In a Steamer Chair

In a Steamer Chair

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Title: In a Steamer Chair And Other Stories
Author: Robert Barr
Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9309] [Yes, we are more than
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IN A STEAMER CHAIR
AND
OTHER SHIPBOARD STORIES BY ROBERT BARR (LUKE
SHARP)
[Illustration: He played one game.] A PRELIMINARY WORD.
As the incidents related herein took place during voyages between
England and America, I dedicate this book to the Vagabond Club of
London, and the Witenagemote Club of Detroit, in the hope that, if any
one charges me with telling a previously told tale, the fifty members of
each club will rise as one man and testify that they were called upon to
endure the story in question from my own lips prior to the alleged
original appearance of the same.
R.B.

CONTENTS

IN A STEAMER CHAIR
MRS TREMAIN
SHARE AND SHARE ALIKE
AN INTERNATIONAL BOW
A LADIES' MAN
A SOCIETY FOR THE REFORMATION OF POKER PLAYERS
THE MAN WHO WAS NOT ON THE PASSENGER LIST
THE TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE OF PLODKINS
A CASE OF FEVER
HOW THE CAPTAIN GOT HIS STEAMER OUT
MY STOWAWAY
THE PURSER'S STORY
MISS MCMILLAN

IN A STEAMER CHAIR
THE FIRST DAY.
Mr. George Morris stood with his arms folded on the bulwarks of the
steamship City of Buffalo, and gazed down into the water. All around
him was the bustle and hurry of passengers embarking, with friends
bidding good-bye. Among the throng, here and there, the hardworking
men of the steamer were getting things in order for the coming voyage.
Trunks were piled up in great heaps ready to be lowered into the hold;
portmanteaux, satchels, and hand-bags, with tags tied to them, were
placed in a row waiting to be claimed by the passengers, or taken down

into the state-rooms. To all this bustle and confusion George Morris
paid no heed. He was thinking deeply, and his thoughts did not seem to
be very pleasant. There was nobody to see him off, and he had
evidently very little interest in either those who were going or those
who were staying behind. Other passengers who had no friends to bid
them farewell appeared to take a lively interest in watching the hurry
and scurry, and in picking out the voyagers from those who came
merely to say good-bye.
At last the rapid ringing of a bell warned all lingerers that the time for
the final parting had come. There were final hand-shakings, many
embraces, and not a few tears, while men in uniform with stentorian
voices cried, "All ashore." The second clanging of the bell, and the
preparations for pulling up the gang-planks hurried the laggards to the
pier. After the third ringing the gang-plank was hauled away, the
inevitable last man sprang to the wharf, the equally inevitable last
passenger, who had just dashed up in a cab, flung his valises to the
steward, was helped on board the ship, and then began the low
pulsating stroke, like the beating of a heart, that would not cease until
the vessel had sighted land on the other side. George Morris's eyes
were fixed on the water, yet apparently he was not looking at it, for
when it began to spin away from the sides of the ship he took no notice,
but still gazed at the mass of seething foam that the steamer threw off
from her as she moved through the bay. It was evident that the sights of
New York harbour were very familiar to the young man, for he paid no
attention