George said that in that case we must take a rug each, a lamp, some soap, a brush and comb (between us), a tooth-brush (each), a basin, some tooth-powder, some shaving tackle (sounds like a French exercise, doesn’t it?); and a couple of big towels for bathing. I notice that people always make gigantic arrangements for bathing when they are going anywhere near the water, but that they don’t bathe much when they are there.
It is the same when you go to the sea-side. I always determine – when thinking over the matter in London – that I’ll get up early every morning, and go and have a dip before breakfast, and I religiously pack up a pair of drawers and a bath towel. I always get red bathing drawers. I rather fancy myself in red drawers. They suit my complexion so. But when I get to the sea I don’t feel somehow that I want that early morning bathe nearly so much as I did when I was in town.
On the contrary, I feel more that I want to stop in bed till the last moment, and then come down and have my breakfast. Once or twice virtue has triumphed, and I have got out at six and halfdressed myself, and have taken my drawers and towel, and stumbled dismally off. But I haven’t enjoyed it. They seem to keep a specially cutting east wind, waiting for me, when I go to bathe in the early morning; and they pick out all the three-cornered stones, and put them on the top, and they sharpen up the rocks and cover the points over with a bit of sand so that I can’t see them, and they take the sea and put it two miles out, so that I have to huddle myself up in my arms and hop, shivering, through six inches of water. And when I do get to the sea, it is rough and quite insulting.
One huge wave catches me up and chucks me in a sitting posture, as hard as ever it can, down on to a rock which has been put there for me. And, before I’ve said “Oh! Ugh!” and found out what has gone, the wave comes back and carries me out to midocean. I begin to strike out frantically for the shore, and wonder if I shall ever see home and friends again, and wish I’d been kinder to my little sister when a boy (when I was a boy, I mean). Just when I have given up all hope, a wave retires and leaves me sprawling like a star-fish on the sand, and I get up and look back and find that I’ve been swimming for my life in two feet of water. I hop back and dress, and crawl home, where I have to pretend I liked it.
In the present instance, we all talked as if we were going to have a long swim every morning. George said it was so pleasant to wake up in the boat in the fresh morning, and plunge into the limpid river. Harris said there was nothing like a swim before breakfast to give you an appetite. He said it always gave him an appetite. George said that if it was going to make Harris eat more than Harris ordinarily ate, then he should protest against Harris having a bath at all.
He said there would be quite enough hard work in towing sufficient food for Harris up against stream, as it was.
I urged upon George, however, how much pleasanter it would be to have Harris clean and fresh about the boat, even if we did have to take a few more hundred-weight of provisions; and he got to see it in my light, and withdrew his opposition to Harris’s bath.
Agreed, finally, that we should take three bath towels, so as not to keep each other waiting.
For clothes, George said two suits of flannel would be sufficient, as we could wash them ourselves, in the river, when they got dirty. We asked him if he had ever tried washing flannels in the river, and he replied: “No, not exactly himself like; but he knew some fellows who had, and it was easy enough;” and Harris and I were weak enough to fancy he knew what he was talking about, and that three respectable young men, without position or influence, and with no experience in washing, could really clean their own shirts and trousers in the river Thames with a bit of soap.
We were to learn in the days to come, when it was too late, that George was a miserable impostor who could evidently have known nothing whatever about the matter. If you had seen these clothes after – but, as the shilling shockers say, we anticipate.
George impressed upon us to take a change of underthings and plenty of socks, in case we got upset and wanted a change; also plenty of handkerchiefs, as they would do to wipe things, and a pair of leather boots as well as our boating shoes, as we should want them if we got upset.
Розділ третій
Усе вирішено. Гаррісів метод роботи. Як літній сімейний чоловік вішає картину. Джордж висловлює розумне зауваження. Принади ранкового купання. Запаси на той випадок, якщо ми перекинемось.
Отже, наступного вечора ми зібралися знову, щоб обговорити все до кінця. Гарріс сказав:
– Ну, насамперед треба вирішити, що нам брати в дорогу. Дж.2, ти візьми аркуш паперу, записуватимеш, а ти, Джордже, принеси прейскурант продуктової крамниці, а мені хто-небудь дайте олівця, і я складу вам список.
Це типова Гаррісова манера: він завжди готовий узяти всякий тягар на свої плечі, а потім перекласти на чужі.
Цим він завжди нагадує мені мого покійного дядька Поджера. Ви зроду не бачили такої метушні в домі, як бувала тоді, коли дядечко Поджер брався зробити якесь діло. От, скажімо, принесли від столяра вставлену в раму картину й поставили у їдальні; треба її десь повісити. Тітуся Поджер питає в дядька, що робити з картиною, і дядько відповідає:
– Полиште це діло на мене. Ніхто про неї не думайте і не турбуйтеся. Я сам усе зроблю.
Тоді скидає піджак і береться до діла. Насамперед посилає покоївку купити на півшилінга цвяхів, тоді котрогось із хлопців навздогін за нею – сказати, яких завбільшки; і так, почавши із цього, помалу сколотить і запряже в роботу всіх у домі.
– Принеси-но молоток, Віллі! – гукає він. – А ти, Томе, лінійку. І ще мені треба драбинки, і табуретку теж принесіть! Ти, Джиме, збігай до містера Гоглза й скажи йому: «Тато кланяється й питає, чи вже полегшало вам із ногою. І чи не позичите ви йому ватерпас?» Ти, Маріє,