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Updated: May 22, 2025
"This is slow work," observed Spellman. "I vote we make more sail." Looking out of the window he sang out, "Heave ahead, my hearty. There's a crown for you if you make the craft walk along."
I was in his watch, and as there was nothing to do, when it occurred at night, except to see that the sentries were on the look-out, that the anchors were not dragging, or the ship on fire, I always got him into conversation; and one evening, Grey and Spellman having joined us, we begged him to go on with the account of his adventures at the North Pole, of which for a long time we had heard nothing.
"Yes, Mr Merry; I like to serve my friends, and serve out my enemies. Not that poor Mr Spellman is an enemy of yours or mine; but I say it with all due respect he is a goose, and I like to baste geese." I did not repeat to Spellman what Mr Johnson had said of him.
This matter had not made me forget Macquoid's promised visit to us. The next morning, when we were all awake, I asked Spellman how he felt. "Very jolly," he answered. "But I have no intention of getting up and bothering myself with duty for some time to come. I've done enough for the good of the service to last me for some time."
Spellman, in his book on sacrilege, cites Cullerne as an instance where church lands brought ruin to their new owner's family; for Shearman had a spendthrift son who squandered his patrimony, and then, caballing with Spanish intriguants, came to the block in Queen Elizabeth's days. "For evil hands have abbey lands, Such evil fate in store; Such is the heritage that waits Church-robbers evermore."
If you ever did, you'll have some notion of what you'll have to go through in the dog-days out in those parts." "Oh dear, oh dear," exclaimed Spellman: "why we shall all be downright roasted." "I've a notion there's some one being roasted now," observed Mr Johnson, with a wink and a curl of his nose. "Roasted!
A few days after this Spellman came into the berth in a great rage, stating that he had overheard the boatswain say that Mr Merry was worth his weight in gold, and that he, Spellman, was not worth his in paving-stones. "Listeners never hear any good of themselves," observed one. "And if you are not worth your weight in paving-stones, I should like to know what you are worth?" asked old Perigal.
Spellman was not asked, and had he been, we concluded that he would not have accepted the invitation, so we said nothing about it to him. We had a jolly paying-off dinner, with the usual speeches, and compliments, and toasts. After the health of the King was drunk and all the Royal family, and other important personages, Mr Bryan got up and said
"He does not quarrel with or shoot his companions, and I do not believe that there is a braver man in the service." Our conversation was interrupted by a chase after poor Gogles, whom Spellman and others had started up the mizen-rigging, giving him a minute's start. If they caught him he was to receive a cobbing; if he escaped he was to give them one, if he could.
Paddy Fitzgerald was a case in point, but a more amusing fellow and better messmate never lived. The ship was again almost ready for sea. Perigal, who had got leave, came on board, looking very sad at having had again to part from his wife. Spellman and Grey joined the next day. There had been no changes in our berth. Perigal ought certainly to have been promoted, but he was not.
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