MY MARINE MEMORANDUM-BOOK
!a series of nautical tales and sketches ; which sometimes rise into a story, involving pictures of foreign scenery and manners, with a long sea- incident, after the fashion of Cooper ; sometimes the sketches only em- brace a particular occurrence; and many are what is termed "yarns," set in a framework of Jack-tars meeting to kill time, and designed to ex- hibit the characteristics of the true sailor. Towards the end of the third volume, space is filled out by something like articles. There is a rhap- sody on the Ocean, presenting it under its different aspects; with a voyage to Woolwich, and a visit to the London Docks, intended to ridicule modern books of travels,—all well enough, and so far as composition is concerned probably better than some of the nautical matter; but the themes are too commonplace and the writer too obvious.
As regards merits, Mr. Hargrave Jennings possesses one of the first qualifications of a novelist. He has an actual knowledge of what he undertakes to delineate. His descriptions of Tropical landscapes and life, with many of his nautical sketches and narratives, bear the impress of having been designed "after nature," as the artists say. Nor is the matter of his stories commonplace or devoid of interest, though of ne- cessity running upon usual themes. A pursuit and conflict with a pirate—the chase of an American, intended to exhibit nautical skill and daring—a mutiny, the confinement of the officers, and subsequent recap. tare of the ship—with similar incidents, form the matter of the tales. The yarns consist for the most part of anecdotes within the experience of a common sailor, rendered comic by Jack's misinterpretation of shore doings, and his misapplication of nautical phraseology to actions on land.
The defects of My Marine Memorandum-book are diffuseness and want of art. The author has evidently seen what he is describing; he not only leaves this impression on the reader's mind, but gives him glimpses of the original too. At the same time, they are hazy and indis- dad : if the reader will take the trouble to select any single point and consider it much as he would strain at an object in a fog, he will be able to make it out. But this is not a kind of writing fit for fiction, where everything must be obvious, sharp, and distinct. The fault, however, extends further than to description. The narrative is weakened and the effect of some of the most stirring incidents marred by an accumu- lation of minute particulars, that do not so much overlay as enfeeble. Part of this arises from pure verbiage; but more frequently it is owing to a wrong conception of the principles of art—which does not consist in presenting everything, but only essentials. To such a length does Mr. Jennings proceed in this way, that he continually repeats all the involutions, digressions, and "passages that lead to nothing," in Jack's discourse; mocking Nature, rather than imitating her.
In the higher faculties of imagination and dramatic spirit Mr. Jen- nings is deficient: his foreigners talk in an English idiom and with an English east of mind; whenever he deviates from the actual he becomes forced and melodramatic in substance, though his style is rarely inflate& These peculiarities induce us to fall upon the " yarns " for a specimen, rather than the more stirring matter, any incident from which would press too much upon our space in proportion to its value. The rather commonplace joke is merely a vehicle to exhibit nautical style, and partly illustrates the fault we have noted of too close a transcript of conventional habits.
THE TARN AND THE SHAHS..
"Well, one day—lyres a precious fine un—I remember it very well, the sun was up above all burning as hot as possible, the sea looked so shiny that you could scarcely bear to look at it, and, it was so dreadful close that all on deck got quite drowsy. I and another man, named Tim Dowling—By-the-by he was a bit of a Irishman, at least his father and his mother was Irish; they kept a crockery- shop at Cork, very 'spectable people; Tim's grandfather had a post in the Excuse, with good wages and now and then a good deal of condemned wares. Pass us the grog, will ye, Bob. Well, as I was saying, Tim Dowling an' 1—he was aiitsozl sturdy-looking chap, with a devil of brogue—was a stre ehing over the starboard bulwark, with what we called our haggling-rods in our hands, and a bit of sheep's heart apiece on the hooks. I said afore that the day was very sultry. Well, I was a shutting my eyes, and feeling a little inclined to fall asleep over my fishing, and Tim was ageing off in downright arnest. By-and-by out slipped his rod out of his hand, and over he fell—aye, right overboard, bead-foremost, by George! But I forgot to tell ye that he had lost one of his pins—the larboard one it was-.- and wear d a wooden one. I'll tell you how it was: he happened to fall inc gale from the fore-yard when he'd been sent up to help in taking in a reef: the doctor spliced it as well as he could—a clever feller he was too—I could tell you a dozen antidotes of what wonderful things he did: but a inflammation coined on, and nothing could be done but it must be lopped off, so---But I'm ateering a little wide, ain't I? Let's see: where did I leave off?"
"Why, you'd just got Tim overboard."
"Aye, now lye got it. Well, Tim fell smack over ; and a devil of a fuss there was aboard when I sing'd out. I cocked my eye over the bulwark, and what should I see but a perdignous great shark rising out o' the bottom o the sea, as he seemed, and making way directly for poor Tim. Poor devil, he screamed like I don't know what. Down went the swings o' the jolly through the david-blocks like lightning, and the crew pulled out hard for him; for by this we had made. some way, you know, and he had drifted astern. They wasn't in time, for the shark had got hold of his leg—bat it was the wooden one though, and master shark had no soft morsel with it. He looked as if he couldn't make out for all • the world what he'd got in his throat. Well, the shark tugged at Tim's pin, and the boat's crew tugged at Tim, till there was such splashing and tumbling in the water never was seed. You never seed such fun. But they got the shark at last aboard, and he begin'd to beat about on the deck with his tail like a fury.. A' hatchet soon bringed him to his senses; and aler Tim had been brought aboard. again, and the boat was run'd up, we had leisure to cut him open and see what was inside of him. A mighty fine feller be was indeed; I don't know how many feet long. We found inside of him a boat's rudder, a straw hat, a baccer.box, a spirit-flask, a sugar-box, compass, and beer-barrel, all in a very undigested state. We got off his skin, and throw'd him overboard. And there's my story."
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