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Walter E. Traprock - The Cruise of the Kawa
I have looked them all over carefully (the writers, I mean), and find them divided into two categories,
those who take their wives along as a guarantee of virtue, or those who are by nature Galahads, Parsifals
and St. Anthonys. This latter group is to me particularly trying. They revel in descriptions of desirous
damsels with burning eyes who crave companionship, but when an artfully devised encounter throws one
of these passionate persons across the path of the man behind the pen, does he falter or swerve or make a
misstep? Never. Right there is where the blood of the Galahads tells. Supremely he rises above
temptation! Gracefully he sidesteps! Innocently he falls asleep!
I don't believe a word of it. I think it's just a case of literary men sticking together.
Two days after the Grand Banquet described in the last chapter, Whinney, Swank and I awoke with a
sigh of simultaneous satisfaction, completely rested and restored. Ten minutes later we were engaged in a
brisk debate in which the question before the house was, stated boldly, Should we or should we not "go
native?" In other words, should we hold ourselves aloof, live contrary to the customs of the country and
mortally offend our hosts, - to say nothing of our hostesses, - or should we fulfil our destinies, take unto
ourselves island brides and eat our equatorial fruit, core and all?
For the purpose of discussion Whinney was designated to uphold the negative, and for an hour we argued
the matter pro and con. Whinney advanced a number of arguments, the difference in our nationalities,
our standing in our home communities (which I thought an especially weak point), our lack of a common
language, and several other trivial objections, all of which Swank and I demolished until Whinney got
peevish and insisted that he and I change sides.
I spoke very seriously of the lack of precedent for the step which we were considering and of what my
people in Derby, Conn., would say when they learned that a Traprock had married a Filbert. Swank
replied with some heat that he didn't believe that anything could be said in Derby that hadn't been said
already and Whinney was much more eloquent on the affirmative than he had been on the negative.
Finally when I thought we had talked enough I said -
"Well, gentlemen, are you ready for a ballot?"
"We are," said Swank and Whinney.
"Remember," I warned, "The green nuts are for the affirmative, - the black ones for the negative. Secret
ballots, of course."
Wrapping our votes in metani leaves we dropped them in the ballot shell. Whinney was teller. It
was an anxious moment until he looked up and said with a hysterical quiver in his voice:
"Unanimously green."
"Let's go!" shouted Swank, but I stopped him.
"Hold on," I said. "Triplett is in on this. We agreed that it must be unanimous."
My companions' faces lengthened like barrel-staves.
"Damn," muttered Whinney. "I hadn't thought of him."
You can imagine our disgust when we interviewed the Captain.
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