At last some four or five of us were summoned to ourmeal in an adjoining room. It was cold as Iceland—nofire at all—the landlord said he couldn't afford it.Nothing but two dismal tallow candles, each in awinding sheet. We were fain to button up our monkey jackets, and hold to our lips cups ofscalding tea with our half frozen fingers. But the fare was of the most substantial kind—notonly meat and potatoes, but dumplings; good heavens! dumplings for supper! One young fellowin a green box coat, addressed himself to these dumplings in a most direful manner.
"My boy," said the landlord, "you'll have the nightmare to a dead sartainty."
"Landlord," I whispered, "that aint the harpooneer is it?"
"Oh, no," said he, looking a sort of diabolically funny, "the harpooneer is a dark complexionedchap. He never eats dumplings, he don't—he eats nothing but steaks, and he likes 'em rare."
"The devil he does," says I. "Where is that harpooneer? Is he here?"
"He'll be here afore long," was the answer.
I could not help it, but I began to feel suspicious of this "dark complexioned" harpooneer. Atany rate, I made up my mind that if it so turned out that we should sleep together, he mustundress and get into bed before I did.
Supper over, the company went back to the bar-room, when, knowing not what else to do withmyself, I resolved to spend the rest of the evening as a looker on.
Presently a rioting noise was heard without. Starting up, the landlord cried, "That's theGrampus's crew. I seed her reported in the offing this morning; a three years' voyage, and afull ship. Hurrah, boys; now we'll have the latest news from the Feegees."
A tramping of sea boots was heard in the entry; the door was flung open, and in rolled a wildset of mariners enough. Enveloped in their shaggy watch coats, and with their heads muffledin woollen comforters, all bedarned and ragged, and their beards stiff with icicles, they seemedan eruption of bears from Labrador. They had just landed from their boat, and this was thefirst house they entered. No wonder, then, that they made a straight wake for the whale'smouth—the bar—when the wrinkled little old Jonah, there officiating, soon poured them outbrimmers all round. One complained of a bad cold in his head, upon which Jonah mixed him apitch-like potion of gin and molasses, which he swore was a sovereign cure for all colds andcatarrhs whatsoever, never mind of how long standing, or whether caught off the coast ofLabrador, or on the weather side of an ice-island.
The liquor soon mounted into their heads, as it generally does even with the arrantest topersnewly landed from sea, and they began capering about most obstreperously.
I observed, however, that one of them held somewhat aloof, and though he seemed desirousnot to spoil the hilarity of his shipmates by his own sober face, yet upon the whole herefrained from making as much noise as the rest.