CHAPTER IV.
The food question.--Objections to paraffine oil as anatmosphere.--Advantages of cheese as a travelling companion.--A marriedwoman deserts her home.--Further provision for getting upset.--Ipack.--Cussedness of tooth-brushes.--George and Harris pack.--Awfulbehaviour of Montmorency.--We retire to rest.
Then we discussed the food question. George said:
"Begin with breakfast." (George is so practical.) "Now for breakfast weshall want a frying-pan"--(Harris said it was indigestible; but we merelyurged him not to be an ass, and George went on)--"a tea-pot and a kettle,and a methylated spirit stove."
"No oil," said George, with a significant look; and Harris and I agreed.
We had taken up an oil-stove once, but "never again." It had been likeliving in an oil-shop that week. It oozed. I never saw such a thing asparaffine oil is to ooze. We kept it in the nose of the boat, and, fromthere, it oozed down to the rudder, impregnating the whole boat andeverything in it on its way, and it oozed over the river, and saturatedthe scenery and spoilt the atmosphere. Sometimes a westerly oily windblew, and at other times an easterly oily wind, and sometimes it blew anortherly oily wind, and maybe a southerly oily wind; but whether it camefrom the Arctic snows, or was raised in the waste of the desert sands, itcame alike to us laden with the fragrance of paraffine oil.
And that oil oozed up and ruined the sunset; and as for the moonbeams,they positively reeked of paraffine.
We tried to get away from it at Marlow. We left the boat by the bridge,and took a walk through the town to escape it, but it followed us. Thewhole town was full of oil. We passed through the church-yard, and itseemed as if the people had been buried in oil. The High Street stunk ofoil; we wondered how people could live in it. And we walked miles uponmiles out Birmingham way; but it was no use, the country was steeped inoil.
At the end of that trip we met together at midnight in a lonely field,under a blasted oak, and took an awful oath (we had been swearing for awhole week about the thing in an ordinary, middle-class way, but this wasa swell affair)--an awful oath never to take paraffine oil with us in aboat again-except, of course, in case of sickness.
Therefore, in the present instance, we confined ourselves to methylatedspirit. Even that is bad enough. You get methylated pie and methylatedcake. But methylated spirit is more wholesome when taken into the systemin large quantities than paraffine oil.
For other breakfast things, George suggested eggs and bacon, which wereeasy to cook, cold meat, tea, bread and butter, and jam. For lunch, hesaid, we could have biscuits, cold meat, bread and butter, and jam--but_no cheese_. Cheese, like oil, makes too much of itself. It wants thewhole boat to itself. It goes through the hamper, and gives a cheesyflavour to everything else there. You can't tell whether you are eatingapple-pie or German sausage, or strawberries and cream. It all seemscheese. There is too much odour about cheese.
I remember a friend of mine, buying a couple of cheeses at Liverpool.Splendid cheeses they were, ripe and mellow, and with a two hundredhorse-power scent about them that might have been warranted to carrythree miles, and knock a man over at two hundred yards. I was inLiverpool at the time, and my friend said that if I didn't mind he wouldget me to take them back with me to London, as he should not be coming upfor a day or two himself, and he did not think the cheeses ought to bekept much longer.
"Oh, with pleasure, dear boy," I replied, "with pleasure."
I called for the cheeses, and took them away in a cab. It was aramshackle affair, dragged along by a knock-kneed, broken-windedsomnambulist, which his owner, in a moment of enthusiasm, duringconversation, referred to as a horse. I put the cheeses on the top, andwe started off at a shamble that would have done credit to the swifteststeam-roller ever built, and all went merry as a funeral bell, until weturned the corner. There, the wind carried a whiff from the cheeses fullon to our steed. It woke him up, and, with a snort of terror, he dashedoff at three miles an hour. The wind still blew in his direction, andbefore we reached the end of the street he was laying himself out at therate of nearly four miles an hour, leaving the cripples and stout oldladies simply nowhere.
It took two porters as well as the driver to hold him in at the station;and I do not think they would have done it, even then, had not one of themen had the presence of mind to put a handkerchief over his nose, and tolight a bit of brown paper.
I took my ticket, and marched proudly up the platform, with my cheeses,the people falling back respectfully on either side. The train wascrowded, and I had to get into a carriage where there were already sevenother people. One crusty old gentleman objected, but I got in,notwithstanding; and, putting my cheeses upon the rack, squeezed downwith a pleasant smile, and said it was a warm day.
A few moments passed, and then the old gentleman began to fidget.
"Very close in here," he said.
"Quite oppressive," said the man next him.
And then they both began sniffing, and, at the third sniff, they caughtit right on the chest, and rose up without another word and went out.And then a stout lady got up, and said it was disgraceful that arespectable married woman should be harried about in this way, andgathered up a bag and eight parcels and went. The remaining fourpassengers sat on for a while, until a solemn-looking man in the corner,who, from his dress and general appearance, seemed to belong to theundertaker class, said it put him in mind of dead baby; and the otherthree passengers tried to get out of the door at the same time, and hurtthemselves.
[Picture: Railway carriage]
I smiled at the black gentleman, and said I thought we were going to havethe carriage to ourselves; and he laughed pleasantly, and said that somepeople made such a fuss over a little thing. But even he grew strangelydepressed after we had started, and so, when we reached Crewe, I askedhim to come and have a drink. He accepted, and we forced our way intothe buffet, where we yelled, and stamped, and waved our umbrellas for aquarter of an hour; and then a young lady came, and asked us if we wantedanything.
"What's yours?" I said, turning to my friend.
"I'll have half-a-crown's worth of brandy, neat, if you please, miss," heresponded.
And he went off quietly after he had drunk it and got into anothercarriage, which I thought mean.
From Crewe I had the compartment to myself, though the train was crowded.As we drew up at the different stations, the people, seeing my emptycarriage, would rush for it. "Here y' are, Maria; come along, plenty ofroom." "All right, Tom; we'll get in here," they would shout. And theywould run along, carrying heavy bags, and fight round the door to get infirst. And one would open the door and mount the steps, and stagger backinto the arms of the man behind him; and they would all come and have asniff, and then droop off and squeeze into other carriages, or pay thedifference and go first.
From Euston, I took the cheeses down to my friend's house. When his wifecame into the room she smelt round for an instant. Then she said:
"What is it? Tell me the worst."
I said:
"It's cheeses. Tom bought them in Liverpool, and asked me to bring themup with me."
And I added that I hoped she understood that it had nothing to do withme; and she said that she was sure of that, but that she would speak toTom about it when he came back.
My friend was detained in Liverpool longer than he expected; and, threedays later, as he hadn't returned home, his wife called on me. She said:
"What did Tom say about those cheeses?"
I replied that he had directed they were to be kept in a moist place, andthat nobody was to touch them.
She said:
"Nobody's likely to touch them. Had he smelt them?"
I thought he had, and added that he seemed greatly attached to them.
"You think he would be upset," she queried, "if I gave a man a sovereignto take them away and bury them?"
I answered that I thought he would never smile again.
An idea struck her.
She said:
"Do you mind keeping them for him? Let me send them round to you."
"Madam," I replied, "for myself I like the smell of cheese, and thejourney the other day with them from Liverpool I shall ever look backupon as a happy ending to a pleasant holiday. But, in this world, wemust consider others. The lady under whose roof I have the honour ofresiding is a widow, and, for all I know, possibly an orphan too. Shehas a strong, I may say an eloquent, objection to being what she terms'put upon.' The presence of your husband's cheeses in her house shewould, I instinctively feel, regard as a 'put upon'; and it shall neverbe said that I put upon the widow and the orphan."
"Very well, then," said my friend's wife, rising, "all I have to say is,that I shall take the children and go to an hotel until those cheeses areeaten. I decline to live any longer in the same house with them."
She kept her word, leaving the place in charge of the charwoman, who,when asked if she could stand the smell, replied, "What smell?" and who,when taken close to the cheeses and told to sniff hard, said she coulddetect a faint odour of melons. It was argued from this that littleinjury could result to the woman from the atmosphere, and she was left.
The hotel bill came to fifteen guineas; and my friend, after reckoningeverything up, found that the cheeses had cost him eight-and-sixpence apound. He said he dearly loved a bit of cheese, but it was beyond hismeans; so he determined to get rid of them. He threw them into thecanal; but had to fish them out again, as the bargemen complained. Theysaid it made them feel quite faint. And, after that, he took them onedark night and left them in the parish mortuary. But the coronerdiscovered them, and made a fearful fuss.
He said it was a plot to deprive him of his living by waking up thecorpses.
My friend got rid of them, at last, by taking them down to a sea-sidetown, and burying them on the beach. It gained the place quite areputation. Visitors said they had never noticed before how strong theair was, and weak-chested and consumptive people used to throng there foryears afterwards.
Fond as I am of cheese, therefore, I hold that George was right indeclining to take any.
"We shan't want any tea," said George (Harris's face fell at this); "butwe'll have a good round, square, slap-up meal at seven--dinner, tea, andsupper combined."
Harris grew more cheerful. George suggested meat and fruit pies, coldmeat, tomatoes, fruit, and green stuff. For drink, we took somewonderful sticky concoction of Harris's, which you mixed with water andcalled lemonade, plenty of tea, and a bottle of whisky, in case, asGeorge said, we got upset.
It seemed to me that George harped too much on the getting-upset idea.It seemed to me the wrong spirit to go about the trip in.
But I'm glad we took the whisky.
We didn't take beer or wine. They are a mistake up the river. They makeyou feel sleepy and heavy. A glass in the evening when you are doing amouch round the town and looking at the girls is all right enough; butdon't drink when the sun is blazing down on your head, and you've gothard work to do.
We made a list of the things to be taken, and a pretty lengthy one itwas, before we parted that evening. The next day, which was Friday, wegot them all together, and met in the evening to pack. We got a bigGladstone for the clothes, and a couple of hampers for the victuals andthe cooking utensils. We moved the table up against the window, piledeverything in a heap in the middle of the floor, and sat round and lookedat it.
I said I'd pack.
I rather pride myself on my packing. Packing is one of those many thingsthat I feel I know more about than any other person living. (Itsurprises me myself, sometimes, how many of these subjects there are.) Iimpressed the fact upon George and Harris, and told them that they hadbetter leave the whole matter entirely to me. They fell into thesuggestion with a readiness that had something uncanny about it. Georgeput on a pipe and spread himself over the easy-chair, and Harris cockedhis legs on the table and lit a cigar.
This was hardly what I intended. What I had meant, of course, was, thatI should boss the job, and that Harris and George should potter aboutunder my directions, I pushing them aside every now and then with, "Oh,you--!" "Here, let me do it." "There you are, simple enough!"--reallyteaching them, as you might say. Their taking it in the way they didirritated me. There is nothing does irritate me more than seeing otherpeople sitting about doing nothing when I'm working.
I lived with a man once who used to make me mad that way. He would lollon the sofa and watch me doing things by the hour together, following meround the room with his eyes, wherever I went. He said it did him realgood to look on at me, messing about. He said it made him feel that lifewas not an idle dream to be gaped and yawned through, but a noble task,full of duty and stern work. He said he often wondered now how he couldhave gone on before he met me, never having anybody to look at while theyworked.
Now, I'm not like that. I can't sit still and see another man slavingand working. I want to get up and superintend, and walk round with myhands in my pockets, and tell him what to do. It is my energetic nature.I can't help it.
However, I did not say anything, but started the packing. It seemed alonger job than I had thought it was going to be; but I got the bagfinished at last, and I sat on it and strapped it.
"Ain't you going to put the boots in?" said Harris.
And I looked round, and found I had forgotten them. That's just likeHarris. He couldn't have said a word until I'd got the bag shut andstrapped, of course. And George laughed--one of those irritating,senseless, chuckle-headed, crack-jawed laughs of his. They do make me sowild.
I opened the bag and packed the boots in; and then, just as I was goingto close it, a horrible idea occurred to me. Had I packed mytooth-brush? I don't know how it is, but I never do know whether I'vepacked my tooth-brush.
My tooth-brush is a thing that haunts me when I'm travelling, and makesmy life a misery. I dream that I haven't packed it, and wake up in acold perspiration, and get out of bed and hunt for it. And, in themorning, I pack it before I have used it, and have to unpack again to getit, and it is always the last thing I turn out of the bag; and then Irepack and forget it, and have to rush upstairs for it at the last momentand carry it to the railway station, wrapped up in mypocket-handkerchief.
[Picture: Boot] Of course I had to turn every mortal thing out now, and,of course, I could not find it. I rummaged the things up into much thesame state that they must have been before the world was created, andwhen chaos reigned. Of course, I found George's and Harris's eighteentimes over, but I couldn't find my own. I put the things back one byone, and held everything up and shook it. Then I found it inside a boot.I repacked once more.
When I had finished, George asked if the soap was in. I said I didn'tcare a hang whether the soap was in or whether it wasn't; and I slammedthe bag to and strapped it, and found that I had packed my tobacco-pouchin it, and had to re-open it. It got shut up finally at 10.5 p.m., andthen there remained the hampers to do. Harris said that we should bewanting to start in less than twelve hours' time, and thought that he andGeorge had better do the rest; and I agreed and sat down, and they had ago.
They began in a light-hearted spirit, evidently intending to show me howto do it. I made no comment; I only waited. When George is hanged,Harris will be the worst packer in this world; and I looked at the pilesof plates and cups, and kettles, and bottles and jars, and pies, andstoves, and cakes, and tomatoes, &c., and felt that the thing would soonbecome exciting.
It did. They started with breaking a cup. That was the first thing theydid. They did that just to show you what they _could_ do, and to get youinterested.
Then Harris packed the strawberry jam on top of a tomato and squashed it,and they had to pick out the tomato with a teaspoon.
And then it was George's turn, and he trod on the butter. I didn't sayanything, but I came over and sat on the edge of the table and watchedthem. It irritated them more than anything I could have said. I feltthat. It made them nervous
and excited, and they stepped on things, andput things behind them, and then couldn't find them when they wantedthem; and they packed the pies at the bottom, and put heavy things ontop, and smashed the pies in.
They upset salt over everything, and as for the butter! I never saw twomen do more with one-and-twopence worth of butter in my whole life thanthey did. After George had got it off his slipper, they tried to put itin the kettle. It wouldn't go in, and what _was_ in wouldn't come out.They did scrape it out at last, and put it down on a chair, and Harrissat on it, and it stuck to him, and they went looking for it all over theroom.
"I'll take my oath I put it down on that chair," said George, staring atthe empty seat.
"I saw you do it myself, not a minute ago," said Harris.
Then they started round the room again looking for it; and then they metagain in the centre, and stared at one another.
"Most extraordinary thing I ever heard of," said George.
"So mysterious!" said Harris.
Then George got round at the back of Harris and saw it.
"Why, here it is all the time," he exclaimed, indignantly.
"Where?" cried Harris, spinning round.
"Stand still, can't you!" roared George, flying after him.
And they got it off, and packed it in the teapot.
Montmorency was in it all, of course. Montmorency's ambition in life, isto get in the way and be sworn at. If he can squirm in anywhere where heparticularly is not wanted, and be a perfect nuisance, and make peoplemad, and have things thrown at his head, then he feels his day has notbeen wasted.
To get somebody to stumble over him, and curse him steadily for an hour,is his highest aim and object; and, when he has succeeded inaccomplishing this, his conceit becomes quite unbearable.
He came and sat down on things, just when they were wanted to be packed;and he laboured under the fixed belief that, whenever Harris or Georgereached out their hand for anything, it was his cold, damp nose that theywanted. He put his leg into the jam, and he worried the teaspoons, andhe pretended that the lemons were rats, and got into the hamper andkilled three of them before Harris could land him with the frying-pan.
Harris said I encouraged him. I didn't encourage him. A dog like thatdon't want any encouragement. It's the natural, original sin that isborn in him that makes him do things like that.
The packing was done at 12.50; and Harris sat on the big hamper, and saidhe hoped nothing would be found broken. George said that if anything wasbroken it was broken, which reflection seemed to comfort him. He alsosaid he was ready for bed. We were all ready for bed. Harris was tosleep with us that night, and we went upstairs.
We tossed for beds, and Harris had to sleep with me. He said:
"Do you prefer the inside or the outside, J.?"
I said I generally preferred to sleep _inside_ a bed.
Harris said it was old.
George said:
"What time shall I wake you fellows?"
Harris said:
"Seven."
I said:
"No--six," because I wanted to write some letters.
Harris and I had a bit of a row over it, but at last split thedifference, and said half-past six.
"Wake us at 6.30, George," we said.
George made no answer, and we found, on going over, that he had beenasleep for some time; so we placed the bath where he could tumble into iton getting out in the morning, and went to bed ourselves.
[Picture: Luggage with dog on top]