Mr. Punch Afloat: The Humours of Boating and Sailing by Hammerton and Tenniel (love story novels in english .txt) 📗
- Author: Hammerton and Tenniel
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7 p.m.—Run down by a steam-launch travelling at express-rate speed.
8 p.m.—Just recovering from the effects of drowning.
9 p.m.—Going home to bed!
[Pg 139]
Energetic Male (reclining). "Now then, girls, work away! Nothing like taking real exercise!"
[Pg 140]
There used to be buttercups once on these meads,
There used to be reeds by the bank,
But now these same meadows have not even weeds,
And the water's decidedly rank.
The pastures are crowded with mannerless shows,
And the river with refuse is blocked;
There isn't a corner for quiet repose,
While the nose is most constantly shocked![Pg 141]
The houseboats and tents may with rich colour glow,
And the course be more bright than before,
But there isn't the thought for the men who will row,
As there was in the brave days of yore!
How Willan and Warre and stout "Johnny" Moss
Must recurrence of past time re-wish,
And the sight be to them and to rowing a loss,
But I only can think of the fish
Who are poisoned by garbage and bloated with food,
And oppressed with the bottles o'erthrown!
My sentiments, though by the many pooh-poohed,
By the few will be met with a moan!
The Man in the Boat. "I'm sorry, sir, but it was your own fault. Why didn't you get out into mid-stream?"
The Victim. "Why, that's just what I've done!"
[Pg 142]
THE TOURIST'S BAROMETER (Read on the Channel) Splendid Weather.I never mind the sea myself. The rougher for me the better. Have a cigar?
Very Fine.One certainly does feel that only Englishmen can be sailors. Somehow or other they take naturally to the sea—now, don't they?
Fine.Yes. I always come by Folkestone. I never could see the use of the Castalia. We are not foreigners, you know. Most of us have our sea-legs. Eh?
Moderate.Yes. Perhaps a little brandy-and-water would be a good thing.
Sea slight.very roughest passage I remember. But I am an excellent sailor. Still, would you mind putting out that cigar?
Rather Rough.It's simply disgraceful. The Castalia ought to be established by Act of Parliament. Shall write to the Times. I shall go down below—to think about it!
RoughOh! Here, somebody! Will it be more—than five minutes? Oh! oh! oh!
Very Rough.(Far too dreadful for description.)
[Pg 143]
Enthusiastic Skipper (to friend). "Ah, my boy! this is what you wanted. In a short time you'll feel yourself a different man!"
[Pg 144]
RIVERSIDE SUNDAYUnnumbered are the trees that fling
O'er Pangbourne Reach their shade,
Unnumbered there the birds that sing
Melodious serenade;
But as the leaves upon the boughs
Or feathers on the birds,
So are the trippers who carouse
Along the banks in herds.
Punt, centre-board, launch, skiff, canoe,
Lunch-laden hither hie,
Each bearing her expectant crew
To veal and chicken-pie;
And from the woods around Hart's Lock
Reports ring loud and clear,
As trippers draw the festive hock
Or democratic beer.
From one to three, below, above,
Is heard the crisp, clear crunch
Of salad, as gay Damons love
To linger over lunch.
From three to six a kettle sings
'Neath every sheltering tree
As afternoon to Phyllis brings
The magic hour of tea.
Well may the Cockney fly the Strand
For this remoter nest,
Where buses cease from rumbling and
The motors are at rest.
But would you shun your fellows—if
To quiet you incline—
Oh, rather scull your shilling skiff
Upon the Serpentine.
[Pg 145]
Brown (passenger by the Glasgow steamer, 8.30 a.m.). "I beg pardon, sir, but I think you've made a mistake. That is my tooth-brush!"
McGrubbie (ditto). "Ah beag years, mun, ah'm sure. Ah thoght 't belanged to the sheip!!"
[Pg 146]
NEW SAILING ORDERS (To be in force on or after the next Ultimo instant)The Darkest Night.—Any man not knowing when the darkest night is will be discharged.
Inquiries can be made any day at the Admiralty from 10 till 4, excepting from 1 till 2, when all hands are piped to luncheon.
The Rule of the Rowed at sea is similar to the rule of the sailed.
No ship must come into collision with another.
If two steamers are on the starboard tack, they must return to the harbour and begin again.
Any steamship likely to meet another steamship must reverse and go somewhere else.
Any admiral out after 12 o'clock will be locked up wherever he is.
Nobody, however high in command, can be permitted to sit on a buoy out at sea for the purpose of frightening vessels.
All complaints to be made to the Admiralty, or to one of the mounted sentries at the Horse Guards.
[Pg 148]
An admiral is on duty all night to receive complaints.
Every mounted marine on joining must bring his own fork, spoon and towel horse.
If two vessels are meeting end on, take one end off. The other loses and forfeits sixpence.
Any infringement or infraction of the above rules and regulations will be reported by the head winds to the deputy toastmaster for the current year at Colwell-Hatchney.
N.B.—On hand a second-hand pair of gloves for boxing the compass. Remember the 26th of December is near, when they may be wanted. The equivalent of a chaplain-general to the forces has been appointed. He is to be called chaplain-admiral to the fleet. The cockpits are being turned into pulpits. If not ready by next Sunday he will deliver his first sermon from the main-top gallant jibboom mizen. The Colney-Hatches will be crowded.
[Pg 147]
The eldest Miss Blossom thinks that the part of double gooseberry is rather monotonous.
[Pg 149]
Madge. "My dear George, there you've been sitting with your camera since breakfast, and you haven't taken anything."
George (intent on his own feelings). "Don't ask me to, darling, I couldn't touch it!"
[Pg 150]
A REGATTA RHYME On Board the "Athena," Henley-on-ThamesI like, it is true, in a basswood canoe
To lounge, with a weed incandescent:
To paddle about, there is not a doubt,
I find it uncommonly pleasant!
I love the fresh air, the lunch here and there,
To see pretty toilettes and faces;
But one thing I hate—allow me to state—
The fuss they make over the Races!
I don't care a rap for the Races!—
Mid all the Regatta embraces—
I'm that sort of chap, I don't care a rap,
A rap or a snap for the Races!
I don't care, you know, a bit how they row,
Nor mind about smartness of feather;
If steering is bad, I'm not at all sad,
Nor care if they all swing together!
Oh why do they shout and make such a rout,
When one boat another one chases?
'Tis really too hot to bawl, is it not?
Or bore oneself over the Races!
I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c.
Then the Umpire's boat a nuisance we vote,
It interrupts calm contemplation;
Its discordant tone, and horrid steam moan,
Is death to serene meditation![Pg 151]
The roar of the crowd should not be allowed;
The gun with its fierce fulmination,
Abolish it, pray—'tis fatal, they say,
To pleasant and quiet flirtation!
I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c.
If athletes must pant—I don't say they shan't—
But give them some decent employment;
And let it be clear, they don't interfere
With other folks' quiet enjoyment!
When luncheon you're o'er, tis really a bore—
And I think it a very hard case is—
To have to look up, from p�t� or cup,
And gaze on those tiresome Races!
I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c.
The Races, to me, seem to strike a wrong key,
Mid dreamy delightful diversion;
There isn't much fun seeing men in the sun,
Who suffer from over-exertion!
In sweet idle days, when all love to laze,
Such violent work a disgrace is!
Let's hope we shall see, with me they'll agree,
And next year abolish the Races!
I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c.
[Pg 152]
Miss Featherweight. "I tell you what, Alfred, if you took me for a row in a thing like that I'd scream all the time. Why, he isn't more than half out of the water!"
HENLEY REGATTA By Jingle Junior on the JauntAll right — here we are — quite the waterman — jolly — young — white flannels — straw hat — canvas shoes — umbrella — mackintosh — provide against a rainy day! Finest reach for rowing in England — best regatta in the Eastern Hemisphere — finest pic-nic in the world! Gorgeous barges — palatial houseboats — superb steam-launches — skiffs — randans — punts — wherries — sailing-boats — dinghies — canoes! Red Lion crammed from cellar to garret — not a bed to be had in the town — comfortable trees all booked a fortnight in advance — well-aired meadows at a premium! Lion Gardens crammed with gay toilettes — Grand Stand like a flower-show[Pg 154] — band inspiriting — church-bells distracting — sober grey old bridge crammed with carriages — towing-path blocked up with spectators — meadows alive with pic-nic parties! Flags flying everywhere — music — singers — niggers — conjurers — fortune-tellers! Brilliant liveries of rowing clubs — red — blue — yellow — green — purple — black — white — all jumbled up together — rainbow gone mad — kaleidoscope with delirium tremens. Henley hospitality proverbial — invitation to sixteen luncheons — accept 'em all — go to none! Find myself at luncheon where I've not been asked — good plan — others in reserve! Wet or fine — rain or shine — must be at Henley! If fine, row about all day — pretty girls — bright dresses — gay sunshades. If wet, drop in at hospitable houseboat just for a call — delightful damsels — mackintoshes — umbrellas! Houseboat like Ark — all in couples — Joan of Ark in corner with Darby — Who is she? — Don't No-ah — pun effect of cup. Luncheons going on all day — cups various continually circulating — fine view — lots of fun — delightful, very! People roaring — rowists howling along bank — lot of young men with red oars in boat over-exerting themselves — lot[Pg 156] more in boat with blue oars, also over-exerting themselves — bravo! — pick her up! — let her have it! — well pulled — everybody gone raving mad! Bang! young men leave off over-exerting themselves — somebody says somebody has won something. Seems to have been a race about something — why can't they row quietly? Pass the claret-cup, please — Why do they want to interrupt our luncheon? — Eh?
[Pg 153]
(A sketch at a regatta. A warning to "the cloth" when up the river)
[Pg 155]
Angelina (to Edwin, whose only chance is perfect tranquillity). "Edwin, dear! If you love me, go down into the cabin, and fetch me my scent bottle and another shawl to put over my feet!"
[Edwin's sensations are more easily imagined than described.
THE JOLLY YOUNG WATERMAIDS
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