Part 2 (1/2)

”Good morning, Sir. It is a fine day for pleasuring. You were about to say--”

”Oh, my!”

I thought so. I antic.i.p.ated him, anyhow. I stayed there and was bombarded with old gentlemen for an hour, perhaps; and all I got out of any of them was ”Oh, my!”

I went away then in a thoughtful mood. I said, this is a good pleasure excursion. I like it. The pa.s.sengers are not garrulous, but still they are sociable. I like those old people, but somehow they all seem to have the ”Oh, my” rather bad.

I knew what was the matter with them. They were seasick. And I was glad of it. We all like to see people seasick when we are not, ourselves.

Playing whist by the cabin lamps when it is storming outside is pleasant; walking the quarterdeck in the moonlight is pleasant; smoking in the breezy foretop is pleasant when one is not afraid to go up there; but these are all feeble and commonplace compared with the joy of seeing people suffering the miseries of seasickness.

I picked up a good deal of information during the afternoon. At one time I was climbing up the quarterdeck when the vessel's stem was in the sky; I was smoking a cigar and feeling pa.s.sably comfortable. Somebody e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed:

”Come, now, that won't answer. Read the sign up there--NO SMOKING ABAFT THE WHEEL!”

It was Captain Duncan, chief of the expedition. I went forward, of course. I saw a long spygla.s.s lying on a desk in one of the upper-deck state-rooms back of the pilot-house and reached after it--there was a s.h.i.+p in the distance.

”Ah, ah--hands off! Come out of that!”

I came out of that. I said to a deck-sweep--but in a low voice:

”Who is that overgrown pirate with the whiskers and the discordant voice?”

”It's Captain Bursley--executive officer--sailing master.”

I loitered about awhile, and then, for want of something better to do, fell to carving a railing with my knife. Somebody said, in an insinuating, admonitory voice:

”Now, say--my friend--don't you know any better than to be whittling the s.h.i.+p all to pieces that way? You ought to know better than that.”

I went back and found the deck sweep.

”Who is that smooth-faced, animated outrage yonder in the fine clothes?”

”That's Captain L****, the owner of the s.h.i.+p--he's one of the main bosses.”

In the course of time I brought up on the starboard side of the pilot-house and found a s.e.xtant lying on a bench. Now, I said, they ”take the sun” through this thing; I should think I might see that vessel through it. I had hardly got it to my eye when someone touched me on the shoulder and said deprecatingly:

”I'll have to get you to give that to me, Sir. If there's anything you'd like to know about taking the sun, I'd as soon tell you as not--but I don't like to trust anybody with that instrument. If you want any figuring done--Aye, aye, sir!”

He was gone to answer a call from the other side. I sought the deck-sweep.

”Who is that spider-legged gorilla yonder with the sanctimonious countenance?”

”It's Captain Jones, sir--the chief mate.”

”Well. This goes clear away ahead of anything I ever heard of before.

Do you--now I ask you as a man and a brother--do you think I could venture to throw a rock here in any given direction without hitting a captain of this s.h.i.+p?”

”Well, sir, I don't know--I think likely you'd fetch the captain of the watch may be, because he's a-standing right yonder in the way.”

I went below--meditating and a little downhearted. I thought, if five cooks can spoil a broth, what may not five captains do with a pleasure excursion.