11.30 A. M.—Tied up at Water Tank No. 1, and took on fifty cases of lemon soda and sarsaparilla, and a case of malted milk for Moxie Matzoon, alias Moxie Grandpa,—a stowaway, who was discovered soon after we cleared the Bar. He is suspected of being the staff correspondent of the Weekly Water Cooler. He doesn’t seem to be popular.
12.30 P. M.—The Captain took [39] ]a lunar observation, and reported that we were in latitude 58:12 W. from Greenwich, Conn. I asked him how he managed to observe the moon in the middle of the day, and he referred me to the Information Bureau. Crusty old chap.
Whale sighted. He was blowing his friends. Cheers from the waterproof deck, and cries of “I’ll take the same!”
At 3 P. M. mutiny broke out among the passengers, but it was quelled by the Captain with his trusty little marlingspike. Doctor [40] ]Zoolak, the ship’s surgeon, diagnosed the case as thirst, not mutiny.
The undertow of dissatisfaction among the passengers continues. Hennessy Martel called a mass-meeting on the port side, and the Wagon almost turned turtle. “Trim ship!” commanded the Captain from the bridge, and Eggley Monade, who is a regular wag, asked him if he thought we were a bunch of dressmakers.