At 7 bells espied a dark Squall approaching from SW. “Up, lads!” I called out. “Up my darlings, briskly, and douse the midforemizzen and furl the afterwanker, or we shall lose them!”
But Fletcher and the other Officers and both Watches said they could not be bothered, inasmuch as they were occupied tattooeing the names of their Otaheite Dianas on each other’s chestes. Had to attend to the sails myself, with only Tom to assist me, who, being dim, is not much use aloft.
If this impertinence persists, I shall have no recourse but to write a Letter of Rebuke in their Fitnesse reports upon our return to England.
Apr. 24. Found another Native wench stowed away. Most tiresome—the fourth so far. This one they were keeping in the larboard line locker, which no doubt accounteth for the great amount of volunteering of late to fetch unneeded halyards, sheets, stays, ratlines, Etc. Gave the men a good lashing with my Tongue and threatened to cancel Friday Night Whist if I found any more Tartes in my line lockers.
Apr. 26. Awoke at 6 bells to a Commotion on deck. Found the men inebriated on taro-root beer and pelting each other with our precious Bread-fruits. To my dismay, the Officers—garishly tattooed with the most Appalling and Lewd sentiments—were taking part in this Botanicide.
I had no choice but to lash them all vigourously with my Tongue. Then ordered half grog rations until Supper. Set the Officers to conjugate Irregular Latin verbs in chalk upon their navigation slates, occasioning much grumbling.
Apr. 27. Feeling confident that Order and good Naval discipline has been restored. The men go about their business, playing Bezique and Ten-o-Whiskers, napping and smoking and fishing and holding Spitting contests.
Apr. 28. Wanting to reward this good Behaviour, at 7 bells I announced that we would heave to—which maneuver I of course offered to undertake myself—in order that we might have a nice refreshing swim before our noon-meal of Dolphin and Sharke ceviche in a lyme-cilantroe Reduction with julienned mangoes and mashed wasabi taro. (My own Recipe.)
But instead of leading the men in a chorus of “Huzzah for our Captain Bligh!” Mr. Christian became Ballistick, hopping up and down like a French who has just been denied a third helping of foie gras pâté. Whereat the amok Ajax unsheathed his boarding-sword and began screeching at me, “I am in hell! In hell, sir!”
I replied, with such composure as I was able to muster, “Well, I am most grieved to hear it, sir,” putting an hundredweight of pig-iron into the terminal word. “But perhaps a nice swim would cool you off.”
Whereatupon he renewed his Remonstrations, bellowing at me a litany of complaints:—my “insensitivity” in having rebuked the men for spreading the French Pox among the Otaheite Innocents;—making them eat Sour Kraute against the Scurvy;—making them dance at night to circulate the Blood;—sending them aloft in high winds to take in Sail;—making them attend prayer-service upon the Sabbath;—my “obsession” with keeping the decks clean, Etc, Etc. Moses at his Expostulations before Pharaoh was less strident.
“Enow!” I finally cried. “I have heard quite enow, Mister Christian! And now if you will be so kind as to order the boat lowered, and to provide me with a crust of bread and a cask of fresh water, a melon or two if you can spare them from your food-fighting, my quadrant and chartes, I shall no longer trouble you with my presence aboard this vessel, sir. For it is my plain, humble, and franke conclusion that you have Issues with Male Authority, and into the bargain are disposed to violent Humours, careening from Phlegm to Bile in the space of time it takes to furl the midspizzlejidget. So with no further Adieu, I wish you, sir, and your men—for so they now are, along with the Bread-fruit—a good day!”
A number of men expressed desire to accompany me in the Boat. Was most Touched.
June 12. Batavia. During our 48-day Voyage, amidst disagreeable conditions, I was able to Process my feelings toward Fletcher, assuaged by the diversion of charting the coast of New Holland (rather accurately), also with keeping my lads alive, by means of such loathsome victuals as we were able to procure—gull-feet, barnacles, jellyfish, booby eggs, sea-weedes, Etc. By the time we fetched Timor, I had exhausted my anger at him and was resolved to say nothing against him in the event of an Inquest, having no wish to put at risk his future in H.M. Navy. He is a decent fellow at heart and will make a fine Officer of the Line, if only he would purge himself of these Demons that afflicte him.
Do earnestly hope he delivered my Bread-fruit safely to West Indies.
Must go and make a Poultice for my men.
—The Atlantic Monthly, December 2003
GOOD EVENING AND GOOD LUCK
An Internet video newscast called the Voice of the Caliphate was broadcast for the first time on Monday, purporting to be a production of al Qaeda and featuring an anchorman who wore a black ski mask and an ammunition belt. . . . A copy of the Koran, the Muslim holy book, was placed by his right hand and a rifle affixed to a tripod was pointed at the camera.
—THE WASHINGTON POST
“In Gaza, Jews on the run—see how they squeal. Along the Gulf Coast of the Great Satan, a spectacular storm destroys the City of Homosexuals, New Orleans, and, in infidel-occupied Iraq, a car bomber drives into a supermarket, creating a fireball in the meat section, destroying the entire inventory of pork products. But there was also bad news today: A startling report on new infrared U.S. helicopter capabilities that may affect the way you commute. The Dow dips below nine thousand as traders take short-term profits. And, finally tonight, our Martyr of the Week, someone for whom the phrase ‘pluck out the eyes of the crusader’ is more than just a slogan. In the name of Allah, the Merciful, the Compassionate, good evening. I’m Zalwar al-Qamush.
“First, a look at the local situation. In Afghanistan, another tremendous victory. We have this live report from our correspondent Anwar bin Haz, in Kandahar. Anwar, salaam.”
“Zalwar, those are poppies behind me, as far as the eye can see. Local officials—that is, the ones we have not yet thrown down wells for collaborating with the American wolves—say this year’s crop will be a record, producing literally tons of base material for high-grade heroin.”
“Thank you, Anwar bin Haz. In Italy tonight, an exciting plan to blow up the Vatican during Christmas Eve services—after we return.”
Ali Dada. Spent his whole life struggling against Zionism and imperialism. Scrimped and saved to send all of us to madrassah and terrorist training camps. Now he’s in his sixties. His arthritis doesn’t allow him to sneak over the border the way he used to, to kidnap American contractors from Halliburton and Kellogg Brown and Root, though he still insists on making the improvised explosive devices himself. That’s why I give him Al Advil, the non-Jewish anti-inflammatory medicine.
“In Ramallah today, a joyous celebration as hundreds of youths urinated on American flags, set tires on fire, and hurled rocks at a passing Icelandic diplomat in honor of Grandmother’s Day.
“And, in Pakistan, yet more rioting to protest the lifting of a popular fatwa. The fatwa, issued last Ramadan by a Karachi imam, promised twice the number of kohl-eyed virgins in Paradise—one hundred and forty-four—to anyone who assassinated President Pervez Musharraf for his collaboration with the American crusaders. But last week the imam lifted the fatwa after taking coffee with Karen Hughes, she-devil envoy of the Salivating Hyena Little Bush. Sources tell Voice of the Caliphate that the coffee was laced with a powerful hallucinogenic drug of the type used on soldiers of the true faith by CIA and Mossad interrogators at Abu Ghraib.
“And, from Guantánamo today, still another report that Muslim prisoners there are being subjected to barbaric tortures. The report, due out tomorrow from Martyrs Without Borders, the respected humanitarian agency, says these include being made to listen to ‘Purimspiel’ klezmer music twenty-four hours a day and being forced to watch the Barbra Streisand movie Yentl while immersed up to the neck in chicken soup. Several prisoners have reportedly beheaded themselves rather than endure more of these unspeakable horrors.
“Coming up next, medical news: Could living in damp tunnels for long periods of time be affecting your sex life? We’ll have a report from our medical correspondent, deep inside Tora Bora. And a report on farewell videos—is the camera you’re using to record your teenage suicide bomber’s final good-bye getting the full picture? We’ll have that, and our Martyr of the Week, when we return.”
—The New Yorker, October 2005
A SHORT HISTORY OF THE BILLIONAIRE
MARDUK-BEL-BABUKK
Babylon, 602 B.C. 1.2 million gold and silver pieces. Contracting. Fourteen wives, eighty-five children.
Parlayed a modest mud-and-wattle business into Babylon’s premier contracting operation. One of his wives’ cousins was a bridesmaid of Amytis of Media, wife of Nebuchadrezzar II. After Amytis grew homesick for her native mountain springs, Marduk cannily proposed she persuade her husband to build “drop-dead gardens around the palace.” Result: the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, one of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world. Nebuchadrezzar reportedly flew into a rage when Marduk presented his final bill but eventually was mollified after feeding several hundred of Marduk’s workers to his pet lions. Hobbies: making palm wine, astrology, avoiding Nebuchadrezzar at public receptions.
EFTIMIOS PANAKOUSATIS
Piraeus, 481 B.C. 4 million to 6 million glaukai (tetradrachmae). Delphic banking, yogurt. Divorced from popular Athens cabaret singer Calypso Atalanta. Three children.
Started with two goats, one of which he had to eat during the harsh Corinthian winter of ’02. In his early twenties traveled to Delphi near Mount Parnassus to seek career advice from the Oracle there. Noticed that people left thanksgiving offerings for the Oracle; reportedly struck a deal with the Oracle whereby he would keep 60 percent of the offerings while the Oracle got Larry Ellison as CEO. Amassed vast real estate holdings around Mount Parnassus, where multiple “oracles” soon sprang up, advising supplicants to leave even more offerings. Scored major points with the Greek archon Themistocles when he loaned the Athenian government his yacht Calypso—renamed Anna Nicola after a messy divorce from his singer wife—for the Battle of Salamis. Following the naval victory, he demanded the government refit the vessel with a spa, pool, and wet bar.
CASSIUS BINOCULARIUS ANTHRAX
Capri, 3 B.C. 90 million aureii. Off-circus betting, slave trading.
Nickname “Buddy” bestowed on him by Emperor Tiberius during a three-day Lupercal drinking binge. Said to have fixed the 1 B.C. chariot race at the Circus Maximus between Ben Hur and his rival Messala. Pocketed enormous winnings after Messala (favored 50–1) was trampled under Ben Hur’s chariot. Parlayed windfall into franchise betting operations in Parthia, Dacia, Iberia, and Germania, using a highly controversial system of reporting Roman chariot race results. Forced to shut down Germania operations after tribes torched his betting shops (with the concessionaires inside) following years of consistent losing. Bounced back; established a slave-trading network (Jeevus Dottus Commus) that kept patrician homes from Rome to the Amalfi Coast supplied with prized Britannic butlers.
KU F’ENG
Xian, 234 B.C. 800 to 900,000 bu. Pottery. Marital status: unknown but thought to have left several thousand direct descendants.
Name translates roughly as “Maker of money from dirt.” A modest potter in Xian province, F’eng convinced the thirteen-year-old emperor Qin Shi Huang—later known as “The First Emperor” after he united China—that his mausoleum should contain, among other creature comforts, eight thousand life-size terra-cotta warriors to guard him in the afterlife. Created the world’s first life-size terra-cotta warrior mass-production facility (an engineering feat not much imitated since). Eleven years and 8,099 warriors later, the now twenty-four-year-old emperor had bored of the project and, on the pretext that Ku F’eng was a secret adherent of Confucianism, had him buried alive along with the vast clay army. Sometimes called “The Last Warrior.”
MARCANTONIO FANTUCCI
Venice, AD 1634. 5 million to 7 million ducats. Glassblowing, tele-scopes.
Apprenticed under the great Venetian glassblower Finoccio Babbalucanelli, supplier of chandeliers to the Medici. Fascinated early on by Galileo’s astronomical telescopic explorations. When Galileo was forced to recant his theory of heliocentrism before the Inquisition in 1633, Fantucci correctly bet the event would create a vast demand for telescopes so that, as he put it craftily, “Everyone may watch the Sun orbit around the Earth.” Borrowed 1,500 florins from Vigorino (The Shrewd) di Medici; constructed a telescope factory across the border in Switzerland (just to be safe). Most of his customers being Italian, he strove to remain in the favor of Pope Urban VIII and the Inquisition by naming his telescope the “Urban 8X.” The instruction manual stated the telescope was “so marvelously powerful that you can actually see God. He is the very handsome one (does he not resemble our own beloved Pope Urban?) sitting on the third ring of Saturn next to John the Baptist.” The telescopes sold briskly.
ANTOINE CHARLES EDUARD MARIE-BAPTISTE HONORÉ DE SAINT-HELOΪSE MERDE-ALORS, DUC DE VAUCOMPTE-LE-GROS
Versailles, 1704. 300,000 gold écus. Versailles. Fashion design.
Trained at the Atelier of Yves Le Chat-Blanc, supplier of hosiery and undergarments to the court of Louis XIV. When Le Chat-Blanc was felled by the plague on the eve of presenting the fall line of 1694, Antoine took over, impressing le Roi Soleil and his mistress Louise de la Vallière with his daring presentation of intimate apparel. Louis appointed him Pourvoyeur Exclusif des Sous-Pantalons Royales, making him the overnight toast of the Continent. Immediately feuded with Colbert, the finance minister, over astronomical bills for lingerie and jocques-strapes dorées; quarrel eventually led to the resumption of fierce religious war, for reasons that to this day continue to elude scholars. Following Louis’s death in 1715—attributed to an ill-fitting culotte—Antoine left France under a cloud, never to return. Thereafter he designed undergarments for many of the royal houses of Europe, as well as for Peter the Great of Russia, who up to then had worn only crude drawers made from monks’ beards and jute. Attempts to mass-produce an early version of le pantyhose using silk and spiderweb failed, bankrupting him.
GILEAD (SAM) STARBUCK
Boston, 1775. 140,000 dollars to 160,000 dollars (silver). Tea.
In December 1773, Starbuck was purser on the New Bedford whaleship Incontinent when it put into Boston Harbor to offload. Observing a crowd of Bostonians oddly dressed as Native Americans and hurling bricks of valuable English tea into the harbor, he lowered one of Incontinent’s whaleboats and rescued some of the 45 tons of jettisoned tea. Opened his first tea shop in Braintree several days later, serving a beverage called “Sal-Tea.” When Sal-Tea failed to catch on, he rebranded it “Patrio-Tea,” which did eventually find acceptance with Boston’s tea-starved public. Subsequently struck a deal with the East India Company to supply (that is, smuggle) nonsalty tea to Massachusetts. His string of tea shops prospered, but scholars argue that he made a mistake calling them “Gileads” instead of some other catchier name.
—Forbes Magazine, October 2007
WE REGRET THE ERROR
An article in the September issue incorrectly identified the president of the United States. The current president is George W. Bush, not Harry S Truman.
An article in the March issue about private whale hunts incorrectly identified the costs associated with the trips. The price for harpooning a sperm whale is $3,500, not $3,600. Taxidermy costs for stuffing and mounting a whale amount to $18,000, not $1,800. The cost of shipping the mounted whale by Federal Express was also incorrect. The actual cost is “a staggering” sum, not “a bunch.”
The cover article in the July issue, “Now Is the Time to Load Up on Tech Stocks,” incorrectly stated the actual right time. The time to buy tech stocks was July 1999, not July 2001.
A caption in the September issue incorrectly identified a man shown entering a Manhattan adult XXX peep show. It should have read, “Adult XXX peep shows have been popular
among New York men since the 1680s,” not “Commercial real estate broker Roscoe F. Farnsbiddle of 138 Irving Road, Pelham Manor, often spends his lunch hour at peep shows instead of the Yale Club.”
An article on the new GE chairman, Jeffrey Immelt, incorrectly stated that he likes to relax by watching videos of prison electrocutions. He relaxes by reading biographies and histories, and hiking with his family.
An article in the October issue, “Fatal Shark Attacks Surge in Lake Michigan,” inadvertently gave the impression that there have been fatal shark attacks in Lake Michigan. According to the Lake Michigan Shark Attack Prevention Center, there have been no fatal shark attacks in Lake Michigan thus far this year. Last year, there were also none.
An article in the April issue, “Do-It-Yourself Plastic Surgery,” incorrectly represented the views of the American Association of Plastic Surgeons. It does not endorse do-it-yourself plastic surgery.
An article in the June-July issue, “How the South Won the War,” misrepresented the events at the Appomattox Courthouse in April 1865. It was General Lee who surrendered to General Grant, not the other way around.
An editing error in an article on the newly opened Hotel Wakami on the Hawaiian island of Molokai gave the false impression that there had been an outbreak of leprosy among the kitchen staff. The sentence should have read, “The kitchen specializes in fresh fish baked in parsley.”
Due to a computer error, the July issue was published in Tagalog. An English version is being prepared for publication.
An article in the August issue, “Prince Charles Deposes His Mother in Bloody Overnight Palace Coup as Prince Philip Flees into Exile,” contained several factual errors.
But Enough About You: Essays Page 8