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Search - I Lost My English Accent

I Lost My English Accent
Author: C. V. R. Thompson

I Lost English Accent By C. V. R. THOMPSON G P PUTNAMS SONS New York. , i 9 i . Cs y R THOMPSON All rights reserved. Tjiis Sqpfcj or parts thereof, must not be reproduced in-dny- form without permission. Ninth Impression Manufactured in the United States of America Van Rees Press, New To My Wife CHAPTER I JL HE MIST cheated me of my farewell. As... more » I leaned against the cold bulwarks of the Majestic and prepared sorrowfully to watch my England fade into a green slash across the horizon, the mist like an anesthetic rolled up and numbed my senses, and all I could see was water. Dark, unfriendly water. I was glad in a way. While I was still in smoky, musty London, I had longed to be away, to breathe the life-giving oxygen of a more exciting land, to find adventure, speed, newness. But now, as I drew away from the cliffs of England, I, like every Englishman in such circumstances, felt sudden regret. I had always despised those people who make a dash for the writing room the moment they embark. But in those mo ments I think I understood them. Because I had the sudden urge to write to write to a neighbor, a friend in the office, my bank manager, even my income tax collector. I wanted desperately to retain a feeling of contact with that small circle from which I was withdrawing and, as I scrawled a few meaningless sentences, I had a definite sensation of piling a little warm solid earth upon the torn and suddenly exposed roots of a lifetime. Cherbourg looked as friendly as a discarded mistress. The 3 4 Lost My English Accent sky was brassy, the buildings cold and severe. It was a relief to see the charred funnels of the burned liner, LAtlantique, spoiling the perfect symmetry of the horizon. It was more than a relief to me, for it sent my thoughts away from mis givings and homesickness chasing after a memory. It was a memory of those funnels, vomiting smoke and flames then, a few hundred feet beneath the open single engined plane in which I had flown to get an eye-witness story for my paper of the blazing, crippled liner. And a memory of the pilot shouting back to me over his shoulder Be all right if the spark plug goes on the blink now, eh Then I watched the tender that bobbed like a fat duck at the liners side. Matdots were carrying little wooden boxes of gold into the Majestic belly. Gold for America. Coals for Newcastle, I thought. Fancy America wanting more gold. But then, I thought, gold is Americas touchstone. She meas ures everything art, literature, churches, women, even great nessby its worth in gold. By that token, then, she must be pretty conceited about herself. All over the world men probe into the earths innards for gold, but eventually America seems to get all of it. And what does she do with it Why, she stuffs it all all, that is, that her citizens do not cram into their teeth back into the earths innards for safekeeping. The matelots shouted to their captain. The captain shouted back to the matelots. I couldnt understand what they were saying, but I gathered that the matelots thought the captain was all wrong, and the captain thought the matelots were all wrong. The argument ended with the captain shrugging his shoulders and walking off to his wheelhouse in a huff. At last the Majestic had swallowed her last little wooden 7 Lost My English Accent 5 box. Still arguing, the captain and crew untied the tender. She drew away from her parent ship, dragging in her umbili cal hawsers after her. With great business she made for the cold, severe city on the horizon. There was a rumble in the Majesties belly. We moved through the slimy water. And presently our last link with Europe had gone. While I watched Europe disappear, I gave serious thought for the first time to this new world for which I was heading. Everything had happened so quickly until now that I had no time for reflection. A week before, I had been shackled to a desk. True, it was the desk of the assistant news editor of one of the worlds greatest newspapers...

ISBN-13: 9781406711219
ISBN-10: 1406711217
Publication Date: 3/15/2007
Pages: 268
Rating:

0 stars, based on 0 rating

Publisher: Beston Press
Book Type: Paperback
Members Wishing: 1
Reviews: Amazon | Write a Review

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