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All at Sea with Jeeves

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Barbaria1

Rebel Leader
Staff member
Joined
Aug 12, 2013
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136,205
Location
a blue state
There's an old song that goes:

Aboard the good ship Venus
You really should have seen us
Our figurehead
Was a whore in bed
And

I suppose I should stick that in my limerick thread also:D
Aboard the good ship Venus
You really should have seen us
Our figurehead
Was Barb in bed

And her nips were deemed tumescentous!
 

Wragg

Chronicler of Crux
Staff member
Joined
Aug 31, 2011
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60,428
Location
Blighty
8.

George Windar was as excellent a host as anyone could wish for. Jollyrei and I had been met at the quayside in New York by his driver and a limousine, we had eaten in the finest restaurants, been to the best clubs, and seen the best shows on Broadway. Nothing was too much trouble for him, and Jollyrei and I were enjoying ourselves hugely.

But by far and away the most wonderful thing about New York, as far as I was concerned, was that the Americans had been sensible enough to build it on dry land. It didn’t sway from side to side, it wasn’t likely to strike any icebergs, and it contained plenty of Aunt-free boltholes.

The surprise arrival of Spike Sharp had done nothing to improve Aunt Eulalia’s mood, nor the Dowager’s. They held Jollyrei and myself fully accountable for their predicament. Strangely, they had lost their appetite for horsewhipping us but nevertheless they had communicated to us in no uncertain terms that, if we expected to see a penny from them in their wills we were sadly mistaken. The Dowager had a huge independent fortune, and Jollyrei was the proud owner of a title and a crumbling castle and not much else, so his gloom was even deeper than mine.

Captain Bob Inder had searched the ship from bow to stern but no trace of Spike Sharp could be found. Jeeves volunteered the possibility that Spike might be in disguise but beyond that the bounder did not lift a finger. Disgraceful. Every time I raised the question he simply changed the subject. Well, two can play that game, and I mentally scratched the South of France from any future Wragg itineraries.

Each morning at breakfast the New York edition of the Crux Chronicle, freshly ironed, was awaiting our attention. Each morning we fully expected to see ‘ARISTOCRAT LADIES IN HORSEWHIPPING SCANDAL!’ or ‘LADY EULALIA CRACKS THE WHIP!” or some such. But each morning even the most thorough search of the newspaper revealed it to be totally devoid of any mention of Eulalias or Deborahs.

On our fourth morning we were so prompt to breakfast that the Chronicle was still warm from the iron. Eagerly I seized it, just pipping Jollyrei to the post. ‘MASS CRUCIFIXION IN NORTHWEST ARKANSAS’ read the headline. ‘100 Girls on 100 Crosses!’ Clearly Tree hadn’t wasted any time after his return to Uncle Sam.

“Only a Giga-billionaire could afford that much premium French timber”, commented Jollyrei, reading over my shoulder, drat him.

Normally such a story would have kept us amused for hours, drinking in every delicious detail, but this time we just skim-read it. We went through every single page as we arranged ourselves around the outside of the pancakes, maple syrup, and bagels that pass for breakfast in this part of the world.

But, once again, no mention of the Honourable Lady Eulalia of the Northern Forest, nor of Deborah, the Dowager Countess of High Groaning. Confused, I retired to my suite, where Jeeves was pressing my collar prior to a visit to the Empire State Building. Windar had said that we needed to check whether or not any giant gorillas might be climbing up it. This seemed a strange reason to visit a skyscraper but the American sense of humour can differ from that of Englishmen. They spell it differently, for a start.

“It’s a rummy thing, Jeeves,” I said, breaking the silence.

“Sir?”

“That reporter chappie.”

“Mr Sharp, sir?”

“That’s the blighter. He, er, he doesn’t seem to have published any stories about my Aunt.”

“Really, sir?”

“Nor has he published any stories about the Dowager.”

“That is most singular, sir.”

“Yes, it is. We’ve been here four days, and not a word. Do you think Spike Sharp might have fallen overboard?”

“The possibility is, I think, a rather remote one, sir. A letter has arrived for you, sir.” See what I mean? Changing the subject. Confound the man!

He passed me a letter on a silver tray. I recognised Aunt Eulalia’s handwriting, and the thing was postmarked from Maine. A kind of Northern Forest in the US, I thought, as I opened it:

Bertie, you wastrel.

I hope you’re hating every minute of your stay in New York.

However I thought it only fair to inform you that you have been restored to my will. Deborah would like you to mention to Algernon that she’s done the same for him.

It has nothing to do with either of you, but everything to do with your man, Jeeves. He is a giant of a man, Bertie. He is your intellectual superior in every way, and has forgotten more about being competent than you will ever know. As far as Deborah and I can see, his one and only lapse of judgement was in agreeing to be employed by a hopeless nincompoop such as yourself.

Yours

Eulalia.

I read the thing over three times. I tried turning it the other way up to see if that helped it make more sense. It didn’t.

“Jeeves!”

“Sir?”

“She’s restored me to her will! And Jollyrei’s in the clear too!”

“That is excellent news, sir. I confess myself delighted for you both.”

“She says that it is thanks to you.”

“Her Ladyship is exceedingly gracious in ascribing her change in fortune to my puny efforts, sir. I am only too pleased if I have been able to be of any assistance.”

“But…..but….but….” I was slowly being transformed into a goldfish.

Jeeves went to a chest of drawers, took something out of a drawer, placed it on the silver tray, and returned to my side. On the tray were several photographs, and a set of negatives.

I gaped at the photographs, utterly speechless. Partly this was due to the effect that any picture of Barb without clothing had on me, but mainly it was due to the spectacular images of Eulalia and Deborah in the midst of their whip-wielding frenzy.

Eventually my power of speech returned. “I say, Jeeves, these pictures are hot stuff, what?”

“Indeed they are, sir. It would have been considerably to the detriment of the Lady Eulalia and the Dowager Countess had they ever been published.”

“You can say that, again, Jeeves! But how did you get them?”

“Mr Spike Sharp, sir, has a small mole on the right side of his nose. The wine waiter who served His Lordship and yourself each evening had an identical mole on the right side of his nose. As I studied the elements of his facial structure I came to realise that he was, in fact, Mr Sharp in disguise. From that point onwards it was a very simple matter of locating his quarters. Then, while he was waiting on you, I was able to go to his cabin, pick the lock, and obtain the photographs and negatives.”

“I should have known! He spilled my wine! To think I was that close to him! Jollyrei will be furious!”

“Indeed he will, sir, but I would anticipate that the news contained in your letter may somewhat ameliorate his mood. I took the liberty of cabling to her Ladyship to inform her that I had the photographs and the negatives in safe custody, and that I was sure that you would ensure that they were safely destroyed if only Countess Deborah and herself reconsidered the terms of their wills.”

In awe, I passed the tray back to Jeeves. “These photographs, Jeeves.”

“Sir?”

“Burn them.”

“Very good, sir.”

“Oh, and Jeeves?”

“Sir?”

“We don’t want to outstay our welcome with Mr Windar, do we? Perhaps you could arrange our passage back to England, and from there, straight to the South of France? We’ll have no more ‘Old Slave’ for a couple of weeks. You have well and truly earned a rest, Jeeves!”

“Thank you, sir. I have the tickets here, sir.”



THE END
 

windar

Teller of Tales
Joined
Apr 3, 2007
Likes
21,248
George Windar was as excellent a host as anyone could wish for. Jollyrei and I had been met at the quayside in New York by his driver and a limousine, we had eaten in the finest restaurants, been to the best clubs, and seen the best shows on Broadway. Nothing was too much trouble for him, and Jollyrei and I were enjoying ourselves hugely.
Only the best for my English friends. I can't say I remember how it is that we knew each other, but I'm not sure it matters. Just remember to look left before crossing the street.:p

we arranged ourselves around the outside of the pancakes, maple syrup, and bagels that pass for breakfast in this part of the world.
It beats the hell out of toast set out on a rack to cool.:confused:
Do you think Spike Sharp might have fallen overboard?”
We can hope.
‘MASS CRUCIFIXION IN NORTHWEST ARKANSAS’ read the headline.
You sure that wasn't The New York Post?


A most entertaining story, Wragg. It was a real pleasure. I'd read it again in a new York minute..
 

Eulalia

Poet Laureate
Staff member
Joined
Jan 1, 2011
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89,580
Location
The Northern Forest
Only landlubbers use this word 'knockers'. Actually, 'fenders' sounds like a more appropriate maritime terminology!:p
A little late, but I think the British nautical term is Bristols (mystified colonials - think Bristol City's.... :p)
“These photographs, Jeeves.”

“Sir?”

“Burn them.”

“Very good, sir.”
Now Wragg is blissfully unaware of course, but Jeeves may have prescient awareness,
that 'burn them' will come to mean 'record them permanently in electronic form,
so that they may be displayed in high-class forums frequented by ladies and gentlemen of taste...'
 

Wragg

Chronicler of Crux
Staff member
Joined
Aug 31, 2011
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60,428
Location
Blighty
I can't say I remember how it is that we knew each other,
Didn't we meet at Lords?

It beats the hell out of toast set out on a rack to cool.:confused:
You haven't lived till you've had one of Jeeves' Full English Breakfasts (capitals mandatory)

A most entertaining story, Wragg. It was a real pleasure. I'd read it again in a new York minute..
And the nearest crucifixion was in Northwest Arkansas! ;)

The Post headline would read NAB ARBOREAL ARKANSAN IN MASS CUTIE CRUX!
I write a story in 8 parts, hoping that it might be vaguely amusing, and Apostate renders me helplessly horizontal with seven words! :meparto:

Now Wragg is blissfully unaware of course, but Jeeves may have prescient awareness,
that 'burn them' will come to mean 'record them permanently in electronic form,
so that they may be displayed in high-class forums frequented by ladies and gentlemen of taste...'
I do hope you are right Aunt Eul
 

Jollyrei

Angelus Mortis
Joined
Apr 27, 2015
Likes
33,599
Location
Great White North
Remarkable, the tumescencing tit.
Excellent point, but Barb seems fixated on the term "knockers" now. Is that our new mot juste? ;):rolleyes:

The Dowager had a huge independent fortune, and Jollyrei was the proud owner of a title and a crumbling castle and not much else, so his gloom was even deeper than mine.
Father (that's the former lordship) was a bounder, but was also quite fond of the current Dowager. He left her the whole packet when he popped off, probably because he kept sending me off to school and forgot I was a going concern.:rolleyes::doh: Makes for a damn touchy lifestyle. :eek:

“Indeed he will, sir, but I would anticipate that the news contained in your letter may somewhat ameliorate his mood. I took the liberty of cabling to her Ladyship to inform her that I had the photographs and the negatives in safe custody, and that I was sure that you would ensure that they were safely destroyed if only Countess Deborah and herself reconsidered the terms of their wills.”
Good man, Jeeves! Saved our bacon, what. I suppose it couldn't hurt for me to pop into Mayfair and visit the Mater with some of Holland's most colourful botanicals flower2;) (that and reacquaint myself with Lady Deb's new parlourmaid). :cool::very_hot::D

Cracking good story, as always, Mr. Wragg! It's always fun to look forward to the mix of laughs, clever turns of phrase, and excitingly pretty girls in various states of compromise.
:clapping::clapping::clapping::borra2:
 

phlebas

PRIMUS POENUS
Joined
Feb 17, 2006
Likes
56,638
Location
Oz
Hsve a little respect please ... I don’t believe “knockers” to be a very polite thing to call them! :confused:
I'm just quoting, Barb, just quoting.
Although truth be told you do have a splendid pair of, um, attributes? Figureheads?
Help me out here ! :eek:

Great speed manips, Madi, they really fit the thread.
Wragg, you do an amazing job of getting the feeling right on these stories. I could almost believe that Wodehouse was still with us :)

Windar, isn’t that term a tad redundant?
Perhaps "rampant" would be better?

Some alternatives immediately found online for that line are :
"sucking a dead man's penis"
"the mast was the captain's penis"
"and a mast of a phallic genus"
"and the mast a rampant penis"