The Ship-Dwellers: A Story of a Happy CruisePaine, Albert Bigelow
General
The Ship-Dwellers: A Story of a Happy Cruise
Paine, Albert Bigelow
Middle East -- Description and travel
It seemed a reasonable request, and I made it politely enough, but the
Apostle became suddenly violent. He said:
"Damn the bazaars! I'm full of brass and Oriental rugs and bric-à-brac.
I never want to hear of a bazaar again. I want to give away the junk
I've already bought, and get back to the ship." Which we knew he didn't
mean, for he had put in weary hours acquiring those things, inspired
with a large generosity for loved ones at home.
The Colonel came drifting along just then--unruffled,
debonair--apparently unwearied by the day's round. Nothing disturbs the
Colonel. If he should outwear the century, he would still be as blithe
of speech and manner as he is to-day at--dear me, how old is the
Colonel? Is he thirty? Is he fifty? He might be either of those ages or
at any mile-post between.
He stood now, looking down at the Apostle and his cup of poison. Then,
with a coaxing smile:
"Match you, Joe--my plunder against yours--just once."
The Apostle looked up with a perfectly divine sneer.
"_Yes_, you will-- I think I see myself!"
The Colonel slapped a coin on the table briskly.
"Come on, Joe--we never matched for bric-à-brac before. Let's be
game--just this time."
What was the use? The Apostle resisted--at first violently, then
feebly--then he matched--and lost.
For a moment he could hardly realize the extent of his disaster. Then he
reached for the mixture in front of him, swallowed it, gagged, and
choked alarmingly. When he could get his voice, he said:
"I'm the hellfiredest fool in Syria. I walked four hundred miles to buy
those things."
The Horse-Doctor regarded him thoughtfully.
"You always interest me," he said. "I don't know whether it's your shape
or your mental habitudes. Both are so peculiar."
After which we left the Apostle--that is, we stood from under and went
in to dinner.
The Apostle is a good traveller, however--all the Reprobates are. They
take things as they find them, which cannot be said for all of our
people. One wonders what some of them expected in Damascus--probably
steamer fare and New York hotel accommodations. I judge this from their
remarks.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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