: "`The snowflakes falling softly In the morning's golden prime, Suggestive of a gentle touch And the silent flight of Time."
"Buzzby's tellin' ye gammon," roared Tom Green, who rode on the second sledge in rear of that on which Davie Summers sat. "What is't all about?" "About gammon, of coorse," retorted Davie. "Keep yer mouth shut for fear your teeth freeze." "Can't ye lead us a better road?" shouted Saunders, who rode on the third sledge; "my bones are rattlin' about inside a' me like a bag o' ninepins."
It was the tone of Luigi's voice that brought her to her senses; in a flash she recalled Octavius Buzzby's warning about playing with "volcanic fires." It was too late, however, to recall her words. "Luigi, I've said too much; you don't understand now let's drop it." She drew away her arm from beneath his hand, and resumed her rapid walk up the driveway, Rag trotting after her.
We cannot help regretting that it is not in our power to present a copy of this well-thumbed periodical to our readers; but being of opinion that something is better than nothing, we transcribe the following extract as a specimen of the contributions from the forecastle. It was entitled "John Buzzby's Oppinyuns o' Things in Gin'ral."
It wos an Australian trader that had been blown out o' her course on her way to England, so they took poor Mrs. Ellice aboard, and brought her home and that's how it wos." Buzzby's outline, although meagre, is so comprehensive that we do not think it necessary to add a word. Soon after he had concluded, the guests of the evening came in, and the conversation became general.
Instantly the broad flukes of the tail were tossed into the air, and, for a single second, spread like a canopy over Buzzby's head. There was no escape. The quick eye of the whaleman saw at a glance that the effort to back out was hopeless. He bent his head, and the next moment was deep down in the waves.
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