Doyle, Arthur Conan, 1859-1930 -- Parodies, imitations, etc.; Fantasy fiction; Holmes, Sherlock (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
“There can be no quarrel on that score, Mr. Chairman,” assented Sir
Christopher, with cutting frigidity. “I am perfectly willing to admit
that practically the two vessels were built on the same lines, but with
modifications which would enable my boat to sail twenty miles to windward
and back in six days’ less time than it would have taken the Ark to cover
the same distance, and it could have taken all the wash of the excursion
steamers into the bargain.”
“Bosh!” ejaculated Noah, angrily. “Strip your old tub down to a flying
balloon-jib and a marline-spike, and ballast the Ark with elephants until
every inch of her reeked with ivory and peanuts, and she’d outfoot you on
every leg, in a cyclone or a zephyr. Give me the Ark and a breeze, and
your House-boat wouldn’t be within hailing distance of her five minutes
after the start if she had 40,000 square yards of canvas spread before a
gale.”
“This discussion is waxing very unprofitable,” observed Confucius. “If
these gentlemen cannot be made to confine themselves to the subject that
is agitating this body, I move we call in the authorities and have them
confined in the bottomless pit.”
“I did not precipitate the quarrel,” said Noah. “I was merely trying to
assist our friend on the string-piece. I was going to say that as the
Ark was probably a hundred times faster than Sir Christopher Wren’s—tub,
which he himself says can take care of all the wash of the excursion
boats, thereby becoming on his own admission a wash-tub—”
“Order! order!” cried Sir Christopher.
“I was going to say that this wash-tub could be overhauled by a launch or
any other craft with a speed of thirty knots a mouth,” continued Noah,
ignoring the interruption.
“Took him forty days to get to Mount Ararat!” sneered Sir Christopher.
“Well, your boat would have got there two weeks sooner, I’ll admit,”
retorted Noah, “if she’d sprung a leak at the right time.”
“Granting the truth of Noah’s statement,” said Sir Walter, motioning to
the angry architect to be quiet—“not that we take any side in the issue
between the two gentlemen, but merely for the sake of argument—I wish to
ask the stranger who has been good enough to interest himself in our
trouble what he proposes to do—how can you establish your course in case
a boat were provided?”
“Also vot vill be dher gost, if any?” put in Shylock.
A murmur of disapprobation greeted this remark.
“The cost need not trouble you, sir,” said Sir Walter, indignantly,
addressing the stranger; “you will have carte blanche.”
“Den ve are ruint!” cried Shylock, displaying his palms, and showing by
that act a select assortment of diamond rings.
“Oh,” laughed the stranger, “that is a simple matter. Captain Kidd has
gone to London.”
“To London!” cried several members at once. “How do you know that?”
“By this,” said the stranger, holding up the tiny stub end of a cigar.
“Tut-tut!” ejaculated Solomon. “What child’s play is this!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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