Complete Works of Artemus Ward - Part 4: To California and Return

Artemus Ward

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pubOne.info present you this new edition. The steamer Ariel starts for California at noon.

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• Publié par: Pub One Info
• Date de parution: 06 novembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9782819947202
• Langue: English

Extrait

PART IV. TO CALIFORNIA AND RETURN.
4.1. ON THE STEAMER.
New York, Oct. 13, 1868.
The steamer Ariel starts for California at noon.
Her decks are crowded with excited passengers, whoinstantly undertake to “look after” their trunks and things; andwhat with our smashing against each other, and the yells of theporters, and the wails over lost baggage, and the crash of boxes,and the roar of the boilers, we are for the time being about asunhappy a lot of maniacs as was ever thrown together.
I am one of them. I am rushing around with a glaringeye in search of a box.
Great jam, in which I find a sweet young lady, withgolden hair, clinging to me fondly, and saying, “Dear George,farewell! ”— Discovers her mistake, and disappears.
I should like to be George some more.
Confusion so great that I seek refuge in a stateroomwhich contains a single lady of forty-five summers, who says, “Baseman! leave me! ” I leave her.
By and by we cool down, and become somewhatregulated.
NEXT DAY
When the gong sounds for breakfast we are fairly outon the sea, which runs roughly, and the Ariel rocks wildly. Many ofthe passengers are sick, and a young naval officer establishes areputation as a wit by carrying to one of the invalids a plate ofraw salt pork, swimming in cheap molasses. I am not sick; so I rollround the deck in the most cheerful sea-dog manner.
. . . .
The next day and the next pass by in a serenemanner. The waves are smooth now, and we can all eat and sleep. Wemight have enjoyed ourselves very well, I fancy, if the Ariel,whose capacity was about three hundred and fifty passengers, hadnot on this occasion carried nearly nine hundred, a hundred, atleast of whom were children of an unpleasant age. Captain Semmescaptured the Ariel once, and it is to be deeply regretted that thatthrifty buccaneer hadn't made mince-meat of her, because she is amiserable tub at best, and hasn't much more right to be afloat thana second- hand coffin has. I do not know her proprietor, Mr. C.Vanderbilt. But I know of several excellent mill privileges in theState of Maine, and not one of them is so thoroughly “Dam'd” as hewas all the way from New York to Aspinwall.
I had far rather say a pleasant thing than a harshone; but it is due to the large number of respectable ladies andgentleman who were on board the steamer Ariel with me that I statehere that the accommodations on that steamer were very vile. If Idid not so state, my conscience would sting me through life, and Ishould have harried dreams like Richard III. Esq.
The proprietor apparently thought we were undergoingtransportation for life to some lonely island, and the very waiterswho brought us meals, that any warden of any penitentiary wouldblush to offer convicts, seemed to think it was a glaring error ournot being in chains.
As a specimen of the liberal manner in which thissteamer was managed I will mention that the purser (a very pleasantperson, by the way) was made to unite the positions of purser,baggage clerk, and doctor; and I one day had a lurking suspicionthat he was among the waiters in the dining-cabin, disguised in awhite jacket and slipshod pumps. . . . .
I have spoken my Piece about the Ariel, and I hopeMr. Vanderbilt will reform ere it is too late. Dr. Watts says thevilest sinner may return as long as the gas-meters work well, orwords to that effect. . . . .
We were so densely crowded on board the Ariel that Icannot conscientiously say we were altogether happy. Andsea-voyages at best are a little stupid. On the whole I shouldprefer a voyage on the Erie Canal, where there isn't any danger,and where you can carry picturesque scenery along with you— so tospeak.
II.—THE ISTHMUS.
On the ninth day we reach Aspinwall in the Republicof Granada. The President of New Granada is a Central Americannamed Mosquero. I was told that he derived quite a portion of hisincome by carrying passengers' valises and things from the steamerto the hotels in Aspinwall. It was an infamous falsehood. Fancy A.Lincoln carrying carpet-bags and things! and indeed I should rathertrust him with them than Mosquero, because the former gentleman, asI think some one has before observed, is “honest. ”
I intrust my bag to a speckled native, whoconfidentially gives me to understand that he is the only strictlyhonest person in Aspinwall. The rest, he says, are niggers— whichthe colored people of the Isthmus regard as about as scathing athing as they can say of one another.
I examine the New Grenadian flag, which waves fromthe chamber-window of the refreshment saloon. It is of simpledesign. You can make one.
Take half of a cotton shirt, that has been worn twomonths, and dip it in molasses of the Day & Martin brand. Thenlet the flies gambol over it for a few days, and you have it. It isan emblem of Sweet Liberty.
At the Howard House the man of sin rubbeth the hairof the horse to the bowels of the cat, and our girls are wavingtheir lily-white hoofs in the dazzling waltz.
We have a quadrille, in which an English personslips up and jams his massive brow against my stomach. Heapologizes, and I say, “all right, my lord. ” I subsequentlyascertained that he superintended the shipping of coals for theBritish steamers, and owned fighting cocks.
The ball stops suddenly.
Great excitement. One of our passengers intoxicatedand riotous in the street. Openly and avowedly desires the entireRepublic of New Grenada to “come on. ”
In case they do come on, agrees to make it livelyfor them. Is quieted down at last, and marched off to prison, by asquad of Grenadian troops. Is musical as he passes the hotel, andsmiling sweetly upon the ladies and children on the balcony,expresses a distinct desire to be an Angel, and with the Angelsstand. After which he leaps nimbly into the air and imitates thewar-cry of the red man. . . . .
The natives amass wealth by carrying valises, and c., then squander it for liquor. My native comes to me as I sit onthe veranda of the Howard House smoking a cigar, and solicits thejob of taking my things to the cars next morning. He isintoxicated, and has been fighting, to the palpable detriment ofhis wearing apparel; for he has only a pair of tattered pantaloonsand a very small quantity of shirt left.
We go to bed. Eight of us are assigned to a smallden upstairs, with only two lame apologies for beds.
Mosquitoes and even rats annoy us fearfully. Onebold rat gnaws at the feet of a young Englishman in the party. Thiswas more than the young Englishman could stand, and rising from hisbed he asked us if New Grenada wasn't a Republic? We said it was.“I thought so, ” he said. “Of course I mean no disrespect to theUnited States of America in the remark, but I think I prefer abloated monarchy! ” He smiled sadly— then handing his purse and hismother's photograph to another English person, he whispered softly.“If I am eaten up, give them to Me mother— tell her I died like atrue Briton, with no faith whatever in the success of a republicanform of government! ” And then he crept back to bed again.
. . . .
We start at seven the next morning for Panama.
My native comes bright and early to transport mycarpet sack to the railway station. His clothes have suffered stillmore during the night, for he comes to me now dressed only in asmall rag and one boot.
At last we are off. “Adios, Americanos! ” thenatives cry; to which I pleasantly reply, “ADOUS! and long may itbe before you have a chance to Do us again. ”
The cars are comfortable on the Panama railway, andthe country through which we pass is very beautiful. But it willnot do to trust it much, because it breeds fevers and otherunpleasant disorders, at all seasons of the year. Like a girl wemost all have known, the Isthmus is fair but false.
There are mud huts all along the route, andhalf-naked savages gaze patronizingly upon us from their doorways.An elderly lady in spectacles appears to be much scandalized by thescant dress of these people, and wants to know why the Select Mendon't put a stop to it. From this, and a remark she incidentallymakes about her son, who has invented a washing machine which willwash, wring, and dry a shirt in ten minutes, I infer that she isfrom the hills of Old New England, like the Hutchinson family.
. . . .
The Central American is lazy. The only exercise heever takes is to occasionally produce a Revolution. When his feetbegin to swell and there are premonitory symptoms of gout, he“revolushes” a spell, and then serenely returns to his cigaretteand hammock under the palm-trees.
These Central American Republics are queer concerns.I do not of course precisely know what a last year's calf's ideasof immortal glory may be, but probably they are about as lucid asthose of a Central American in regard to a republican form ofgovernment.
And yet I am told they are a kindly people in themain. I never met but one of them— a Costa-Rican; on board theAriel. He lay sick with fever, and I went to him and took his hothand gently in mine. I shall never forget his look of gratitude.And the next day he borrowed five dollars of me, shedding tears ashe put it in his pocket. . . . .
At Panama we lose several of our passengers, andamong them three Peruvian ladies, who go to Lima, the city ofvolcanic eruptions and veiled black-eyed beauties.
The Senoritas who leave us at Panama are splendidcreatures. They learned me Spanish, and in the soft moonlight wewalked on deck and talked of the land of Pizarro. (You know oldPiz. conquered Peru! and although he was not educated at WestPoint, he had still some military talent. ) I feel as though I hadlost all my relations, including my grandmother and the cookingstove when these gay young Senoritas go away.
They do not go to Peru on a Peruvian bark, but on anEnglish steamer. Off to Acapulco.
4.3. MEXICO.
We make Acapulco, a Mexican coast town of someimportance, in a few days, and all go ashore.
The pretty peasant girls peddle necklaces made ofshells and oranges, in the