This is a travesty of honor and justice!!! What is with these brazen lasses?!?!?!
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All at Sea with Jeeves
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Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Besides, I am not a gentleman, and secondly, the bill would ruin my mathematics either.
Madame Berkley's in Hallam Strt. is more affordable (I heard!)!
But apparently, the Ladies brought their own equipment on board, allowing you both Gentlemen to enjoy Madame Berkley"s invention
for free!The discomfort of being on a rolling ship
will soon be forgotten then!
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ShadowWolf
Tribune
A very enjoyable story Wragg. Look forward to more.
Wow! Thus speaks the voice of experience?
At the Dorchester? With me? Shhhhhh Don’t tell Goldman. Our little secret, OS. Ok?
windar
Teller of Tales
I'll have my attorney pay you to keep quiet. That should work, right?
Sounds like an announcement over the PA system at the racetrack. I shouldn’t have bet on Blighty (throwing torn shreds of paper in the air).
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
It should work for Barb and your attorney, but be aware you will not end up sitting in the street with a hat and a scrubby dog!
There are certain niceties that one should respect, I think.
Good lord! By which I mean, of course, good lord!
Too right!
I say, do you suppose this is how that actress felt in that play about the escaped Roman slave girl when she was being chased by those soldier coves? 
Dammit Bertie! I've spilled G&T on my cravat! Blasted aunts and mothers!
They just aren't gentlemen!Blasted aunts and mothers!
Run faster, Bertie. The lifeboats are just down the promenade.They just aren't gentlemen!
3.
Jollyrei and I had the advantage of our youthful vitality which, coupled with our enthusiasm to distance ourselves from the ladies, gave us a distinct head start. However, they did have one unassailable advantage over us.
On a ship, there is nowhere to run to.
After maybe ten minutes of energetic chasing about, Aunt Eulalia and the Lady Deborah had us well and truly cornered on the fo’csle. Other than jumping overboard, an option to which I gave serious consideration as having noticeable advantages over Aunt Eulalia in full flow with a horsewhip, there seemed to be no escape. My mind turned to jelly. Panic set in. There was absolutely no sign of Jeeves. Where was he in my hour of need?
Jollyrei, on the other hand, still had his cerebral apparatus in full working order. A good man in a crisis, is Jollyrei. ‘Presence of Mind,’ I think they call it.
“Quick!” he said, “up here!” And without another word, up the mast he went.
I hadn’t even considered the mast as an option, not being too fond of heights at the best of times, but the ladies started forwards with a roar of fury, and I went up there quicker than the most seasoned sailor that ever sailed the seven seas.
“GET DOWN HERE!!! BERTIE!!! YOU CAN’T STAY UP THERE FOREVER, YOU KNOW!!!!” Aunt Eulalia has a carrying voice, but, as I suspected, she unwittingly confirmed that, game as she was, climbing masts was outside her skill set. A quick glance downward demonstrated that the Dowager and the deck were also not to be parted. Jolly and I seemed to have earned a temporary reprieve.
“Well, hello Gentlemen!” I looked up, startled to discover that Jollyrei and I were not the only lunatics up a mast in the mid-Atlantic. “Are you lost, by any chance? The bar is on deck 5.”
“I know, we just came from there,” panted Jollyrei, assembling himself within a small platform which Jeeves later informed me is called a ‘Crow’s Nest’. It wasn’t really built for three, but somehow I managed to squeeze myself in alongside Jollyrei and a very cheerful seaman who, judging by his accent, hailed from Wales.
“What-ho!” I said. “I’m Wragg, and this is Jollyrei. How do you do?”
“Nicely thank you, Mister Wragg. I am Able Seaman Parry. Call me Ted!” We all shook hands as cordially as if we were meeting in a pub, rather than 150 feet above the rolling North Atlantic Ocean.
“Rather bracing up here, what?” exclaimed Jollyrei. It had been breezy enough down on the deck. Up here I was distinctly worried about being blown off. And the wind cut right through me. The future looked bleak. I could freeze to death up here, or I could face the wrath of Aunt Eulalia below. I agreed with Jollyrei, my teeth chattering.
“I have just the thing here, look you,” said Ted. Reaching inside his greatcoat, he withdrew a bottle of amber fluid. Its label proclaimed itself to be called ‘Seagrams’.
Jollyrei had a good glug, passed the bottle to me, and I did the same. It was quite amazing. I almost considered taking my jacket off. A blissful warmth spread throughout my body and nothing much seemed to matter any more.
“This is good stuff, Parry, Old Bean!” proclaimed Jolly, as the bottle did the rounds. “Where did you get it?”
“One of the passengers gave it to me. American fellow, by the name of ‘Tree’.”
“Theodore H. Tree? The billionaire? Is he aboard?” I was a touch rattled. I’d met this blighter before. He liked crucifying people.
“That’s him. Nice fellow. Have another drink, on him.”
I needed no second bidding. The stuff was like a magic potion. I might as well have been on a night out at the Drones Club, I felt as though I could stay up here with my very good friends Ted and Jolly all day and all night. All was well with the world.
“You’re from Wales, aren’t you, Ted?” Jollyrei knew a Welsh accent when he heard one.
“God’s Own Country,” affirmed Ted, passing the bottle around again.
I was beginning to feel slightly light headed, but then again, that might have just been the effect of being up a mast above the North Atlantic. I had another swig of Seagrams to settle things down a bit.
“What are the Welsh girls like?” asked Jollyrei. I never could understand his fascination with the fairer sex, which seemed to me a branch of the species best avoided – precisely why we were up a mast in the first place.
“They are not to be trifled with.” Ted smiled. “Listen. Three Englishmen married three girls. One married a Scots girl, one married an Irish girl, and one married a Welsh girl. The first one came home from work, but the Scots girl hadn’t cleaned the house or got the tea ready, so he gave her a good thrashing, and the next day he saw an improvement. The second one came home from work, but the Irish girl hadn’t cleaned the house or got the tea ready, so he gave her a good thrashing, and the next day he also saw an improvement. The third one came home from work, but the Welsh girl hadn’t cleaned the house or got the tea ready, so he gave her a good thrashing, but he didn’t see an improvement or anything else the next day, or for several days until the swelling went down around his eyes.”
It wasn’t that funny, looking back, but Jollyrei and I laughed so hard that we were in serious danger of falling out of the dashed Crow’s Nest, or whatever the Dickens it is called.
I had another good gulp of the amber nectar.
“I say, Ped,” I began.
“Ted.” He corrected me.
“Thass what I said. Ped Tarry. Thass what you said your name was, wassn’t it?”
Jollyrei, veteran of many a long night at the Drones, rolled his eyes.
“Anyway, Ped, I wass going to ask yew, why are yew up here all by yourself?”
“I’m on lookout duty.”
“What are you looking out for?” Jollyrei was still able to articulate reasonably well.
“Other ships, and icebergs.”
“What do icebergs look like, Ted?”
“Sort of big, white, floaty things.”
“Anything like that?” Jollyrei pointed at something behind Ted, who whirled around.
“CHRIST!!!” he yelled, and grabbed a voice pipe. “BRIDGE!!!!”
Jollyrei and I had the advantage of our youthful vitality which, coupled with our enthusiasm to distance ourselves from the ladies, gave us a distinct head start. However, they did have one unassailable advantage over us.
On a ship, there is nowhere to run to.
After maybe ten minutes of energetic chasing about, Aunt Eulalia and the Lady Deborah had us well and truly cornered on the fo’csle. Other than jumping overboard, an option to which I gave serious consideration as having noticeable advantages over Aunt Eulalia in full flow with a horsewhip, there seemed to be no escape. My mind turned to jelly. Panic set in. There was absolutely no sign of Jeeves. Where was he in my hour of need?
Jollyrei, on the other hand, still had his cerebral apparatus in full working order. A good man in a crisis, is Jollyrei. ‘Presence of Mind,’ I think they call it.
“Quick!” he said, “up here!” And without another word, up the mast he went.
I hadn’t even considered the mast as an option, not being too fond of heights at the best of times, but the ladies started forwards with a roar of fury, and I went up there quicker than the most seasoned sailor that ever sailed the seven seas.
“GET DOWN HERE!!! BERTIE!!! YOU CAN’T STAY UP THERE FOREVER, YOU KNOW!!!!” Aunt Eulalia has a carrying voice, but, as I suspected, she unwittingly confirmed that, game as she was, climbing masts was outside her skill set. A quick glance downward demonstrated that the Dowager and the deck were also not to be parted. Jolly and I seemed to have earned a temporary reprieve.
“Well, hello Gentlemen!” I looked up, startled to discover that Jollyrei and I were not the only lunatics up a mast in the mid-Atlantic. “Are you lost, by any chance? The bar is on deck 5.”
“I know, we just came from there,” panted Jollyrei, assembling himself within a small platform which Jeeves later informed me is called a ‘Crow’s Nest’. It wasn’t really built for three, but somehow I managed to squeeze myself in alongside Jollyrei and a very cheerful seaman who, judging by his accent, hailed from Wales.
“What-ho!” I said. “I’m Wragg, and this is Jollyrei. How do you do?”
“Nicely thank you, Mister Wragg. I am Able Seaman Parry. Call me Ted!” We all shook hands as cordially as if we were meeting in a pub, rather than 150 feet above the rolling North Atlantic Ocean.
“Rather bracing up here, what?” exclaimed Jollyrei. It had been breezy enough down on the deck. Up here I was distinctly worried about being blown off. And the wind cut right through me. The future looked bleak. I could freeze to death up here, or I could face the wrath of Aunt Eulalia below. I agreed with Jollyrei, my teeth chattering.
“I have just the thing here, look you,” said Ted. Reaching inside his greatcoat, he withdrew a bottle of amber fluid. Its label proclaimed itself to be called ‘Seagrams’.
Jollyrei had a good glug, passed the bottle to me, and I did the same. It was quite amazing. I almost considered taking my jacket off. A blissful warmth spread throughout my body and nothing much seemed to matter any more.
“This is good stuff, Parry, Old Bean!” proclaimed Jolly, as the bottle did the rounds. “Where did you get it?”
“One of the passengers gave it to me. American fellow, by the name of ‘Tree’.”
“Theodore H. Tree? The billionaire? Is he aboard?” I was a touch rattled. I’d met this blighter before. He liked crucifying people.
“That’s him. Nice fellow. Have another drink, on him.”
I needed no second bidding. The stuff was like a magic potion. I might as well have been on a night out at the Drones Club, I felt as though I could stay up here with my very good friends Ted and Jolly all day and all night. All was well with the world.
“You’re from Wales, aren’t you, Ted?” Jollyrei knew a Welsh accent when he heard one.
“God’s Own Country,” affirmed Ted, passing the bottle around again.
I was beginning to feel slightly light headed, but then again, that might have just been the effect of being up a mast above the North Atlantic. I had another swig of Seagrams to settle things down a bit.
“What are the Welsh girls like?” asked Jollyrei. I never could understand his fascination with the fairer sex, which seemed to me a branch of the species best avoided – precisely why we were up a mast in the first place.
“They are not to be trifled with.” Ted smiled. “Listen. Three Englishmen married three girls. One married a Scots girl, one married an Irish girl, and one married a Welsh girl. The first one came home from work, but the Scots girl hadn’t cleaned the house or got the tea ready, so he gave her a good thrashing, and the next day he saw an improvement. The second one came home from work, but the Irish girl hadn’t cleaned the house or got the tea ready, so he gave her a good thrashing, and the next day he also saw an improvement. The third one came home from work, but the Welsh girl hadn’t cleaned the house or got the tea ready, so he gave her a good thrashing, but he didn’t see an improvement or anything else the next day, or for several days until the swelling went down around his eyes.”
It wasn’t that funny, looking back, but Jollyrei and I laughed so hard that we were in serious danger of falling out of the dashed Crow’s Nest, or whatever the Dickens it is called.
I had another good gulp of the amber nectar.
“I say, Ped,” I began.
“Ted.” He corrected me.
“Thass what I said. Ped Tarry. Thass what you said your name was, wassn’t it?”
Jollyrei, veteran of many a long night at the Drones, rolled his eyes.
“Anyway, Ped, I wass going to ask yew, why are yew up here all by yourself?”
“I’m on lookout duty.”
“What are you looking out for?” Jollyrei was still able to articulate reasonably well.
“Other ships, and icebergs.”
“What do icebergs look like, Ted?”
“Sort of big, white, floaty things.”
“Anything like that?” Jollyrei pointed at something behind Ted, who whirled around.
“CHRIST!!!” he yelled, and grabbed a voice pipe. “BRIDGE!!!!”
That depends who is at the helm!Uh oh! Man the lifeboats. And get the ship’s band on deck to play a cheery tune!
To spare Ted from too much embarrassment I ought to point out that is not a proper Ted Parry joke!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Is the SS Cruxton Abbey not unsinkable, then?Uh oh! Man the lifeboats. And get the ship’s band on deck to play a cheery tune!
Anyway, this problem could be solved soon!
