IN THE CAPTAINS CABIN

Evening Star, Issue 17036, 6 May 1919, Page 7

IN THE CAPTAINS CABIN

fAix, Eights Beseevkd.]

By Captain Waiter Manning ("Jonto M'Quade"). ; No. X. "An phwat is yer son Terence doing?" asked Mrs Shanigan. v " He's doin' fodne !" replied Mrs O'Brien, with, an air of smug satisfaction. "He's a commercial traveller.. He travels wid soft goods!" " Faith! that's quare now '" exclaimed "Mrs Sbanigan, "me own bhoy Pat is a commercial traveller, too!" " An' phwat is his laine?" asked Mrs O'Brien, in a tone of mingled surprise and inquiry. "Ohi" replied Mrs Shanigan, "he travels wid—wid—wid a knoiFe-grindmg machine." The foregoing -well-roasted chestnut, told me (with variations) by many commercial travellers, would lead the uninitiated to assume that the " knights of the road" might be divided Into two classts—some class and no class at- all! This, however, would be too sharp and hasty a classification to be accurate. Commercial travellers, like all large and important sections of the world's -workers, are composed of "all sorts and conditions of men," and if a broad, generalisation stamps them as a special type of humanity it rests more on their best qualities than" their worst. Before proceeding any further with my tomposite and individual character sketches of men for whom I have always had the kindliest feelings. I wish to pay a tribute to those old "friends who have passed "the great divide." To paraphrase Mark Antony-, I might say : " I come to praise C;esai\ not to bury" him." So my mind goes back to the halcyon days of moneymaking in New Zealand, when Sir Julius Vogel's borrowed millions were flooding the colony, and business men swimming with the stream; when competition was not keen, and the limited number of C.T.s then "on the road" were, to use an Americanism, "some /pumpkins." The fluctuations making good or bad times were once described in a bit of doggerel by an old friend of mine : After the rise, the fall; After the boom, the slump ! After the fizz and the big cigar, A cigarette—and " the hump." The days referred to were the days of "the-fizz—and the big cigar." A steamer's saloon at lunch or dinner visibly evidenced prosperity—" one man one bottle" being the rule, and almost " de rigueur." and that bottle frequently contained champagne. The conversation was br.ght, cheery, and hopeful, the soeiul atmosphere jovial and companionship general and without restraint. ■ And the commercials of thar time (not to say those of any period dressed badly, for they always recognised that though clothes may not "make the man, they classify him") were dressed in "purple and fine linen." The men of that time were mostly men of fine physique, of mature age, and of commanding and distinctive appearance. But, now! how many of my nautical confreres, or even among the commercial travellers of to-day, ever heard of the names of Coutts, John Sothern, Daniel Jobbeins, Nicol, Bishop, and a host- of others? There might, in those times, have been a few who, from the noise they made, justly earned the designation of " drummers'." but the great majority were men I was always glad to meet and whose society -was both entertaining and informative. " To these men of the past I raise my hat and without being able to answer the counudrum "Is death a door that leads to light'/" hope that their "lines" have fallen in pleasant places. As life's cinema is reflected in my mind I have retrospective visions of pleasant hours passed w-ith " commercials " who could talk anything from travel to tin-types, and from philosophy to pink pills. Their souls rose above the commonplace details of business life. They ■were merry companions, kind friends, and f&ways ready with good advice or a helping hand. In fact (at the risk of repetition), if in any respect commercial travel- * Jers can he considered a special class it is in their quick sympathies w-ith and their spontaneous generosity in cases of individual distress, and their readiness to come to the froni—sparing neither trouble nor money—in times of national trouble; which hardly requires instancing by what they have done during the war, and what they are trying to do now for the men o£ the British Mercantile Marine. As story-tellers many of fhem were itinerant Scheazades: a graphic realism in figures of speech and an elastic imagination having earned some of them the reputation of drawing the long bow. which reminds me of something that took place on the s.s. Mawhera. In the palmy days of that " fire and brimstone route," the West Coast run. there floated around the " gag " : " Who are the three biggest liars on the West Coast?" The answer was: "F "s one, and M *s the other two!" This was considered very funny bv those who knew the gentlemen mentioned. It bo happened that at breakfast one mominj F , who was seated at the after-end of the table, was loudly and somewhat excitedly dilating on one of his astonishing experiences to his vis-a-vis. While the attention of everyone at the table was attracted by the recital, Tom Mitchell, who was sifting next fo me and had a caustic wit of his own, looked down at F , and called out: "It's all right. F , Go on! M "s not here!" F closed up like an oyster, took it badly, and afterwards, when tackling Mitchell angrily, on deck, gave me the opportunity to pose as a peacemaker, and throw oil on troubled waters. I always preferred to use a little diplomacy in such cases. On a Saturday night's run in the Penguin, from Lytteiton, in the days when my dog Watch la beautiful collie) travelled with me, I once had an opportunity to side-track a flow of fervid imagination. After breakfast, joining a little coterie of C.T.s, accompanied by the dog, admiration of my canine friend gave rise to dog stones. A number of anecdotes, more or less marvellous, were related, illustrating instances of companionship and affection between dogs and hens, ducks, monkeys, and other animals. It was a good Sunday morning; reverence for the daymay.have influenced me in telling the following story:— Some years ago I had a very big St. Bernard. His size restricted his amount of liberty. And the fact that he sometimes attempted to eat women and children necessitated my relegating him to the seclusion of the back yard. Loneliness and a craving for companionship brought about a remarkable friendship bet-ween the dog and an old buck rat. Well! to see that dog lifting the rat gently into his kennel, and lying there with* him, and at other times to see the rat picking up the St. Bernard in his mouth and carrying him into the inner recesse3 of his hole, was a sight at once touching and pathetic. That broke up the show. The moral was obvious! To digress for a moment. (Dog stories ar» to me as infections as hay fever is io a solitary male passenger among a saloon full .of grass widows.) Well, I always liked animals, and whenever I meet" a lot of spoilt and unruly children I can quite understand why so many married women prefer—dogs! I wouldn't go so far as Yoltaire (the French cynic), who said: " The more I know of men the more I like dogs " ; but I know a dog won't fawn on a person ,ifc doesn't like! I once quoted Voltaire's remark to a lady passenger who admired my dog. She said: "Voltaire? Is he a conjurer?" I found out afterwards she was on a vaudeville circuit. Not Fullers', of course! To return to C.T.s: I always admired them for their winning ways. They know what they want, and generally get it! Their sang froid and their ready wit and diplomatic action in trying or delicate situations are admirable, 'lake the following yarn a? an instance : When the s.r-. Mar.gaua. i-mmanded by Captain Lami-.'-rt, was running the Ctaehunga-New PiyniuiiLh-Wslliiigton service, mv old frirt-iJ Mr Dunk "(a C.T.; was a £\iS?o.j. t : :.u a trip -.-. hen the late

H. M. Stanley, fresh from Ms achieve-' merits of having found Livingstone and penetrated Darkest Africa,, was also on board. The sea was smooth, but the day cold, and the drizzling rain incessant. Sheltering where best he could, vainly endeavoring to set a comfortable smoke, Stanlev fiuallv "discovered the smoking room. " Entering cheerily, pipe in hand, he abruptly brought up at the sight of four figures stretched ■ out full length on the settees, occupying every inch -of seating space. He retreated, took a turn on deck, and then, in a hesitating manner, looked in the doorway again. Dunk at this moment appeared on the scene, and accosted Stanley with the inquiry: "Ho vou want to go _inside':" "Yes; I want to get a smoke, out of the wind." "Then why don't you tell them to get up?" asked Dunk. "Well," timidly replied the great explorer, " I wouldn't like to do that." "Oh, be d d. Co-ie on in." Together they entered. In a voice as penetrating as a diamond drill Dunk called out: "Is this a hospital or a morgue?" The startled sleepers awoke, rubbed their eyes, drew up their legs, and made room. ' -Stanley dropped, into a _ seat; Dunk made himself comfortable in the opposite corner. Then, after lighting a cigar, he winked at Stanley in a knowing way. and observed : " That's the way to do "it. You haven't travelled enough!"