The Battery And The Boiler

CHAPTER ONE.

IN WHICH THE HERO MAKES HIS FIRST FLASH AND EXPLOSION.

Somewhere about the middle of this nineteenth century, a baby boy was
born on the raging sea in the midst of a howling tempest. That boy was
the hero of this tale.

He was cradled in squalls, and nourished in squalor--a week of dirty
weather having converted the fore-cabin of the emigrant ship into
something like a pig-sty. Appreciating the situation, no doubt, the
baby boy began his career with a squall that harmonised with the
weather, and, as the steward remarked to the ship's cook, "continued for
to squall straight on end all that day and night without so much as ever
takin' breath!" It is but right to add that the steward was prone to
exaggeration.

"Stooard," said the ship's cook in reply, as he raised his eyes from the
contemplation of his bubbling coppers, "take my word for it, that there
babby what has just bin launched ain't agoin' to shovel off his mortal
coil--as the play-actor said--without makin' his mark some'ow an'
somew'eres."

"What makes you think so, Johnson?" asked the steward.

"What makes me think so, stooard?" replied the cook, who was a huge
good-natured young man. "Well, I'll tell 'ee. I was standin' close to
the fore hatch at the time, a-talkin' to Jim Brag, an' the father o' the
babby, poor feller, he was standin' by the foretops'l halyards holdin'
on to a belayin'-pin, an' lookin' as white as a sheet--for I got a
glance at 'im two or three times doorin' the flashes o' lightnin'.
Well, stooard, there was lightnin' playin' round the mizzen truck, an'
the main truck, an' the fore truck, an' at the end o' the flyin'
jib-boom, an' the spanker boom; then there came a flash that seemed to
set afire the entire univarse; then a burst o' thunder like fifty great
guns gone off all at once in a hurry. At that identical moment,
stooard, there came up from the fore-cabin a yell that beat--well, I
can't rightly say what it beat, but it minded me o' that unfortnit pig
as got his tail jammed in the capstan off Cape Horn. The father gave a
gasp. `It's born,' says he. `More like's if it's basted,' growled Jim
Brag. `You're a unfeelin' monster, Brag,' says I; `an' though you _are_
the ship's carpenter, I _will_ say it, you 'aven't got no more sympathy
than the fluke of an anchor!' Hows'ever the poor father didn't hear the
remark, for he went down below all of a heap--head, legs, and arms--
anyhow. Then there came another yell, an' another, an' half a dozen
more, which was followed by another flash o' lightnin' an' drownded in
another roar o' thunder; but the yells from below kep' on, an' came out
strong between times, makin' no account whatever o' the whistlin' wind
an' rattlin' ropes, which they riz above--easy.--Now, stooard, do you
mean for to tell me that all that signifies nothink? Do you suppose
that that babby could go through life like an or'nary babby? No, it
couldn't--not even if it was to try--w'ich it _won't_!"