Three Men on the Bummel | Page 5

We knew that
yacht, and we told him so; we had been on it with Harris before. It
smells of bilge-water and greens to the exclusion of all other scents; no
ordinary sea air can hope to head against it. So far as sense of smell is
concerned, one might be spending a week in Limehouse Hole. There is
no place to get out of the rain; the saloon is ten feet by four, and half of
that is taken up by a stove, which falls to pieces when you go to light it.
You have to take your bath on deck, and the towel blows overboard just
as you step out of the tub. Harris and the boy do all the interesting
work--the lugging and the reefing, the letting her go and the heeling her
over, and all that sort of thing,--leaving George and myself to do the

peeling of the potatoes and the washing up.
"Very well, then," said Harris, "let's take a proper yacht, with a skipper,
and do the thing in style."
That also I objected to. I know that skipper; his notion of yachting is to
lie in what he calls the "offing," where he can be well in touch with his
wife and family, to say nothing of his favourite public-house.
Years ago, when I was young and inexperienced, I hired a yacht myself.
Three things had combined to lead me into this foolishness: I had had a
stroke of unexpected luck; Ethelbertha had expressed a yearning for sea
air; and the very next morning, in taking up casually at the club a copy
of the Sportsman, I had come across the following advertisement:-
TO YACHTSMEN.--Unique Opportunity.--"Rogue," 28-ton
Yawl.--Owner, called away suddenly on business, is willing to let this
superbly- fitted "greyhound of the sea" for any period short or long.
Two cabins and saloon; pianette, by Woffenkoff; new copper. Terms,
10 guineas a week.--Apply Pertwee and Co., 3A Bucklersbury.
It had seemed to me like the answer to a prayer. "The new copper" did
not interest me; what little washing we might want could wait, I
thought. But the "pianette by Woffenkoff" sounded alluring. I pictured
Ethelbertha playing in the evening--something with a chorus, in which,
perhaps, the crew, with a little training, might join--while our moving
home bounded, "greyhound-like," over the silvery billows.
I took a cab and drove direct to 3A Bucklersbury. Mr. Pertwee was an
unpretentious-looking gentleman, who had an unostentatious office on
the third floor. He showed me a picture in water-colours of the Rogue
flying before the wind. The deck was at an angle of 95 to the ocean. In
the picture no human beings were represented on the deck; I suppose
they had slipped off. Indeed, I do not see how anyone could have kept
on, unless nailed. I pointed out this disadvantage to the agent, who,
however, explained to me that the picture represented the Rogue
doubling something or other on the well-known occasion of her
winning the Medway Challenge Shield. Mr. Pertwee assumed that I

knew all about the event, so that I did not like to ask any questions.
Two specks near the frame of the picture, which at first I had taken for
moths, represented, it appeared, the second and third winners in this
celebrated race. A photograph of the yacht at anchor off Gravesend was
less impressive, but suggested more stability. All answers to my
inquiries being satisfactory, I took the thing for a fortnight. Mr. Pertwee
said it was fortunate I wanted it only for a fortnight- -later on I came to
agree with him,--the time fitting in exactly with another hiring. Had I
required it for three weeks he would have been compelled to refuse me.
The letting being thus arranged, Mr. Pertwee asked me if I had a
skipper in my eye. That I had not was also fortunate--things seemed to
be turning out luckily for me all round,--because Mr. Pertwee felt sure I
could not do better than keep on Mr. Goyles, at present in charge--an
excellent skipper, so Mr. Pertwee assured me, a man who knew the sea
as a man knows his own wife, and who had never lost a life.
It was still early in the day, and the yacht was lying off Harwich. I
caught the ten forty-five from Liverpool Street, and by one o'clock was
talking to Mr. Goyles on deck. He was a stout man, and had a fatherly
way with him. I told him my idea, which was to take the outlying
Dutch islands and then creep up to Norway. He said, "Aye, aye, sir,"
and appeared quite enthusiastic about the trip; said he should enjoy it
himself. We came to the question of victualling, and he grew more
enthusiastic. The amount of