Spoke the brewery barge Budweiser, outward bound, Captain Umlaut. The Budweiser fired a salute of four dozen bottles, not one of which, unfortunately, reached the Lithia’s deck. In a heroic effort to rescue a bottle, Tom Collins fell overboard. He was picked up by a fishing party, and when last seen was eating the bait.
A blood-curdling screech has come up through the ventilator, and the [55] ]Captain has gone below with a marlingspike.
Later.—The Captain has returned. It seems that the Valet scorched Hennessy Martel’s tongue trying to iron the wrinkles out of it. The rest of us have decided on dry massage for ours.
The Scotch-plaid guinea-pig threw a lighted cigarette in some straw in the trailer and started a fire. The deck-hands turned on the sprinkler and put it out. No great damage. The purple pig had his Keeley-cured hams smoked—that’s all.
[56] ]Hennessy Martel has got himself disliked by nailing up in the dining-cabin the following teasing dinner-card: