Ship-Bored

By Julian Street

The Project Gutenberg eBook, Ship-Bored, by Julian Street, Illustrated by
May Wilson Preston


This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org





Title: Ship-Bored


Author: Julian Street



Release Date: February 11, 2008  [eBook #24580]

Language: English


***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHIP-BORED***


E-text prepared by Chris Curnow, Joseph Cooper, Janet Blenkinship, and the
Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(https://www.pgdp.net)



Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
      file which includes the original illustrations.
      See 24580-h.htm or 24580-h.zip:
      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/5/8/24580/24580-h/24580-h.htm)
      or
      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/5/8/24580/24580-h.zip)





SHIP-BORED

       *       *       *       *       *

_By The Same Author_


  THE NEED OF CHANGE.
                      Cloth. 50 cents net

  PARIS À LA CARTE.
                      Cloth. 60 cents net

  MY ENEMY--THE MOTOR.
                      Cloth. 50 cents net

       *       *       *       *       *

SHIP-BORED

by

JULIAN STREET

Author of "The Need of Change," Etc.

With Illustrations by May Wilson Preston







[Illustration: THE SPOTTER IS A "PERFECT DEAR," AND THAT IS HOW YOUR
WIFE COMES TO LOSE TWELVE DRESSES AND A TWENTY-THOUSAND-DOLLAR NECKLACE
AND HAVE HYSTERICS ON THE DOCK.

(_See page 47_)]



[Illustration]

New York
John Lane Company
MCMXIV

Copyright, 1911
by The Ridgway Company

Copyright, 1912
by John Lane Company




  TO
  BOOTH TARKINGTON

  "_Loda il mare da terra._"




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


  The spotter is "a perfect dear", and that
  is how your wife comes to lose twelve
  dresses and a twenty-thousand-dollar
  necklace and have hysterics on the
  dock      _Frontispiece_

  Small wonder that you hand a dollar to
  your sister and kiss the porter                                     14

  I recognise the blonde divinity. Her eyes
  are closed, her hat on one ear, and she is
  wrapped like a mummy                                                18

  How the ship rolls and lurches                                      22

  Ah, confidences beside a life-boat on the
  upper deck!                                                         26

  Quite the nicest place on the whole ship is
  the smoke-room

  Your cap goes flying overboard. * * * Your
  cigar is blown to shreds                                            38

  There is a horrible fascination about a ship's
  concert, something hypnotic that draws
  you, very much against your word and
  will                                                                44

  "Ship-Bored" originally appeared in
  _Everybody's Magazine_.




PREFACE


Whatever the effect of "Ship-Bored" upon others, its publication has
exerted a very definite effect upon me, or rather upon the character of
my daily mail. Instead of letters the postman now leaves little packages
containing pills which, according to the senders, will prevent the
casting of bread upon the waters.

It is astonishing to learn how many sea-sick remedies there are.
Looking at the bottles and the boxes piled, each morning by my breakfast
plate, I sometimes wonder if there aren't as many remedies as sufferers.

But suppose there are? Why do people send the medicines to me? Why do
perfect strangers assume that, because I have taken up the task of
muck-raking the Atlantic Ocean, I am in need of antidotes for _mal de
mer_? Even suppose that I do suffer thus at sea? Is it anybody else's
business--or luncheon?

All great literary works are born of suffering. Stop the suffering and
you stop the author. Yet people keep on sending pills to me--each pill
an added insult if you choose to take it that way.

But I don't take them that way. I don't take them at all. I try them on
my friends. When a friend of mine is sailing I send him a few pills out
of a recent bottle. If he reports that he was sea-sick I throw away the
balance of the bottle. The same if he dies. That shows that the pills
are too strong.

I do not wish to take undue credit to myself for conducting these
experiments. Since the pills are given to me, my researches cost me
nothing--excepting an occasional friend whom (as he was sailing for
Europe, anyway) I should not be able to see, even if he were alive.

J. S.

NEW YORK, _January, 1912_.




SHIP-BORED

  When the cabin port-holes are dark and green
    Because of the seas outside;
  When the ship goes _wop_ (with a wiggle between)
  And the steward falls into the soup-tureen,
    And the trunks begin to slide;
  When Nursey lies on the floor in a heap,
  And Mummy tells you to let her sleep,
  And you aren't waked or washed or dressed,
  Why, then you will know (if you haven't guessed)
  You're "Fifty North and Forty West!"

  --_Just-So Stories._


"Now run, dear! That's the gangway! You take the baby, and I'll take the
fitted bag! Yes, I have the sea-sick tablets; they're here in my pocket
with the tickets and the letters of credit and the travellers' cheques
and the baby's mittens and the trunk keys and the--Well, I don't care
_who's_ here to see us off! People ought to know better! Now hurry up!
There goes the whistle!"

It is an awful quarter of an hour, that quarter of an hour before the
liner sails; that worrying, waving, whooping, whistling quarter of an
hour through which you stand on deck like a human centre-piece loaded
with candy, fruit, and flowers, surrounded by a phantasmagoria of
friendly faces, talking like a dancing-man and feeling like a dancing
dervish. Small wonder that the deafening whistle-blast and cry of "All
ashore!" smite sweetly on your ears. Small wonder that you hand a dollar
to your sister and kiss the porter who has brought your steamer-rugs.

Ah, blessed moment when the dock begins to move away with all those
laughing, crying, waving, shouting people; when snub-nosed tugs begin to
warp the ship into the stream; when the final howlings of the
megaphonomaniacs sound dim. ("Bon voyage, Charlie!" "Take care of
yourself, old man! Think of me in gay Par-ree!")

[Illustration: SMALL WONDER THAT YOU HAND A DOLLAR TO YOUR SISTER AND
KISS THE PORTER.]

You lean, in a dazed way, upon the rail, turning on maudlin grins and
waving your cap at no one in particular, until the crowd becomes a
moving blur upon the dock-end. The liner's nose points down the river;
gentle vibrations tell you she is under way; small craft dip flags and
toot as they go by; the man-made mountain of Manhattan's office
buildings drops astern; the statue of Liberty, the shores of Staten
Island, the flat back of Sandy Hook run past as though wound on rollers;
the pilot goes over the side with a bag of farewell letters; the white
yacht which has followed down the bay blows a parting blast, dips her
ensign, and swings in a wide circle toward New York; the pursuing tug
comes up and puts a tardy passenger aboard. Then, suddenly, like a
sleep-walking dragon that wakes up, the liner shakes herself; her
propellers lash the sea to suds; a wedge-shaped wake spreads out behind
her, and the voyage is on in earnest.

Reno, Roosevelt, Trusts, Wall Street, High Buildings, High Tariff, High
Cost of Living, Graft, Yellow Journals, Family Hotels, the Six Best
Sellers, the Sixty Worst Writers, the Four Hundred, the Hundred Million,
all the things which go to make home sweet, lie astern, enveloped in the
haze at the horizon. You are on the sea at last!--the vast and tireless
sea which has been the inspiration of painter, poet, and pirate; the
cradle of Columbus, Nelson, Paul Jones, Dewey, Hobson, and Annette
Kellerman!

What is there like the sea? What is there like the free swing of a
gallant ship breasting the Atlantic? Nothing! Let's sit down. No, I
don't want to go and get my coat. I'm not so terribly cold yet, and my
state-room smells of rubber and fresh paint. I like it better up here
in the air, don't you? I'm very fond of the fresh air. I really adore
it. No, it doesn't always give me a good colour. Not always. If I'm
pale it is only because I sat up late last night at that farewell
dinner. Perhaps I ate too much. Let's just stay here quietly in our
deckchairs and watch the people.

But, goodness! How they've changed! Where are all those pretty,
fashionable women who were on deck before we sailed? Where, for
instance, is the adorable blonde with the seal coat, orchids, low shoes,
silk stockings, and cough?

A certain cynical friend of mine would answer this inquiry by declaring
that all the attractive women go ashore, having only come to see their
homely relatives and friends depart. But I don't think so. I believe the
pretty ones are here, though in seclusion or disguise.

  Nothing of them that doth fade
  But doth suffer a sea-change

at the first touch of Neptune's hand. Only the professional mermaid can
look well at sea. The other women either lie on deck in pale green rows
and live throughout the voyage on sea biscuits and sherry, or, giving up
completely, seek burrows in the ship and hibernate like animals awaiting
spring. Yes, even now I think I recognise the blonde divinity. She's the
third one from the end in that row of steamer-chairs in the wide part of
the deck. Her orchids lie disconsolate upon her chest, her eyes are
closed, her hair blows in straight, strawlike strings across her
colourless face, her hat is on one ear, and she is wrapped like a mummy
in an atrocious rug of pink and olive plaid.

[Illustration: I RECOGNIZE THE BLONDE DIVINITY. HER EYES ARE CLOSED, HER
HAT ON ONE EAR, AND SHE IS WRAPPED LIKE A MUMMY.]

Of course there's always the exception: the rosy-cheeked, plaid-coated
creature who walks the deck without a hat, and lets the ringlets blow
about her face. Her hair curls with the dampness. Her colour heightens
with the seas and winds. You might suspect her of a golden scaly tail
and fins, excepting that you see her tiny, well-shod feet as they
step out firmly on the deck. They never step alone. There are lots of
other feet, and larger, that delight in stepping with them. The very
wind that loves her wafts her friends--wafts them with tobacco-smoke, as
like as not:

"I beg your pardon, does this smoke trouble you?"

  "Oh, no! Not in the least.
  My brothers all smoke. I       {Cigar
  adore the smell of a good      {Pipe
  Keep right on, _please_."      {Cigarette

"Thanks awfully. Perhaps you'd like to walk around to the other side and
see the lightship?"

"Oh, _thanks!_" She thanks him for the lightship as if it were a bunch
of roses.

And so they walk, and walk, and walk, and walk--she near the rail, he
careering on beside her, hurdling over the foot-rests of the rows of
steamer-chairs, and tripping now and then upon the feet extending from
them. And sometimes she sits down and shows him magazines which he has
seen before, and he leans over very far, and points to things, and she
points, too, and his hand touches hers, and he begs pardon, and she
excuses him, of course, and laughs--and little locks of hair have
touched his cheek. And then they walk again, and then she feeds him
chocolates (sent by some poor chap who had to stay behind) with her own
rosy finger-tips, and then another light looms up ahead, all golden, and
then--How short the voyage has seemed!

Ah, feet that twinkle, cheeks that hold your roses when the world is
tottering and green! Ah, youth! Ah, blowing curls! Ah, Delta Kappa
Epsilon! Ah, Alpha and Omega! Ah, snapshots, shuffleboard, and sea! Ah,
confidences beside a life-boat on the upper deck!... "And I was taken
with you from the second that I saw you!"

"And I with _you----_!"

"_Were_ you--honestly----?"

"Yes, dear----!"

"_Dearest_----!"

Of course we didn't overhear them; it was the third life-boat on the
port side of the ship that overheard, as it has overheard so many other
times on other voyages.

As for ourselves, we were not even up there, but were sitting in the
lounge, trying, as I recollect, to match passengers with names upon the
sailing list, and failing very badly. The woman whom we picked for Mrs.
H. Van Rensselaer Somebody (travelling with two maids, two valets, one
Pomeranian, one husband, and no children) proves to be a Broadway
showgirl; and the one we dubbed a duchess, the proprietor of a Fifth
Avenue frock-foundry. Showgirls, milliners, and dressmakers are very
often the "smart" people of the ship, and it must be regretfully
admitted that duchesses too often fail to mark themselves by that
arrogance and overdress which free-born American citizens have a right
to expect of them.

It always seems to me they ought to put the peers and persons of
interest at the head of the passenger-list; but they do not. The first
place on the list of every liner is reserved for Mr. Aaron, precisely as
the last place is invariably held for Mr. Zwissler. But though the
alphabetical roller irons out our names in rows, it does not iron out
our tastes and personalities. We may still be quite as common or
exclusive as we wish. Take, for instance, the H. Van Rensselaer
Somebodys (of New York, Newport, and Paris). Low down on the list, they
are, nevertheless, up high on the ship. They will remain throughout the
voyage upon the topmost deck (cabins de luxe A, B, C, and D) in a state
of exclusive and elegant sea-sickness. You will not see them.
They have "absolutely nothing in common" with any of the other
passengers--excepting _mal de mer_ and perchance a wife or husband
ex-officio.

[Illustration: HOW THE SHIP ROLLS AND LURCHES!]

Of course we have an opera-singer on board--a lady with a figure like
the profile of a disc record. No home on the rolling deep can be
complete without one. You feel as if you really knew her personally,
having heard her voice so often upon your coffee-mill at home. And of
course we have an actor or an actress with us. A liner might as well
attempt to go to sea without a rudder as without one.

Also, if we are to have full measure, there must be on board a
playwright or a novelist, a scientific man, an absconder, a bishop, a
transatlantic sharper; a group of nasal people "personally conducted" by
a man with a sad, patient face; a lord, or at the very least, a baron
and some counts. The other passengers are, for the most part, colourless
and quiet people like ourselves.

The men upon a liner are divided into two broad classes: the deck crowd
and the smoke-room crowd. I can not tell you much about the former, as I
see them only now and then at meals; but the smoke-room is always full
of pleasant chaps. You see, the smoke-room on an English liner is made
(like English law) for men only, and, being made for men, it is the most
comfortable place upon the ship. It is my habit to make for the
smoke-room as soon as I decently can (or even sooner), there to lie upon
a leather couch, feet up, back propped against a cushion, and smoke, or
doze, or read, or talk, or think about the endlessness of transatlantic
trips. Only two things can drive me from the smoke-room: one is the
smoke-room steward, who closes up at night; the other is my own sense of
shipboard duty toward family or friends. Occasionally one has to go and
see how they are faring.

How the ship rolls and lurches the moment that one rises from the
leather couch! How cold and damp and windy is the deck, how desolate the
ladies' cabin when one comes from the snugness of the smoke-room! Upon a
narrow seat just inside the cabin door, an indelicate old person lies,
eyes closed and jaws agape. Across the room, a book turned downward in
her lap, sits the forlorn object of your fond solicitude. Her eyes are
gazing straight ahead, at nothing.

"Ah, dear," you say, approaching with the best show of gaiety that you
can muster, "here you are, eh? I thought I'd come and see if you wanted
me."

"Oh, no."

"Did that canned pineapple disagree with you? I'm glad _I_ didn't touch
it. Well, then, I'll run in and see them auction off the pool. You won't
mind? By-by, dear."

You think that you want air. Reeling to the wind swept deck, you cling
unsteadily to an iron post at the fore part of the ship. Your cap goes
flying overboard, carried, like an aeroplane, upon the gale; your cigar
is blown to shreds; you feel the sting of cold salt spray upon your
face; your eyeballs rock with the great bow of the ship, which rears
itself in air, higher, higher, higher, then smashes down upon the sea,
throwing green, hissing mountains off to either side, only to rear and
smash again a million times.

Yet some people say this is agreeable! this senseless movement of a
ship, this utter waste of time and energy! But you know better. You let
go of the post, bolt down the deck, dive into the smoke-room, and fling
yourself again upon the leather couch. As you touch it, a magic calm
o'erspreads the sea. Then all is well until your sense of duty pricks
again.

[Illustration: AH, CONFIDENCES BESIDE A LIFE-BOAT ON THE UPPER DECK!]

That the smoke-room is iniquitous, I own--as iniquitous as a comfortable
club, with nice dark wainscoting, leather chairs and couches, and
little bells to touch when good cigars and other things are wanted. It
is, therefore, quite the nicest place on the whole ship.

My deck-walking friends will not subscribe to this, of course. They call
my smoke-room views and habits anything but healthy, and urge me to come
out upon the cold and slippery decks, and get the chilly "benefits" of
being on the sea. Alas! there is but one benefit for me, and that is
Europe. I detest the sea. I abhor it with an awful loathing. It offends
alike my physical system and my sense of proportion. It is too
sickeningly out of scale, too hideously large!

Do not fancy that I object to water, as such. In glasses, in bath-tubs,
under bridges, or trimmed with swans and water-lilies, water is all well
enough. But to put so much of it in one place is a wasteful, vulgar
show!

You see that I am telling you the truth about the sea. I am not one to
sit upon the shore and write you poetry (of the kind that is described
as rollicking) about it. What occupation could be more despicable than
that of making sea-songs to mislead the public?

  The sea! The sea! The open sea!
  The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
  I never was on the dull, tame shore,
  But I loved the great sea more and more.

Do you grasp the ambiguity, the subtle trickery of that last line? What
does it really mean? It means that Bryan W. Procter, who wrote it, had
to be upon the shore to love the sea; that the more he was upon the
shore the more he loved the sea and that the more he was upon the sea
the more he loved the shore. In other words, he loathed the sea, as I
do. And I am told he hardly left his native England for dread of the
Channel trip.

As for Coleridge, Cunningham, and Campbell, it is only too evident that
they wrote sea-songs in vain celebration of their own initials. Byron
and Wallace Irwin were probably bribed by the transatlantic steamship
companies and the Navy Department.

And not one of them is a realist. There have been two realists who have
written poetry of the sea. One is Shakespeare, who wrote: "Now would I
give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground." The other
is James Montgomery Flagg, who in his "All in the Same Boat" exposes the
sea down to its very depths. The sea treated him abominably. He
retaliated by throwing a book. If the sea had any sense of shame it
would dry up, and so would certain of the passengers upon it. The
Cheerful One, for instance:

  "He sees you are dozing, he knows you are ill;
    But he _will_ sidle up, just to say,
  As he crowds his gay person on half of your chair,
    'Well, how's the boy feeling to-day?'"

Don't ever fancy that the Cheerful One among the passengers inquires
thus because he cares a whit. He only wishes to emphasise his own
immunity from _mal de mer_, and blow the smoke of his disgusting pipe
into your face. Neither his stomach nor his intellect is sensitive. He
has a monologue on sea-sickness: it is all nonsense, imagination. It
denotes weakness, not so much of the stomach as of the mentality, the
will, the character. And besides, you don't call _this_ rough, do you?
You ought to have crossed with him in the old _Nausia_ in 'eighty-nine.
Fourteen days and the racks never off the table! Only two other
passengers at meals, and--don't you feel it coming?--the captain said it
was the--but you fill in the rest. Ah, if the _Nausia_ had only sunk
with all on board!

[Illustration: QUITE THE NICEST PLACE ON THE WHOLE SHIP IS THE
SMOKE-ROOM.]

When the voyage is smooth and the Cheerful One is denied the joy of
making sea-sick folk feel sicker, he is disappointed but not idle, for
he may still extort confessions from untravelled persons. You know
him: the solid, red-faced man who dresses for dinner and sits at the
head of the table eating fried things loud and long when it is rough. He
wears travel as though it were the Order of the Garter, and tells you,
between mouthfuls, about all the ships that sail the seas. "No, sir!
Pardon _me!_ The table on this ship cannot compare with that of the old
_Gorgic_. The _Potterdam's_ the only ship for table outside the
Ritz-Carlton boats, though Captain Van der Plank's a personal friend of
mine. He knows what eating _is_, sir! Still, I like the small boats--no
elevators, gymnasiums, and swimming-pools for me. I like to know I'm at
sea, sir." And all the time he's casting round for a victim who has
never been across before.

You see, there is something very ignominious in making a first
transatlantic trip. No one should ever do it. Everybody should begin
with the second or third trip. Yet I remember a little Kansas City
lawyer I met on the _New Amsterdam_, who didn't seem to be ashamed of
owning up. He was bald-headed and, despite the twinkling eyes behind his
spectacles, solemn-looking. His bald head felt a draught from an open
port-hole during dinner on the first night out, and it was when he asked
the "waiter" to "close the window" that the "seasoned traveller" (as
they love to call themselves) snapped up his cue. Turning in his seat
and bringing his wide white shirt-front to bear full upon his victim, he
raised a foghorn voice and asked the dreaded question:

"Ever been abroad before?"

We all squirmed with sympathy for the little man.

"No," he replied, looking up with a mild, innocent expression.

The shirt-front bulged; the watery blue eyes looked up and down the
table for attention, then:

"That so?" with a patronising air of feigned surprise. "_I've_ been
over thirty-four times!"

"Ever been in Omaha?" returned the lawyer blandly.

"Why--no."

"That so?" replied the lawyer, with fine mimetic quality. "_I_ go there
every week!"

       *       *       *       *       *

Oh, Innocents, as you set out on your first trip abroad, don't let
yourself be bullied by the boastful! Call the steward a waiter, call the
port-hole a window, call the promenade deck the front porch, but call
oh, call the transatlantic bully down! Be ready for him the instant he
bawls that he's a member of the Travellers' Club. For the rest, be the
ingenuous traveller, if you like. Be the man who has a mania for sitting
at the captain's table, the man who goes abroad to get a lot of labels
on his suit-case, the man who buys a set on Broadway (for two dollars)
and sticks them on at home, the man who howls when bands play "Dixie,"
the man who wears the Stars and Stripes upon his hat, the man who
gambles with the racy-looking stranger underneath the warning smoke-room
sign (and stops payment on the cheque by cable), be personally
conducted, be anything you like; but if you ever get to patronising
people who are sea-sick, if you ever get to being proud of having
crossed the ocean oftener than little Kansas City lawyers, do this:

Wait until the ship is settled for the night, go out on the dark deck,
step over to the rail, and place the left hand lightly but firmly upon
it. Then give an upward and outward jump, raising the feet and legs to
the right, in such manner as to permit them to pass freely over the
obstruction. When they are well over, remove the left hand from the
rail. This is called vaulting. The water may be cold, but you won't mind
it very long. And one word more: Don't gurgle; somebody might hear you
and stupidly spoil all by crying out, "Man overboard!"

If you decide to "end it all"--which, I believe, is the expression
adopted by the best authorities--there is one humane suggestion I would
make. End it before the ship's concert. There's absolutely no use in
just living on and saying you won't go to the concert, for that is just
what everybody else says, yet everybody always goes. There is a horrible
fascination about a ship's concert, something hypnotic that draws you,
very much against your word and will. I always think of it as a sort of
awful antidote that is given to the passengers to counteract the poison
of the steady boredom of the ship. It is an event in the voyage, just as
the appendicitis operation is an event in life. And as the only people
who enjoy the appendicitis operation are the doctors, the only people
who go gaily to the concert are those who go there to perform.

The chairman, for instance, enjoys it very much. He is a peer, a member
of Parliament, or the United States consul at Shepherd's Bush, and he
begins his speech by stating that the proceeds of the entertainment will
be equally divided between the Seamen's Funds of New York and Liverpool,
or somewhere else. It is then necessary to explain what seamen are. They
are "these brave, watchful fellows who have our lives in their hands."
At this, the chairman looks at the table stewards, who stand about the
walls with their napkins and their middle-class grins; brave, watchful
fellows trying to look as if they really held our lives and not our
dinners in their hands.

His duty to the Seamen's Funds accomplished, the chairman passes on to
other things. Just what they are depends upon his nationality. If he be
a British chairman, his speech will be composed of throaty sounds,
coughs, clearings of the throat, and mumblings, through which the quick
ear of the auditor may catch the following remarks:

"As a matter of fact----"

"Don't you know----"

"I mean to say----"

Now and then there comes a British chairman with a wide oratorical
scope. In his case these additional expressions will occur:

"After all, now----"

"You Americans----"

"Eh, what?"

With the American chairman it is different. You understand his speech
and only wish you didn't. After telling you that "it is a great
pleasure," he continues through allusions to:

"This international occasion----"

"Our English cousins----"

"Hands across the sea----"

"Blood is thicker than water----"

Then comes a humourous story about an Englishman, an American, and an
Irishman, at which the English passengers laugh, having a tradition
that "you Yankees are such droll chaps!" The chairman now switches
quickly from the quasi-ridiculous to the pseudo-sublime, and works up to
his big moment, which has for its climax the table-pounding statement
that "the Anglo-Saxon race must and shall predominate!"

This is violently applauded by everybody but a Frenchman, who writhes
horribly and Fletcherises his handkerchief.

[Illustration: YOUR CAP GOES FLYING OVERBOARD; YOUR CIGAR IS BLOWN TO
SHREDS.]

When the applause is over, the entertainment begins with the
announcement that the Opera-Singer and the Polish Pianist are unable to
appear, owing to indisposition--which really means an ingrowing
disposition not to do so. They have, however, sent "liberal donations"
to the Fund. We then find that "we are nevertheless so fortunate as to
have with us to-night" a young actor. The Actor gives a serio-comic
recitation. But his encore is his _pièce de résistance_. It proves to
be a vivid verse about marine disaster, a form of selection obviously
suited to the occasion. Where, except at a ship's concert, can one get
the full value of such lines as

  "We are lost!" the captain shouted,
  As he staggered down the stair--

By turning one's head only slightly, one can actually see the stair, all
ready for the captain. Suppose we hit a derelict at this very moment! We
might see the whole thing acted out!

After this recitation some one tries to play on the piano. In the middle
of the piece the ship gives an obliging lurch, but to no purpose; for,
though the performer slips off the stool, striking with his hands
something that sounds like the lost chord, and with his body two ladies
who are waiting for their turn, he is picked up and put back on the
stool to finish.

When he has done so, his rescuers spring blithely forward, one playing
the accompaniment very badly while the other renders "Araby." "Araby" is
always sung at a ship's concert. Likewise a young Englishman invariably
sings "The Powder Monkey."

The English have peculiar views on singing. Mere matters of voice and
ear make not the slightest difference to them. It is like going to war,
or playing on the flute: one can't refuse, I mean to say, if one is
asked. Eh, what? The only man in England who has a right to say he
cannot sing is one who is literally dumb, and as he cannot say it, it is
never said. And so, you see, Britannia Rules the Wave, and all that sort
of thing.

At the end of the concert, "God Save the King" strikes up, and everybody
rises and lifts such voice as he has in song, the American passengers
labouring under a conviction that the words begin "My country, 'tis of
thee," until the Britons drown them out.

But we have our turn, for "The Star-Spangled Banner" is played
immediately after. The words of this excellent song (as Mr. Rupert
Hughes has pointed out) begin with something of this sort:

  Oh say, can you see by the dawn's early light
  How the la ta-ta ta, and the ta-ta ta tum-tum.

So we proceed until we reach the spirited "ba-a-an-ner ye-et wa-ave,"
and the shrieking climax of "the la-and--of--the--free-e-e-e!" The
object of the game is not to let the British find out that we don't know
the words.

       *       *       *       *       *

On German ships, particularly those in the Mediterranean service, the
gay occasion of the voyage will be the Captain's Dinner, a function
which doubtless draws its name from the fact that the captain is
invariably absent from the table. But if the captain doesn't come,
everybody else does, and there is more dress than usual, and there are
lights inside the ices. After dinner, the deck is illuminated with
coloured electric bulbs, the band plays, and the people "trip the light
fantastic toe," as country papers put it. On German liners it's not
always light, but it is frequently fantastic.

There are two great events that occur on this occasion. Some young men
from the section which is the backbone of our country--if not it's
fashion centre--appear on deck in dinner-coats and derby hats. They have
read somewhere a fashion note stating that "the derby or bowler hat is
the one headpiece _de rigueur_ with the Tuxedo or dinner suit," and they
mean to be _comme il faut_ upon their trip abroad, or "bust." The other
great event is the ship's belle in her pink chiffon. It makes you almost
wish you were a dancing-man, to see her. But there are dancing-men
enough--among them the ship's doctor. He leads her in the mazes of the
waltz and, while dancing, is given an anæsthetic, in shape of a
languishing glance or two. Before he comes to, his partner has performed
a minor operation on him--the amputation of a button.

You overhear her on the tender, as you leave the ship next day: "Oh,
yes, I love the sea. You can let yourself go and be sure of getting out
of everything in a week!" Perhaps you see her in Paris, with new
escorts. Perhaps she is on the same boat when you go home again. And if
she's not, there's some one else just like her. And also there is some
one just like each of the other passengers with whom you left New York.

But for all that, there are differences between the voyage east and the
voyage west. Letters of credit have shrunk, wardrobes have increased,
and the handiwork of the European bill-poster may be seen on trunks and
bags as that of his American confrère is seen at home on ash-barrels
and fences. And there's more to talk about when you are going west:
Paris dressmakers, European hotels, and the American custom-house. If
you talk with Europeans, it is always nice to give them fresh
impressions as to what's the matter with their country and with them.

So the gray, dismal voyage passes. At last there comes the morning when
you wake to see the sunshine streaming through your port-hole; when,
though your clothing and the flowered cretonne curtains of your berth
are swinging freely back and forth in time with creaking sounds which
chase each other through the bounding ship, you do not care, because
your heart is glowing with an unaccustomed happiness.

"Fane brate day, sir," says the steward, in a cheery voice, as he brings
in your hotwater can.

[Illustration: THERE IS A HORRIBLE FASCINATION ABOUT A SHIP'S CONCERT,
SOMETHING HYPNOTIC THAT DRAWS YOU, VERY MUCH AGAINST YOUR WORD AND
WILL.]

"A little rougher, isn't it?" you return, as if you hoped it was.

"A bit _fresher_, perhaps, sir," he corrects. "She did put 'er foot in a
few 'oles lahst night. See the land, sir?"

Ah, that's why you're so gay!

"Land! Where?"

You leap from your berth to the port-hole in one bound.

A schooner and a coastwise steamer are in sight, gulls are swinging in
long circles with the ship, and far away on the horizon lies a haze
which is America.

You dress with care and hurry to the deck. You bow and give a gay "good
morning!" to some people you've not spoken to before. You even have a
word for the man who always walks with a pedometer, and the one who is
coming back from Germany after having put a noiseless soup-spoon on the
market. The deck is all abloom with pretty girls in pretty hats and
pretty suits.

Even the ship is making ready for the shore. Hatches are off, busy
donkey-engines are hustling mail-bags up from dark recesses within,
stewards are smiling as they rush about with trunks and rolls of rugs.

"I'm Boots, sir. Don't forget Boots, sir."

Ah, no, good Boots! Thrice welcome, Boots! And here's thy toll, already
set aside, like all the other tips, in envelopes.

Land ho!

The world is blithe and gay--except for one depressing thought. The
nearer you get to the New York custom-house, the heavier becomes the
load of luggage on your mind. Dresses, hats, wraps, lingerie, so gaily
bought in Paris, lie withering like Dead Sea fruit in the forlorn cold
storage of furiously labelled wardrobe trunks.

"_Must_ I declare that Paris motor-coat? It never fitted, and it's
fairly worn to shreds!"

"Yes, dear, everything. And sh-h! There are spotters on the ships, you
know."

The United States custom-house spotter ought to look like a detective,
but he doesn't. Instead of playing Foxy Quiller, he plays bridge, and
probably with you. He adores the ladies--the dear ladies, God bless 'em!
For it is the ladies whom the spotter mostly spots: the pretty ladies
with big state-rooms and big trunks and big hats; the pretty ladies with
the little maids and little evening gowns and little pearls. The spotter
has to be the sort of man these ladies like, or else the Government will
change his spots. In short, he is a perfect dear! So when, at bridge, he
makes the coy confession that he is taking French silk stockings over to
his sister and wonders if he'll "have trouble on the pier," your wife
tells him just what she is doing. ("One can't mistake a gentleman!") She
tells him that she's going into her state-room to sew some New York
labels into Paris gowns and hats--and that is how she comes to lose
twelve dresses and a twenty-thousand-dollar necklace, and have
hysterics on the dock, and how she never sends that dinner invitation to
him at the club in Forty-fourth Street.



***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHIP-BORED***


******* This file should be named 24580-8.txt or 24580-8.zip *******


This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/5/8/24580



Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.

Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.



*** START: FULL LICENSE ***

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
https://www.gutenberg.org/license).


Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works

1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.  See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.

1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.

1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that

- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
     License.  You must require such a user to return or
     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
     Project Gutenberg-tm works.

- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
     of receipt of the work.

- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.

1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.


Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.


Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
[email protected].  Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact

For additional contact information:
     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
     Chief Executive and Director
     [email protected]

Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
To donate, please visit:
https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate


Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:

     https://www.gutenberg.org

This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.