5 P. M.—Sighted the Players’ Club. The Captain gave the Engineer the jingle-bell, and we went by the danger-point like a squirt of seltzer.
The drouth in the saloon is intolerable. The dry batteries that run the fans have given out. Count Martini has tossed his waterproof [59] ]coat over the rail. He says there is such a thing as being too dry. The sentiment was wildly applauded.
Eggley Monade has been going around asking the conundrum, “Why is a port-hole like a chaser?” Everybody gave it up, and he borrowed the Captain’s megaphone to reply, “Because it’s something on the side.” The Mate put a crimp in him with a belaying-pin, and Doctor Zoolak thinks that will hold him for awhile.
At 5.30 P. M. we made Larchmont. The club-house piazza was [60] ]crowded with gold braid, yachting-caps, and booze. Wigwagged that we were the Good Ship Lithia, and they signalled back, “Look out for floating mines.” Most of the club members grabbed their drinks and fled to the cyclone cellars, but the daredevils of the rocking-chair fleet sat tight and jeered at us.
The Lithia’s decks have been cleared for action.