Twenty Years of Spoof and Bluff

by Carlton

Most of us there were in the secret of the joke, and so no offence was given, or any inconvenience caused to them, but I am very much afraid that the diners at the other tables were at all events considerably surprised when, half-way through the soup course, the bell suddenly sounded, and the waiters began handing round the fish. Thereupon confusion reigned supreme. The chief steward insisted that he hadn’t rang the bell. The waiters insisted that he had, and bore one another out. Shortly afterwards our bell sounded again, and at once the waiters started on the third course, before some of the passengers had hardly tasted their fish. Whereupon the chief steward seemed to go suddenly stark, staring, raving mad, rushing from one group of waiters to the other, storming, expostulating, threatening; while we guilty ones, who were in the conspiracy, had hard work to prevent ourselves from exploding with suppressed laughter.

I think it is Mark Twain, in his Innocents Abroad, who finds fault with the self-assertiveness and bumptiousness that is so frequently characteristic of a certain type of ship’s officer. I have noticed the same thing myself. On the Ortona, for instance, on the way out, I myself got into very hot water owing to my resenting what I chose to regard as a piece of unwarrantable impertinence on the part of the master-at-arms.

This individual is, of course, the chief of police on ship-board, and is endowed with a considerable amount of authority, being answerable to the captain only. Amongst his duties he has to see that the lights are turned out in the public rooms at certain fixed hours, and to this no one can reasonably take exception, provided it is done with a due regard to the convenience of passengers and not in an offensive or irritating manner. For, after all, passengers—even second-class ones—have some rights on board ship. They pay their fares, and are entitled to at least a modicum of courtesy and consideration.

The trouble on the Ortona began in the smoke-room at ten o’clock one night. A game of poker was in progress, and there was a “Jack Pot” on the table with a considerable amount of money in it, when the master-at-arms entered, and without saying so much as “By your leave, gentlemen,” without in fact uttering a word, turned out the light, leaving us in total darkness.

Naturally this made us mad, and as soon as he had gone, I got up and switched the light on again. Whereupon the master-at-arms returned, and, using a very foul expression, turned the light out for the second time, and this time finally, locking the switch in such fashion that we could not use it.

Amongst the second-class passengers were a score or so of hefty lads going out to Australia to try their luck there, and they resented the action of the ship’s officer as strongly as I did. Between us we made up our minds to pay him out.

And we did. For several days and nights on end we made the poor man’s life a misery to him. Going down the Red Sea the heat was terrific, and everybody nearly—not even excluding the ladies—slept on deck; although, of course, the fair sex were screened off. This was our opportunity. The master-at-arms, going his rounds at night, used to find himself lassooed by mysterious ropes that issued he knew not whence, and vanished he knew not whither. Cords stretched taut across gangways where no cords by rights ought to have been, tripped him unawares. Once he was greeted with a fusillade of raw potatoes; big, round, hard potatoes that bruised him black and blue.

Then, when we thought that possibly he had learnt his lesson, we let up on him for a couple of days, and allowed him to see that we were willing to call a truce, if he was. But no! He was as bumptious and as disagreeable as ever; more so, in fact, and sought every opportunity he could to annoy and molest us. So we held a cabinet council, and decided unanimously that the situation called for a resumption of hostilities.

That afternoon, as luck would have it, I was walking on the afterpart of the boat, when I spotted a partly open skylight, and peeping down I saw our hated enemy lying below in his bunk fast asleep, his mouth wide open and his face turned skywards. This I concluded was too good a chance to be missed, so calling the others together I hastily informed them of my discovery, and together we concerted a plan of action.

In a few minutes we knew that the bell would ring for tea, and that then there would be nobody about on deck. This was our opportunity. Twelve of us hurried below to our respective cabins, and returned with a full glass of water apiece, carefully hidden about our clothing; then, when the bell rang, we lifted the skylight and emptied all twelve glasses simultaneously through the open space, and on to the sleeper reposing peacefully below.