Mason & Dixon by Thomas Pynchon Read Free Book Online

must it also function as a Jackass,— a Creature known, that is, as much for its obstinacy in an argument as for its trick of turning and using its hind legs as a weapon. "Therefore I want the best gun crew for the Stern Cannon. Let this Jackass show them a deadly kick."
    When the l'Grand comes a-looming, nevertheless, the Captain is more than a little surprised. Why should Monsieur be taking the trouble?— knowing the answer to be "Frigate Business," built into the definition of the command. In return for freedom to range upon the Sea, one was bound by a Code as strict as that of any ancient Knight. The Seahorse's Motto, lovingly embroider'd by a certain Needlewoman of Southsea, and nail'd above the Bed in his Cabin, reads Eques Sit Mquus.
    "Now, Eques," according to the helpful young Revd Wicks Cherry-coke, "means 'an arm'd Horseman.''
    "Ranging the Land," Dixon suggests, "as a Frigate-Sailor the Sea."
    "Later, in old Rome, it came to mean a sort of Knight,— a Gentleman, somewhere between the ordinary People and the Senate. Sit is 'may he be,' and Æquus means 'just,'— also, perhaps, 'even-temper'd.' So we might take your ship's Motto to mean, 'Let the Sea-Knight who would command this Sea-Horse be ever fair-minded,'—
    "— trying not to lose his Temper, even with boil-brain'd subordinates?" the Captain growling thus at Lieutenant Unchleigh, who stands timidly signaling for his attention.
    "Um, what appears to be a Sail, South-Southwest,— although there is
faction upon the question, others insisting 'tis a Cloud                 "
    "Damnation, Unchleigh," Capt. Smith in a low Voice, reaching for his Glass. "Hell-fire, too. If it's a Frenchman, he's seen us, and is making all sail."
    "I knew that," says the Lieutenant.
    "Here. Don't drop this. Get up the Mast and tell me exactly what and where it is. Take Bodine up with you, with a watch and compass,— and if it proves to be a sail, do try to obtain a few nicely spac'd magnetickal Bearings, there's a good Lieutenant. You'll note how very Scientifick we are here, Gentlemen. Yet," turning to a group of Sailors holystoning the deck, "ancient Beliefs will persist. Here then, Bongo! Yes! Yes, Captain wishes Excellent Bongo smell Wind!"
    The Lascar so address'd, crying, "Aye, aye, Cap'n!," springs to the windward side, up on a rail, and, grasping some Armful of the Fore-Shrouds, presses himself far into the Wind, head-rag a-fluttering,— almost immediately turning his Head, with a look of Savage Glee,— "Frenchies!"
    "Hard a-port," calls the Captain, as down from the Maintop comes word that the object does rather appear to be a Sail, at least so far unaccompanied, and is withal running express, making to intercept the Seahorse. "Gentlemen, 'twould oblige me if you'd find ways to be useful below." The Drum begins its Beat. They have grown up, English Boys never far from the Sea, with Tales of its Battles and Pirates and Isles just off the Coasts of Paradise. They know what "below" promises.
    At first it seems but a Toy ship, a Toy Destiny.... T'gallants and staysails go crowding on, but the wind is obstinate at SSW, the Seahorse may but ever beat against it, in waters treacherous of stream, whilst the l'Grand is fresh out from Brest, with the wind on her port quarter.
    ' 'Twas small work to come up with us, get to leeward,— from which the French prefer to engage,— and commence her broadsides, the Seahorse responding in kind, for an hour and a half of blasting! and smashing! and masts falling down!"
    "Blood flowing in the scuppers!" cries Pitt.
    "Did you swing on a rope with a knife in your teeth?" asks Pliny.
    "Of course. And a pistol in me boot."
    "Uncle." Brae disapproves.
    The Revd only beams. One reason Humans remain young so long, compar'd to other Creatures, is that the young are useful in many ways, among them in providing daily, by way of the evil Creatures and Slaughter they love, a Denial of Mortality clamorous enough to allow their Elders