Chapter 23 - Page 2

on their arms, rising fresh in the
morning to battle, and often Samoa got more than a hen-pecking. To be
short, Annatoo was a Tartar, a regular Calmuc, and Samoa--Heaven help
him--her husband.

Yet awhile, joined together by a sense of common danger, and long
engrossed in turning over their tinsel acquisitions without present
thought of proprietorship, the pair refrained from all squabbles. But
soon burst the storm. Having given every bale and every case a good
shaking, Annatoo, making an estimate of the whole, very coolly
proceeded to set apart for herself whatever she fancied. To this,
Samoa objected; to which objection Annatoo objected; and then they
went at it.

The lady vowed that the things were no more Samoa's than hers;
nay, not so much; and that whatever she wanted, that same would she
have. And furthermore, by way of codicil, she declared that she was
slave to nobody.

Now, Samoa, sad to tell, stood in no little awe of his bellicose
spouse. What, though a hero in other respects; what, though he had
slain his savages, and gallantly carried his craft from their
clutches:--Like the valiant captains Marlborough and Belisarius, he
was a poltroon to his wife. And Annatoo was worse than either Sarah
or Antonina.

However, like every thing partaking of the nature of a scratch, most
conjugal squabbles are quickly healed; for if they healed not, they
would never anew break out: which is the beauty of the thing. So at
length they made up but the treaty stipulations of Annatoo told much
against the interests of Samoa. Nevertheless, ostensibly, it was
agreed upon, that they should strictly go halves; the lady, however,
laying special claim to certain valuables, more particularly fancied.
But as a set-off to this, she generously renounced all claims upon
the spare rigging; all claims upon the fore-mast and mainmast; and
all claims upon the captain's arms and ammunition. Of the latter, by
the way, Dame Antonina stood in no need. Her voice was a park of
artillery; her talons a charge of bayonets.