The Dreamers Part 6

A soft yellow haze suffused the state-room, and Findlayson, nervously starting to his feet to see what had caused it, was surprised to find himself confronted by a grinning row of Technicalities ranged in a line upon the sofa under the port, while seated upon his steamer trunk was the Donkey Engine 4-11-44.

"Well, here we are," said the Deck Beam, addressing the Donkey Engine.

"What are we here for?"

"That's it," said the Capstan. "We've left our places at your command.

Now, why?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DONKEY ENGINE CALLS ON FINDLAYSON]

"I wanted you to meet my friend Findlayson," said the Donkey Engine.

"He's a good fellow. Findlayson, let me present you to my a.s.sociates--Mr. Capstan, Mr. Findlayson. And that gentleman over in the corner, Mr. Findlayson, is the Starboard Upper Deck Stringer. Rivet, come over here and meet Mr. Findlayson. The Davits will be here in a minute, and the Centrifugal Bilge Pump will drop in later."

"I'm glad to meet you all," said Findlayson, rather dazed.

"Thought you would be," returned the Donkey Engine. "That's why I asked them to come up."

"Do you mind if I smoke in here?" said the Funnel.

"Not a bit," said Findlayson, solemnly. "Let me offer you a cigar."

The party roared at this.

"He doesn't smoke cigars, Fin, old boy," said the Donkey Engine. "Offer him a ton of coal Perfectos or a basket of kindling Invincibles and he'll take you up. Old Funnel makes a cigarette of a cord of pine logs, you know."

"I should think so much smoking would be bad for your nerves," suggested Findlayson.

"'Ain't got any," said the Funnel. "I'm only a Flue, you know. Every once in a while I do get a sooty feeling inside, but beyond that I don't suffer at all."

"Where's the Keel?" asked the Thrust Block, taking off one of his six collars, which hurt his neck.

"He can't come up to-night," said the Donkey Engine, with a sly wink at Findlayson, who, however, failed to respond. "The Hold is feeling a little rocky, and the Keel's got to stay down and steady him."

Findlayson looked blankly at the Donkey Engine. As an Englishman in a nervously disordered state, he did not seem quite able to appreciate the Donkey Engine's joke. The latter sighed, shook his cylinder a trifle, and began again.

"Hear about the Bow Anchor's row with the Captain?" he asked the Garboard Strake.

"No," replied the Strake. "Wouldn't he bow?"

"He'd bow all right," said the Donkey Engine, "but he wouldn't ank.

Result is he's been put in chains."

"Serves him right," said the Bilge Stringer, filling his pipe with Findlayson's tooth-powder. "Serves him right. He ought to be chucked overboard."

"True," said the Donkey Engine. "An anchor can't be made to ank unless you chuck him overboard."

The company roared at this, but Findlayson never cracked a smile.

"That is very true," he said. "In fact, how could an anchor ank, as you put it, without being lowered into the sea?"

"It's a bad case," observed Bulwark Plate, in a whisper, to the Upper Deck Plank.

"It floors me," said the Plank. "I don't think he'd laugh if his uncle died and left him a million."

"Shut up," said the Donkey Engine. "We've got to do it or bust. Let's try again."

Then he added, aloud,

"Say, Technicalities, did you ever hear that riddle of the Starboard Coal Bunker's?"

The company properly had not.

"Well, the Starboard Coal Bunker got it off at Lady Airshaft's last reception at Binks's s.h.i.+p-yard: 'What's the difference between a man-o'-war going through the Suez Ca.n.a.l under tow of a tug-boat and a boiler with a capacity of 6000 tons of steam loaded to 7000 tons, with no safety-valve, in charge of an engineer who has a certificate from Bellevue Hospital showing that he is a good ambulance-driver, but supports a widowed mother and seven uncles upon no income to speak of, all of which is invested in Spanish fours, bought on a margin of two per cent. in a Wall Street bucket-shop conducted by two professional card-players from Honolulu under indictment at San Francisco for arson?'"

"Tutt!" said the Rudder. "What a chestnut! I was brought up on riddles of that kind. _They can't climb a tree._"

"Nope," said the Donkey Engine. "That's not the answer."

"You don't know it yourself," suggested the Funnel.

"Nope," said the Donkey Engine.

"Well, what the deuce is the answer?" said Findlayson, irritably.

"Give it up--the rest of you?" cried the Donkey Engine.

"We do," they roared in chorus.

"I'm surprised at you," said the Donkey Engine. "It's very simple indeed. The man-o'-war going through the Suez Ca.n.a.l under tow of a tug-boat has a pull--and the other hasn't, don't you know--eh?"

Findlayson scratched his forehead.

"I don't see--" he began.

"There is no reason why you should. You're not feeling well,"

interrupted the Donkey Engine, "but it's a good riddle--eh?"

"Quite so," said Findlayson.

"It's long, anyhow," said the Screw.

"Which we can't say for to-day's run--only 867 miles?" suggested the Donkey Engine, interrogatively.

"It's long enough," growled the Screw.

"It certainly is, if it is reckoned in minutes," retorted the Donkey Engine. "I never knew such a long day."

And so they continued in an honest and technical effort to restore Findlayson. But he wouldn't laugh, and finally the Screw and the Centrifugal Bilge Pump and the Stringers and the other well-meaning Technicalities rose up to leave. Day was approaching, and all were needed at their various posts.