A QUAINT RESORT.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XVI, Issue XV, 11 April 1896, Page 416

A QUAINT RESORT.

There’S a hotel bar in San Francisco where you can splice the main brace in the most correct nautical language. Here the thirsty are served by a ship’s officer dressed in full naval uniform. The bartender and his crew of assistants appear in naval dress, which includes swords and other side arms, and any amount of gold lace. The novel crew comes on duty every evening. The daylight crew are garbed like the ordinary ‘ beer slingers ’ of that part of town. The inside of this quaint saloon so closely resembles an old-time packet ship’s cabin that one can stretch his imagination to the verge of sea-sickness and not half try. Old brass nautical lamps, that have seen lots of service in all sorts of weather, hang from the ceiling by chains. Several ancient and dilapidated figure-heads, which have faced

the storms of many years at sea, stare at the scenes of revelry from corners.

The walls are hung with relics of many voyages. Pieces of rope, old marine prints, portraits of famous skippers of the long ago, models carved by sailor men, old flags, many of which floated from historic battleships, and other bric-a-brac of the brine decorate this nautical taproom, whose proprietor is attired in the full uniform of a commodore of the United States navy. Her ‘ crew ’ consists of representative officers usually found aboard a man-of-war, properly uniformed, as well as an occasional sailor, who appears in the triple blue ‘togs ’ of Uncle Sam’s men who swing their hammocks in the forecastle. These are no imitation sailors, for every man Jack of them is a veteran of the ocean and rolls about as if on shipboard. The marine delusion extends to the old ship's clock which hangs over the bar. It reels off bells instead of hours, for here the time is passed in the choicest sea gibberish. If you should ever steer your craft through the low doorway of this nautical saloon the chances are that you’ll clutch at something before you are anyways near half seas over. Of course the old salts ashore here are the chief patrons of this old refreshment-room. The custom of using only nautical terms in carrying on the ordinary business of the place fascinates Jack, and he’ll walk a long way for the sake of being served in his own language. The commodore stands at one end of the bar, and shouts his orders to his crew, as if he were stationed on the bridge of some man-of-war. One hears such orders as ‘ Avast there ! ’ ‘Stand by to let go !’ ‘Hard a lee!’ ‘ Keep her off half a point!’ and similar expressions that the sailor knows so well. Drinks are ordered in names which are absolutely unintelligible to landlubbers. The evening is never a success unless a great many of these orders are first given and obeyed. The favourite nautical term is : ‘ Stand by to let go !’ This is given when the glasses have all been filled and are being held in the hands of a crowd of sailors. After Jack feels mellow then the yarn-spinning begins. If you want to listen to tales of the sea that outRussell Russell, run into this quaint, snug harbour some night when the weather is nasty, and you’ll not be disappointed.