The Tactics Of The Climber

There are certain constant travelers who, it is said, count on a European voyage to increase their social acquaintance by just so much each trip! Richan Vulgar, for instance, has his same especial table every time he crosses, which is four times a year! Walking through a "steamer train" he sees a "celebrity," a brilliant, let us say, but unworldly man. Vulgar annexes him by saying, casually, "Have you a seat at table? Better sit with me, I always have the table by the door; it is easy to get in and out." The celebrity accepts, since there is no evidence that he is to be "featured," and the chances are that he remains unconscious to the end of time that he served as a decoy. Boarding the steamer, Vulgar sees the Lovejoys, and pounces: "You must sit at my table! Celebrity and I are crossing together—he is the most delightful man! I want you to sit next to him." They think Celebrity sounds very interesting; so, not having engaged a table for themselves, they say they will be delighted. On the deck, the Smartlys appear and ask the Lovejoys to sit with them. Vulgar, who is standing by (he is always standing by) breaks in even without an introduction and says: "Mr. and Mrs. Lovejoy and Celebrity are sitting at my table, won't you sit with me also?" If the Smartlys protest they have a table, he is generally insistent and momentarily overpowering enough to make them join forces with him. As the Smartlys particularly want to sit next to the Lovejoys and also like the idea of meeting Celebrity, it ends in Vulgar's table being a collection of fashionables whom he could not possibly have gotten together without just such a maneuver.

The question of what he gets out of it is puzzling since with each hour the really well-bred people dislike him more and more intensely, and at the end of a day or so, his table's company are all eating on deck to avoid him. Perhaps there is some recompense that does not appear on the surface, but to the casual observer the satisfaction of telling others that the Smartlys, Lovejoys and Wellborns sat at his table would scarcely seem worth the effort.

Those Acquisitive Of Acquaintance

There is another type of steamer passenger and hotel guest who may, or may not, be a climber. This one searches out potential acquaintances on the passenger list and hotel register with the avidity of a bird searching for worms. You have scarcely found your own stateroom and had your deck chair placed, when one of them swoops upon you: "I don't know whether you remember me? I met you in nineteen two, at Countess della Robbia's in Florence." Your memory being woefully incomplete, there is nothing for you to say except, "How do you do!" If a few minutes of conversation, which should be sufficient, proves her to be a lady, you talk to her now and again throughout the voyage, and may end by liking her very much. If, however, her speech breaks into expressions which prove her not a lady, you become engrossed in your book or conversation with another when she approaches. Often these over-friendly people are grasping, calculating and objectionable, but sometimes like Ricki Ticki Tavi they are merely obsessed with a mania to run about and see what is going on in the world.

For instance, Miss Spinster is one of the best-bred, best-informed, most charming ladies imaginable. But her mania for people cannot fail on occasions to put her in a position to be snubbed—never seriously because she is too obviously a lady for that. But to see her trotting along the deck and then darting upon a helpless reclining figure, is at least an illustration of the way some people make friends. It can't be done, of course, unless you have once known the person you are addressing, or unless you have a friend in common who, though absent, can serve in making the introduction.

As said in "Introductions," introducing oneself is often perfectly correct. If you, sharing Miss Spinster's love of people, find yourself on a steamer with the intimate friend of a member of your family, you may very properly go up and say, "I am going to speak to you because I am Celia Lovejoy's cousin—I am Mrs. Brown." And Mrs. Norman, who very much likes Celia Lovejoy, says cordially, "I am so glad you spoke to me, do sit down, won't you?" But to have your next chair neighbor on deck insist on talking to you, if you don't want to be talked to, is very annoying, and it is bad form for her to do so. If you are sitting hour after hour doing nothing but idly looking in front of you, your neighbor might address a few remarks to you, and if you receive them with any degree of enthusiasm, your response may be translated into a willingness to talk. But if you answer in the merest monosyllables, it should be taken to mean that you prefer to be left to your own diversions.

Even if you are agreeable, your neighbor should show tact in not speaking to you when you are reading or writing, or show no inclination for conversation. The point is really that no one must do anything to interfere with the enjoyment of another. Whoever is making the advance, whether your neighbor or yourself, it must never be more than tentative; if not at least met halfway, it must be withdrawn at once. That is really the only rule there is. It should merely be granted that those who do not care to meet others have just as much right to their seclusion as those who delight in others have a right to be delighted—as long as that delight is unmistakably mutual.

Steamer Tips

Each ordinary first class passenger, now as always, gives ten shillings ($2.50) to the room steward or stewardess, ten shillings to the dining-room steward, ten shillings to the deck steward, ten shillings to the lounge steward. Your tip to the head steward and to one of the chefs depends on whether they have done anything especial for you. If not, you do not tip them. If you are a bad sailor and have been taking your meals in your room, you give twenty shillings ($5.00) at least to the stewardess (or steward, if you are a man). Or if you have eaten your meals on deck, you give twenty shillings to the deck steward, and ten to his assistant, and you give five to the bath steward. To any steward who takes pains to please you, you show by your manner in thanking him that you appreciate his efforts, as well as by giving him a somewhat more generous tip when you leave the ship.