Punch (81.1881)

September 17, 1881.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

1 2"!

ON BOARD THE " AMARINTHA."

Still in harbour. Why? Because "the Captain says," &c., &c.
As yet I have not seen the Captain. He is to me, up to this time, a
sort of Madame Benottost, as whenever I say
insinuatingly to Hailsher that I should like to
have a talk to the Captain, Hailsher replies that
he hasn't seen him to-day, and the Steward, who
is the intermediary between Hailsher _ and
everybody in the foc'sle (this, I believe, is the
correct way of spelling and pronouncing Fore-
castle—where the Captain resides when at home,
and where he is not to be disturbed by anybody—
Happy Thought—-Nautical Proverb : an English
Skipper's house is his Fore-castle. N.B. Get
up a new edition of Nautical Proverbs, and
publish them at every Marine Library in the
kingdom)—and the Steward, after going through
the very evident farce of disappearing for a few
seconds, and hiding himself behind a door,
returns with the answer that the Captain has just gone on shore.

I can't make out when he comes back. I never see him come back ;
so I presume he must choose an opportune moment, either when we
are at dinner or at one of our meals—which are not few and far
between—and, as it were, quietly "board" us, take his rations—
[Nautical phrase "rations" —"a sailor is a ration-al being."
This will go to my Collection of Rough Material for Nautical
Proverbs, to be subsequently worked up under the motto, '' Let
who will make the songs, but let me do their _ Nautical Pro-
verbs." But the Composer can make the songs—will suggest it to
him when he's in a good temper.]—and then quietly slip off again
in the " Dingy,"—[Name of little boat—why "Dingy ?" Origin of
nautical terms and phrases would make an Appendix, or as Milberd
would say, an JJp-on-decks to my Handy Yolume of Nautical
Proverbs ; only Milberd would spoil the whole thing by calling
them " Naughty-gal Proverbs"—I know him—anything senseless
as long as it's a jeu de too;!]—while we are siesta-ing, and then
back again and into his berth or bunk—[Why "Bunk?" Is it
Dutch? "Mynheer van Bene"—no, that was "Dunk"]—when
we are carousing in the saloon, or when we've retired for the night.
So that we are governed by an Invisible Captain. "A good subject
this," I say toCellens, the Composer, "for you. Like the Flying
Hollander. The 'Invisible Captain,'eh ? "

"Don't see it," replies Cellins, curtly. Hailsher pleasantly
adapts the well-known line from The Critic by way of softening down
the Composer's asperity, and says, " The Invisible Captain he cannot
see, because he is not yet in sight." Whereat the Dean roars
heartily, and then looks about the breakfast-table to see what more
he can devour, finally settling on everything the Composer had
thoughtfully selected for his own consumption.

But we are tired of doing nothing, lying at anchor in Loch Byan,
while according to the Invisible Captain the stormy winds do blow
outside. We begin to feel mutinous. The three guests, after darkly
talking the matter over "aft," determine to represent the case to
Hailsher, whom the sailors speak of as " the Governor." They call
the Captain "the Skipper." [Why "Skipper?" Sounds like a
playful name for a flea.]

Hailsher conceals his annoyance under an appearance of listless-
ness. Except the Dean,—who makes believe he is taking violent
exercise by dressing in flannels, walking up and down the deck, then
going below, putting on a shooting coat and deer-stalker hat to play
at going out shooting, which he does with his rook-rifle at bottles
tied to the stern,—we are all becoming depressed, and pining for
movement at all hazards. Now, for the first time, I can appreciate the
full force of a passage at the opening of some chapter in our National
History which (if my school memory serves me right) began—

" The fleet had now been inactive for some months, and both officers and
men began to express the very generally felt opinion that they ought to be
doing something if they were to attack the enemy at all before the advent of
the winter season rendered all operations at sea impossible, or at least, highly
dangerous for the ships, and disastrous to the English prestige."

That's just our case : specially mine. I want to be off : somewhere,
anywhere. "Anywhere, anywhere, out of the Loch!" To be up
and doing: something, anything ! And so say all of us. We begin
to murmur : we murmur to the Governor in the hope that he will
bawl to the Captain, the Invisible Captain. " And when the Captain
comes for to hear of it"—it is to be hoped he '11 give the word to
pipe all hands, hoist sails, and put out to sea.

Afternoon in Harbour— Shooting bottles becomes monotonous.
The Dean and myself congratulate one another on our excellent aim
—and when we succeed in knocking one over, which we do on an

think he would, if he only sat long enough. [Happy Thought.—What
chances an animal painter must have with a rabbit sitting !]

We both agree, however, that bottle-shooting is " excellent prac-
tice," and, aswegoon, wetell each other stories arranged on a gradually
ascending scale of thrilling interest, about what we have individually
done in the way of rabbits, hares, grouse, and game generally. I
never knew till this afternoon, when I am backing myself against
the Dean, what a first-rate sportsman I have been up to now, and
what a vast experience I suddenly seem to have got. _ Where does it
come from? I've only been out really shooting twice in my life,
and I can't have done it all then. Yet I am not conscious of absolutely
telling untruths: I am perhaps embellishing, and am dividing the
twice I went out (which being for two days was, say, altogether
sixteen hours' shooting) by eight, so that I can give a varied ex-
perience. Wonder if the Dean is doing the same ? I don't think so,
because he has got a gun of his own and I haven't.

I notice there is one sort of shooting we both avoid mentioning, and
that is the only one we're likely to get on our yacht; i.e., wild
fowl, and sea-birds. With this exception we draw the line at Deer ;
that is before we come to Deer. Neither of us risk any anecdotes
about Deer.

The Dean's biggest success on land appears to have been with
" Babbits sitting." Mine I know has been so, with my gun well-
rested over a gate, and about five minutes to take steady aim, when
such was the destructive character of my shot, that, by the time the
smoke had cleared away, nothing was left of the unfortunate rabbit
but two front teeth, some scattered remains, and a lot of fluffy fur.
Of this I make no mention to the Dean, but express (what I really
feel) my opinion, that '' to shoot rabbits sitting is cruelty, or at all
events unsportsmanlike." Whereupon the Dean says, apologetically,
that he has only done it once or twice as a pot-shot with a rifle, but
that as a rule he always shoots them running. I say " So do I''—but
I mean shoot at them running, which is all the difference—to them.

About fifteen bottles fall to an expenditure of three hundred
cartridges, and Hailsher, who privately confides to me that his head
aches with the perpetual popping, most pleasantly and with great
apparent consideration for the Dean's future amusement, advises
him to "cease firing," as perhaps he won't be able to get any more
cartridges, and he may want them for sea-fowl.

Dinner.—Joy ! joy! the Captain has been seen at last. He has
been interviewed by the Governor, and has made up his mind, come
what come may, to sail to-morrow morning. We drink his health in
a bumper of Pommery. Hailsher offers a prize of an extra glass
for a rhyme to Pommery. Here it is—

One glass of Pommery
Makes little Tom merry.

The prize is mine, and once more I drink the Captain's health.

"I hope we shan't start till after breakfast," says the Composer,
who observes that " he hasn't yet got his sea-legs "—as if he were
expecting them to be sent home the first thing to-morrow, so that
he may try them on while dressing to see how they fit.

The Evening.—We pass it hopefully, cheerfully, gleefully. The
Composer, who till now has held aloof from the piano with a sort of
" don't-know-you " and " never-seen-you-before " sort of air, now
seats himself, gives a few preliminary flourishes, and begins, as I
observe, to warble. " AYobble, not warble, you mean," he says, for
the first time pleasantly, " for the notes seem going up and down."

" The piano hasn't got its sea-legs on," says the Dean, who is just
recovering from a short fit of despondency, consequent on his not
having been able to find a rhyme to Pommery. We are all specially
polite to the Composer. The reason of this oozes out later. Each
one of us has a song he wants to sing (for his own personal and
peculiar delectation) and each one of us will be disappointed should
Cellins refuse to accompany on the piano.

Happy Thought.—Sweeten the Composer. Keep him sweet.
Shades of evening gather round us as the sounds of harmony ascend
from our saloon on board the Amarintha. To-morrow we sail—with
the gale, from the Loch of Byan, oh !

I make the following notes :—Rough Material to be worked up into
a new collection of Nautical Proverbs :—

" An English Skipper's house is his Fore-castle."

" One Skipper doesn't make a ■-" (what ?—word wanted here.)

" Cry Hammock and unslip the cords " — {From the Nautical
Shahspeare).

"The Early Fish catches the Worm," or "The Early Worm
catches the Fish." N.B. Are worms used at sea for bait? If not,
substitute whatever is used. A bit of tin is used as bait for
Mackerel. So—" The early bit of tin catches, &c." ; or—Happy
Thought.—" All that glitters catches the Mackerel." This will be a
valuable work.

Mrs. Bamsbotham says she is sorry she can't attend the Economical
Methodist Conference, as she could give them several hints on
Economy and Method.

vol. lxxxi.