At 5 P. M. the lookout reported a sour mash freighter. The passengers are kissing the hem of his cardigan jacket and calling him another Columbus.
Later.—The sour mash freighter turns out to be a root-beer wagon on its way to a Sunday-school excursion. The enraged passengers are now kicking the hem of the lookout’s jacket.
At 5.30 P. M. we ran into a dust-gale, caused by an automobile party brushing their clothes after being chased by a bicycle cop. The air is thick with dust and whisk-brooms, and the Lithia’s passengers are lying, gasping, on the cravenette deck. The lookout sends word that he can’t see a pair of deuces.
The Captain has ordered the rose-sprinkler turned on and the electric-fans started.
The dust-fog lifted for a few moments, and the passengers were seen to be leaping overboard. The Bos’un performed yoehoman service in rescuing the imperilled and helping the weak ones back on the Wagon. A collection was taken up to purchase him a silver-plated swinging ice-pitcher.
6.45 P. M.—The Mate took soundings, and reported no bottom. The Captain announced that, from the depth of water, we must be nearing Wall Street. The Mate was ordered to ring for a messenger-boy and send him after a pilot.
8 P. M.—The Mate boxed the compass and the compass won on points.
The Committee on Jonah have been through the vessel like a pack of ferrets, and report that the Jonah can be no other than Moxie Matzoon, alias Moxie Grandpa. The report of the Committee was accepted and ordered inscribed on the records. A special copy, engrossed on parchment, will be sent to the Hon. Bromo S. Emerson, of Baltimore.
Very dull in the smoking-room to-night. Nothing doing but a game of tiddlywinks on the O. P. side. Roderick Dhuar, a reformed Scotch barkeep, enlivened the hours by playing “Comin’ Through the Rye,” with variations, on the cash register. When he finished he found he owed the Steward $22.30. He gave his I O U.
Shortly after midnight the lookout reported a strange light on the port bow. It turned out to be an electric advertisement, reading,
WHEN ALL IN AND SPEECHLESS, MAKE SIGNS FOR BRICKTOP RYE
At this touch of the real thing, the Lithia’s passengers perked up considerably, and the yell that greeted the sign sounded like a dog being run over by a Mercedes.