Punch: Punch (89.1885)

August 29, 1885.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

101

sailed, from London. Bridge one day in one'^of the liveliest eraft that
ever gladdened the eyes of a real, genuine salt. (Certainly I will,
and enough after that.) 'Well, we weren't long in getting into the
Pool. _ But the Pool.ain't what it was, is it. Sir;? "

Seeing it was expected of me, I answered in the negative.

" Pool! " he continued; " Pool! I remember when one could pick
'em up at thirty shillings a time, and last night I had to divide one of
four-and-six. But to get back to the voyage. As soon as we got
into the Pool, we saw that for the best part of our voyage, which
was to Barking Creek, we should have a head-wind. Not that we
cared, for we were, as I said before, in one of the tautest crafts that
was ever afloat. From her upper stern-piece to her transom she was
a marvel. "When she had got her moonraker, her lee-brails, and her
stanchions all afloat, you couldn't have imagined a prettier sight,
and than her jib-halliards and her trysail no better lines ever cut
through the water. But then we were almost a-calm. Joe cast
anxious looks at the compasses—the Goat and Compasses, for he owed
a small score there, and was afeard that they might put oif in a boat
and ask for it, but we were spared that danger by getting under the
weather-bow of a coal-barge who had lost her spinnaker-boom in a
late gale. Still we got no forarder. We was a-sitting idly there,
and thinking maybe how foolish we had been to leave our homes, for
sailors thinks at times, when suddenly we felt a shock.

" ' What's that ?' sang out I.

" 'How the devil should I know?' sung out he; and with this
mutual confidence I leant forward aft to see what it was, but in a
moment afterwards I was in the bottom of the boat, and we were
tearing down the river far quicker than even in my wildest dreams
I had believed it possible to go. Talk of steamers—bah ! Talk of
railway trains—we beat one which was going down to Erith by ten
miles in eleven. Lawks, I confess now how frightened we both
were, for you see there was the wind dead agin us, and there were
we going at a rate of speed which I can't think can have been less
than seventy knots an hour.

" Everything, of course, going agin a head-wind at this rate was
carried away, oif flew our boom, away in the air wkit the gafi, oyer
went the companion. How things did fly past us. Say Jack Robin-
son! and we was at Greenhithe, we had not time to yell when we had
cut an emigrant ship in two, and down she went with all hands. Eh,
it would have been a pitiful sight could we have seen it, for the poor
folks had all their little worldly possessions on board, it being just
before quarter-day, and they a-moving all their possessions unbe-
known to their Landlord, from Gravesend over to Tilbury in Essex,
but we was down Long Reach pretty nigh before we were through the
two halves of the dinghy, for such was the rig of the emigrants' ship,
then the Chapman and the Mucking Lights, like the two posts of a
narrow gate, and Southend Pier was right upon us.

" So rapid had been our flight, that the breath was knocked right
out of Joe, and he fell heavily on the tiller, shoving it hard a-star-
board. That saved our lives. The boat Blowly obeyed the helm, and
a slant of air coming from the Med way drove us straight on to Leigh
shore. It is not often that a sailor cares for a lee-shore; but if ever
two men did bless one, those two men were Joe and myself. We
gazed at each other silently, and I could see Joe's face was all white
and strained as if with great pain, which, seeing as how he had hit
the tiller with his funny bone, was not to be wondered at. As for
myself, I don't know how I looked. Certainly, one doesn't get
tipple like it every day, but I didn't feel so comfortable as I do now.

" ' What water is there ?' I asked Joe, hoarsely. I know it was
hoarsely, having done little for a week before but spend the profits
of our last cruise on gin. ' Three foot,' he answered.

" ' Thank Heavens !' I could not help exclaiming, for I knew that
we only drew six inches, and were safe when we struck, but not
hard, as one would on a beach, but soft, as on the mud. We both
jumped overboard as we were, and examined the keel of our craft
from the vangs to the buntlines. And what do you think it was all
about, this 'ere sailing express against the wind, and striking when
we had no business to strike ? " I could give no guess, enthralled
as I had been in this tale of the sea.

"Why, the weather had been a bit stormy for some time, which
always drives birds and fishes up the river. And what we hit in the
Pool was a whopping big porpoise. The keel of our boat was a bit

gone, and the iron had got entangled with that porpoise's fins, and
e had had to drag us the whole way down. Swims fast they always
£9 ; with the agony of the pain he swam doubly quick. We took
him ashore easy enough, for he was spent now, and each of us had a
pair of boots made out of his skin, which mine only went to be soled
and heeled last Tuesday, or I would show them to you as a proof of
my story So when folks talk of steam, I think of my ride on a por-
poise, which I have never told anyone before, and don't fancy I shall
find anybody likely to listen to me again. Good day, Sir."

" Good day!" And I sat pondering over the strange weird
adventures encountered by men of the sea, just as other guests didn't
sit, but stood up and walked about, profanely wondering why the
disappearance of my old truthful salt had been simultaneous with
the disappearance of their umbrellas and walking-sticks! j

THE AMATEUR YACHTSMAN.

A Nautical Song of the Period.

I 'it bad when
at Sea, yet
it's pleasant
to me

To charter a
Yacht and go
sailing,

But please understand I ne'er lose sight of land,

Though hardier sailors are railing.

If only the ship, that's the Yacht, wouldn't dip,

And heel up and down and roll over,

And wobble about till I want to get out,

I'd think myself fairly in clover.

But, bless you! my craft, though the wind is abaft,

Will stagger when meeting the ripple.

Until a man feels both his head and his heels
Reversed as if full of his tipple.

In vain my blue serge when from seas we emerge,

Though dressed as a nautical dandy;

I can't keep my legs, and I call out for " pegs "

Of rum, or of soda and brandy.

A Yacht is a thing, they say, fit for a king,

And still it is not to my liking ;

My short pedigree does not smack of the Sea,—

I can't pose a bit like a Viking.

It's all very well when there isn't a swell,

But when that comes on I must toddle

And go down below, for a bit of a blow
Upsets my un-nautical noddle.

Britannia may rule her own waves,—I'm a fool
To try the same game, but, believe me,

Though catching it hot, yet to give up my " Yot"

Would certainly terribly grieve me.

You see, it's the rage, like the Amateur Stage,
Or Coaching, Lawn-Tennis, or Hunting ;

So, though I'm so queer, I go Yaohting each year,
And hoist on the Solent my bunting.

Strictly Impartial.

A Casual Correspondent sends us the following extract from the

Gloucester Citizen:—

"Louisa Sanders, of Mitre Street, was charged, &c., &c.—P.C. Cripps
proved the case, and was sent to prison for seven days."

We omit the particulars charged^ against Louisa Sanders, as,
whatever it was, the unfortunate Policeman Cripps had to suffer for
it. In future he will think twice before proving a charge.

Suggestion foe Coy est Garden Promenade Concert Pro-
gramme.—Out of compliment to the vicinity of Mud-Salad Market,
play the Overture to Muck-beth. Pity that to conduot it you haven't
got a second Signor Coster.