"Tea, teeth, and tooth brushes," "Missouri" said, in a speculative and hopeful tone. "Now maybe so, maybe so," and we parted for the night.
"Missouri" is not a half bad sort, and, anyway, his teeth story is different than a yarn on seasickness.
III
WONG LEE—THE HUMAN BELLOWS
This is a fine, large ship—Japanese line.
I don't call to mind any line of ships I have not sailed on prior to this voyage in my chasing up and down the world in search of a "meal ticket," and pleasure; but this is my first voyage on a Japanese liner, and I'm simply delighted with it.
It contrasts delightfully with a ship I sailed on, on one of my former trips across the Pacific.
That boat was all right, too. Good ship, good service—particularly good service—Chinese help; and anyone who has ever sailed with Chinese crews, waiters and room boys, knows what that means—nothing better in that line. I had a fine stateroom and a good room boy—that boy was a treasure.
I cottoned to that boy the minute he grabbed my baggage at the wharf, and blandly said, "You blong my," as he led me to my stateroom.
There was an obnoxious sign in that stateroom which read: "No Smoking in Staterooms." I settled for the long voyage, hung a coat over that sign, and lit up.