Three Men in a Boat - Jerome K. Jerome [99]
We attracted a good deal of attention at the Alhambra. On our presenting ourselves at the pay-box we were gruffly directed to go round to Castle Street, and were informed that we were half an hour behind our time.
We convinced the man, with some difficulty, that we were not ‘the world-renowned contortionists from the Himalaya Mountains’, and he took our money and let us pass.
Inside we were a still greater success. Our fine bronzed countenances and picturesque clothes were followed round the place with admiring gaze. We were the cynosure of every eye.
It was a proud moment for us all.
We adjourned soon after the first ballet, and wended our way back to the restaurant, where supper was already awaiting us.
I must confess to enjoying that supper. For about ten days we seemed to have been living, more or less, on nothing but cold meat, cake, and bread and jam. It had been a simple, a nutritious diet; but there had been nothing exciting about it, and the odour of Burgundy, and the smell of French sauces, and the sight of clean napkins and long loaves, knocked as a very welcome visitor at the door of our inner man.
We pegged and quaffed away in silence for a while, until the time came when, instead of sitting bolt upright, and grasping the knife and fork firmly, we leant back in our chairs and worked slowly and carelessly – when we stretched out our legs beneath the table, let our napkins fall, unheeded, to the floor, and found time to more critically examine the smoky ceiling than we had hitherto been able to do – when we rested our glasses at arm’s length upon the table, and felt good, and thoughtful, and forgiving.
Then Harris, who was sitting next to the window, drew aside the curtain and looked out upon the street.
It glistened darkly in the wet, the dim lamps flickered with each gust, the rain splashed steadily into the puddles and trickled down the water-spouts into the running gutters. A few soaked wayfarers hurried past, crouching beneath their dripping umbrellas, the women holding up their skirts.
‘Well,’ said Harris, reaching his hand out for his glass, ‘we have had a pleasant trip, and my hearty thanks for it to old Father Thames – but I think we did well to chuck it when we did. Here’s to Three Men well out of a Boat!’
And Montmorency, standing on his hind legs, before the window, peering out into the night, gave a short bark of decided concurrence with the toast.
* Or rather were. The Conservancy1 of late seems to have constituted itself into a society for the employment of idiots. A good many of the new lock-keepers, especially in the more crowded portions of the river, are excitable, nervous old men quite unfitted for their post.
* A capital little out-of-the-way restaurant in the neighbourhood of –, where you can get one of the best-cooked and cheapest little French dinners or suppers that I know of, with an excellent bottle of Beaune for three-and-six; and which I am not going to be idiot enough to advertise.
Notes
I am very grateful to my daughter Jemima for her help in compiling these notes.
THREE MEN IN A BOAT
Chapter 1
1. (p. 6) Referee: weekly sporting paper, first published in 1877.
Chapter 2
1. (p. 10) patriarchal: the biblical patriarchs included Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.
Chapter 3
1. (p. 22) shilling shocker: short, popular novel, often of a sensational nature. Arrowsmith originally wanted to publish Three Men in a Boat at a shilling (5p), but Jerome insisted on its being priced at 3s 6d (17½p), then the alternative ‘going rate’ for new novels.
Chapter 4
1. (p. 25) half-a-crown’s worth: a crown was worth five shillings (25p), and there were four crowns to the pound; half-a-crown was worth 12½p.
2. (p. 26) sovereign: gold coin of the same value as the pound.
3. (p. 27) guineas: a guinea was worth £1.05: smart and expensive items