The old fellow, springing to his feet and
flourishing his paddle, cut some of the queerest capers; all the
while jabbering something which at first we could not understand.
Presently we made out the following: - "Ah! you pemi, ah! - you
come! - What for you come? - You be fine for come no pilot. - I say, you
hear? - I say, you ita maitui (no good). - You hear? - You no
pilot. - Yes, you d - - me, you no pilot 't all; I d - - you; you
hear?"
This tirade, which showed plainly that, whatever the profane old
rascal was at, he was in right good earnest, produced peals of
laughter from the ship. Upon which, he seemed to get beside himself;
and the boy, who, with suspended paddle, was staring about him,
received a sound box over the head, which set him to work in a
twinkling, and brought the canoe quite near. The orator now opening
afresh, it turned out that his vehement rhetoric was all addressed to
the mate, still standing conspicuously on the bulwarks.
But Jermin was in no humour for nonsense; so, with a sailor's
blessing, he ordered him off. The old fellow then flew into a regular
frenzy, cursing and swearing worse than any civilized being I ever
heard.
"You sabbee me?" he shouted. "You know me, ah? Well; me Jim, me
pilot - been pilot now long time."
"Ay," cried Jermin, quite surprised, as indeed we all were, "you are
the pilot, then, you old pagan. Why didn't you come off before this?"
"Ah! me scibbee, - me know - you piratee (pirate) - see you long time,
but no me come - I sabbee you - you ita maitai nuee (superlatively
bad)."
"Paddle away with ye," roared Jermin, in a rage; "be off! or I'll dart
a harpoon at ye!"
But, instead of obeying the order, Jim, seizing his paddle, darted the
canoe right up to the gangway, and, in two bounds, stood on deck.
Pulling a greasy silk handkerchief still lower over his brow, and
improving the sit of his frock-coat with a vigorous jerk, he then
strode up to the mate; and, in a more flowery style than ever, gave
him to understand that the redoubtable "Jim," himself, was before
him; that the ship was his until the anchor was down; and he should
like to hear what anyone had to say to it.
As there now seemed little doubt that he was all he claimed to be, the
Julia was at last surrendered.
Our gentleman now proceeded to bring us to an anchor, jumping up
between the knight-heads, and bawling out "Luff! luff! keepy off!
leeepy off!" and insisting upon each time being respectfully
responded to by the man at the helm. At this time our steerage-way
was almost gone; and yet, in giving his orders, the passionate old
man made as much fuss as a white squall aboard the Flying Dutchman.
