Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 100., Jan. 24, 1891. written by Various
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Various >> Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 100., Jan. 24, 1891.
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 100.
January 24, 1891.
MR. PUNCH'S PRIZE NOVELS.
NO. XII.--THE MATE OF THE MARLINSPIKE.
(_BY SHARK MUSSELL; AUTHOR OF "ERECT WITH A STOVE IN HER," "MY GYP
MADE TO WHEEZE," "THE ROMANCE OF A PENNY PARLOUR," "A HOOK FOR THE
BANNOCK," "FOUND THE GAL ON FIRE," "THE MYSTERY OF THE LOTION JAR,"
"THE JOKES O' LEAD," &C., &C., &C._)
["Here you are, my hearty," writes the Author, "this is a
regular briny ocean story, all storms and thunderclaps and
sails and rigging and soaring masts and bellying sails. How
about 'avast heaving' and 'shiver my timbers,' and 'son of a
sea-cook,' and all that? No, thank you; that kind of thing's
played out. MARRYAT was all very well _in his day_, but that
day's gone. The public requires stories about merchant ships,
and, by Neptune, the public shall have them, with all kinds
of hairy villains and tempest-tossed wrecks and human interest
and no end of humour, likewise word-pictures of ships and
storms. That's me. So clear the decks, and here goes."]
CHAPTER I.
We were in mid-ocean. Over the vast expanses of the oily sea no ripple
was to be seen although Captain BABBIJAM kept his binoculars levelled
at the silent horizon for three-quarters of an hour by the saloon
clock. Far away in the murky distance of the mysterious empyrean, a
single star flashed with a weird brilliance down upon the death-like
stillness of the immemorial ocean. Yet the good old _Marlinspike_
was rolling from side to side and rising and falling as if the liquid
expanse were stirred by the rush of a tempest instead of lying as
motionless as a country congregation during the rector's sermon.
Suddenly Captain BABBIJAM closed his binoculars with an angry snap,
and turned to me. His face showed of a dark purple under his white
cotton night-cap.
[Illustration]
"The silly old ship," he muttered, half to himself and half to me, "is
trying to make heavy weather of it; but I'll be even with her. I'll be
even with her."
"You'll find it a very _odd_ thing to do," I said to him, jocosely.
He sprang at me like a seahorse, and reared himself to his full height
before me.
"Come, Mr. TUGLEY," he continued, speaking in a low, meaning voice,
"can you take a star?"
"Sometimes," I answered, humouring his strange fancy; "but there's
only one about, and it seems a deuce of a long way off--however, I'll
try;" and, with that, I reached my arm up in the direction of the
solitary planet, which lay in the vast obscure like a small silver
candlestick, with a greenish tinge in its icy sparkling, mirrored far
below in the indigo flood of the abysmal sea, while a grey scud came
sweeping up, no one quite knew whence, and hung about the glossy face
of the silent luminary like the shreds of a wedding veil, scattered
by a honey-moon quarrel across the deep spaces far beyond the hairy
coamings of the booby-hatch.
"Fool!" said the Captain, softly, "I don't mean that. If you can't
take a star, can you keep a watch?"
"Well, as to that, Captain," said I, half shocked and half amused at
his strange questionings, "I never take my own out in a crowd. It's
one of DENT's best, given me by my aunt, and I've had it for nigh
upon--"
But the Captain had left me, and was at that moment engaged on his
after-supper occupation of jockeying a lee yard-arm, while the first
mate, Mr. SOWSTER, was doing his best to keep up with his rough
commanding officer by dangling to windward on the flemish horse,
which, as it was touched in the wind and gone in the forelegs,
stumbled violently over the buttery hatchway and hurled its
venturesome rider into the hold.
CHAPTER II.
On the following morning we were all sitting in the palatial saloon of
the _Marlinspike_. We were all there, all the characters, that is to
say, necessary for the completion of a first class three-volume ocean
novel. On my right sat the cayenne-peppery Indian Colonel, a small
man with a fierce face and a tight collar, who roars like a bull and
says, "Zounds, Sir," on the slightest provocation. Opposite to him
was his wife, a Roman-nosed lady, with an imperious manner, and a
Colonel-subduing way of curling her lip. On my left was the funny man.
As usual he was of a sea-green colour, and might be expected at any
moment to stagger to a porthole and call faintly for the steward.
Further down the table sat two young nincompoops, brought on board
specially in order that they might fulfil their destiny, and fill
out my story, by falling in love with the fluffy-haired English girl
who was sitting between them, and pouting equally and simultaneously
at both. There was also the stout German who talks about "de sturm
und der vafes." And beside him was the statuesque English beauty,
whose eyes are of the rich blackness of the tropic sky, whose voice
has a large assortment of sudden notes of haughtiness, while the
studied insolence of her manner first freezes her victims and then
incontinently and inconsistently scorches them. Eventually her proud
spirit will be tamed, probably by a storm, or a ship-wreck, or by
ten days in an open boat. I shall then secure your love, my peerless
ARAMINTA, and you will marry me and turn out as soft and gentle as
the moss-rose which now nestles in your raven tresses. The Colonel was
speaking.
"Zounds, Sir!" he was saying. "I don't know what you mean by effects.
All mine are on board. What do you say, Mr. TUGLEY?" he went on,
looking at me with a look full of corkscrews and broken glass,
while his choleric face showed of a purple hue under the effort of
utterance.
"Well, Colonel," I replied, in an off-hand way, so as not to irritate
him, "I keep my best effects here;" and, so saying, I produced my
note-book, and tapped it significantly. "What, for instance, do you
say to this?"
But, what follows, needs another chapter.
CHAPTER III.
I found the place in my notebook, cleared my voice, and began.
"The ship was sailing gloriously under a press of canvas. Her
foretopgallant-sail swelled to its cotton-like hue out of the black
shadow of its incurving. High aloft, the swelling squares of her
studding-sails gleamed in the misty sheen of the pale luminary,
flinging her frosty light from point to point of the tapering masts,
which rose, rose, rose into the morning air, as though with intent
to pierce the glowing orb of day, poised in the heavens like one vast
ball of liquid fire. Through the wind-hushed spaces of the canvas,
where the foretopmaststay-sail--"
"I know that foretopmaststay-sail," said the funny man, suddenly. I
withered him with a look, and turned over the page.
"Here," I said, "is another tip-topper. What do you think of this
for a storm?--'The liquid acclivities were rising taller, and more
threatening. With a scream of passion the tortured ship hurled itself
at their deep-green crests. Cascades of rain, and hail, and snow,
were dashing down upon her unprotected bulwarks. The inky sky was one
vast thunder-clap, out of which the steely shaft of an electric flash
pierced its dazzling path into the heart of the raving deep. The
scud--'
"I know that scud," said a hateful voice. But, before I could
annihilate its owner, the pale face of Mr. SPILKINGS, with his
dead-eyes turned in, dashed breathlessly into the saloon. "By all
that's holy," he shouted, "the Captain's gone mad, and the crew have
thrown off all disguise. We are manned by ourang-outangs!"
CHAPTER IV.
Never shall I forget the horrors of the scene that ensued. We clewed
up the mizzen royal, we lashed the foretop to make it spin upon its
heels. The second dog watch barked his shins to the bone, and a
tail of men hauled upon the halliards to mast-head the yard. Nothing
availed. We had to be wrecked and wrecked we were, and as I clasped
ARAMINTA's trustful head to my breast, the pale luminary sailing
through the angry wrack glittered in phantasmal splendour on the scud
which--
[Here the MS. ends unaccountably.--ED. _Punch_.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: AN INTERESTED PARTY.
_St. Bernard's Dog_ (_confidentially to Mr. Chaplin_). "NEVER MIND
THE OLD WOMAN; LET'S KEEP THE MUZZLE ON FOR A YEAR, AND HAVE DONE WITH
IT!"]
* * * * *
CANINE CONFIDENCES.
_Clever Dog, to the Minister of Agriculture, loquitur_--
POTTERER, put the muzzle on! Potterer, take it off again!
_That_ is not the way, my friend, cruel _rabies_ to restrain.
Take my tip!
As to self-styled "friends of dogs," too preposterous by half,
Who object to all restraint, they deserve on seat or calf
One sharp nip.
It is _doggish_ interest hydrophobia to stamp out;
'Tis a curse to us canines; that no person well can doubt
Who has sense.
They who think we doggies share old maid's sentimental fad,
Just as though it really were a dog's _privilege_ to go mad,
Must be dense.
Muzzles are a bore, of course, rather troublesome at times,
But I'd rather have my nose made incapable of crimes,
Than go free,
With the chance of "going off," giving friend or foe a bite.
And be clubbed to death or shot, murdered in my master's sight,
Don't suit _me_!
Never mind the fussy frumps, the old women of each sex;
Better raise their ready wrath than the prudent public vex
With crass rules.
Muzzles now and collars then, partial orders soon relaxed;
Men rebel when with caprice they are tied, or teased, or taxed,
Else they're fools.
Keep the muzzles on a year, regularly, and _all round_,
Every doggy of high breed, mongrel puppy, whelp or hound,
Will give thanks
To the Minister who tries hydrophobia to stamp out
Once for all o'er all the land, with consistency, and without
Pottering pranks!
Mr. CHAPLIN, take my tip! Science speaks in the same sense,
So does true philanthropy. Ought to have effect immense,
What they say.
Heed not that old woman there, with her spoilt and yelping pet;
I for every dog of _nous_ in the country speak, you bet.
Try! _Good_-day!
[_Trots out, comfortably muzzled_.
* * * * *
MOST APPROPRIATE.--We see, from some recently-reported proceedings,
that the present Inspector appointed under the Infant Life Protection
Act is "Mr. BABEY."
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE SECRETS OF LITERARY COMPOSITION.
_The Fair Authoress of "Passionate Pauline," gazing fondly at her own
reflection, writes as follows:--_
"I look into the glass, Reader. What do I see?
"I see a pair of laughing, _espiegle_, forget-me-not blue eyes,
saucy and defiant; a _mutine_ little rose-bud of a mouth, with
its ever-mocking _moue_; a tiny shell-like ear, trying to play
hide-and-seek in a tangled maze of rebellious russet gold; while, from
underneath the satin folds of a _rose-the_ dressing-gown, a dainty
foot peeps coyly forth in its exquisitely-pointed gold morocco
slipper," &c., &c.
(_Vide "Passionate Pauline," by Parbleu._)]
* * * * *
A COMING MEETING.
(_REPORTED FROM THE RAILWAY INTELLIGENCE OF 1892._)
The Chairman, who on opening the proceedings was received with a
feeble chorus of melancholy groans, said that he feared he had no
better Report to make to the shareholders. ("_Oh! oh!_") It is
true that he had one fact to mention, which was a matter of supreme
congratulation, and he needn't say that that was that they hadn't
yielded a single inch to the men. ("_Oh! oh!" and a Voice, "Oh!
we've had enough of 'that'!")_ It is also true that this firm and
unflinching front had necessitated some sacrifice, and had involved
the Company in no little difficulty. (_Prolonged groans._) He was
sorry to note these manifestations, for he had not only to announce
to that meeting the non-payment of any dividend, even to the holders
of the Company's Debenture Stock, but he had further to inform them,
that, owing to some difficulty in settling the account of their coal
contractors, these last had taken proceedings against them, and had
seized not only all the contents of their refreshment-rooms, but also
the whole of their rolling-stock. (_Prolonged wailing._) He grieved
to say that the last two engines that the Company possessed, and which
they had up to now hidden in the cloak-room at the Edinburgh terminus,
were unfortunately discovered and seized last night. (_Groans._)
Still, the Company did not despair of being able to carry on, at
least, a portion of the Passenger Traffic (_Feeble laughter._) They
might meet the statement with a manifestation of ridicule--but
such was the case. It was with a sense of pride in their method of
triumphing over difficulties, that he announced to the meeting, that a
train of cattle-trucks would be started for the North daily at twelve
o'clock, the motive power of which would be the Directors themselves.
("_Oh! oh!")_ They could not say anything about _the pace_ at which
the train would travel, but that, _with time_, it would do the
distance he had little, if any doubt. It is true that in a similar
experiment on a neighbouring line the train came to a dead halt in the
first tunnel, and the passengers had to descend in the dark and grope
their way out to the nearest station as well as they could, but this
unsatisfactory experience would in no way deter them from making the
experiment on their own behalf. (_Jeers._) He was sorry to see that
the ordinary stock of the Company, which, a twelvemonth since, had
touched 128-3/8,--could not now find purchasers in the Market at
7-1/2. (_Groans._) But he hoped for better times. ("_Oh! oh!_") But,
come what would, he would hold fast by his principles, which were,
"_No Compromise, No Meeting Halfway, No Arbitration, No Concession!_"
Men might starve, Trade collapse, the Country come to ruin, the
Company disappear in Bankruptcy, but he cared not. The Directors had
put their foot down, and, whether right or wrong, whatever happened,
_there_ they meant, with a good down-right national and pig-headed
obstinacy, to keep it.
The Chairman was continuing in this strain, but, being interrupted
by a shower of inkstands, was compelled to close his remarks, the
proceedings coming to a somewhat abrupt conclusion, in a scene of
considerable confusion.
* * * * *
THE "STRAIT" TIP.
Oh, Mister BLAINE, we don't complain
That for your country's weal you're caring;
But, clever Yankee, _Punch_ would thank 'ee
Not to be quite so _over-Behring!_
* * * * *
NEW VERSION.--Every dog must have his--_year_ (of muzzling).
* * * * *
THE GAME OF PEACE.
[Illustration]
_April_.--Grand informal meeting of the Crowned Heads of Europe (with
the CZAR in the chair) to discuss a scheme of general disarmament,
at which the Emperor of GERMANY creates a profound sensation by the
announcement that, as a hint to his brother Monarchs, he has himself
gone on to the retired list, burnt his cocked-hat, disbanded the
Pomeranian Grenadiers, and confined Herr KRUPP for ten years in a
second-class fortress.
_May_.--By arrangement, all the great powers call in the uniforms of
all their troops and present them to the King of the BELGIANS, on the
understanding that, as the Emperor of the Congo, he shall forthwith
transport them to Africa, and instantly commence the clothing of seven
millions of the naked native population.
_June_.--One hundred and eighty thousand horses, with military
training, coming suddenly on to the market, four-in-hand Hansoms at a
penny an hour, become common in all the great European capitals, and
the Derby, for which there are 1371 entries, is won by a Cossack pony,
trained in Siberia.
_July_.--The barrels of all the magazine rifles melted down, and
recast, utilised for the production of type-writers, which, being
produced in large quantities, are supplied with instruction gratis
to all the children attending the establishments of the London School
Board, the stocks of the rifles being utilised for the manufacture of
billiard-cues, walking-sticks, and umbrella-handles.
_August_.--It being resolved to use up all the gunpowder without
delay, a perpetual display of fireworks is inaugurated at Vienna,
St. Petersburg, Berlin, Paris, and London, the show in the last-named
capital including a gigantic set-piece of the Fifteen Decisive Battles
of the World, which is given five times successively every evening at
the Crystal Palace for three months, Piccadilly being illuminated from
6 P.M. to 3 A.M. by the continuous discharge of coloured rockets.
_September_.--The last 101-ton gun having been melted down for the
forging of the metal piles for one of the four newly-projected Channel
bridges, a nasty international feeling, fermented by General Officers
who are obliged to sweep crossings and drive four-wheeled cabs for a
livelihood,--and who do not like it,--begins to manifest itself, and
diplomacy intervening irritably only to make matters worse, several
ultimatums are dispatched from some of the Great Powers to others,
but owing to the want of soldiers, the matter is put into the hands
of International Solicitors, who, arranging a stand-up fight for the
President of the French Republic and the CZAR against the Emperors of
GERMANY and AUSTRIA, and the KING of ITALY, the matter somehow falls
through for the moment, and the public excitement subsides.
_October_.--General note from all the Great Powers to each other
announcing their secession from the "League of Peace," and declaring
their intention of resorting again to "_Protective Armament_" as soon
as possible. War declared all round before the end of the month.
* * * * *
VOCES POPULI.
AT THE GUELPH EXHIBITION.
IN THE CENTRAL HALL.
_A Thrifty Visitor_ (_on entering_). Catalogue? No. What's the use
of a Catalogue? Miserable thing, the size of a tract, that tells you
nothing you don't know!
_His Wife_ (_indicating a pile of Catalogues on table_). Aren't
_these_ big enough for you?
_The Thr. V._ Those? Why, they're big enough for the _London
Directory_! Think I'm going to drag a thing like that about the place?
You don't really want a Catalogue--it's all your fancy!
_Mr. Prattler_ (_to Miss AMMERSON_). Oh, _do_ stop and look at these
_sweet_ goldfish! Pets! Don't you _love_ them? _Aren't_ they tame?
_Miss Ammerson_. Wouldn't do to have them _wild_--might jump out and
_bite_ people, you know!
_Mr. P._ It's _too_ horrid of you to make fun of my poor little
enthusiasms! But really,--couldn't we get something and feed
them?--_Do_ let's!
_Miss A._ I daresay you could get ham-sandwiches in the Restaurant--or
chocolates.
_Mr. P._ How unkind you are to me! But I don't care. (_Wilfully._) I
shall come here all by myself, and bring biscuits. Great big ones! Are
you determined to take me into that big room with all the Portraits?
Well, you must tell me who they all are then, and which are the
Guelphiest ones.
IN THE ROYAL ROOM.
_Considerate Niece_ (_to Uncle_). They seem mostly Portraits here.
You're sure you don't _mind_ looking at them, Uncle? I know so many
people _do_ object to Portraits.
_Uncle_ (_with the air of a Christian Martyr_). No, my dear, no: _I_
don't mind 'em. Stay here as long as you like, I'll sit down and look
at the people, till you've done.
_First Critical Visitor_ (_examining a View of St. James's Park_).
I wonder where that was taken. In Scotland, I expect--there's two
Highlanders there, you see.
_Second C.V._ Shouldn't wonder--lot o' work in that, all those
different colours, and so many dresses. [_Admires, thoughtfully._
_A Well-read Woman_. That's Queen CHARLOTTE, that is. GEORGE THE
THIRD's wife, you know--her that was so _domestic_.
_Her Companion_. Wasn't that the one that was shut up in the Tower, or
something?
_The W.W._ In the Tower? Lor, my dear, no, _I_ never 'eard of it.
You're thinking of the TUDORS, or some o' that lot, I expect!
_Her Comp._ Am I? I daresay. I never _could_ remember 'Istry. Why,
if you'll believe me, I always have to stop and think which of the
GEORGES came first!
_More Critical Visitors_ (_before Portraits_). He's rather
pleasant-looking, don't you think? I _don't_ like _her_ face at all.
So peculiar. And what a hideous dress--like a tea-gown without any
upper part--frightful!
_A Sceptical V._ They all seem to have had such thin lips in those
days. Somehow, I _can't_ bring myself to believe in such very thin
lips--can _you_, dear?
_Her Friend_. I always think it's a sign of meanness, myself.
_The S.V._ No; but I mean--I can't believe _everyone_ had them in the
eighteenth century.
_Her Friend_. Oh, I don't know. If it was the fashion!
ABOUT THE CASES.
_Visitor_ (_admiring an embroidered waistcoat of the time of GEORGE
THE SECOND--a highly popular exhibit_). What lovely work! Why, it
looks as if it was done yesterday!
_Her Companion_ (_who is not in the habit of allowing his enthusiasm
to run away with him_). Um--yes, it's not bad. But, of course, they
wouldn't send a thing like that here without having it washed and done
up first!
_An Old Lady_. "Tea-pot used by the Duke of WELLINGTON during his
campaigns." So he drank _tea_, did he? Dear me! Do you know, my dear,
I think I must have _my_ old tea-pot engraved. It will make it so much
more interesting some day!
IN THE SOUTH GALLERY.
_Mr. Prattler_ (_before a Portrait of Lady HAMILTON, by ROMNEY_).
There! Isn't she too charming? I do call her a perfect _duck_.'
_Miss Ammerson_. Yes, you mustn't forget her when you bring those
biscuits.
_An Amurrcan Girl_. Father, see up there; there's BYRON. Did you erver
see such a purrfectly beautiful face?
_Her Father_ (_solemnly_). He was a beautiful _Man_--a beautiful Poet.
_The A.G._ I know--but the _expression_, it's real saint-like!
_Father_ (_slowly_). Well, I guess if he'd had any different kind of
expression, he wouldn't have written the things he _did_ write, and
that's a fact!
_A Moralising Old Lady_ (_at Case O_). No. 1260. "Ball of Worsted
wound by WILLIAM COWPER, the poet, for Mrs. UNWIN." NO. 1261.
"Netting done by WILLIAM COWPER, the poet." How very nice, and what a
difference in the habit of literary persons _nowadays_, my dear!
IN THE CENTRAL HALL.--_MR. WHITEROSE, A JACOBITE FIN DE SIECLE, IS
SEATED ON A BENCH BESIDE A SEEDY STRANGER._
_The S.S._ (_half to himself_). Har, well, there's one comfort, these
'ere GUELPHS'll get notice to quit afore we're _much_ older!
_Mr. Whiterose_ (_surprised_). You say so? Then--you too are of the
Young England Party! I am rejoiced to hear it. You cheer me; it is a
sign that the good Cause is advancing.
_The S.S._ Advancin'? I believe yer. Why, I know a dozen and more as
are workin' 'art and soul for it!
_Mr. W._ You do? We are making strides, indeed! Our England has
suffered these usurpers too long.
_The S.S._ Yer right. But we'll chuck 'em out afore long, and it'll be
"Over goes the Show" with the lot, eh?
_Mr. W._ I had no idea that the--er--intelligent artisan classes were
so heartily with us. We must talk more of this. Come and see me. Bring
your friends--all you can depend upon. Here is my card.
_The S.S._ (_putting the card in the lining of his hat_). Right,
Guv'nor; we'll come. I wish there was more gents like yer, I do!
_Mr. W._ We are united by a common bond. We both detest--do we
not?--the Hanoverian interlopers. We are both pledged never to rest
until we have brought back to the throne of our beloved England,
her lawful sovereign lady--(_uncovering_)--our gracious MARY of
Austria-Este, the legitimate descendant of CHARLES the Blessed Martyr!
_The S.S._ 'Old on, Guv'nor! Me and my friends are with yer so fur
as doing away with these 'ere hidle GUELPHS; but blow yer MARY of
Orstria, yer know. Blow _'er_!
_Mr. W._ (_horrified_). Hush--this is rank treason! Remember--she is
the lineal descendant of the House of Stuart!
_The S.S._ What of it? There won't be no lineal descendants when we
git _hour_ way, 'cause there won't be nothing to descend to nobody.
The honly suv'rin _we_ mean to 'ave is the People--the Democrisy. But
there, you're young, me and my friends'll soon tork you over to hour
way o' thinking. I dessay we ain't fur apart, as it is. I got yer
address, and we'll drop in on yer some night--never fear. No hevenin'
dress, o' course?
_Mr. W._ Of course. I--I'll look out for you. But I'm seldom
in--hardly _ever_, in fact.
_The S.S._ Don't you fret about _that_. Me and my friends ain't
nothing partickler to do just now. We'll _wait_ for yer. I should like
yer to know ole BILL GABB. You should 'ear _that_ feller goin' on agin
the GUELPHS when he's 'ad a little booze--it 'ud do your 'art good!
Well, I on'y come in 'ere as a deligate like, to report, and I seen
enough. So 'ere's good-day to yer.
_Mr. W._ (_alone_). I shall have to change my rooms--and I _was_ so
comfortable! Well, well,--another sacrifice to the Cause!