Трое в лодке, не считая собаки / Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog). Джером Клапка Джером

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that I feel I know more about than any other person.

      I started the packing. It seemed a longer job than I had thought; but I got the bag finished at last, and I sat on it.

      “Aren’t you going to put the boots in?” said Harris.

      And I looked round, and found I had forgotten them. I opened the bag and packed the boots in; and then, just as I was going to close it, a horrible idea occurred to me. Had I packed my tooth-brush?

      My tooth-brush is a terrible thing, it makes my life a misery. While sleeping, I dream that I haven’t packed it, and wake up, and get out of bed and hunt for it. And, in the morning, I pack it before I have used it, and have to unpack again to get it. And then I repack and forget it, and I have to carry it to the railway station, wrapped up in my pocket handkerchief.

      Of course, I could not find it. I took the things out of the suitcase. Of course, I found George’s and Harris’s eighteen times over, but I couldn’t find my own. Then I found it inside a boot. I repacked once more.

      When I had finished, George asked if the soap was in. I said I didn’t care whether the soap was in or whether it wasn’t. But I found that I had packed my tobacco-pouch in it, and had to reopen it. Harris said that he and George had better do the rest; and I agreed and sat down.

      They began. I made no comment; I only watched. They started with breaking a cup. That was the first thing they did. Then Harris packed the strawberry jam on top of a tomato and squashed it, and they had to pick out[36] the tomato with a teaspoon.

      And then it was George’s turn, and he trod on the butter. I didn’t say anything, but I sat on the edge of the table and watched them. It irritated them. I felt that. It made them nervous and excited, and they stepped on things, and put things behind them, and then couldn’t find them when they wanted them. They packed the pies at the bottom, and put heavy things on top, and smashed the pies in.

      They upset salt over everything. But the butter! They tried to put it in the kettle. It wouldn’t go in, and what was in wouldn’t come out. They scraped it out at last,[37] and put it down on a chair, and Harris sat on it, and it stuck to him, and they went looking for it all over the room.

      “I put it down on that chair,” said George, staring at the empty seat.

      “So mysterious!” said Harris.

      Then George got round at the back of Harris and saw it.

      “Here it is all the time,” he exclaimed, indignantly.

      And they got it off,[38] and packed it in the tea-pot.

      Montmorency came and sat down on things, just when they were wanted to be packed; and he was sure that Harris or George wanted to touch his cold, damp nose. He put his leg into the jam, and he fought the teaspoons, and he pretended that the lemons were rats, and killed three of them.

      Harris said I encouraged him. I didn’t encourage him. A dog like that doesn’t want any encouragement.

      The packing was done at 12.50; and Harris said he hoped nothing would be found broken. George said that if anything was broken it was broken. He also said he was ready for bed. We were all ready for bed. We went upstairs.

      Chapter V

      It was Mrs. Poppets that woke me up next morning.

      She said:

      “Do you know that it’s nearly nine o’clock, sir?”

      “Nine o’ what?” I cried.

      “Nine o’clock,” she replied, through the keyhole.

      I woke Harris, and told him. He said:

      “I thought you wanted to get up at six?”

      “So I did,” I answered; “why didn’t you wake me?”

      “How could I wake you, when you didn’t wake me?” he retorted.

      I saw George. He was still sleeping – the man who had wanted to know what time he should wake us – on his back, with his mouth wide open. I shouted in his ear, and he awoke.

      “What’s the matter?” he asked, sitting up.

      “Get up!” roared Harris. “It’s quarter to ten.”

      “What!” he shrieked, jumping out of bed into the bath.

      We finished dressing, and we remembered that we had packed the tooth-brushes and the brush and comb, and we had to go downstairs, and take them out of the bag.

      We went downstairs to breakfast. Montmorency had invited two other dogs to come and see him off,[39] and they were sitting on the doorstep.

      It was very bright and sunny on that morning. Harris and I brought our luggage to the doorstep, and began to wait for a cab.

      Our luggage was rather big. There was a huge suitcase and the small hand-bag, and the two hampers, and a large roll of rugs, and some four or five overcoats and mackintoshes, and a few umbrellas, and then there was a melon in a bag, and a couple of pounds of grapes in another bag, and a Japanese paper umbrella, and a frying-pan.

      Quite a small crowd had collected, and people were asking each other what was the matter. One party (the young and giddy portion of the crowd) thought that it was a wedding, and pointed out Harris as the bridegroom; while the elder and more thoughtful party said that it was a funeral, and that I was probably the corpse’s brother.

      At last, an empty cab came, and packing ourselves and our things into it, we drove away amidst the cheers of the crowd.

      We got to Waterloo[40] at eleven, and asked where the eleven-five started from.[41] Of course nobody knew; nobody at Waterloo ever knows where a train is going to start from, or where a train when it starts is going to, or anything about it. The porter who took our things thought it would go from number two platform, while another porter, with whom he discussed the question, had heard a rumour that it would go from number one.

      We went upstairs, and asked the traffic superintendent, and he told us that he had just met a man, who said he had seen it at number three platform. We went to number three platform. We saw the engine-driver, and asked him if he was going to Kingston. He said he couldn’t say for certain of course, but that he rather thought he was. We gave him half-a-crown, and begged him to be the 11.5 for Kingston.

      “Nobody will ever know,” we said, “what you are, or where you’re going. You know the way, so go to Kingston.”

      “Well, I don’t know, gentlemen,” replied the noble fellow, “but I’ll do it. Give me the halfcrown.”

      Thus we got to Kingston.

      We learnt, afterwards, that they had spent hours at Waterloo, looking for the train we had come by, and nobody knew what had become of it.

      Our boat was waiting for us at Kingston just below bridge.

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