Biltmore Oswald Page 17
"'Go home at once, sir,' screams my wife, 'and put on your clothes.'
"'I will,' he shouts back, 'if my wife will come along with me.'
"He was a weazened up little old man with a crooked back. Not veryprepossessing. I could hardly blame his wife.
"'So that bit of stuff is your wife, is it?' cries out my old lady,and with that she began telling him her past.
"'I know it,' says the little old merman at last, almost crying; 'Iknow it, but I ain't got no control over her whatsoever. I've beentrying to get her to come home for the last fortnight, but she justwon't leave off going around with the sailors. The whole beach isashamed of her. It's general talk down below. What can I do? Thelittle old coral house is going to wrack and ruin and the baby ain'tbeen properly took care of since she left. What am I going to do,madam? What am I going to do? I'm well nigh distracted.'
"But his wife was too taken up with the gin bottle to pay much heed tohis pitiful words. She just kept flirting around in the water andsinging snatches of bad sailor songs she'd picked up around the docks.
"'Take her home,' said my wife, 'take her home, you weakling, byforce.'
"'But I can't when she's in this condition. I got a child in my arms.'
"'Give me the baby,' said my wife, with sudden determination. 'I'lltake care of it until to-morrow night when you can come back here andget it.'
"He handed the flopping little thing up to my wife and turned to themermaid.
"'Lil,' he says to her, holding out his arms to her, 'Lil, will youcome home?'
"Lil swims up to him then and takes him by the arm and looks at himfor a long time.
"'Kiss me, Archie,' she says suddenly, 'I don't mind if I do,' andflipping a couple of pounds of water upon the both of us on the pier,she pulls him under the water laughing and that's the last I saw ofeither of them. Now I ain't asaying as I have ever seen a mermaid mindyou," continued the chief, "but what I do say is that if any man hasever seen one I'm the man."
"I understand perfectly," said I, "and what, chief, became of thebaby?"
"Oh, the baby," said the chief, thoughtful like; "the baby--well, yousee, about that baby--" he gazed searchingly around the landscape fora moment before replying.
"Oh, the baby," he said suddenly, as if greatly relieved, "well, mywife took the baby home and kept it in the bathtub for a couple ofdays after which she returned it in person to its father. She made megive up my job. It did squint, though," said the chief, as he got upto go, "ever so little."
I turned to my shovel.
"But I ain't saying as I have ever seen a mermaid," he said, turningback in his tracks, "all I'm saying is that--"
"I know, Chief," I said wearily, "I fully appreciate your delicacy andfairness. You're not the man to make any false claims."
"No, sir, not I," he replied, as he walked slowly away.
_August 5th._ In order to distract Mr. Fogerty's attention from hislove affair and in a sort of desperate endeavor to win him back to meI took him away on my last liberty with me. Fogerty doesn't come underthe heading of a lap dog, but through some technical quibble I managedto smuggle him into the subway. All he did there was to knock over oneelderly lady and lick her face effusively when he had gotten her down.This resulted in a small but complete panic. For the most part,however, he sat quietly on my lap and sniffed at those around him. Atlast we reached Washington Square, whereupon I proceeded to take Mr.Fogerty around and show him off to my friends. He was well received,but his heart wasn't with us. It was far away in City Island.
"FOR THE MOST PART, HOWEVER, HE SAT QUIETLY ON MY LAPAND SNIFFED"]
At one restaurant we ran into a female whose hair was nearly as shortas Fogerty's. She was holding forth on the Silence of the Soul vs. theLove Impulse, the cabbage or some other plant. Fogerty listened to herfor a while and then bit her. He did it quietly, but I thought it bestto take him away.
After supper we went up to another place for coffee, a fine littleplace for sailormen, situated on the south side of the square. Herewe were received with winning cordiality and Fogerty was given a friedegg, a dish of which he is passionately fond. But even here he gotinto trouble by putting one of his great feet through a Ukulele, whichisn't such a terrible thing to do, except in certain places.
Getting back to the station was a crisp little affair. Fogerty andmyself rose at five and went forth to the shuttle. The subway was amadhouse. We shuttled ourselves to death. At 5.30 we were at the TimesSquare end of the shuttle, at 5.45 we were at Williams, at 6 o'clockwe had somehow managed to get ourselves on the east side end of theshuttle, five minutes later we were back at Times Square, ten minuteslater we were over on the east side once more. At 6.15 I lost Fogerty.At 6.25 I was back at Times Square. "Hello, buddy," said the guard,"you back again? Here's your dog."
At 7 o'clock we were at Van Cortlandt Park, at 8 we were atNinety-sixth Street, 9 o'clock found us laboring up to the gate of thecamp, with a written list of excuses that looked like the schedule ofa flourishing railroad. It was accepted, much to our surprise.
_Aug. 7th._ I have a perfectly splendid idea. Of course, like the restof my ideas it won't work, but it is a perfectly splendid idea for allthat. I got it while traveling on the ferry boat from New York toStaten Island--the longest sea voyage I have had since I joined theNavy. On this trip, strangely thrilling to a sailor in my situation,but which was suffered with bored indifference by the amphibiouscommuters that infest this Island in those waters, I saw a number ofships so gaudily and at the same time so carelessly painted that anyGod-fearing skipper of the Spanish Main would positively have refusedto command. Captain Kidd himself would have blushed at the very sightof this ribald fleet and turned away with a devout imprecation.
This was my first experience with camouflage, and it impressed me mostunfavorably. An ordinary ship on a grumbling ocean is difficult enoughas it is to establish friendly relations with, but when trigged out inthis manner--why serve meals at all, say I. Nevertheless it occurredto me that it would not be a bad idea at all to camouflage one'shammock in such a manner that it took upon itself the texture andappearance of the bulkhead of the barracks in which it was swung. Inthis manner a sailor could sleep undisturbed for three weeks if he sodesired (and he does), without ever being technically considered adeserter.
One could elaborate this idea still further and make one's sea baglook like a clump of poison ivy, so that no inspecting officer wouldever care to become intimate with its numerous defects in cleanliness.One might even go so far as to camouflage oneself into a writing deskso that when visiting the "Y" or the "K-C" and unexpectedly requiredto sing one would not be forced to rise and scream impatiently andthreateningly "Dear Mother Mine" or "Break the News to Mother." Notthat these songs are not things of rare beauty in themselves, butafter a day on the coal pile one's lungs have been sufficientlyexercised to warrant relief. This is merely an idea of mine, and nowthat everybody knows about it I guess there isn't much use in goingahead with it.
_Aug. 8th._ "This guide i-s l-e-f-t!" shouted the P.O., and naturallyI looked around to see what had become of the poor fellow.
"Keep your head straight. Eyes to the front! Don't move! Whatchalookin' at?"
"I was looking for the guide that was left," says I timidly. "It seemsto me that he is always being left."
"Company dismissed," said the P.O. promptly, showing a wonderfulcommand of the situation under rather trying circumstances, for theboo-hoo that went up from the men after my remark defied allrestraints of discipline.
"Say, Biltmore," says t
he P.O. to me a moment later, "I'm going to seeif I can't get you shipped to Siberia if you pull one of them bumjokes again. You understand?"
"But I wasn't joking," I replied innocently.
"Aw go on, you sly dog," said he, nudging me in the ribs, and for somestrange reason he departed in high good humor, leaving me in a greatlymystified frame of mind.
Speaking of getting shipped, I have just written a very sad song inthe style of the old sentimental