The Pier, Ceasing To Be A Long, Outstretched Finger, Seems To Fold
Back Into Itself, Knuckle-Fashion, And Presently Is But A Part
Of The Oddly Foreshortened Shoreline, Distinguishable Only By The
Black Dot Of Watchers Clustered Under A Battery Of Lights, Like A
Swarm Of Hiving Bees.
Out in midstream the tugs, which have been
convoying the ship, let go of her and scuttle off, one in this
direction and one in that, like a brace of teal ducks getting out
of a walrus' way.
Almost imperceptibly her nose straightens down the river and soon
on the starboard quarter - how quickly one picks up these nautical
terms! - looming through the harbor mists, you behold the statue
of Miss Liberty, in her popular specialty of enlightening the
world. So you go below and turn in. Anyway, that is what I did;
for certain of the larger ships of the Cunard line sail at midnight
or even later, and this was such a ship.
For some hours I lay awake, while above me and below me and all
about me the boat settled down to her ordained ship's job, and
began drawing the long, soothing snores that for five days and
nights she was to continue drawing without cessation. There were
so many things to think over. I tried to remember all the
authoritative and conflicting advice that hadbeen offered to me
by traveled friends and well-wishers.
Let's see, now: On shipboard I was to wear only light clothes,
because nobody ever caught cold at sea. I was to wear the heaviest
clothes I had, because the landlubber always caught cold at sea.
I was to tip only those who served me. I was to tip all hands in
moderation, whether they served me or not. If I felt squeamish I
was to do the following things: Eat something. Quit eating. Drink
something. Quit drinking. Stay on deck. Go below and lie perfectly
flat. Seek company. Avoid same. Give it up. Keep it down.
There was but one point on which all of them were agreed. On no
account should I miss Naples; I must see Naples if I did not see
another solitary thing in Europe. Well, I did both - I saw Naples;
and now I should not miss Naples if I never saw it again, and I
do not think I shall. As regards the other suggestions these
friends of mine gave me, I learned in time that all of them were
right and all of them were wrong.
For example, there was the matter of a correct traveling costume.
Between seasons on the Atlantic one wears what best pleases one.
One sees at the same time women in furs and summer boys in white
ducks. Tweed-enshrouded Englishmen and linen-clad American girls
promenade together, giving to the decks that pleasing air of variety
and individuality of apparel only to be found in southern California
during the winter, and in those orthodox pictures in the book of
Robinson Crusoe, where Robinson is depicted as completely wrapped
up in goatskins, while Man Friday is pirouetting round as nude as
a raw oyster and both of them are perfectly comfortable.
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