Another
said that he never knew any good to come of a voyage made against
the will, and the deceased man shipped and spent his advance and
was afterwards very unwilling to go, but not being able to refund,
was obliged to sail with us. A boy, too, who had become quite
attached to him, said that George talked to him during most of
the watch on the night before, about his mother and family at home,
and this was the first time that he had mentioned the subject during
the voyage.
The night after this event, when I went to the galley to get a light,
I found the cook inclined to be talkative, so I sat down on the spars,
and gave him an opportunity to hold a yarn. I was the more inclined
to do so, as I found that he was full of the superstitions once more
common among seamen, and which the recent death had waked up in his mind.
He talked about George's having spoken of his friends, and said he
believed few men died without having a warning of it, which he supported
by a great many stories of dreams, and the unusual behavior of men before
death. From this he went on to other superstitions, the Flying Dutchman,
etc., and talked rather mysteriously, having something evidently on his mind.
At length he put his head out of the galley and looked carefully about to
see if any one was within hearing, and being satisfied on that point, asked
me in a low tone -
"I say! you know what countryman 'e carpenter be?"
"Yes," said I; "he's a German."
"What kind of a German?" said the cook.
"He belongs to Bremen," said I.
"Are you sure o' dat?" said he.
I satisfied him on that point by saying that he could speak no
language but the German and English.
"I'm plaguy glad o' dat," said the cook. "I was mighty 'fraid he was a
Fin. I tell you what, I been plaguy civil to that man all the voyage."
I asked him the reason of this, and found that he was fully possessed
with the notion that Fins are wizards, and especially have power over
winds and storms. I tried to reason with him about it, but he had the
best of all arguments, that from experience, at hand, and was not to
be moved. He had been in a vessel at the Sandwich Islands, in which
the sail-maker was a Fin, and could do anything he was of a mind to.
This sail-maker kept a junk bottle in his berth, which was always just
half full of rum, though he got drunk upon it nearly every day.
