From The Twainian Volume 7 Number 6 (1948)
LETTER FROM “MARK TWAIN”
NUMBER ONE
(Special Correspondence of the Alta California)
Shipboard Amusements—At Panama Without a Revolution—A Monkey Sharp — From Aspinwall to New York—...
Hartford, Conn.,
August, Recently, 1868
The Proper Time to Sail
Editors Alta: I think the middle of summer must be the pleasantest season of the year to come East by sea. Going down to the Isthmus in the Montana, in the very geographical centre of July, we had smooth water and cool breezes all the time.. We enjoyed life very well. We could not easily have done otherwise, There were a hundred and eighty-five quiet, orderly passengers, and ten or fifteen who were willing to be cheerful. These latter were equally divided into a stag party and a Dorcas Society. The stag party held its court on the after guard, and the Dorcas Society, presided over by a gentleman, amused itself in the little social hall amidships. There was considerable talent on the after guard, and some of our little private entertainments were exceedingly credible. Read one of our programmes — it speaks for itself:
PORT GUARD THEATRE
New Bill, New Scenery, New Cast
Powerful Combination
Dazzling Array of Talent
The management takes pleasure in informing the public that on this evening, July 10, will be presented, for the first time on any ship, the thrilling tragedy of the
COUNTRY SCHOOL EXHIBITION
Programme:
Dominie, Mr. J. L.
Oration—You’d Scarce expect one of my age ... Mr. G. W.
Recitation — The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck, with his Baggage checked for Troy ....._..._..Mr. M.
Duett—Give me Three Grains of Corn, Mother_.__ -Messrs. L. & H.
Composition—The Cow...... “MT.”
Declamation—Patrick Henry on War....................Mr. B. R.
Poem--Mary Had a little Lamb....................... Mr. O. G.
Chorus—old J John Brown had One little Injun.......School
Instrumental Duett—Comb and Jewsharp. Messrs. J. B, & J. T.
Poem—Twinkle, twinkle, little Star.................Mr.. H. M. T.
Recitation—Not a leaf stirred..................... Mr. W. W. J.
Any pupil detected in catching flies or throwing spit-balls at the Dominie during the solemnities will be punished. The making of mud pies during school hours is strictly prohibited. Popguns and potato-quills are barred. No pupil will be allowed to “go out,” unless he shall state what he wants to go out for.
I have seen many theatrical exhibitions, but none that equalled the above. If any of your sea-going friends imagine it is barren of fun, let them get themselves up in boys’ costumes and try it on the quarter-deck some dull night when other amusements are worn out—or in the way of private party performances in town. The hint is worth a good deal of money. We had a spelling, a reading and a geography class, but their performances were too execrable for complimentary mention. The spelling class spelt cow with a K, and the other two classes were not behind it much in ignorance.
When the Pacific voyage drew to a close, a large delegation of the passengers were sent, with a spokesman, to thank Captain Caverly, with all due ceremony but very heartily, for his watchful care of the comfort and well-being of the people on board, and likewise to thank his officers, through him, for their unfailing politeness, patience, and accommodating spirit toward the passengers (when they did not get a cent more for it than if they had never gone beyond the strict line of their official duties to do kindnesses and favors to the strangers within their ship). Was not that a neater and a more graceful thing to do than it would have been to publish one of those tiresome, stupid newspaper cards, signed by unknown people, and filled with cheap flattery of Captain and officers for “efficiency and attention to duty’? We owe no officers a deluge of compliments for being efficient and minding their business—they are paid in cash for all that and we expect it of them; but distinguished urbanity and gentlemanly conduct are rare and precious things on land and sea, and are not to be had for mere wages or estimated by any standard of dollars and cents, and these it is a pleasure to compliment; only these can make a long sea voyage cheerful and comfortable; and these were the subject of our well-meant and well-received speech-making on board the P.M.S.S. Montana at the time I have mentioned.
Captain New Wakeman, Mariner
We found Panama in the same place. It has not changed perceptibly. They had no revolution while we were there. I do not know why, but it is true that there had not been a revolution for as much as two weeks. The very same President was at the head of the Government that was at the head of it a fortnight before. It was very curious. I suppose they have hanged him before this, however. While I was standing in the bar of the Grand Hotel talking with a citizen about Admiral Shubry (who is one of the most enterprising Americans on the Isthmus, and has had a steamer built in New York at a cost of $100,000 for the purpose of bringing live stock down from his ranch for the steamers) I heard a familiar voice holding forth in this wise:
“Monkeys! don’t tell me nothing about monkeys, sir! I know all about ‘em! Didn’t I take the Mary Ann through the Monkey Islands?—snakes as big as a ship's mainmast, sir!—and monkeys!—God bless my soul, sir, just at daylight she fetched up at a dead stand-still, sir!—what do you suppose it was, sir? It was monkeys! Millions of 'em, sir!—banked up as high as the cat-heads, sir! — trying to swim across the channel, sir, and crammed it full! I took my glass to see thirteen mile of monkeys, two mile wide and sixty fathom deep, sir!—counted ninety-seven million of ‘em, and the mate set 'em down, sir—kept tally till his pencils was all used up and his arm was paralyzed, sir! Don't tell me nothing about monkeys, sir—because I've been there—I know all about ’em, sir!”
It is hardly possible, but still there may be people who are so ignorant as not to know that this voice belonged to Captain Ned Wakeman, of the steamship America. Cheerful as ever, as big-hearted as ever, as splendid an old salt as walks the deck of any ship —this is Wakeman. But he is failing under that Panama sun. They have had him lying up for months in charge of a spare ship, and it has been pretty severe on him. They ought to let him go to sea a while, now, and recuperate. He says the sun gets so hot in Panama, sometimes, it is as much as a man can do to tell the truth,
Dissipation of Aspinwall
Aspinwall looked the same as usual —the same combination of negroes, natives, sows, monkeys, parroquets, dirt, jiggers, and groceries in the small shops far up town; the same clusters of steamships in the harbor; the same business stir about the steamship office; the same crowded sidewalk of the main street, and, alas! the same dissipation prevalent. Why will these people persist in drinking? There is no enemy so insidious as intemperance —none that sooner robs us of the esteem of our friends or the respect of the world—none that leads so surely to the destruction of health, good name, and happiness. It is a pregnant subject.
On this side we came up with Captain Gray, and had fine weather all the voyage except the first two days out. Very singularly, all those people who did not get sick in the smooth Pacific, and who had ventured to say, toward the last, that they never did get sea-sick, got a very great deal in that condition during the first two days on this side. Some how, the best of people will lie about sea-sickness when they get a chance. Even our three gentlemen from China—Boyd, Dolan and Captain Simmons—after crossing the entire Pacific, got dreadfully sick on the Atlantic, while God permitted mean men to escape entirely. However, all of us arrived in good condition in New York, and found the superb new steamer we ought to have come up in, the Alaska, just ready to go to sea on her first voyage. She is the largest ship that sails out of New York, and probably the finest, also. Captain Gray commands. All the Chauncey’s officers are transferred to the Alaska.