Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
languor: "I wish peacocks' brains and melted pearls were to be had here
in Havana. We'd have 'em." Then he grinned. As a mere skirmisher I
said, "In New York, we think we dine well; but really this, you
know--well--Havana----"
Johnnie waved his hand pompously. "Oh, I know."
Directly after coffee, Johnnie excused himself for a moment and left
the room. When he returned he said briskly, "Well, are you ready to
go?" As soon as we were in a cab and safely out of hearing of the Café
Aguacate, Johnnie lay back and laughed long and joyously.
But I was very serious. "Look here, Johnnie," I said to him solemnly,
"when you invite me to dine with you, don't you ever do _that_ again.
And I'll tell you one thing--when you dine with me you will probably
get the ordinary table d'hôte." I was an older man.
"Oh, that's all right," he cried. And then he too grew serious. "Well,
as far as I am concerned--as far as I am concerned," he said, "the war
is now over."
WAR MEMORIES
"But to get the real thing!" cried Vernall, the war-correspondent. "It
seems impossible! It is because war is neither magnificent nor squalid;
it is simply life, and an expression of life can always evade us. We
can never tell life, one to another, although sometimes we think we
can."
When I climbed aboard the despatch-boat at Key West, the mate told me
irritably that as soon as we crossed the bar, we would find ourselves
monkey-climbing over heavy seas. It wasn't my fault, but he seemed to
insinuate that it was all a result of my incapacity. There were four
correspondents in the party. The leader of us came aboard with a huge
bunch of bananas, which he hung like a chandelier in the centre of the
tiny cabin. We made acquaintance over, around, and under this bunch of
bananas, which really occupied the cabin as a soldier occupies a sentry
box. But the bunch did not become really aggressive until we were well
at sea. Then it began to spar. With the first roll of the ship, it
launched its honest pounds at McCurdy and knocked him wildly through
the door to the deck-rail, where he hung cursing hysterically. Without
a moment's pause, it made for me. I flung myself head-first into my
bunk and watched the demon sweep Brownlow into a corner and wedge his
knee behind a sea-chest. Kary gave a shrill cry and fled. The bunch of
bananas swung to and fro, silent, determined, ferocious, looking for
more men. It had cleared a space for itself. My comrades looked in at
the door, calling upon me to grab the thing and hold it. I pointed out
to them the security and comfort of my position. They were angry.
Finally the mate came and lashed the thing so that it could not prowl
about the cabin and assault innocent war-correspondents. You see? War!
A bunch of bananas rampant because the ship rolled.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account