DOI issue:
September 23, 1865
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16876#0131
September 23, 1865.]
PUNCH OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
119
OUR YACHT.
ut whether it was the lantern,
or the Lieutenant’s snoring
that sent me off to sleep, I do
not know, yet somehow or
another I fell into a doze with
my head on the log-book. I
was awoke by the Commodore
calling from the deck to me to
get my companion up, so I
shook him. He was very arigry,
and not unjustly, as it turned
out that I had been requested
to get up the Companion, not,
“ as 1 had understood, to get
my companion up. (N.B. The
Companion is a ladder almost
perpendicular, leading from the
deck to the cabin.)
The Commodore said he
would turn in now, and that I was to watch. I asked what I was to
watch for? He replied, “Oh, just to get into the way of it.” The Cap-
tain said he would also turn in until they got under way, which they
would do at the very first dawn.
I was left all alone on deck to keep the watch. It was pitch dark,
with the exception of a few lights in the town, and one or two in the
Straits. I fancied myself the Red Rover, and sang a song about “ The
Rover is free! ” which was stopped by a request from the Commodore, up
the Companion, that I would greatly oblige them below if I would hold my
confounded row, or go for’ard and sing. On going for’ard the Captain
in the “ forecassel” objected, so 1 kept the Red Rover to myself. Becom-
ing tired of this, I hummed, “ Oh, gaily goes the ship when the rum turn
turn,” which was a version of my own, in consequence of forgetting the
original words. It was getting very cold, so I walked up and down.
A voice from below begged me not to go on stamping about like that.
It was the Lieutenant’s. “No one,” he said, “could get to sleep if I
kicked up that row overhead; I might have some consideration.”
1 thought this a little hard of the Lieutenant, but I sat down with my
back against the entrance to the Companion. I began to wonder if
yachting was such good fun after all, and if this was the sort of way I
was going to spend my nights. About this time hunger set in,
1 couldn’t get anything without alarming the whole ship’s company. I
wished to goodness that I’d slept on shore until we had regularly
started. As a clock at Bangor struck two, I became aware of
the pins and needles in my left leg and foot. As I was compelled to
stretch myself and walk about, I chose the side away from the Lieu-
tenant. Somebody said, “ Hollo 1 ” I pretended not to hear. The
“ Hollo ” being repeated, I said, “ What ?” The Commodore said that
it would be better for one (meaning himself) to give up trying to
go to sleep if I was going on like that?
“Like what?” I asked, down the Companion, for I was getting
angry.
He explained to me that from the position in which he was placed
in his berth, I was dancing about (as he chose to describe it) on
his nose. How, he put it, would I like to have my nose danced on?
I replied it was pins and needles. He said pins and needles be
hanged. After this I walked about amidships (N.B. “amidships,”
nautical phrase meaning that portion of the vessel between the forecassel
and the starn) until I was tired, when I sat down in the same position,
as before. I determined not to be domineered over any more, and
while I was making up my mind to speak to the Commodore and
Lieutenant seriously to-morrow, I fell fast asleep.
It was daylight when I was awoke by the Lieutenant, the Captain,
and the Crew. I felt, very uncomfortable and sticky. Sticky’s the
only word I’ve got for it. The Lieutenant said, “I was a nice
fellow, I was, not to call him for his watch.” Call him? Wouldn’t
I have called him, if I’d only known it. He said it was no use my
turning in now. 1 thought 1 ’d just take a snooze for half an hour, and
be quite fresh. He replied very well, so I went down the Companion.
The change from day dress to night dress on board our yacht appeared
to be of the most simple description. It consisted with the Commodore
and Lieutenant, at least, of taking off your boots, coat, collar, and
braces, and there you were. The Lieutenant had put his carpet-bag
away, so I couldn’t have that for a pillow. The Commodore had placed
my portmanteau and a folded rug under his own head, so I was left to
invent another novelty in bed furniture.
A small barrel lying in a corner was the very thing. It did not
add much to my comfort to find that the barrel was labelled in
white letters—Gunpowder. On second thoughts I put it outside the
doorway, where the Commodore subsequently fell over it, and swore
dreadfully on account of his shins. My ingenuity being exhausted, I
rolled up my P-jacket, put it under my head,f)ut it was no good ; it
never would accommodate itself to being a pillow, and kept its buttons
iu the most prominent position, whether inside or out. It seemed to be
all inequalities, on account of the obstinacy displayed by the sleeves.
Rolled up tight, it was too small; folded loosely, it was too large : and
in either case equally uncomfortable.
“ What a fidget you are,” growled the Commodore on my portman-
teau. “Why don’t you sleep?” Sleep? My P-jacket said what
the voice did to Macbeth. I was commencing this apt quotation to
the Commodore, when he said, “ Oh, bother Macbeth,” and wished that
I could be quiet just for one moment. I’d been making a row all night,
he complained, and trying to disturb people. I said nothing, but deter-
mined, for the second time, that I’d remonstrate with him and the Lieu-
tenant quietly in the morning.
To sit upright, or to lift your head six inches above the pillow, was
impossible without coming bump against the ceiling, I mean the boards
of the deck, from which my nose was not more than three inches
distant, so that I could now perfectly understand the Commodore’s
complaint, in fact, I was very soon obliged to make it myself, as there
was somebody stampiug just on the tip of my nose.
“ You mustn’t mind a little walking about, now,” said the Lieutenant
from the deck; “ because, we ’re going to get under way. You ought
to have slept before.” That I ought to have slept before was evident,
for there was no chance of it now. They were all walking up and
down (for the Commodore had fallen up-stairs and gone on deck,_
while the Lieutenant was speaking), and then came a rolling sort of
noise, accompanied by a thudding just above my face, then a drop or
two of water trickled through the cracks above, I went up-stairs,
I mean up the Companion. The Treasure was mopping the ship.
The Captain was in the bows washing his face in a pail.
| By the way, our arrangements for baths and washing, on or below
deck, were not luxurious. As I really could not exist without my hip
bath in the morning, I had brought it on board, and as it was too big
for the cabin, I was obliged to take it on deck, and be as quick as
possible about it, on account of our proximity to Bangor, and other
boats. Bangor, however, collectively, does not rise early, and there
was no one aboard the other boats. The knowledge that I was, as it
were, bathing at my peril might have added a zest to some men’s enjoy-
ment ; in my case it merely took away the greater part of my pleasure.
The Commodore said we must be prepared to rough it a little. I
thought to myself “as little as possible;” but merely observed, yes,
roughing it wasn’t bad fun. After this, I scarcely liked to complain of
being hungry; I was, though, very. The Commodore offered me a nip
of some brandy which he was drinking out of a flask.
He said that it would do me good; all sailors took it as rations.
It appeared that this information was given by the Treasure of
a Crew, and further that he and the Captain had had their rations
served out by the Commodore already. Seeing some smoke issuing
from the chimney which was attached to the stove in the forecassel, I
was told that the Treasure was cooking breakfast. I felt curious to
know how cooking was managed on board a vessel, and went for’ard ts
learn. I had to look down the forecassel companion; there was a mixed
smell of grease, coffee, and fried fish. All that I could see was the
Crew’s legs.
It appeared that the forecassel being too small to admit of the Cook
and the utensils, such as pan, coffee-pots, &c. at the same time, the
Treasure had to leave his legs outside, so to speak, while the rest of his
body did the cooking in this cupboard sort of a cabin. Although the
smoke had a chimney all to itself, it preferred coming out from
different parts of the stove, and hanging about the cabin, so that the
upper part of our Treasure was entirely lost to view, and all I could
see was a pair of dirty-white trousers waiting outside for the return of
the body with the breakfast.
I returned from this sight hungrier than before. The Commodore
was examining my Log. Where, he asked, was our latitude and longi-
tude? when did the Lieutenant take his turn on deck? how was the
wind ? and how about Greenwich time and probable weather ?
I was obliged to confess that latitude and longitude had always
puzzled me, and that Greenwich time was another difficulty. How
people managed to be always right wherever they were by Greenwich
time bothered me, and I owned it. As to the wind I could, I confi-
dently said, always tell that by holding up my pocket-handkerchief,
but there were some winds that were uncertain. That the Lieutenant’s
watch was not down was owing simply-
Here the Captain announced breakfast as ready in the cabin, and we
went down the Companion.
Not a Doubt of it.
We often hear people debating on the origin of Croquet, and wonder-
ing by whom and where the game was first introduced. As to the
locality we have no means of forming an accurate idea, but we think the
frogs were certainly among the first to croak—eh?
The Worst Dilemma eor the Spiritualists.—Buffalo Horns.
{Don't you understand, stoopid? The Buffalo Law Court has declared
them Jugglers, and liable to the Juggler-lax !)
PUNCH OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
119
OUR YACHT.
ut whether it was the lantern,
or the Lieutenant’s snoring
that sent me off to sleep, I do
not know, yet somehow or
another I fell into a doze with
my head on the log-book. I
was awoke by the Commodore
calling from the deck to me to
get my companion up, so I
shook him. He was very arigry,
and not unjustly, as it turned
out that I had been requested
to get up the Companion, not,
“ as 1 had understood, to get
my companion up. (N.B. The
Companion is a ladder almost
perpendicular, leading from the
deck to the cabin.)
The Commodore said he
would turn in now, and that I was to watch. I asked what I was to
watch for? He replied, “Oh, just to get into the way of it.” The Cap-
tain said he would also turn in until they got under way, which they
would do at the very first dawn.
I was left all alone on deck to keep the watch. It was pitch dark,
with the exception of a few lights in the town, and one or two in the
Straits. I fancied myself the Red Rover, and sang a song about “ The
Rover is free! ” which was stopped by a request from the Commodore, up
the Companion, that I would greatly oblige them below if I would hold my
confounded row, or go for’ard and sing. On going for’ard the Captain
in the “ forecassel” objected, so 1 kept the Red Rover to myself. Becom-
ing tired of this, I hummed, “ Oh, gaily goes the ship when the rum turn
turn,” which was a version of my own, in consequence of forgetting the
original words. It was getting very cold, so I walked up and down.
A voice from below begged me not to go on stamping about like that.
It was the Lieutenant’s. “No one,” he said, “could get to sleep if I
kicked up that row overhead; I might have some consideration.”
1 thought this a little hard of the Lieutenant, but I sat down with my
back against the entrance to the Companion. I began to wonder if
yachting was such good fun after all, and if this was the sort of way I
was going to spend my nights. About this time hunger set in,
1 couldn’t get anything without alarming the whole ship’s company. I
wished to goodness that I’d slept on shore until we had regularly
started. As a clock at Bangor struck two, I became aware of
the pins and needles in my left leg and foot. As I was compelled to
stretch myself and walk about, I chose the side away from the Lieu-
tenant. Somebody said, “ Hollo 1 ” I pretended not to hear. The
“ Hollo ” being repeated, I said, “ What ?” The Commodore said that
it would be better for one (meaning himself) to give up trying to
go to sleep if I was going on like that?
“Like what?” I asked, down the Companion, for I was getting
angry.
He explained to me that from the position in which he was placed
in his berth, I was dancing about (as he chose to describe it) on
his nose. How, he put it, would I like to have my nose danced on?
I replied it was pins and needles. He said pins and needles be
hanged. After this I walked about amidships (N.B. “amidships,”
nautical phrase meaning that portion of the vessel between the forecassel
and the starn) until I was tired, when I sat down in the same position,
as before. I determined not to be domineered over any more, and
while I was making up my mind to speak to the Commodore and
Lieutenant seriously to-morrow, I fell fast asleep.
It was daylight when I was awoke by the Lieutenant, the Captain,
and the Crew. I felt, very uncomfortable and sticky. Sticky’s the
only word I’ve got for it. The Lieutenant said, “I was a nice
fellow, I was, not to call him for his watch.” Call him? Wouldn’t
I have called him, if I’d only known it. He said it was no use my
turning in now. 1 thought 1 ’d just take a snooze for half an hour, and
be quite fresh. He replied very well, so I went down the Companion.
The change from day dress to night dress on board our yacht appeared
to be of the most simple description. It consisted with the Commodore
and Lieutenant, at least, of taking off your boots, coat, collar, and
braces, and there you were. The Lieutenant had put his carpet-bag
away, so I couldn’t have that for a pillow. The Commodore had placed
my portmanteau and a folded rug under his own head, so I was left to
invent another novelty in bed furniture.
A small barrel lying in a corner was the very thing. It did not
add much to my comfort to find that the barrel was labelled in
white letters—Gunpowder. On second thoughts I put it outside the
doorway, where the Commodore subsequently fell over it, and swore
dreadfully on account of his shins. My ingenuity being exhausted, I
rolled up my P-jacket, put it under my head,f)ut it was no good ; it
never would accommodate itself to being a pillow, and kept its buttons
iu the most prominent position, whether inside or out. It seemed to be
all inequalities, on account of the obstinacy displayed by the sleeves.
Rolled up tight, it was too small; folded loosely, it was too large : and
in either case equally uncomfortable.
“ What a fidget you are,” growled the Commodore on my portman-
teau. “Why don’t you sleep?” Sleep? My P-jacket said what
the voice did to Macbeth. I was commencing this apt quotation to
the Commodore, when he said, “ Oh, bother Macbeth,” and wished that
I could be quiet just for one moment. I’d been making a row all night,
he complained, and trying to disturb people. I said nothing, but deter-
mined, for the second time, that I’d remonstrate with him and the Lieu-
tenant quietly in the morning.
To sit upright, or to lift your head six inches above the pillow, was
impossible without coming bump against the ceiling, I mean the boards
of the deck, from which my nose was not more than three inches
distant, so that I could now perfectly understand the Commodore’s
complaint, in fact, I was very soon obliged to make it myself, as there
was somebody stampiug just on the tip of my nose.
“ You mustn’t mind a little walking about, now,” said the Lieutenant
from the deck; “ because, we ’re going to get under way. You ought
to have slept before.” That I ought to have slept before was evident,
for there was no chance of it now. They were all walking up and
down (for the Commodore had fallen up-stairs and gone on deck,_
while the Lieutenant was speaking), and then came a rolling sort of
noise, accompanied by a thudding just above my face, then a drop or
two of water trickled through the cracks above, I went up-stairs,
I mean up the Companion. The Treasure was mopping the ship.
The Captain was in the bows washing his face in a pail.
| By the way, our arrangements for baths and washing, on or below
deck, were not luxurious. As I really could not exist without my hip
bath in the morning, I had brought it on board, and as it was too big
for the cabin, I was obliged to take it on deck, and be as quick as
possible about it, on account of our proximity to Bangor, and other
boats. Bangor, however, collectively, does not rise early, and there
was no one aboard the other boats. The knowledge that I was, as it
were, bathing at my peril might have added a zest to some men’s enjoy-
ment ; in my case it merely took away the greater part of my pleasure.
The Commodore said we must be prepared to rough it a little. I
thought to myself “as little as possible;” but merely observed, yes,
roughing it wasn’t bad fun. After this, I scarcely liked to complain of
being hungry; I was, though, very. The Commodore offered me a nip
of some brandy which he was drinking out of a flask.
He said that it would do me good; all sailors took it as rations.
It appeared that this information was given by the Treasure of
a Crew, and further that he and the Captain had had their rations
served out by the Commodore already. Seeing some smoke issuing
from the chimney which was attached to the stove in the forecassel, I
was told that the Treasure was cooking breakfast. I felt curious to
know how cooking was managed on board a vessel, and went for’ard ts
learn. I had to look down the forecassel companion; there was a mixed
smell of grease, coffee, and fried fish. All that I could see was the
Crew’s legs.
It appeared that the forecassel being too small to admit of the Cook
and the utensils, such as pan, coffee-pots, &c. at the same time, the
Treasure had to leave his legs outside, so to speak, while the rest of his
body did the cooking in this cupboard sort of a cabin. Although the
smoke had a chimney all to itself, it preferred coming out from
different parts of the stove, and hanging about the cabin, so that the
upper part of our Treasure was entirely lost to view, and all I could
see was a pair of dirty-white trousers waiting outside for the return of
the body with the breakfast.
I returned from this sight hungrier than before. The Commodore
was examining my Log. Where, he asked, was our latitude and longi-
tude? when did the Lieutenant take his turn on deck? how was the
wind ? and how about Greenwich time and probable weather ?
I was obliged to confess that latitude and longitude had always
puzzled me, and that Greenwich time was another difficulty. How
people managed to be always right wherever they were by Greenwich
time bothered me, and I owned it. As to the wind I could, I confi-
dently said, always tell that by holding up my pocket-handkerchief,
but there were some winds that were uncertain. That the Lieutenant’s
watch was not down was owing simply-
Here the Captain announced breakfast as ready in the cabin, and we
went down the Companion.
Not a Doubt of it.
We often hear people debating on the origin of Croquet, and wonder-
ing by whom and where the game was first introduced. As to the
locality we have no means of forming an accurate idea, but we think the
frogs were certainly among the first to croak—eh?
The Worst Dilemma eor the Spiritualists.—Buffalo Horns.
{Don't you understand, stoopid? The Buffalo Law Court has declared
them Jugglers, and liable to the Juggler-lax !)