VARNEY, THE VAMPYRE; OR, THE FEAST OF BLOOD. CHAPTER CLXXIX. [sic] [Chapter 196] THE SCOTCH PACKET SHIP. -- THE SUICIDE. It was in pursuance of this resolution, so strangely and suddenly formed, that the unhappy Varney rose on the following morning and went to that region of pitch, slop clothing, red herrings, and dirt-- the docks. But yet, somehow, although the docks may not be the cleanest or them most refined part of the vast city of London, the coarseness and the litter there -- for after all it is more litter than dirt -- are by no means so repulsive as those bad addenda to other localities. There is a kind of rough freshness induced by the proximity of the water which has a physical and moral effect, we are inclined to think, upon the place and the people, and which takes off much of what would otherwise wear the aspect of what is called low life. But this is all by the way, and we will at once proceed to follow the fortunes of Varney, in carrying out his plan of self annihilation. The hour was an early one, and many a curious glance was cast at him, for although he had humanised and modernised his apparel to a great extent, he could not get rid of the strange, unworld-like (if we may use the phrase) look of his face. He was very pale too, and jaded looking, for the thoughts that had recently occupied him were not such as to do good to the looks of any one. He cared little in what vessel he embarked. He had but one object in embarking at all, and that was to get out to sea, so that the ultimate destination of the ship that should receive so very odd and equivocal a passenger was a matter of no moment. Stopping a personage who had about him a sea-faring look, Varney, pointing to a bustling place of embarkation, said, -- "Does any vessel start from there today?" "Yes, there's one going now, or as soon as the tide serves her. She is for Leith?" "On the coast of Scotland, I think?" "Yes, to be sure." Varney walked on until he came to a kind of counting-house, where sat a man with books before him, and, not to take up more valuable space, he secured what was called a berth on board the "Ocean", a dirty, small, ill-convenient ship bound for the port near the Scotch metropolis of Edinburgh. Not wishing to be himself much noticed, and having no desire to notice anybody, Varney went down below, and seated himself in a dark corner of the generally dingy cabin, and there, amid all the noise, bawling, abuse, and bustle contingent upon getting the ill-conditioned bark under weigh, he never moved or uttered a word to any one, although the cabin was frequently visited. But Varney had no idea of the amount of annoyance to which he was likely, in the course of the evening, to be subjected. The vessel was got under weigh, and as both wind and tide happened to be favourable, she dropped down the river rapidly, and soon was clear of the Nore-light, and holding on her course northward. The cabin now began to fill with the passengers, and extraordinary as the fact may appear, there were many Scotchmen actually going back again. They were, however, only going to pay visits, for it is one of the popular delusions that Scotchmen try to keep up in this country, that they have left something dear and delightful behind them in Scotland, and that, take it altogether, it is one of the most desirable spots in the whole world. It becomes, therefore, quite necessary for them to go back now and then, in order to keep up that delusion. Personal vanity, too, is one of the great characteristics of the nation; and many a Scotchman goes back to Edinburgh, for example, to make an appearance among his old friends and family connexions, totally incompatible with his real position in London. By about nine o'clock at night, when the shore to the west could only be discovered as a dim, grey line on the horizon, the cabin of the "Ocean" packet was crammed. Whisky was produced, and a drink that the Scotch call "bottled yell," meaning ale; and as these two heady liquids began to take effect "Auld Lang syne" was chaunted in the vernacular by the whole party. At length a feeling of annoyance began to grow up from the fact of the isolated aspect of Varney, and the quiet, unobtrusive manner in which he looked on at the proceedings, appearing not in the smallest degree enthusiastic, even when the most uproarious Scotch songs, in the most unintelligible of all jargons, were sung, for strange to say, the authors of that nation take a pride in slaughtering the English language. At length a Scotchman approached Varney and said, -- "Ye'll take a glass to auld Reekie mon?" [Edinburgh is called Reekie in consequence of the absence of drainage, giving it a horrible foetid smell, a reeky atmosphere, in a manner of speaking; which may be illustrated by the Scotchman, who was returning to that place from England, on the top of a stage coach, when within about fifty miles he began sniffing and working his nose in an extraordinary manner. "What are you doing that for?" said an Englishman. "Eh! mon, I can smell the gude auld toon." "I do not understand your language," said Varney, and he walked from the cabin to the deck of the vessel. He recoiled an instant, for the moon was rising. "Ever thus, even thus," he said, "how strange it is that I never dream of ridding myself of the suffering of living, ut the moon is shining brightly. Can its rays penetrate the ocean?" The deck was very still and silent indeed. The man at the helm, and one other pacing to and fro, were all that occupied it, save Varney himself, and he stood by the side gazing in the direction, where he had last seen the dim grey speck of land. "A pleasant run, sir, we shall have of it," said the man who had been pacing the deck, "if this kindly wind continues." "It blows from the west." "Yes, nearly due-west; but that suits us. We keep her head a few points in shore, and do well with such a wind, although a south-west by south is our choice." "How far are we from land?" "It's the coast of Suffolk that is to our left, but we are I hope a good thirty miles or more from it." "You hope?" "Yes, sir. Perhaps you are not sufficient of a sailor to know that we never hug the shore if we can possibly help it." "I understand. And there?" "Oh, there lies the German Ocean." "How deep now should you say the sea was here?" "Can't say, sir, but it's blue water." This was not much information to Varney, but he bowed his head and walked forward, as much as to say that he had had enough of the information and conversation of the man, who was the mate of the vessel, and quite disposed to be communicative. Perhaps in the very dim light he did not see exactly what a strange-looking personage he was talking to. "Thirty miles from land," thought Varney, "surely that is far enough, and I need have no dread of floating to the shore through such a mass of water as that thirty miles. The distance is very great; I can to-night in another hour make the attempt." To his great joy some heavy clouds climbed up the sky along with the moon, and congregating around the beautiful satellite, effectually obscured the greater number of its beams. There was in fact, no absolute moonlight, but a soft reflected kind of twilight coming through the clouds, and dispersed far and wide. "This will do," muttered Varney. "All I have to fear are the direct moonbeams. It is they that have the effect of revivfying such as I am." The man who had been pacing the deck finally sat down, and appeared to drop off to sleep, so that all was still, and as Varney kept to the head of the vessel, the man at the wheel could see nothing of him, there being many intervening obstacles. He was perfectly alone. Now and then, with a loud roaring about, he heard some boisterous drinking chorus come from the cabin, and then a rattle of glasses as fists were thumped upon the tables in token of boisterous approbation, and then all would be still again. Varney looked up to the sky and his lips moved, but he uttered no sound. He went closer to the vessel's side and gazed upon th water as it lazily rippled past. How calm and peaceful, he thought, he ought to be, far beneath that tide. A sudden plunge into the sea would have made a splash that would have been heard, and that he wished of all things to avoid. He clambered slowly over the side, and only held on by his hands for a moment. [????] cool night air tossed about his long elfin locks, and in another moment he was gone. -+- Next Time: The Old Manor House. -- The Rescue. -- Varney's Despair. +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ | This Varney the Vampyre e-text was entered by members of the | | Science Fiction Round Table #1 (SFRT1) on the Genie online | | service. | | The Varney Project, a reincarnation of this "penny dreadful" bit | | of fiction, was begun in November of 1993 by James Macdonald and | | should take about four years for re-serialization. | | These chapters are being posted once a week to the Round Table | | Bulletin Board and are also being placed in the Round Table File | | Library. | | For further information concerning Varney e-texts, please send | | email to: | | h.liu@juno.com | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ ============================================================================== The Varney Project Chapter 196 Ver 1.00 09/28/1997 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ General notes on this chapter Source: H.Liu entry from the Arno edition, 1970, text is reprint of 1847 edition Drop capital: No Figures in source: 0 Page numbers in source: 773-774 Sections: 1 Approximate number of characters: Number of paragraphs: Comments: Chapter appears mis-numbered as CLXXIX. His mind firmly made up, Varney goes to the docks and seeks out a ship about to embark upon a voyage. He eventually finds a Scotch packet ship, the "Ocean" that is going out with the next tide. He cares not for the destination, and books passage. On board, Varney lays low, hoping to draw little attention to himself. The ship's passengers include a number of Scotchmen who are returning to their homeland. The author spends some paragraphs patronizing and disparaging the Scotch. After some time the Ocean makes it out to sea and Varney ventures on deck. He asks a mate how far from shore they are and how deep the water is. He learns they are hopefully at least 30 miles from shore and the water is deep. The moon, Varney's nemesis, makes occasional appearances, much to the dismay of the vampyre. More time passes, and Varney finds himself quite isolated on deck. He decides this is his opportunity and slips over the side into the sea and disappears. The final paragraph seems to be missing at least one line of text. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Modification History Version Date Who What changes made -------- -------- ------------- ---------------------------------- 1.00 09/28/1997 H.Liu Initial gold version, rough proof read. ==================================End of File=================================