The Price of Navigation

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 407, 16 July 1928, Page 11

The Price of Navigation

(By

S. Tchernine.)

It was a drowsy sort of afternoon. I *ay full length on the sun-baked sand, smoking my pipe and idly watching the waves crawling in, each one nearer than the last. Beside me were my wife—and John! Conversation had languished under the influence of the warm sun and the monotonous swish of the waves. Each of us was wrapped in our own thoughts, and John was hatching some new plan, I could see by the look in bis eye. I felt vaguely alarmed, tor most of the diversions he suggested viih the best intentions were apt to end disastrously, and were always expensive. John is my wife’s young brother. He sweeps all over the country on a motor-cycle, and, except for the fact that he thinks lie knows everything, m quite a likeable young fellow. Cynthia and I had agreed to spend our holidays early in the season in this small south coast town, and John, hearing of it during one of his end less tours, arrived one morning like ? young thunderbolt, his machine makmg the air hideous with its monstrous clamour. Now 1 could see him growing restive. ‘Dull place,*' he remarked, “there’s only one cinema here, and it shows to® same pictures all the week; the theatre is simply rotten, the tennis courts defective, and there’s nothing a * in t^lis village.” Well, old man, you came of your °wn free will,” I said rather ungraciously and prepared to slumber. But & e would have none of that Cynthia,” said he, eyeing his sister speculatively, “have you no bright tueas?” Cynthia moaned. shut up, you silly boy! I’m to ° laz - v to think of anything.” h m> soc i a Hle lot, aren't you?” he h^ d . ruc^ely; anc * on receiving no reply Went °n in a sort of monologue for a I°ng time. Then his tone lightened. von^ S S ° *- or a ride on the bike; - u two can share the pillion, it’s quite roomy,” h e suggested. There are less complicated ways committing suicide.” I commented. d av ® you been on the pier yet? Won mil view you know. ' I was hoping Sainst hope thaj he would leave tis anrt*'*? 06 ' Cynthia has spoilt John. j„ a . e h as a tiresome knack of meet his schemes half-way. weut this morning and broke the thn- automa tie machine there—one of a2? try -y°hi'-strength things. 1 put sn , nn y in - and couldn’t get it back, stuck s “ ove d a bit of wire in and it 1 jammed 3 ”** now t4le Whole thing is do 'rn B’’ 8 ’’ 1 Baill Wtingly. “You usually ta>UctU ,naSe to destroy anything you the matter, old fruit? j

Rather peevish to-day, aren’t you?” “When you reach my age you will find a little quiet and undisturbed meditation is occasionally not unac ceptable,” I replied in as weighty accents as I could muster. John smote his knees in a paroxysm of uncalled-for-hilarity. “Ha! ha! that’s good!” he yelled. I pointed out that he had roused Cynthia from a peaceful doze. “Hullo, are you two quarrelling already?” she said, sitting up. “Not a bit of it,” he answered, “Spuds and I may not always see eye to eye, but we’re on the best of terms for all that.” He insists on calling me “Spuds” because I take a mild interest in gardening, and vegetables of my own growing occasionally grace our frugal board. “Do you realise we’ve been staring l at the jolly old ocean for over two hours?” he continued. “Let’s make a move. See that small boat bobbing about on the wavelets? Well, it’s for hire.” “I see what you mean, but I’m not going to give myself backache trundling a boat about over the sea,” I said, crossly. “It’s a motor-boat, silly,” broke in my wife, and I could see she was inclined to support John in the venture. I sighed wearily, for any protests of mine would now be of no avail. “Let’s go for a trip,” she went on. “Johnnie can look after the engine. you can do the steering, and I’ll give the instructions; it’ll be simply lovely on a day like this.” “H’m.” I said. I can put a world of meaning into that sound; just then I meant it to express disapproval, righteous indignation, and incapacity for the job. I sometimes think Cynthia’s perceptions cannot be very fine, for she resumed just as if I had not spoken. “Take your foot off the sandwiches, Alec, we may want them. And you, John, go and see if we can have the boat.” The young man turned to go; but before departing he took- the opportunity of making an atrocious unoriginal pun regarding the afore-mentioned eatables and sand, with which this fair page shall not be spoilt. A chair ticket-collector, who was hovering nearby, gave a deep sigh, and went his way as he saw no chance of new customers for the moment. Most holiday-makers had dispersed at the approach of tea-time. It was hotter than ever, the sea looked like a dancing mass of liquid brass, and I wiped my brow. Cynthia seemed cool and quite unaffected by the heat, and there was a little smile of pity on her lips as she surveyed my beetroot-like countenance. How women manage to look so when the thermometer registers a tem-

| perature of 80 in the shade has always been a mystery to me. I “You look rather warm, dear,” she remarked, sweetly. “Shall I tie your handkerchief round your head with a little quirk at the back to protect your neck, the way you wear it when you’re pottering about in the garden?” I did not reply, but just gazed moodily at the distant figure of John, apparently engaged in violent argument with two villainous-looking individuals, whom he had spotted as the owners of the boat. “What’s the dear old boy doing?” inquired Cynthia, pointing to the group of three. “It looks as if there is going to be a fight of some sort, and I hope they give it to him hot and strong, then we can have the rest of the day in peace.” “Alec, please remember he’s my brother; I feel very hurt that you should wish him any harm.” “Oh, I’m sorry, one gets so carried away sometimes, you know,” I remarked, thereby making things worse. Cynthia got up suddenly, and shaking all the sand off her dress into my eyes, stalked away in the direction of the young imbecile. Things like that make me quite peevish. I seized the packet of sandwiches and followed her. “Cynthia, darling,” I said soothingly, “I didnt mean to hurt you.” “Yes, but you would see my poor brother exterminated without raising a hand to help him. He’s so impulsive.” “Come, come, there’s no danger of that he seems to be holding his own Vo ry well.” “You’re a brute," said Cynthia, and looked as if about to produce a tear. “Be reasonable, Cynthia, and let’s get the whole thing over quickly,” I begged. And so we approached the somewhat heated trio on the ocean’s rim. How, what s all the rumpQs about?” I inquired of John. “Can’t we have the boat?” “I believe we can, but I can’t understand what dialect these lunatics are talking now,” the last in a stage whisper. “Let me deal wfth them,” I said with dignity, and approached the two blue-clad sons of the ocean, and demanded whether their painted cockleshell was available for Immediate hire. It was—unfortunately. “All right,” said the first, quite intelligibly, “you can have the boat.” The other nudged his arm, but he shrugged his shoulders, and seemed to glance at us with pity, accompanied by a queer, uncertain, look. “Come on,” I said, taking charge “You go in first, Cynthia, and keep her nose to the wind.” She looked surprised. “How do I do that?” “Never mind—don’t, it doesn’t matter in the least.” John laid hold of my arm. “You haven’t paid!!” he remarked, ' excitedly. “Well, I’m going to. I always do, don’t I? How much do they want? “A quid.” “They don’t by auy chance want the price of the boat as ai deposit, in case

we decide to travel to South Africa, do they?” I inquired sarcastically. “Spuds, stow it,” he said simply. There was a little shriek from Cynthia. “Oh, do hurry up, and get the thing going—-it’s wagging its tail, and I’m on the tail. Oh, dear! I dont’ like the motion at all.” “All right, I’m coming,” I shouted, and thrusting the pound note into the hand of the waiting man, leapt into the boat, John close on my heels. It rocked a bit, but luckily it did not turn turtle. John was now in his element. He started pottering about with the engine, and was preparing to start it, when shouts from the shore made us look up. “Better get the boat clear of the sand first, sir,” said the voices. And we were thrust upon the ocean by a pair of long wooden poles. "Come along, can’t you start the thing?” I said, exasperated, for a small crowd of children and half-grown youths stood watching our departure, and seemed to be increasing every second. “We’ll have the whole town i gazing at us in a minute.” ;

“Well,” he replied, looking up red and flustered, “I can’t find the starting handle—do you expect me to start the thing with my teeth?” “Is this it?” said Cynthia innocently, producing the missing article from the sea beside her. John grabbed it, and applied it to the engine, which promptly started work with a resounding clatter. “That’s fine,” said Cynthia. “Look at the pretty little foamy wake we’re making. Where shall we go?” “Away from that crowd of gaping idiots as quickly as possible,” I suggested in a sort of hoarse bark. That was the only possible way of making oneself heard, for the noise of the engine drowned every other sound. We were all shouting now to make ourselves heard, and Cynthia was seated facing the spray, her hair ruffled in the breeze, a smile of ecstasy tracing itself on her lineaments, while she trailed her hand in the water over the side of the boat. It was pleasant enough at first. John was bending reverently over the engine, fiddled about with the thing, and getting covered with oil in the meantime, and the sea, which appeared so calm when we set out, was now developing a nasty swell. Not that I cared, for I’m a - good sailor —I was, of course, thinking of others, and if I w r as beginning to tire of the venture it was merely because I had never been enthusiastic. I had only joined in on account of previous experiences to enliven the day on John’s part. “We seem to be heading straight out to sea,” said Cynthia, rather nervously I thought. “I’m trying to alter her course,” I replied, giving the wheel a further turn to the right. “Don’t think much of your steering, Spuds, it doesn’t seem to have any effect,” remarked John, appearing apparently from underneath the engine. “Oh, well, you try it yourself!” John came across, and as he looked;

over the stern suddenly emitted an exclamation of dismay. “We’ve lost our rudder!” he announced dramatically. “Weil, we had better stop the boat or we’ll soon find ourselves on the shores of sunny France,” I said calmly, taking the situation in hand with a sangfroid I could not help admiring. “How perfectly topping!!” gurgled Cynthia; “shall we need any passports, or can we just land without anv bother?” “Cynthia,” I said, “be sensible “John, stop the engine.” As If in answer to my words the engine gave a sort of despairing chug and stopped dead. “I’m going to investigate,” I remarked, and in leaning over a sudden swell sent me lurching, and I halftoppled into the water. My semiimmersion in a bath of spray was greeted with shrieks of laughter, and that young; monster who Is my wife’s brother Informed the sea and two hovering gulls that I certainly was Investigating, all this amid unseemly explosions of mirth. Having sampled a certain amount of salt, I spluttered out: “Do you think I did that to amuse you?” and heaved myself back Into my seat with rather damp dignity. “Now let us review the position,” I continued. “The engine has broken down, the rudder is gone, and ” “Well, that’s all, isn’t It?" interrupted John. “I’ll have the old engine going again in two shakes.” “But,” remarked Cynthia, wildly, “what’s the use of doing that if we haven’t a rudder to steer her?” “Leave it to me,” answered John, and got to work with a spannei*. “Darling,” remarked Cynthia, looking at me with concern, “I do helieve you are shivering.” “I think I’ve got ague or megrims,” I replied, mournfully. “Then you had better take that coat off and wring it.” John suddenly gave a sort of whoop, and placed a small brazen object before me. “That’s the carburetter,” he said, “enthusiastically. “It only wants a little adjustment—like so,” unscrewing the top, “then we can proceed home on our own power.” “Very Interesting,” I said. “Do you think you can fit It on again?” John looked hurt, but did not reply. He hates any aspersions cast at his engineering capacities. “We’ll soon be off,” he muttered, but alas! he spoke too soon. The boat gave a sudden lurch, John lost his balance, and, in retrieving it, shot the carburetter forward and into tho waves with a mighty splash. “Oh, what a pity,” he said “How much does a thing like that cost?” I inquired. “About five pounds.” “The rudder will, I suppose, be about two pounds—that’s five and two, seven, and one eight—eight pounds for one afternoon’s enjoyment.” As I ! made that comment in, I fear, uncongenial tones, I was also taking in the unprepossessing appearance of my damp coat. “You mustn’t take it like that, Spuds.” begged Johu.

“No, I’m not taking anything—l never do.” “I wish the boat would move a bit,” said my wife plaintively. “So do I.” Short words suffice me when I am annoyed. Cynthia added that the heaving motion of the undercurrent was not pleasant. “The only thing to do is to hoist a sail,” vouchsafed John. “Oh! indeed—perhaps you carry sails about with you; in that case, hoist one by all means.” “It’s the only thing to do,” went on Cynthia; “that gadget you gracefully dropped overboard was a vital part of the engine. I presume.” “Don’t all go for me like that,” cried John. “The point is to get up some sort of sail. After all, accidents will happen. How was Ito know the darn boat was falling to pieces?” For that I had no ready retort. It really was time to get a move on, for the motion of a boat swaying at a standstill on an off-shore sw T ell is not as exhilarating as when it cuts bravely through the waves, and I could see an anxious expression in Cynthia’s eyes. “What is it you want to hoist?” I inquired. “Your coat at the end of this plank,” lie replied calmly, holding aloft a mouldy piece of wood. “Why my coat?” “Well, it’s very old and battered about ” “It wasn’t before I set out on this pleasure trip; but still,” I said very magnanimously, “I’m prepared to sacrifice what is left of it in a good cause.” , “Hear, hear,” piped Cynthia, reviv ing at the prospect of dry land. It wasn’t a bad attempt at a sail, but it had a curious knack of -wrapping itself affectionately around our improvised mast after the manner of a scarecrow. Also the wind was in the wrong direction “Hi,” shouted John, “we are drifting away from the coast. There’s the ebb.” “I can’t alter the four winds of heaven, can I?” I said. “We must paddle back.” “Paddle?” said Cynthia, with a look of incredulity. “I’m afraid neither of you is very observant. Perhaps you did not notice it, but the tide has been going out all this time, and there’s only about two feet of water under the boat.” I looked round triumphantly, and removed my shoes and socks. They both gasped at the unexpectedness of the denouement. Cynthia was the first to speak. “We’re not going to make ourselves j ridiculous in the eyes of the whole ' town,” she said. “The whole town is stilll having tea,” I replied. “Certainly we can’t,” John cut in, ignoring my last remark, and striking an attitude of mingled martyrdom and defiance.

“Oh, well, you can stay here,” I said calmly, and rescued my long-suffering coat. “I’m certainly going.” I thereupon put one leg over the side. They dragged me back.

“Is there no other way?” said Cynthia piteously. “It is the only way,” I replied diamatically. “Look here, Spuds,” interjected John. “We can’t possibly leave the old tub here!” “No, we can tow her back.” At this his face fell. But Cynthia’s brightened. “I’ll stay in here, and ' r ou can both tow me back with the buat!” she suggested, looking at me appealingly. Of course, when Cynthia does that the only thing to do is to obey her commands. I sighed, and took off my other shoe. “You go in first,” said John. “I want to be sure there’s not much water down there.” “Oh, you’re too considerate,” I said with a faint touch of sarcasm, though I ought to have known from experience that attempting to snub John is like trying to cut a soft-boiled egg with a fork. “Dear boys, don’t start quarrelling again,” remarked Cynthia in cooing tones. “It’ll be great fun coming in from the sea like Neptune’s daughter.” “I was not aware that he had a daughter,” I answered crossly, “or, in fact, any female relatives.” “Ah, you don’t know natural history,” said John profoundly. “Look here, if you start talking nonsense, I’m off.” “Where?” “Well, come along,” I said hastily, and splashed overboard. The water came well above my knees after all, but I started, striding forward, bravely clutching the side of the boat. The boat was very heavy. I looked back, and there was John sitting there, quietly grinning at me! “John—into the sea this instant!” “Alec, dear,” said Cynthia, leaning over, “I’m sure you’re strong enough to take us both back —poor John might catch a cold.” “Rubbish—what about me; am I of different stuff?” I queried in indignant tones, and, probably seized with compunction, John splashed overboard, and put his shoulder to the wheel—or, rather, the gull. “That’s right, take hold of her on the other side—now ready? My spirits rose with the feeling that a burden shared is a burden halved, and all that sort of rot. And so the procession started. “Couldn’t you sing some sort of a chanty?” called out Cynthia. “It would be so picturesque.” We did not reply, but splashed our way forward; the beach seemed a long way off, and it was already filling up with interested spectators. The town had no doubt left their tea to come and look at us. I shall remember this all my life; there are things that are burnt in the memory. However, we stuck it out. I think that boat weighed several tons. At last the epic was over, and we reached the sands. I squelched ashore with as much dignity as I could assume. John, who has, of course, no dignity whatever, actually laughed. I noticed two turtive-faced persons

among the crowd—our two boatmen, of course. They immediately started looking over their vessel very rapidly, and then with similar rapidity they approached me, palms outstretched. My one idea was to get away from all this mirth, and put on my shoes and socks, which were at the moment hanging round my neck, so I called Cynthia and John. We moved off to some quiet spot, followed by the two boatmen, who kept a wary eye on us, and kept looking behind them. “Now, then, what's the damage?” I inquired of the two, in my best boardroom manner. “Ten pounds, si’r,’ they replied simultaneously. “Why, dash it, do you expect me to buy you a new boat as well?” “Don’t quarrel with them, Alec dear; they don’t look nice,” said Cynthia in a stage whisper and clutching my arm. I felt for my wallet, and produced three pounds. These I held up to view. “They’re going to hit you,” said Cynthia, nervously. “Nonsense! They’re going to do nothing of the sort.” Indeed it was so. They grabbed the money, and left us with such haste that we began to feel that there was something radically wrong about the whole transaction. Kven John, who i 3 never at a loss to find an explanation for the most out-of-the-way occurrences, stood there with his mourh slightly open, seemingly bereft of speech. “Look,” cried Cynthia, indicating rather mixed group of people who had stood watching us laud a few seconds before. “They seem excited.” They did, and what was more, one burly, red-faced mariner, who, between gusts of excitement, seemed to he masticating a last mouthful of sandwich, broke away from the little knot of spectators, and, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, advanced toward us with a nasty gleam in hieye. Some of the braver spectators ai>proached, waiting to see murder done for some unfathomable reason. “She’s in a nice mess—carburetter gone, and all—l’ll learn you!” he shouted, waving his fist in my face. “If you refer to that miserable cockle-shell, I have already compensated the owners,” I began. “They went away—over there,” Cynthia piped in. The ancient mariner turned purple, and danced about in front of us. “Steady, old beetle, you’ll hurt yourself,” begged John, finding his voice at last. “And this really ten t vour business, is it?” A torrent of language that never repeated itself once was the reply. Then “Ho! Isn’t it my business? Them two was thieves and rogues, and i did an honest day’s work, and i'll thank you to pay me them damages when I see how badly she’s been knocked about, for that there boat is my boat, and never was nobody else’s.” The price of navigation is very dear when one navigates with such a misinformed pilot as John.—From “The* Australasian**