The Three-Decker: Difference between revisions

1894 "The three-volume novel is extinct."

Full thirty foot she towered from waterline to rail. It took a watch to steer her, and a week to shorten sail; But, spite all modern notions, I've found her first and best -- [[Escapism|The only certain packet for the Islands of the Blest.]]

Fair held the breeze behind us -- 'twas warm with lovers' prayers, We'd [[MacGuffin|stolen wills]] for ballast and a crew of missing heirs. [[Mysterious Past|They shipped as Able Bastards]] [[Suddenly-Suitable Suitor|till]] [[Secret Legacy|the Wicked Nurse confessed,]] And they worked the old three-decker to the Islands of the Blest.

By ways no gaze could follow, a course unspoiled of Cook, Per Fancy, fleetest in man, our titled berths we took With maids of [[Beauty Equals Goodness|matchless beauty]] and [[Moses in the Bulrushes|parentage unguessed]], And [[Good Shepherd|a Church of England parson]] for the Islands of the Blest.

We asked no social questions -- we pumped no hidden shame -- [[Out Giving Birth Back in Two Minutes|We never talked obstetrics when the Little Stranger came:]] We left the Lord in Heaven, we left the fiends in Hell. We weren't exactly Yussufs, but -- Zuleika didn't tell.

[[Wish Fulfillment|No moral doubts assailed us, so when the port we neared]], [[Laser-Guided Karma|The villain had his flogging at the gangway]], and [[Happy Ending|we cheered]]. 'Twas fiddle in the foc's'le -- 'twas garlands on the mast, For [[They Do|every one was married]], and I went at shore at last.

I left 'em all in [[First Kiss|couples a-kissing]] on the decks. I left [[Happily Married|the lovers loving]] and [[Parental Marriage Veto|parents signing cheques]]. In endless English comfort, by [[Arcadia|county-folk]] caressed, I left the old three-decker at the Islands of the Blest! . . .

That route is barred to steamers: you'll never lift again [[Ghibli Hills|Our purple-painted headlands]] or [[Big Fancy Castle|the lordly keeps of Spain]]. They're just beyond your skyline, howe'er so far you cruise, In a ram-you-damn-you liner with a brace of bucking screws.

Swing round your aching searchlight -- 'twill show no haven's peace. [[True Art Is Angsty|Ay, blow your shrieking sirens at the deaf, grey-bearded seas!]] [[Expectation Lowerer|Boom out the dripping oil-bags to skin the deep's unrest --]] And you aren't one knot the nearer to the Islands of the Blest.

[[Author Filibuster|But when you're threshing, crippled, with broken bridge and rail,]] [[Filibuster Freefall|At a drogue of dead convictions to hold you head to gale,]] Calm as the Flying Dutchman, from truck to taffrail dressed, You'll see the old three-decker for the Islands of the Blest.

You'll see her tiering canvas in sheeted silver spread; You'll hear the long-drawn thunder 'neath her leaping figure-head; While far, so far above you, her tall poop-lanterns shine Unvexed by wind or weather like the candles round a shrine!

Hull down -- hull down and under -- she dwindles to a speck, [[Dances and Balls|With noise of pleasant music and dancing on her deck]]. All's well -- all's well aboard her -- she's left you far behind, With a scent of old-world roses through the fog that ties you blind.

[[Maturity Is Serious Business|Her crews are babes or madmen?]] Her port is all to make? [[Writer on Board|You're manned by Truth and Science]], and [[Author Tract|you steam for steaming's sake?]] Well, tinker up your engines -- you know your business best -- She's taking tired people to the Islands of the Blest!