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Title: Roberto the Rover; A Tale of Sea and Shore
Author: Artemus Ward [
Titles by Ward]
Roberto the Rover; A Tale of Sea and Shore
3.6. ROBERTO THE ROVER:--A TALE OF SEA AND SHORE.
CHAPTER I.--FRANCE.
Our story opens in the early part of the year 17--. France was
rocking wildly from centre to circumference. The arch despot and
unscrupulous man, Richard the III., was trembling like an aspen
leaf upon his throne. He had been successful, through the
valuable aid of Richelieu and Sir. Wm. Donn, in destroying the
Orleans Dysentery, but still he trembled? O'Mulligan, the
snake-eater of Ireland, and Schnappsgoot of Holland, a retired
dealer in gin and sardines, had united their forces--some nineteen
men and a brace of bull pups in all--and were overtly at work,
their object being to oust the tyrant. O'Mulligan was a young man
between fifty-three years of age and was chiefly distinguished
for being the son of his aunt on his great grandfather's side.
Schnappsgoot was a man of liberal education, having passed three
weeks at Oberlin College. He was a man of great hardihood, also,
and would frequently read an entire column of "railway matters"
in the "Cleveland Herald" without shrieking with agony.
CHAPTER II.--THE KING.
The tyrant Richard the III. (late Mr. Gloster) sat upon his
throne in the Palace d' St. Cloud. He was dressed in his best
clothes, and gorgeous trappings surrounded him everywhere.
Courtiers, in glittering and golden armor, stood ready at his
beck. He sat moodily for a while, when suddenly his sword
flashed from its silver scabbard, and he shouted--
"Slaves, some wine, ho!"
The words had scarcely escaped his lips ere a bucket of champagne
and a hoe were placed before him.
As the king raised the bucket to his lips, a deep voice near by,
proceeding from the mouth of the noble Count Staghisnibs, cried--
"Drink hearty, old feller."
"Reports traveling on lightning-wings, whisper of strange goings
on and cuttings up throughout this kingdom. Knowest thou aught
of these things, most noble Hellitysplit?" and the king drew from
the upper pocket of his gold-faced vest a paper of John
Anderson's solace and proceeded to take a chaw.
"Treason stalks monster-like throughout unhappy France, my
liege!" said the noble Hellitysplit. "The ranks of the P.Q.R.'s
are daily swelling, and the G.R.J.A.'s are constantly on the
increase. Already the peasantry scout at cat-fish, and demand
pickled salmon for their noonday repasts. But, my liege," and
the brave Hellitysplit eyes flashed fire, "myself and sword are
at thy command?"
"Bully for you, Count," said the king. "But soft: methinks
report--perchance unjustly--hast spoken suspiciously of thee,
most Royal d'Sardine? How is this? Is it a newspaper yarn?
WHAT'S UP?"
D'Sardine meekly approached the throne, knelt at the king's feet,
and said: "Most patient, gray, and red-headed skinner; my very
approved skin-plaster: that I've been asked to drink by the
P.Q.R.'s, it is most true, true I have imbibed sundry mugs of
lager with them. The very head and front of my offending hath
this extent, no more."
"'Tis well!" said the King, rising and looking fiercely around.
"Hadst thou proved false I would with my own good sword have cut
off yer head, and spilled your ber-lud all over the floor! If I
wouldn't, blow me!"
CHAPTER III.--THE ROVER.
Thrilling as the scenes depicted in the preceding chapter
indubitably were, those of this are decidedly THRILLINGER.
Again are we in the mighty presence of the King, and again is
he surrounded by splendour and gorgeously-mailed courtiers. A
sea-faring man stands before him. It is Roberto the Rover,
disguised as a common sailor.
"So," said the King, "thou wouldst have audience with me!"
"Aye aye, yer 'onor," said the sailor, "just tip us yer grapplin
irons and pipe all hands on deck. Reef home yer jib poop and
splice yer main topsuls. Man the jibboom and let fly yer
top-gallunts. I've seen some salt water in my days, yer land
lubber, but shiver my timbers if I hadn't rather coast among
seagulls than landsharks. My name is Sweet William. You're old
Dick the Three. Ahoy! Awast! Dam my eyes!" and Sweet William
pawed the marble floor and swung his tarpaulin after the manner
of sailors on the stage, and consequently not a bit like those
on shipboard.
"Mariner," said the King, gravely, "thy language is exceeding
lucid, and leads me to infer that things is workin' bad."
"Aye, aye, my hearty!" yelled Sweet William, in dulcet strains,
reminding the King of the "voluptuous smell of physic," spoken
of by the late Mr. Byron.
"What wouldst thou, seafaring man?" asked the King.
"This!" cried the Rover, suddenly taking off his maritime
clothing and putting on an expensive suit of silk, bespangled
with diamonds. "This! I am Roberto the Rover!"
The King was thunder-struck. Cowering back in his chair of
state, he said in a tone of mingled fear and amazement, "Well,
may I be gaul-darned!"
"Ber-lud! Ber-lud! Ber-lud!" shrieked the Rover, as he drew a
horse-pistol and fired it at the King, who fell fatally killed,
his last words being, "WE ARE GOVENRED TOO MUCH--THIS IS THE LAST
OF EARTH!!!" At this exciting juncture Messrs. O'Mulligan and
Schnappsgoot (who had previously entered into a copartnership
with the Rover for the purpose of doing a general killing
business) burst into the room and cut off the heads and let out
the inwards of all the noblemen they encountered. They then
killed themselves and died like heroes, wrapped up in the Star
Spangled Banner, to slow music.
FINALE.
The Rover fled. He was captured near Marseilles and thrust into
prison, where he lay for sixteen weary years, all attempts to
escape being futile. One night a lucky thought struck him. He
raised the window and got out. But he was unhappy. Remorse and
dyspepsia preyed upon his vitals. He tried Boerhave's Holland
Bitters and the Retired Physician's Sands of Life, and got well.
He then married the lovely Countess D'Smith, and lived to a green
old age, being the triumph of virtue and downfall of vice.
-THE END-
[Charles Farrar Browne] Artemus Ward's short story: Roberto the Rover; A Tale of Sea and Shore
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