thing like the tricks he was up to. Weather had no effect on him. As for decent hours, he scorned them. It’s my belief that what sleep he had was in the day. I know he was awake pretty well all night.
Once I was dragged out of my berth in the middle of the night because he was frightening the watch out of their senses. When I got on deck I found a heavy sea. Everything sopping. The seas breaking over the scuppers. Pitch darkness. And Mr. Batters up in the tops. The crew were of opinion that he was holding communion with his friends in hell. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He looked as if he was at something of the kind.
How he kept his place was a wonder. Although he had no legs he seemed to have a knack of gluing himself to whatever he pleased. Up there he had an illumination all on his own. It must have been visible for miles across the sea. He had smeared himself and everything about him with something shiny, phosphorus or something. He always was playing tricks with stuffs of the kind. It made him look as if he was covered with flames. He was waving his arms and going through an acrobatic performance. Snakes were twining themselves about the illuminated rigging. The old villain had smuggled a heap of them in his palanquin. He lived with them as if they were members of his family. They seemed to regard him as akin. Talk about snake charming! I believe that at a word from him they would have flown at anyone just as certainly as a dog would have done.
No wonder the watch didn’t altogether relish his proceedings. I sang out:
“Come down out of that, Mr. Batters, before there’s trouble.”
I did put a bullet into one of his precious snakes. It was this way.
