"COLLAR WORK"; OR, THE UNAPPRECIATED ENTERTAINER.
Scene—The after-deck of an excursion-steamer, which is on its return to Scarborough from Bridlington, where the excursionists have employed a shining hour in laying in copious luncheons at various restaurants and eating-houses. Owing to the tide, they have had to land and re-embark in small boats through a rather choppy bit of sea, the consequence being that the majority of the party—though not indisposed—are inclined to prefer meditation to moving about, probably on the principle of "letting sleeping dogs lie." After Flamborough Head has been rounded, a young man in a frock coat and a cloth cap, who has hitherto been regarded as perfectly inoffensive, suddenly brings out a pair of plush-covered tables from behind the funnel, and reveals himself in the unwelcome character of a professional conjuror.
The Young Man (clearing his throat and pointedly addressing a group of torpid tourists on the centre seats). Ladies and gentlemen, with your very kind permission, I will now endeavour to amuse you by exhibiting a few simple feats of ledger de mang to which I invite your closest attention (the persons addressed instantly assume an air of uneasy abstraction), as I find that the more carefully my audience watches my proceedings the less able they are to detect the manner in which the trick is performed.... I 'ave 'ere, ladies and gentlemen, a gingerbeer bottle, just a plain stone gingerbeer bottle of a pattern no doubt familiar to you all. (He produces it, and it appears to be generally unpopular, as if it called up reminiscences of revelry which some would willingly forget.) I will now pass it around in order that you may satisfy yourselves that it is what it appears to be. (To a Somnolent Excursionist in a corner.) Will you oblige me, Sir, by kindly taking it in your 'and?
The Somnolent Excursionist (who seems to be under the impression that he is being offered refreshment). Eh? gingerbeer? No, thanky, never take it.
[He closes his eyes again.
The Y. M. (to a Grumpy Excursionist on a campstool). Perhaps, Sir, you will oblige me by examining this bottle.
The Grumpy Excursionist (wrathfully). Hang it all, Sir, do you suppose I'm any judge of gingerbeer bottles; take the beastly thing away!
The Y. M. (cast down, but undeterred). Well, you are all satisfied that it is an ordinary earthenware bottle. Now I take this tin case—made, as you perceive, in two parts to fit closely round the bottle. I will just give you an opportunity of 'andling the case so that you may convince yourselves of its being perfectly empty. (He proffers it for inspection, but everybody seems willing to take it on trust.) I enclose the bottle in the case—so—I make one or two passes—hey, presto—and, on opening the case, the bottle will be found to have vanished. (It has—but nobody appears to regret its disappearance.) I close the case, which you all saw to be empty, once more, and what do I find it contain! (He pulls out yard after yard of coloured ribbon, which falls absolutely flat, but if the tin case had emitted a column of smoke and a genuine Arabian djinn, it would probably fail just now to produce any deep impression.) I shall next produce a pack of ordinary playing cards, from which I will ask you, Sir, to be good enough to select a card, without letting me see it or mentioning which it is (to the Grumpy Excursionist, who brushes him away irritably as he would a bluebottle).
Madam, will you kindly——? (to the Stout Lady, who turns a shawled shoulder and feebly requests him "Not to come bothering her"). Perhaps you, Sir——? (to a Cadaverous Tourist, who intimates that he "never encourages cardplaying under any form"). Thank you very much (to a Rubicund Tourist, who accepts a card out of sheer good-nature). Now I shuffle the cards again, cut them, and (exhibiting a court-card with mild triumph) unless I am mistaken, Sir, this was the card you chose!
The Rubicund Tourist. Was it? I dessay, I dessay. I didn't notice particularly myself.
[Upon this the Young Man recognises that his conjuring fails to charm, and retires to the funnel in apparent discomfiture.
Excursionists (to one another). Card-tricks are all very well in their proper place; but, when you come out for a blow like this, why.... If it had been a little music, now, or a song, or soomat o' that soart, it would ha' been nahce enoof.... (With dismay.) Why, danged if he isn't going to give us anoother turn of it!
[The Young Man reappears, carrying two dismal old dummies with battered papier-maché heads, and preternaturally mobile jaws.
The Y. M. (after planting these effigies in such a position as to depress as many as possible). I now 'ave the pleasure of introducing to your notice two very old friends of mine, Mr. and Mrs. Jeremiah Jordles. (The audience, not having energy enough to escape, submit in sombre resignation to these fresh tormentors, which goggle at them with cheerful imbecility.) Well, Mrs. Jordles, Ma'am, and how do you find yourself this afternoon? I 'ope you're enjoying this most delightful trip.
[He bends his head deferentially for the answer, with a sympathetic movement of his own lips.
The Female Figure (with a waggling jaw, and in an impossible falsetto). No, I ain't enj'yin' this most delightful trip, so there. I believe I'm going to be ill in a minute. I feel that queer, I do.
The Male Figure (in a voice scarcely distinguishable from his introducer's own). Queer? And no wonder, after taking all them pickled wornuts with yer sooet pudden!
[The Stout Lady's ample cheeks are contorted by a transitory spasm, and the Cadaverous Tourist passes his hand across his mouth, which the Ventriloquist construes as reluctant tributes to his facetious powers.
Female F. Well, you needn't talk, after all them jam puffs and the prawns you swollered, 'eds and all!
Male F. Ah, I 'ad a appetite. And I 'ate waste, I do. But lor, when I see her a swallerin' down that sorcer o' cockles just after clearing out the 'okypoky barrer, I knew she'd live to be sorry for it!
The Stout Lady (to the Cadaverous Man). They didn't ought to be allowed to go on like this. Downright vulgarity I call it!
The Cadaverous Man. You are right, Mum It's quite enough to upset anybody. If he's going to make either of them images purtend to be unwell, I shall call the Captin and put a stop to it.
The Y. M. (with a tardy perception that he might have chosen a more generally agreeable topic, and meanly throwing the blame upon the innocent dummies). There, Mr. Jordles, Sir, that'll do. We don't care to hear what you and your good lady took by way of a relish; tell us about something else.
Male F. All right. There was a quart o' winkles, as wasn't over——
The Y. M. (shaking Mr. Jordles up, and stopping his mouth). 'Ush, Sir, 'ush! Beyave, now, and see if you can set quiet while Mrs. Jordles sings us a little song.
Male F. What? 'Er sing! 'Ere, chuck me overboard, will yer? I've 'eard her.
The Grumpy Exc. (in a savage undertone). For heaven's sake chuck 'em both overboard, and follow them!
Female F. Oh, dear, me sing? I'm all of a flutter like. Well, what shall I sing? Oh, I know. (Quavering.) "Where are the friends of Child'ood now?"
Male F. Why, in gaol, doing time!
[Mr. Jordles is reproved and corrected as before, but his senile flippancy only excites general disgust, and when he proceeds to boast that a beautiful young lady he met in Bridlington has fallen violently in love with him, the audience clearly resent the statement as an outrage to their intelligence. The Ventriloquist perseveres a little longer, though even his own belief in the dummies seems to be shaken, and at length he gives them up as hopeless, and carries them off ignominiously, one under each arm. Whereupon the party breathe freely once more, only to gasp in impotent horror the next moment, as the irrepressible Young Man returns with a smaller figure, modelled and dressed to represent an almost inconceivably repulsive infant. He perches himself on the bulwark, and placing this doll on his knee, affects to converse with it, until its precocity and repeated demands for a cheesecake render it an object of universal loathing and detestation. However, its pertness suddenly begins to flag, as beads gather upon the Ventriloquist's pallid brow, and allowing the figure to collapse in a limp heap, he rises unsteadily to his feet.
The Y. M. (in faltering tones). Ladies and gentlemen, such a thing has reelly never 'appened to me before in the 'ole course of my professional career; but I feel compelled to ask you kindly to excuse me if I break off for a few minutes, 'oping to resume—and with your kind indulg——
[Here he staggers feebly away and is seen no more, while a faint smile may be observed for the first time to irradiate the faces of the company, as they realise that their sufferings are more than avenged.
