Miss Emily Brittle Sails for India
?O! how shall I picture, in delicate strain,
The scene which ensued when I first crossed the main;
Or, how shall my muse in clean numbers bewail,
My early hard lot, when, reclined o'er a pail,
I was racked by sea-sickness and pains in my head,
Which gave me such torture I wished myself dead!
Forgive the chaste nymph should she wish to conceal
All the risings and swimmings too often I feel;
For whenever it happens the weather's not mild,
I'm as sick and as squeamish as Jenny with child.
You have seen bales of goods and mercantile wares
Raised by pulleys to windows up two pair of stairs;
So stuck in a chair, made on purpose for this,
Sailors hoist upon deck every India-bound miss:
When poised in the air, I happened to show
Too much of my legs to the boat's crew below,
Who, laughing, occasioned the blush of distress.
Indeed, dear Mama, I am obliged to confess,
That indecency so much on ship-board prevailed,
I scarce heard aught else from the moment I sailed.
?The noise in the ship, from every quarter,
Almost split the brain of your poor little daughter:
Twice a week 'twas the custom the drums loud to rattle,
As a signal below to prepare for a battle.
The sailors on deck were for ever a-brawling,
The ladies below in piano were squalling;
The bulkheads of cabins were constantly creaking,
In concert with pigs, who as often were squeaking;
Such a clatter above from the chick to the goose,
I thought the livestock on the poop had broke loose;
Dogs, puppies and monkeys of ev'ry degree,
Howled peals of loud discord in harsh symphony,
Whilst near to my cabin a sad noisy brute
Most cruelly tortured a poor German flute.
Another, a sprightly amusement to find,
A broken bad fiddle with three strings would grind;
And to add to discordance, our third mate Tarpawl
Some vulgar low tune would be certain to bawl.
But to picture the whole I am really unable,
'Twas worse than the noise at the building of Babel;
I declare my poor ears were so sadly distressed
That for many a week I ne'er got any rest. . . .
?It was often the case on a rough squally day,
At dinner our ship on her beam-ends would lay;
Then tables and chairs on the floor all would jumble,
Knives, dishes and bottles upon us would tumble:
As late, when a roll brought us all to the floor,
Whilst the ladies were screaming, the gentlemen swore,
Our Purser, as big as a bullock at least,
Lay on poor little me, like an over-fed beast.
Not many weeks since, I had only to scoop
From my lap the contents of a tureen of soup;
And when with clean clothes I again had sat down,
A vile leg of mutton fell right on my gown.
Sometimes I was soiled from my head to my toe
With nasty pork chops, or a greasy pilau.
Full many a glass of good wine, I may say,
By a violent toss was thrown down the wrong way;
And, as on board ship we have no one to scrub,
As for three months at least there's no thumping the tub,
So I think it but proper that delicate women
Should lay in a plentiful stock of clean linen.
?Whenever I walk on the deck, I am sure
To be shocked by such language as none can endure:
Such scolding! such roaring! such blasting of eyes!
You'd think that the crew in rebellion would rise!
. . . . . . . .
?Scarce the cloth is removed but the gentlemen go
To discuss a few bottles of Stainforth and Co.
And from dinner sometimes to the hour of nine,
They get drunk and roar catches to pass away time.
And often, in order to show their politeness,
With vile shocking songs will be certain to fright'n us;
Such songs! as to you I can never explain,
For the lowest of women would blush at their strain:
The rude Bachanalians 'twould greatly amuse
My virgin young innocence oft to confuse;
For whenever to tipple below they thought fit,
Loud obscenity passed round their table for wit.
At first with fine cotton I stopped up each ear
That I might not their impudent ribaldry hear;
But I found 'twas in vain, as the words would get in
Through those parts where the cotton would chance to be thin:
And as in the cabin which lay next to mine,
In the passage they drank out twelve chests of red wine,
So of that kind of knowledge I've got a great store,
Of which I had scarce any notion before:
?Another diversion the young men would prize,
'Twas in seeing us all from our pigeon-holes rise;
With them 'tis a proof of politeness, they think,
The ladies' perfections in bumpers to drink;
For often they boast they have had a full view
Of Prim and Flirtetta, myself and Miss Prue.
But what man of good breeding will offer to peep
At a group of fine girls as they lay all asleep?
Since deeming her charms are from all eyes debarred,
The most delicate maid is at times off her guard;
And they who presume this advantage to take
All pretension to manners must surely forsake.
In our ship 'twas one scene, on my word, I may say,
Of boring and stopping on both sides all day:
If we filled up one hole, 'twas the same as before,
With their gimlets another they'd presently bore.
The ship's carpenter swore he was worn of his legs
By constantly running to fill them with pegs:
And when to repel them we found 'twas in vain,
We politely entreated they'd ne'er peep again;
But the vandals still forced us at night to lie down
With a petticoat on, and a morning bed-gown;
If we failed to wear these, they were sure to look through
To see if our shapes they uncovered could view.
Such, such are the scenes which arise to torment her,
Who ploughs foaming billows in search of adventure!
?O! how shall I picture, in delicate strain,
The scene which ensued when I first crossed the main;
Or, how shall my muse in clean numbers bewail,
My early hard lot, when, reclined o'er a pail,
I was racked by sea-sickness and pains in my head,
Which gave me such torture I wished myself dead!
Forgive the chaste nymph should she wish to conceal
All the risings and swimmings too often I feel;
For whenever it happens the weather's not mild,
I'm as sick and as squeamish as Jenny with child.
You have seen bales of goods and mercantile wares
Raised by pulleys to windows up two pair of stairs;
So stuck in a chair, made on purpose for this,
Sailors hoist upon deck every India-bound miss:
When poised in the air, I happened to show
Too much of my legs to the boat's crew below,
Who, laughing, occasioned the blush of distress.
Indeed, dear Mama, I am obliged to confess,
That indecency so much on ship-board prevailed,
I scarce heard aught else from the moment I sailed.
?The noise in the ship, from every quarter,
Almost split the brain of your poor little daughter:
Twice a week 'twas the custom the drums loud to rattle,
As a signal below to prepare for a battle.
The sailors on deck were for ever a-brawling,
The ladies below in piano were squalling;
The bulkheads of cabins were constantly creaking,
In concert with pigs, who as often were squeaking;
Such a clatter above from the chick to the goose,
I thought the livestock on the poop had broke loose;
Dogs, puppies and monkeys of ev'ry degree,
Howled peals of loud discord in harsh symphony,
Whilst near to my cabin a sad noisy brute
Most cruelly tortured a poor German flute.
Another, a sprightly amusement to find,
A broken bad fiddle with three strings would grind;
And to add to discordance, our third mate Tarpawl
Some vulgar low tune would be certain to bawl.
But to picture the whole I am really unable,
'Twas worse than the noise at the building of Babel;
I declare my poor ears were so sadly distressed
That for many a week I ne'er got any rest. . . .
?It was often the case on a rough squally day,
At dinner our ship on her beam-ends would lay;
Then tables and chairs on the floor all would jumble,
Knives, dishes and bottles upon us would tumble:
As late, when a roll brought us all to the floor,
Whilst the ladies were screaming, the gentlemen swore,
Our Purser, as big as a bullock at least,
Lay on poor little me, like an over-fed beast.
Not many weeks since, I had only to scoop
From my lap the contents of a tureen of soup;
And when with clean clothes I again had sat down,
A vile leg of mutton fell right on my gown.
Sometimes I was soiled from my head to my toe
With nasty pork chops, or a greasy pilau.
Full many a glass of good wine, I may say,
By a violent toss was thrown down the wrong way;
And, as on board ship we have no one to scrub,
As for three months at least there's no thumping the tub,
So I think it but proper that delicate women
Should lay in a plentiful stock of clean linen.
?Whenever I walk on the deck, I am sure
To be shocked by such language as none can endure:
Such scolding! such roaring! such blasting of eyes!
You'd think that the crew in rebellion would rise!
. . . . . . . .
?Scarce the cloth is removed but the gentlemen go
To discuss a few bottles of Stainforth and Co.
And from dinner sometimes to the hour of nine,
They get drunk and roar catches to pass away time.
And often, in order to show their politeness,
With vile shocking songs will be certain to fright'n us;
Such songs! as to you I can never explain,
For the lowest of women would blush at their strain:
The rude Bachanalians 'twould greatly amuse
My virgin young innocence oft to confuse;
For whenever to tipple below they thought fit,
Loud obscenity passed round their table for wit.
At first with fine cotton I stopped up each ear
That I might not their impudent ribaldry hear;
But I found 'twas in vain, as the words would get in
Through those parts where the cotton would chance to be thin:
And as in the cabin which lay next to mine,
In the passage they drank out twelve chests of red wine,
So of that kind of knowledge I've got a great store,
Of which I had scarce any notion before:
?Another diversion the young men would prize,
'Twas in seeing us all from our pigeon-holes rise;
With them 'tis a proof of politeness, they think,
The ladies' perfections in bumpers to drink;
For often they boast they have had a full view
Of Prim and Flirtetta, myself and Miss Prue.
But what man of good breeding will offer to peep
At a group of fine girls as they lay all asleep?
Since deeming her charms are from all eyes debarred,
The most delicate maid is at times off her guard;
And they who presume this advantage to take
All pretension to manners must surely forsake.
In our ship 'twas one scene, on my word, I may say,
Of boring and stopping on both sides all day:
If we filled up one hole, 'twas the same as before,
With their gimlets another they'd presently bore.
The ship's carpenter swore he was worn of his legs
By constantly running to fill them with pegs:
And when to repel them we found 'twas in vain,
We politely entreated they'd ne'er peep again;
But the vandals still forced us at night to lie down
With a petticoat on, and a morning bed-gown;
If we failed to wear these, they were sure to look through
To see if our shapes they uncovered could view.
Such, such are the scenes which arise to torment her,
Who ploughs foaming billows in search of adventure!