Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 58: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

30 PICKWICK :ABRUAD. “What I tell you, young man,” continued the relative cf the first families in Kent, “is as trne as you are sitting there. Iwas duly hanged for mutiny in 1815, and my ghost, being the ghost of a sailor -—for I was an assistant-surgeon on board the Bellerophon—was obliged to haunt some place at sea. I accordingly fixed myself in this little vessel, and a very snug berth I had of it for some time. I used to grub at the expense of the man who was left in charge of the ship, and he none the wiser; for I never showed myself in the day- time; and at night he saw I was a ghost, and treated me with the respect due to my profession.” ~ ‘An’ wery much to his credit, 1t where,” interrupted Mr. Weller. ‘“‘ But pray, tell me—is the pro-fession o’ ghoastesses a rood ’un ?” “Tt used to be, Mr. Weller,”’ returned the little old man. ‘“ There was a time when a ghost might do as he liked in a house—eat up the larder—drink the wine—and steal the loose money and stray linen. But now times are altered. ’Tis two to one if the butler don’t empty the pantry himself before he goes to bed—and then when he does retire to repose, he fails not to kiss the chamber-maid, whose pecula- tions of all there is to steal are winked at by the great functionary in consequence. Thus you see, it is scarcely possible now-a-days for a ghost to get a living.”’ ‘* Wery true,” exclaimed Mr. Weller; ‘‘and that may account for the milk in the cocoa-nuts.”’ ' *T don't know any thing about cocoa-nuts,’’ responded the ghost : “but, this I do know, that I was very well off here for some time, and used to frighten away at least one man every month. At last a fellow came, named Downey, and he wasn’t to be terrified at any price. He ate and drank like a cormorant, and never left any eng cold for my supper. It was no use my appearing to him, either by day or by hight; for he was always so preciously drunk, he fancied he saw double and was in the habit of seeing the reflection of his own person when he really perceived me. This state of things never could last— I grew thin and meagre, and was pining rapidly away. At length Downe died one night of apoplexy, and I immediately threw him overboard, for ghosts do not like the smell of dead carcasses more than you who are alive do. Now there were provisions on board for at least three months—and I had all the ship to myself. Oh! Samuel, how I faughed and sang, and ate and drank; and for fear that the vessel might be visited by the authorities under w hose controul it was, I hoisted the lamp regularly for about a fortnight. One night J had drank too much rum—and the devil a lamp was there at the mast-head at all. And here I sate—just where I am now—smoking my pipe and drink- ‘ng my grog, when suddenly—bang! comes a thundering knock apainst the vessel, and a tremendous crash aroused me from my orgies L hastened on deck, and found that the ship was run foul by a great East-Indiaman. Here’s the devil to pay, said I to myself’; and I im- mediatély Yecollected that I had not Kouted the lamp. What was to be done? I cut the ropes, and let. go the chains that, held the vessel to her moorings, and away we went with the tide down: the- channel ‘at fourteen knots an hour. I may as well observe, by way of paren thesis, that the East-Indiaman got on the sands, and every soul @erished.” 6)(0)() a S 5} a .S