Public-domain ebook
by Taylor, Bert Leston; Gibson, W. C.
Language: en313 downloads on Project Gutenberg
Subjects
In: Humour·Novels·American Literature
Public-domain ebook sourced from Project Gutenberg #60022.
The opening · free to read
In making reservations, the passenger’s real name, not the station-house name, must be given, in full. All “John Smiths” will be regarded with suspicion, and must be satisfactorily identified.
Seats as well as berths will be assigned for the entire voyage. For a few choice seats next the water-cooler a small additional fee will be asked.
No life-preservers will be found in staterooms. Do not ask for them.
No “bundles” will be allowed in staterooms, nor allowed to lie around the decks.
Excellent concerts will be rendered every evening in the main saloon by the Band of Hope. A select library will be found in the smoking-room. Water-marked stationery is also at the disposal of all first-class passengers.
Don’t try to get on the Wagon while it is in motion. It is the Captain’s business to stop for loads. If he does not stop when flagged, you will know he is full.
When rounding the sharp curve at the Pousse Cafe, passengers are cautioned to hold fast.
Passengers feeling their anchors dragging, and seized with a sudden desire to leap from the Wagon, should apply to purser for parachutes.
Stop-overs will be allowed at Vichy Springs, Delaware Water Gap, and Waterbury only.
No transfers given on transfers.
Passengers losing any of their wheels will find them in the wheel-house.
No rain-checks will be given out. This is a dry cruise.
Buy a round-trip ticket and save money.
All mail received en route will be read aloud by the steward at sunset.
SPECIAL INFORMATION.—In looking toward the bow of the vessel, the left-hand side is port. The right-hand is sherry.
I often wonder where the old moons go After they once get full and disappear. Do they, I wonder, pilot to and fro The men who quit the Wagon year by year? —Copernicus.
NOTE.—The writer of this record, being the only sober passenger aboard the Good Ship “Lithia,” has been requested by the Captain to keep the Log. The Captain kindly explains that a log is a thing in which you put down the daily occurrences on board ship. I have kept a dog, and a valet, and a thirst, and other things, but a log is sure a new proposition. But, dash my tarry toplights, here goes. Avast there, my hearties! Yeo-heave-ho! Yo-ho!
At midnight we left the Bar, and got under way, with a big tide and the wind souse-souse-east and piping free.
Later.—It seems I was mistaken about having left the Bar. The Captain announces through the ventilator that he is stuck on the Bar. Loud cheers from the passengers, and cries of, “So say we all of us!”
Lightened ship by throwing overboard two bales of temperance pledges and ten cases of sarsaparilla. The Captain announces that we are off the Bar. Groans.
The passengers, misled by the name, are in the saloon, calling loudly for drinks and hammering on the tables. The Captain announces through the ventilator that he will turn the hose on them. Cheers, and cries of “Louder!”
The uproar in the saloon continues. An entertainer is giving a realistic imitation of a man mixing a cocktail. Tremendous applause, and shouts of “Great, old man!” A young water curate has volunteered to go among the noisy pirates and try to soothe them.
The Captain has ordered the First Mate to take the wheel. The Mate is in the saloon, bound hand and foot, and the passengers are singing “How Can I Bear to Leave Thee.” The Lithia is going around in a circle.
The Mate has been rescued, and has laid a course for Carbonic Light. I asked him if a mate’s wife is called a room-mate. He said he didn’t know, but the midshipmite.
Tom Ginn, the noisiest of the bunch, has been put in irons for demanding an old-fashioned cocktail and inciting the passengers to mutiny. The clanking of his chains is having a quieting effect on the other pirates.
3 A. M.—Passed the trim little craft Coryphee, homeward bound, loaded with lobsters and champagne. Wigwagged to her that her starboard light was out and that her hair was coming down. She signalled back, “On your way.”
Ran afoul of a fleet of full-rigged Johnnies, stuck on Shanley’s oyster-beds. Offered to take them aboard the Wagon, but they vociferously refused. Said they’d just got off one.
Hennessy Martel, an amateur Ancient Mariner, got into the calcium for a minute by trying to shoot a nighthawk, claiming it was an albatross. The Captain gave him the water cure.
Spoke a tramp tank steamer, Red Booze Line, Captain Handout. “Ahoy! What ship is that?” hailed Captain Handout. “The Water Wagon,” I replied through the Captain’s megaphone. “Keep off!” he yelled, and crowded on all sail.
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