Punch (65.1873)

August 23, 1873.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

77

OUR REPRESENTATIVE MAN.

After a Visit to the Isle of Wight, reports thereupon to the Editor.
Suggestions to intending Yachtists.

ruly, Sir, I have been re-
presenting1 yon, nauti-
cally, and you did not
know it. No ! Like one
of ‘ ‘ the gentlemen of
England who live at home
at ease,” you were reclin-
ing in the old arm-chair,
in the chimney corner, of
course with the tire out,
and only in order to get
a draught of fresh air

from the
—you, I

chimney itself,
say, were thus
reclining, little wotting or
(to sound nautically) little
recking (“ spell it with a
w, my Lord”) of the
dangers which Your Re-
presentative was incur-
ring ’twixt Southsea and
Cowes.

Belay, you land lub-
bers ! ’Twas in Stokes’
Bay, or, to he accurate,
’twas off the Southsea pier,
I waved a sorrowful adieu
to the Poll of my heart,
nnd hade a long farewell to the shores of Old England, intending
to remain in the Isle of Wight from, at all events, Friday after-
noon till Monday morning. A brisk breeze sprang up, the spark -
ling waves danced with joy, as, answering to her helm, the Saucy
(I forget her name) hared her snowy bosom to the sun, and, swan-
like, glided o’er the glad waters of the dark blue sea.

I write, observe, in a poetic vein; for the craft was a steamer,
without sails, and singularly grubby for such a spick-and-span place
•as she was bound for. As to that epithet of Loud Byron’s, “ The
Dark-Blue Sea,” he evidently refers to the See of Oxford, the only
one whose colour is, legitimately, dark blue. But, avast jesting,
my messmates ! and, in a general way, Yeo ho !

I had gathered, from information I had received, that Cowes was
■enfete, and therefore, as Your Representative, I was dressed accord-
ingly. Splice your old timbers! it would have done good to the
cockles of your heart of oak to have seen me in a straw hat, real
Panama, purchased in Germany, and warranted to he folded up and
stowed away in your waistcoat pocket, a blue blouse, a bright sunset
evening tie, underlying a striped turn-down collar, while below I
was encased in a pair of ducks white as the riven snow, taut at the
top, but large and loose at the point where they fall over the shoe.
(This is, perhaps, a lengthy description, hut appreciate its delicacy,
which resembles that of the excellent maiden lady, who would not
pronounce the word “Rotterdam ” on account of its improper termi-
nation, and admit that if it be lengthy, it is, at least, not so broad as
it is long.)

As we neared Cowes we passed through a fleet of yachts, and
Your Representative went aloft, that is stood up, and kept a bright
look out, in the hopes of recognising some one on board one of these
■aristocratic craft who would hail him with a cheery ‘ ‘ Ahoy!
Messmate ! ” and ask him to come off to dinner. I daresay there
were several doing this in the distance, hut, as we sped along, my
eye, unaided, was not arrested by any festive signals, nor did either
six bells, or two guns, announce the preparations for dinner.

By the time I had got my sea legs on, I had to get ’em off again
and walk ashore. I had arrived on the night of R.Y.S. Ball, and a
queue of amateur tars were awaiting their turn at the hairdresser’s,
who, on this sultry day, was melting under the heavy work, like
his own pomatum before a fire.

After my sea-voyage, I too wanted renovating with mechanical
brushing, and the grateful shampoo, without which I foresaw I
should not enjoy my dinner. Shampoo first, Champagne after-
wards. However, I could not be attended to for at least an hour,
so I wandered forth into the town, and paused in the first place be-
fore a shop-window which reflected me like a pier-glass. (Nautical
jeu de mot. No gentleman staying at the sea-side perfect without a
pier-glass. This is the effect of the briny breezes on Your Repre-
sentative.)

I was astonished. My noble Panama, once the pride of a fashion-
able watering-place in Germany, by constant foldings and frequent
battlings with the stormy winds, had got hopelessly out of shape.
Here let me warn my readers against a Panama, except only for
domestic wear, where nobody’s looking. A Panama, price about

four guineas, is generally recommended as “ a hat, Sir, that ’ll last
you your lifetime.” Quite so: it will, and a precious bore it
becomes. Fashions change, hut there’s your Panama, always the
same. No, not always, for having bought it for its “portability”
(everything “portable” is, generally speaking, a mistake), you have
frequently folded it up and stowed it away, in order to prove to
your friends what a valuable acquisition your new purchase is, and
thus whatever shape it might have had to start with, has been clean
taken out of it. This results in_“ blocking and cleaning ”—a process
which will cost about four guineas more, per annum. So, on the
whole, if the hat does last your lifetime, as it undoubtedly will
unless you destroy it, or lose it, you will bequeath a valuable heirloom
to your family. Say you purchase it when you are thirty, and live
till seventy, then the original cost being four guineas, and
“blocking and cleaning” four more per annum, we get a total of
about a hundred and seventy-two pounds, which represents the cost
of the Panama hat at the time of your lamented decease.

Costume at the sea-side is everything, especially at Cowes, where
you are nothing unless nautical; or, rather, as that’s too much of a
rough sea-doggy word, I should say yachtical. In Cowes the toy-
shops are generally of a marine turn—toy sailors, dolls in yachting
costume, boats of all sizes, cutters, yawls, and luggers. I noticed
a brightly-painted Noah’s ark on a shelf, in dock, as it were, being
as much out of date as Nelson’s flag-ship among the ironclads.
Shops having professionally nothing of a nautical character about
them, go in for it by hanging up a picture of a fearful wreck.

As for the tailors, the haberdashers, bootmakers, and the linen-
drapers, they display in every available space blue cloth, straw hats
with names of yachts on the ribands, deck shoes, and sailor costumes
for ladies. Skippers meet you at every turn, as do also first and
second mates with sailors carrying provision-baskets. The conver-
sation everywhere is about yachting: which won what, what came
in when, and why the other didn’t this time hut would next, and so
on. Guns at night. Somebody told me that they fired at the sun as
it went down behind the horizon ; which seemed a puerile sport. I
am more inclined to believe that it was intended, not as a shot at the
great luminary, but as a parting salute on his retiring for the evening.

The general idea conveyed by the appearance of Cowes to the
mind of Your Representative was that a naval engagement was
going on somewhere, perhaps in “ the Roads ” (absurd place, of
course, for a naval engagement), and that the reserves were making
the best of “ten minutes allowed for refreshment,” on the island,
before joining the battle.

But the great thing at Cowes is to master the difficulty of ‘ ‘ How
to look like it

First, two weeks as a regular Yachtsman of the R.Y.S. evidently
means ten thousand a year, at least. But how does little Tom
Tuppenny manage to do it on his three or four hundred per annum
at most ? Why, he has mastered the secret of “ how to look like it.”
And this is it for Cowes: dress in yachting costume, ready, as it
were, for action. If you know anyone with a yacht, and you can
get an invitation, do so, of course ; only in this case, mind, you
must have no name on the hat-riband. If you have no yachting
acquaintance, look over the list of yachts, and. buy a riband with a
name that isn't in the Catalogue.

This will give you an opportunity of spinning a yarn about,
“Confound it, ’bliged to put into dock. Just off for Sweden. All
hands to pump. Had to put back,” &c. Or you can use strong
language about your “Confounded Captain, who always will mistake
your sailing orders, and who ought to have met you at Cowes.”

Secondly, the purchase of a telescope (one second-hand, and
utterly out of order, can be got for a mere trifle) is a necessity, as,
whenever there’s nothing else to be done at Cowes, the rule is to
look through a glass of some sort, if a telescope, so much the better.
The object is unimportant; but, if you must have one as a subject
of conversation, you can always be on the look out for your boat, or
for your confounded Captain (call him Captain Harris), who ivon't
he punctual, hang him ! and whom you intend, you can say severely,
to dismiss the instant he arrives.

This method of “ looking like it ” will only cost you your ordinary
living, and with a trip or two on the steamboat round the island
and over to Southampton and Portsmouth (always, of course, in
search of your missing idiotic Captain—for you must keep up the
character), you ’ll have had most of the pleasure of yachting with-
out any of the expense or bother attached to yacht-ownership.

Apropos of “ownership,” a nauticalde mot (and it’s just as well
to have these things ready) would he that the possession of a Yacht
can’t be properly described as Own-a-ship.

Also, with perfect truth, anyone who follows the above directions
will be able to say to a landsman, “Ah, my boy ! there’s a heap of
pleasure to he got out of a yacht! ”—and you will make a mental
reservation to the effect that whatever nautical pleasure you had at
Cowes, you did get out of a yacht, and not in it.

But, avast heaving ! or, my worthy Skipper, you ’ll he overhauling

Your Representative,