Post Haste | Page 9

the mast; and there
were uproarious-bodies who kept the little world lively--sometimes a
little too lively.
As the Royal Mail steamer rushed out to sea and was tossed on the
ocean's breast, these human elements began to mix and effervesce and
amalgamate, or fizz, burst, and go off, like squibs and crackers.
There was a Mrs Pods with three little girls, and a Mrs Tods with two
little boys, whose first casual glance at each other was transmuted into
a glare of undying and unreasoning hate. These ladies were exceptions
to the rule of general urbanity before mentioned. Both had fiery faces,
and each read the other through and through at a glance. There was a
Miss Bluestocking who charmed some people, irritated others,
frightened a few, and caused many to sneer. Her chief friend among the
males was a young man named Mr Weakeyes, who had a small opinion
of himself and a very receptive mind. Miss Troolove, among the ladies,
was her chief friend. The strange misnomers which one meets with in
society were also found in the little world in that steamer--that Royal
Mail steamer we should say--for, while we turn aside for a brief period
to condescend upon these particulars, we would not have the reader
forget that they have an indirect bearing on the main thread of our tale.
One misnamed lady was a Miss Mist, who, instead of being light, airy,

and ethereal, as she ought to have been, weighed at least twelve stone
six. But she sang divinely, was a great favourite with the young people
on board, and would have been very much missed indeed if she had not
been there. There was also a Mr Stout, who was the tallest and thinnest
man in the ship.
On the other hand there were some whose names had been obviously
the result of a sense of propriety in some one. Among the men who
were rabidly set on distinguishing themselves in one way or another
was a Major Beak. Now, why was it that this Major's nose was an
aquiline of the most outrageous dimensions? Surely no one would
argue that the nose grew to accommodate the name. Is it not more
probable--nay, certain-- that the name grew to accommodate the nose?
Of course when Major Beak was born he was a minor, and his nose
must have been no better than a badly-shaped button or piece of putty;
but the Major's father had owned a tremendous aquiline nose, which at
birth had also been a button, and so on we can proceed backwards until
we drive the Beaks into that remote antiquity where historical fact
begins and mythological theory terminates--that period when men were
wont, it is supposed, to name each other intelligently with reference to
personal characteristic or occupation.
So, too, Mr Bright--a hearty good-natured fellow, who drew powerfully
to Major Beak and hated Miss Bluestocking--possessed the vigorous
frame, animated air, and intelligent look which must have originated
his name. But why go on? Every reader must be well acquainted with
the characters of Mr Fiery and Mr Stiff, and Mrs Dashington, and her
niece Miss Squeaker, and Colonel Blare who played the cornet, and
Lieutenant Limp who sang tenor, and Dr Bassoon who roared bass, and
Mrs Silky, who was all things to all men, besides being everything by
turns and nothing long; and Lady Tower and Miss Gentle, and Mr Blurt
and Miss Dumbbelle.
Suffice it to say that after a week or two the effervescing began to
systematise, and the family became a living and complex electrical
machine, whose sympathetic poles drew and stuck together, while the
antagonistic poles kept up a steady discharge of sparks.

Then there arose a gale which quieted the machine a little, and checked
the sparkling flow of wit and humour. When, during the course of the
gale, a toppling billow overbalanced itself and fell inboard with a crash
that nearly split the deck open, sweeping two of the quarterboats away,
Mr Blurt, sitting in the saloon, was heard to exclaim:--
"'Pon my word, it's a terrible gale--enough almost to make a fellow
think of his sins."
To which Mrs Tods, who sat beside him, replied, with a serious shake
of her head, that it was indeed a very solemn occasion, and cast a look,
not of undying hate but of gentle appeal at Mrs Pods, who sat opposite
to her. And that lady, so far from resenting the look as an affront, met
her in a liberal spirit; not only admitted that what Mrs Tods had said
was equally just and true, but even turned her eyes upward with a look
of resignation.
Well was it for Mrs Pods that she did so, for her resigned eyes beheld
the globe of the cabin lamp