The weather door
of the smoking-room had been left open to the North Atlantic fog, as the big liner rolled and lifted, whistling to
warn the fishing-fleet.
"That
Cheyne boy's the biggest nuisance aboard," said a man in a frieze
overcoat, shutting the door with a bang. "He isn't wanted here. He's too
fresh."
A white-haired
German reached for a sandwich, and grunted between bites: "I know der
breed. Ameriga is full of dot kind. I dell you you should imbort ropes' ends
free under your dariff."
"Pshaw!
There isn't any real harm to him. He's more to be pitied than anything," a
man from New York drawled, as he lay at full length along the cushions under
the wet skylight. "They've dragged him around from hotel to hotel ever
since he was a kid. I was talking to his mother this morning. She's a lovely
lady, but she don't pretend to manage him. He's going to Europe to finish his
education."
"Education
isn't begun yet." This was a Philadelphian, curled up in a corner. "That
boy gets two hundred a month pocket-money, he told me. He isn't sixteen
either."
First class lounge, RMS Olympic, 1912 |
"Railroads,
his father, aind't it?" said the German.
"Yep. That
and mines and lumber and shipping. Built one place at San Diego, the old man
has; another at Los Angeles; owns half a dozen railroads, half the lumber on
the Pacific slope, and lets his wife spend the money," the Philadelphian
went on lazily. "The West don't suit her, she says. She just tracks around
with the boy and her nerves, trying to find out what'll amuse him, I guess.
Florida, Adirondacks, Lakewood, Hot Springs, New York, and round again. He
isn't much more than a second-hand hotel clerk now. When he's finished in
Europe he'll be a holy terror."
"What's the
matter with the old man attending to him personally?" said a voice from
the frieze ulster.
"Old man's
piling up the rocks. 'Don't want to be disturbed, I guess. He'll find out his
error a few years from now. 'Pity, because there's a heap of good in the boy if
you could get at it."
"Mit a
rope's end; mit a rope's end!" growled the German.
Once more the
door banged, and a slight, slim-built boy perhaps fifteen years old, a
half-smoked cigarette hanging from one corner of his mouth, leaned in over the
high footway. His pasty yellow complexion did not show well on a person of his
years, and his look was a mixture of irresolution, bravado, and very cheap
smartness. He was dressed in a cherry-coloured blazer, knickerbockers, red
stockings, and bicycle shoes, with a red flannel cap at the back of the head.
After whistling between his teeth, as he eyed the company, he said in a loud,
high voice: "Say, it's thick outside. You can hear the fish-boats
squawking all around us. Say, wouldn't it be great if we ran down one?"
"Shut the
door, Harvey," said the New Yorker. "Shut the door and stay outside.
You're not wanted here."
"Who'll
stop me?" he answered deliberately. "Did you pay for my passage,
Mister Martin? 'Guess I've as good right here as the next man."
He picked up
some dice from a checker-board and began throwing, right hand against left.
"Say,
gen'elmen, this is deader'n mud. Can't we make a game of poker between
us?"
There was no
answer, and he puffed his cigarette, swung his legs, and drummed on the table
with rather dirty fingers. Then he pulled out a roll of bills as if to count
them.
"How's your
mamma this afternoon?" a man said. "I didn't see her at lunch."
"In her
state-room, I guess. She's 'most always sick on the ocean. I'm going to give
the stewardess fifteen dollars for looking after her. I don't go down more 'n I
can avoid. It makes me feel mysterious to pass that butler's-pantry place. Say,
this is the first time I've been on the ocean."
"Oh, don't
apologise, Harvey."
"Who's
apologising? This is the first time I've crossed the ocean, gen'elmen, and,
except the first day, I haven't been sick one little bit. No, sir!" He
brought down his fist with a triumphant bang, wetted his finger, and went on
counting the bills.
"Oh, you're
a high-grade machine, with the writing in plain sight," the Philadelphian
yawned. "You'll blossom into a credit to your country if you don't take
care."
"I know it.
I'm an American—first, last, and all the time. I'll show 'em that when I strike
Europe. Pif! My cig's out. I can't smoke the truck the steward sells. Any
gen'elman got a real Turkish cig on him?"
The chief
engineer entered for a moment, red, smiling, and wet. "Say, Mac,"
cried Harvey, cheerfully, "how are we hitting it?"
"Vara much
in the ordinary way," was the grave reply. "The young are as polite
as ever to their elders, an' their elders are e'en tryin' to appreciate
it."
A low chuckle
came from a corner. The German opened his cigar-case and handed a skinny black
cigar to Harvey… (by Rudyard Kipling)
Vocabulario
Liner:
un liner es un transatlántico
diseñado para transportar personas de un puerto a otro, por rutas marítimas
regulares de larga distancia, de acuerdo a un horario. Los transatlánticos
también pueden llevar cargas o correo, y algunas veces ser usados con otros
fines (cruceros de placer u hospitales). Algunos de estos transatlánticos
podían ser muy lujosos. ¿Ejemplo? El Titanic.
Encontramos algunas fotos, históricas, muy
interesantes de algunos transatlánticos de principios del siglo XX.
Oral
¿Escuchar Captains
Corageous en internet?
Fuentes
The Project Gutenberg
Wikipedia. The Free Encyclopedia
Inglés en tu empresa. Estamos
en 0387-4249159-155723965. 4400 Salta, Argentina
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