Mr Punch Afloat Part 17

[_Scene closes in to soft music on the banjo._

[Ill.u.s.tration: AT HENLEY--"IPSE DIXIT"

["For a mile and a half the river was covered with elegant craft, in which youth was always at the prow and pleasure always at the helm."--_Daily Paper._]

"THE SAILORMAN'S MENOO"

(_To a s.h.i.+powner. By a Sh.e.l.l-back_)

It's mighty fine, yer talkin', but you never done no trips In the bloomin' leaky foc'sle of yer leaky, rotten s.h.i.+ps; And though you gulls the public with a sham Menoo for _us_, It isn't printed lies as makes provisions worth a cuss; And even silly emigrants will tell you straight and true That the test of grub is grubbin', not the advertised Menoo.

I'm talkin' now, not beggin' for a chance to starve and work In an undermanned old tanker with a skipper like a Turk; With a cook as larnt 'is cookin' when 'e 'ad to cook or beg, Or go into an 'orspital to nurse a cranky leg; And what I says I means it, and my words is plain and true, Which is more than any sailorman will say for yer Menoo.

I'll allow that in the look of it, the print of it I mean, That all you say is sarved to us; but is it good or clean?

And wot's wet 'ash, or porridge, or any other stuff, When at the very best of it there's 'ardly 'arf enough?

Not even with the c.o.c.kroaches that's given with the stew, Though I notice they nor maggots wasn't down in yer Menoo.

There's the tea and corfee talked of, but folks ash.o.r.e ain't told That the swine as bought it for you winked 'is eye at them as sold.

For sailormen's best Mocha was never further East Than a bloomin' Ess.e.x bean-field; and the tea ain't tea--at least It's on'y "finest sweepin's" from the docks, and wot a brew It makes when sarved in buckets to drink to yer Menoo!

The pork and beef on paper, or a tin dish, makes a show, But you'd want yer front teeth sharpened if you tackled it, my bo'!

For the beef is still the ancient 'orse wot worked on Portland Pier, And the pork is rotten reasty, that was inwoiced twice too dear If they charged you 'arf a thick 'un for the whack you gives the crew, With the pickles and the b.u.t.ter set out fine in yer Menoo.

I'd like to take you jossers, as thinks as sailormen Is a grumblin' lot of skulkers, just one trip and 'ome agen; For when yer 'ands was achin' with sea cuts to the bone, And the Baltic talked north-easters, you'd be alterin' of yer tone, And might'nt think wot's wrote in print is necessary true, And perhaps when you was safe agen you'd alter our Menoo.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A TRIAL OF FAITH

_Bertie (at intervals)._ "I used to---- What the---- do a lot of---- Conf---- rowing, one time!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: CRITICAL

_Boatman (spelling)._ "P-s-y-c-h-e. Well, that's the rummest way I ever see o' spellin' _fish_!"]

HENLEY REGATTA

(_By Mr. Punch's Own Oarsman_)

Sir,--This letter is private and is not intended for publication. I particularly beg that you will note this, as on a former occasion some remarks of mine, which were intended only for your private eye, were printed. I of course accepted your a.s.surance that no offence was meant, and that the oversight was due to a person whose services had since the occurrence been dispensed with; but I look to you to take care that it shall not happen again. Otherwise the mutual confidence that should always exist between an editor and his staff cannot possibly be maintained, and I shall have to transfer my invaluable services to some other paper. The notes and prognostications which I have laboriously compiled with regard to the final results of the regatta will arrive by the next post, and will, I flatter myself, be found to be extraordinarily accurate, besides being written in that vivid and picturesque style which has made my contributions famous throughout the civilised world.

There are one or two little matters about which I honestly desire to have your opinion. You know perfectly well that I was by no means anxious for the position of aquatic reporter. In vain I pointed out to you that my experience of the river was entirely limited to an occasional trip by steamboat from Charing Cross to Gravesend. You said that was an amply sufficient qualification, and that no aquatic reporter who respected himself and his readers, had ever so far degraded himself as to row in a boat and to place his body in any of the absurd positions which modern oarsmans.h.i.+p demands. Finding you were inexorable, and knowing your ridiculously hasty temper, I consented finally to undertake the arduous duties. These circ.u.mstances, however, make it essential that you should give me advice when I require it. For obvious reasons I don't much like to ask any of the rowing men here any questions. They are mostly in what they call hard training, which means, I fancy, a condition of high irritability. Their strokes may be long, but their tempers are, I regret to say, painfully short. Besides, to be candid, I don't wish to show the least trace of ignorance. My position demands that I should be omniscient, and omniscient, to all outward appearance, I shall remain.

In the first place, what is a "lights.h.i.+p"? As I travelled down to Henley I read in one of the newspapers that "practice for the Royal Regatta was now in full swing, and that the river was dotted with lights.h.i.+ps of every description." I remember some years ago pa.s.sing a very pleasant half hour on board of a lights.h.i.+p moored in the neighbourhood of Broadstairs. The rum was excellent. I looked forward with a lively pleasure to repeating the experience at Henley. As soon as I arrived, therefore, I put on my yachting cap (white, with a gold anchor embroidered in front), hired a boat and a small boy, and directed him to row me immediately to one of the lights.h.i.+ps. I spent at least two hours on the river in company with that boy--a very impudent little fellow,--but owing no doubt to his stupidity, I failed to find a single vessel which could be fairly described as a lights.h.i.+p. Finally the boy said they had all been sunk in yesterday's great storm, and with that inadequate explanation I was forced to content myself. But there is a mystery about this. Please explain it.

Secondly, I see placards and advertis.e.m.e.nts all over the place announcing that "the Stewards Stand." Now this fairly beats me. Why should the stewards stand? They are presumably men of a certain age, some of them must be of a certain corpulence, and it seems to me a refinement of cruelty that these faithful officials, of whom, I believe, the respected Mayor of Henley is one, should be compelled to refrain from seats during the whole of the Regatta. It may be necessary for them to set an example of true British endurance to the crowds who attend the Regatta, but in that case surely they ought to be paid for the performance of their duties.

Thirdly, I have heard a good deal of talk about the Visitors' Cup. Being anxious to test its merits, I went to one of the princ.i.p.al hotels here, and ordered the waiter to bring me a quart of Visitors' Cup, and to be careful to ice it well. He seemed puzzled, but went away to execute my orders. After an absence of ten minutes he returned, and informed me, with the manager's compliments, that they could not provide me with what I wanted, but that their champagne-cup was excellent. I gave the fellow a look, and departed. Perhaps this is only another example of the asinine and anserous dunderheadedness of these cra.s.s provincials. Kindly reply, _by wire_, about all the three points I have mentioned.

I have been here for a week, but have, as yet, not been fortunate enough to see any crews. Indeed, I doubt if there are any here. A good many maniacs disport themselves every day in rickety things which look something like gigantic needles, and other people have been riding along the bank, and, very naturally, abusing them loudly for their foolhardy recklessness. But no amount of abuse causes them to desist. I have puzzled my brains to know what it all means, but I confess I can't make it out. I fancy I know a boat when I see one, and of course these ridiculous affairs can't be boats.

Be good enough to send me, by return, at least 100. It's a very difficult and expensive thing to support the dignity of your paper in this town. Whiskey is very dear, and a great deal goes a very short way.

Yours sincerely,

THE MAN AT THE OAR.

_Henley-on-Thames, July 4._

[Ill.u.s.tration: AQUATICS--A COMFORTABLE RAN-DAN

_Jolly Young Waterman._ "Holloa! Hi! Police! Back water, Jack! We've got into a nest of swans, and they're a pitchin' into me!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SERPENTINE

(Gent thinks he is rowing to the admiration of everybody)

_Small Boy._ "'Old 'ard, guv'n'r! And take me and my traps acrosst--will yer?"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Fiend in human shape._ "Don't feel well! Try a cigar!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Binks, who is the kindest creature possible, has undertaken to fasten up the boat and bring along the siphons.

Unfortunately both sculls have gone, and his friends are out of hearing.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: MOAN, HEARD ON A RAMSGATE BOAT

"Why didn't we go by rail?"]