Kitabı oku: «Aileen Aroon, A Memoir», sayfa 11

These pets had a deadly enemy in a brown raven – the Brahma kite; swifter than arrow from bow he descended, describing the arc of a great circle, and carrying off in his flight the largest lamp of bread he could spy. He, for one, never stopped to bless the hand of the giver; but the crows, I know, were not ungrateful. Club-foot used to perch beside me on a chair, and pick his morsels from the floor, always premising that two windows at least must be open. As to the others, their persecutions ended; they never appeared except when called upon. The last act of their aggression was to devour a very fine specimen of praying mantis I had confined in a quinine bottle. The first day the paper cover had been torn off, and the mantis had only escaped by keeping close at the bottom; next day, the cover was again broken, and the bottle itself capsized; the poor mantis had prayed in vain for once. Club-foot, I think, must have stopped all day in the banyan-tree, for I never went to the window to call him without his appearing at once with a joyful caw; this feat I used often to exhibit to my shipmates who came to visit me during my illness.

One thing about talking-birds I don’t remember ever to have seen noticed – namely, the habit some birds have of talking in their sleep. And, just as a human being will often converse in his dream in a long-forgotten language, so birds will often at night be heard repeating words or phrases they never could remember in their waking moments. A starling of mine often roused me at night by calling out my dog’s name in loud, distinct tones, although by day his attempts to do so were quite ineffectual. So with a venerable parrot we had on board the saucy Skipjack. Polly was a quiet bird in daylight, and much given to serious thought; but at times, in the stillness of the middle watch at sea, would startle the sailors from their slumbers by crying out: “Deen, deen – kill, kill, kill!” in quite an alarming manner. Polly had been all through the Indian mutiny, and was shut up in Delhi during the sad siege, so her dreams were not very enviable.

Do parrots know what they say? At times I think they do. Our parson on board the old Rumbler had no more attentive listener to the Sabbath morning service than wardroom Polly; but there were times when Polly made responses when silence would have been more judicious. There was an amount of humour which it is impossible to describe, in the sly way she one day looked the parson in the face, as he had just finished a burst of eloquence both impassioned and impressive, and uttered one of her impertinent remarks. For some months, she was denied access to church because she had once forgotten herself so far as to draw corks during the sermon – this being considered “highly mutinous and insubordinate conduct.” But she regained her privilege. Poor Poll! I’ll never forget the solemn manner in which she shut her eyes one day at the close of the service, as if still musing on the words of the sermon, on the mutability of all things created, and remarked: “Vanity, vanity, all is vanity, says – says:” she could say no more – the rest stuck in her throat, and we were left to ponder on her unfortunate loss of memory in uttering the admonitory sentiment.

Chapter Nineteen.
My Cabin Mates and Bedfellows: A Sketch of Life on the Coast of Africa

 
“Whaur are gaun crawlin’ ferlie,
Your impudence protects ye sairly.”
 

Burns.

I was idly sauntering along the only street in Simon’s Town one fine day in June, when I met my little, fat, good-humoured friend, Paymaster Pumpkin. He was walking at an enormous pace for the length of his legs, and his round face was redder than ever. He would hardly stop to tell me that H.M.S. Vesuvius was ordered off in two hours – provisions for a thousand men – the Kaffirs (scoundrels) had crossed some river (name unpronounceable) with an army of one hundred thousand men, and were on their way to Cape Town, with the murderous intention of breaking every human bone in that fair town, and probably picking them leisurely afterwards. The upshot of all this, as far as I was concerned, was my being appointed to as pretty a model, and as dirty a little craft, as there was in the service, namely, H.M.S. Pen-gun. Our armament consisted of four pea-shooters and one Mons Meg; and our orders were to repair to the east coast of Africa, and there pillage, burn, and destroy every floating thing that dared to carry a slave, without permission from Britannia’s queen. Of our adventures there, and how we ruled the waves, I am at present going to say nothing. I took up my commission as surgeon of this interesting craft, and we soon after sailed.

On first stepping on board the Pen-gun, a task which was by no means difficult to a person with legs of even moderate length, my nose – yes, my nose – that interesting portion of my physiognomy, which for months before had inhaled nothing more nauseous than the perfume of a thousand heaths, or the odour of a thousand roses – my nose was assailed by a smell which burst upon my astonished senses, like a compound of asafoetida, turpentine, and Stilton cheese. As I gasped for breath, the lieutenant in command endeavoured to console me by saying – “Oh, it’s only the cockroaches: you’ll get used to it by-and-by.”

“Only the cockroaches!” repeated I to myself, as I went below to look after my cabin. This last I found to be of the following dimensions – namely, five feet high (I am five feet ten), six feet long, and six feet broad at the top; but, owing to the curve of the vessel’s side, only two feet broad at the deck. A cot hung fore and aft along the ship’s side, and the remaining furniture consisted of a doll’s chest of drawers, beautifully fitted up on top with a contrivance to hold utensils of lavation, and a Liliputian writing-table on the other; thus diminishing my available space to two square feet, and this in a break-neck position. My cot, too, was very conveniently placed for receiving the water which trickled freely from my scuttle when the wind blew, and more slowly when the wind didn’t; so that every night, very much against my will, I was put under the operations of practical hydropathy. And this was my sanctum, sanctorum; but had it been clean, or capable of cleaning, I am a philosopher, and would have rejoiced in it; but it was neither; and ugh! it was inhabited.

Being what is termed in medical parlance, of the nervo-sanguineous temperament, my horror of the loathsome things about me for the first week almost drove me into a fever. I could not sleep at night, or if I fell into an uneasy slumber, I was awakened from fearful dreams, to find some horrid thing creeping or running over my hands or face. When a little boy, I used to be fond of turning up stones in green meadows, to feast my eyes upon the many creeping things beneath. I felt now as if I myself were living under a stone. However, after a year’s slaver-hunting, I got so used to all these creatures, that I did not mind them a bit. I could crack scorpions, bruise the heads of centipedes, laugh at earwigs, be delighted with ants, eat weevils, admire tarantulas, encourage spiders. As for mosquitoes, flies, and all the smaller genera, I had long since been thoroughly inoculated; and they could now bleed me as much as they thought proper, without my being aware of it. It is of the habits of some of these familiar friends I purpose giving a short sketch in this chapter and next.

Of the “gentlemen of England who live at home at ease,” very few, I suspect, would know a cockroach, although they found the animal in their soap – as I have done more than once. Cockroaches are of two principal kinds – the small, nearly an inch long; and the large, nearly two and a half inches. Let the reader fancy to himself a common horsefly of our own country, half an inch in breadth, and of the length just stated, the body, ending in two forks, which project beyond the wings, the head, furnished with powerful mandibles, and two feelers, nearly four inches long, and the whole body of a dark-brown or gun-barrel colour, and he will have as good an idea as possible of the gigantic cockroach. The legs are of enormous size and strength, taking from fifteen to twenty ants to carry one away, and furnished with bristles, which pierce the skin in their passage over one’s face; and this sensation, together with the horrid smell they emit, is generally sufficient to awaken a sleeper of moderate depth. On these legs the animal squats, walking with his elbows spread out, like a practical agriculturist writing an amatory epistle to his lady-love, except when he raises the fore part of his body, which he does at times, in order the more conveniently to stare you in the face. He prefers walking at a slow and respectable pace; but if you threaten him by shaking your finger at him, it is very funny to see how quickly he takes the hint, and hurries off with all his might. What makes him seem more ridiculous is, that he does not appear to take into consideration the comparative length of your legs; he seems impressed with the idea that he can easily run away from you; indeed, I have no doubt he would do so from a greyhound. The creature is possessed of large eyes; and there is a funny expression of conscious guilt and impudence about his angular face which is very amusing; he knows very well that he lives under a ban – that, in fact, existence is a thing he has no business or lawful right with, and consequently he can never look you straight in the face, like an honest fly or moth. The eggs, which are nearly half an inch long, and about one-eighth in breadth, are rounded at the upper edge, and the two sides approach, wedge-like, to form the lower edge, which is sharp and serrated, for attachment to the substance on which they may chance to be deposited. These eggs are attached by one end to the body of the cockroach; and when fully formed, they are placed upon any material which the wisdom of the mother deems fit food for the youthful inmates. This may be either a dress-coat, a cocked-hat, a cork, a biscuit, or a book – in fact, anything softer than stone; and the egg is no sooner laid, than it begins to sink through the substance below it, by an eating or dissolving process, which is probably due to the agency of some free acid; thus, sailors very often (I may say invariably) have their finest uniform-coats and dress-pants ornamented by numerous little holes, better adapted for purposes of ventilation than embellishment. The interior of the egg is transversely divided into numerous cells, each containing the larvae of I know not how many infant cockroaches. The egg gives birth in a few weeks to a whole brood of triangular little insects, which gradually increase till they attain the size of huge oval beetles, striped transversely black and brown, but as yet minus wings. These are usually considered a different species, and called the beetle-cockroach; but having a suspicion of the truth, I one day imprisoned one of these in a crystal tumbler, and by-and-by had the satisfaction of seeing, first the beetle break his own back, and secondly, a large-winged cockroach scramble, with a little difficulty, through the wound, looking rather out of breath from the exertion. On first escaping, he was perfectly white, but in a few hours got photographed down to his own humble brown colour. So much for the appearance of these gentry. Now for their character, which may easily be summed up: they are cunning as the fox; greedy as the glutton; impudent as sin; cruel, treacherous, cowardly scoundrels; addicted to drinking; arrant thieves; and not only eat each other, but even devour with avidity their own legs, when they undergo accidental amputation. They are very fond of eating the toe-nails – so fond, indeed, as to render the nail-scissors of no value, and they also profess a penchant for the epidermis – if I may be allowed a professional expression – of the feet and legs; not that they object to the skin of any other part of the body, by no means; they attack the legs merely on a principle of easy come-at-ability.

In no way is their cunning better exhibited than in the cautious and wary manner in which they conduct their attack upon a sleeper. We will suppose you have turned in to your swinging cot, tucked in your toes, and left one arm uncovered, to guard your face. By-and-by, first a few spies creep slowly up the bulkhead, and have a look at you: if your eyes are open, they slowly retire, trying to look as much at their ease as possible; but if you look round, they run off with such ridiculous haste and awkward length of steps, as to warrant the assurance that they were up to no good. Pretend, however, to close your eyes, and soon after, one, bolder than the rest, walks down the pillow, and stations himself at your cheek, in an attitude of silent and listening meditation. Here he stands for a few seconds, then cautiously lowering one feeler, he tickles your face: if you remain quiescent, the experiment is soon repeated; if you are still quiet, then you are supposed to be asleep, and the work of the night begins. The spy walks off in great haste, and soon returns with the working-party. The hair is now searched for drops of oil; the ear is examined for wax; in sound sleepers, even the mouth undergoes scrutiny; and every exposed part is put under the operation of gentle skinning. Now is the time to start up, and batter the bulkheads with your slipper; you are sure of half an hour’s good sport; but what then? The noise made by the brutes running off brings out the rest, and before you are aware, every crevice or corner vomits forth its thousands, and the bulkheads all around are covered with racing, chasing, fighting, squabbling cockroaches. So numerous, indeed, they are at times, that it would be no exaggeration to say that every square foot contains its dozen. If you are wise, you will let them alone, and go quietly and philosophically to bed, for you may kill hundreds, and hundreds more will come to the funeral-feast. Cockroaches are cannibals, practically and by profession. This can be proved in many ways. They eat the dead bodies of their slain comrades; and if any one of them gets sick or wounded, his companions, with a kindness and consideration which cannot be too highly appreciated, speedily put him out of pain, and, by way of reward for their own trouble, devour him.

These creatures seem to suffer from a state of chronic thirst; they are continually going and returning from the wash-hand basin, and very careful they are, too, not to tumble in.

They watch, sailor-like, the motion of the vessel; when the water flows towards them, they take a few sips, and then wait cautiously while it recedes and returns. Yet, for all this caution, accidents do happen, and every morning you are certain to find a large number drowned in the basin. This forms one of the many methods of catching them. I will only mention two other methods in common use. A pickle-bottle, containing a little sugar and water, is placed in the cabin; the animals crawl in, but are unable to get out until the bottle is nearly full, when a few manage to escape, after the manner of the fox in the fable of the “Fox and Goat in the Well;” and if those who thus escape have previously promised to pull their friends out by the long feelers, they very unfeelingly decline, and walk away as quickly as possible, sadder and wiser ’roaches. When the bottle is at length filled, it finds its way overboard. Another method is adopted in some ships – the boys have to muster every morning with a certain number of cockroaches; if they have more, they are rewarded; if less, punished. I have heard of vessels being fumigated, or sunk in harbour; but in these cases the number of dead cockroaches, fast decaying in tropical weather, generally causes fever to break out in the ship; so that, if a vessel once gets overrun with them, nothing short of dry-docking and taking to pieces does any good.

They are decided drunkards. I think they prefer brandy; but they are not difficult to please, and generally prefer whatever they can get. When a cockroach gets drunk, he becomes very lively indeed, runs about, flaps his wings, and tries to fly – a mode of progression which, except in very hot weather, they are unable to perform. Again and again he returns to the liquor, till at last he falls asleep, and by-and-by awakes, and, no doubt filled with remorse at having fallen a victim to so human a weakness, rushes frantically away, and in trying to drink, usually drowns himself.

But although the cockroach is, in general, the bloodthirsty and vindictive being that I have described, still he is by no means unsociable, and has his times and seasons of merriment and recreation. On these occasions, the ’roaches emerge from their hiding-places in thousands at some preconcerted signal, perform a reel, or rather an acute-angled, spherically-trigonometrical quadrille, to the music of their own buzz, and evidently to their own intense satisfaction. This queer dance occupies two or three minutes, after which the patter of their little feet is heard no more, the buzz and the bum-m-m are hushed; they have gone to their respective places of abode, and are seen no more for that time. This usually takes place on the evening of a very hot day – a day when pitch has boiled on deck, and the thermometer below has stood persistently above ninety degrees. When the lamps are lit in the wardroom, and the officers have gathered round the table for a quiet rubber at whist, then is heard all about and around you a noise like the rushing of many waters, or the wind among the forest-trees; and on looking up, you find the bulkheads black, or rather brown, with the rustling wretches, while dozens go whirring past you, alight on your head, or fly right in your face.

This is a cockroaches’ ball, which, if not so brilliant as the butterfly ball of my early recollections, I have no doubt is considered by themselves as very amusing and highly respectable.

The reader will readily admit that the character of “greedy as gluttons” has not been misapplied when I state that it would be an easier task to tell what they did not eat, than what they did.

While they partake largely of the common articles of diet in the ship’s stores, they also rather like books, clothes, boots, soap, and corks. They are also partial to lucifer-matches, and consider the edges of razors and amputating-knives delicate eating.³ As to drink, these animals exhibit the same impartiality. Probably they do prefer wines and spirits, but they can nevertheless drink beer with relish, and even suit themselves to circumstances, and imbibe water, either pure or mixed with soap; and if they cannot obtain wine, they find in ink a very good substitute. Cockroaches, I should think, are by no means exempt from the numerous ills that flesh is heir to, and must at times, like human epicures and gourmands, suffer dreadfully from rheums and dyspepsia; for to what else can I attribute their extreme partiality for medicine? “Every man his own doctor,” seems to be their motto; and they appear to attach no other meaning to the word “surgeon” than simply something to eat: I speak by experience. As to physic, nothing seems to come wrong to them. If patients on shore were only half as fond of pills and draughts, I, for one, should never go to sea. As to powders, they invariably roll themselves bodily in them; and tinctures they sip all day long. Blistering-plaster seems a patent nostrum, which they take internally, for they managed to use up two ounces of mine in as many weeks, and I have no doubt it warmed their insides. I one night left a dozen blue pills carelessly exposed on my little table; soon after I had turned in, I observed the box surrounded by them, and being too lazy to get up, I had to submit to see my pills walked off with in a very few minutes by a dozen ’roaches, each one carrying a pill. I politely informed them that there was more than a dose for an adult cockroach in each of these pills; but I rather think they did not heed the caution, for next morning, the deck of my little cabin was strewed with the dead and dying, some exhibiting all the symptoms of an advanced stage of mercurial salivation, and some still swallowing little morsels of pill, no doubt on the principle of similia similibus curantur, from which I argue that cockroaches are homoeopathists.

That cockroaches are cowards, no one, I suppose, will think of disputing.

I have seen a gigantic cockroach run away from an ant, under the impression, I suppose, that the little creature meant to swallow him alive.

The smaller-sized cockroach differs merely in size and some unimportant particulars from that just described, and possesses in a less degree all the vices of his big brother. They, too, are cannibals; but they prefer to prey upon the large one, which they kill and eat when they find wounded. For example, one very hot day, I was enjoying the luxury of a bath at noon, when a large cockroach alighted in great hurry on the edge of my bath, and began to drink, without saying “By your leave,” or “Good-morning to you.”

Now, being by nature of a kind disposition, I certainly should never have refused to allow the creature to quench his thirst in my bath – although I would undoubtedly have killed him afterwards – had he not, in his hurried flight over me, touched my shoulder with his nasty wings, and left thereon his peculiar perfume.

This very naturally incensed me, so seizing a book, with an interjectional remark on his impudence, I struck him to the deck, when he lay to all appearance, dead; so, at least, thought a wily little ’roach of the small genus, that had been watching the whole affair at the mouth of his hole, and determined to seize his gigantic relative, and have a feast at his expense; so, with this praiseworthy intention, the imp marched boldly up to him, pausing just one second, as if to make sure that life was extinct; then, seeing no movement or sign of life evinced by the giant, he very pompously seized him by the fore-leg, and, turning round, commenced dragging his burden towards a hole, no doubt inwardly chuckling at the anticipation of so glorious a supper.

Unfortunately for the dwarfs hopes, however, the giant now began to revive from the effects of concussion of the brain, into which state my rough treatment had sent him; and his ideas of his whereabouts being rather confused, at the same time feeling himself moving, he very naturally and instinctively began to help himself to follow, by means of his disengaged extremities. Being as yet unaware of what had happened behind, the heart of the little gentleman in front swelled big with conscious pride and dignity, at the thought of what a strong little ’roach he was, and how easily he could drag away his big relative.

But this new and sudden access of strength began presently to astonish the little creature itself, for, aided by the giant’s movements, it could now almost run with its burden, and guessing, I suppose, that everything was not as it ought to be, it peeped over its shoulder to see. Fancy, if you can, the terror and affright of the pigmy on seeing the monster creeping stealthily after it. “What had it been doing? How madly it had been acting!” Dropping its relative’s leg, it turned, and fairly ran, helping itself along with its wings, like a barn-door fowl whose wits have been scared away by fright, and never looked once back till fairly free from its terrible adventure; and I have no doubt it was very glad at having discovered its mistake in time, since otherwise the tables might have been turned, and the supper business reversed.

So much for cockroaches, and I ought probably to apologise for my description of these gentry being so realistic and graphic. If I ought to, I do.