“Had only one notion for crossing the ocean,
And that was to tingle his bell.”
He thought nothing of telling his crew to steer starboard and larboard at the same time, and then we know how—
The bowsprit got mixed with the rudder sometimes.
“A thing,” as the Bellman remarked,
“That frequently happens in tropical climes,
When a vessel is, so to speak, ‘snarked.’”
The Bellman had hoped, when the wind blew toward the east, that the ship would not travel toward the west, but it seems that with all his nautical knowledge he could not prevent it; ships are perverse animals!
“But the danger was past—they had landed at last,
With their boxes, portmanteaus, and bags:
Yet at first sight the crew were not pleased with the view,
Which consisted of chasms and crags.”
Now that they had reached the land of the Snark, the Bellman proceeded to air his knowledge on that subject.
“A snark,” he said, “had five unmistakable traits—its taste, ‘meager and mellow and crisp,’ its habit of getting up late, its slowness in taking a jest, its fondness for bathing machines, and, fifth and lastly, its ambition.” He further informed the crew that “the snarks that had feathers could bite, and those that had whiskers could scratch,” adding as an afterthought:
“‘For although common Snarks do no manner of harm,
Yet I feel it my duty to say,
Some are Boojums—’ The Bellman broke off in alarm,
For the Baker had fainted away.”
Fit the Third was the Baker’s tale.
“They roused him with muffins, they roused him with ice,
They roused him with mustard and cress,
They roused him with jam and judicious advice,
They set him conundrums to guess.”