Captain Stormfield’s Visit To Heaven by Mark Twain

from stem to rudder-post!”

“Ay-ay, sir!”

In about a second I begun to see I’d woke up a pretty ugly

customer, Peters. In less than ten seconds that comet was just a

blazing cloud of red-hot canvas. It was piled up into the heavens

clean out of sight – the old thing seemed to swell out and occupy

all space; the sulphur smoke from the furnaces – oh, well, nobody

can describe the way it rolled and tumbled up into the skies, and

nobody can half describe the way it smelt. Neither can anybody

begin to describe the way that monstrous craft begun to crash

along. And such another powwow – thousands of bo’s’n’s whistles

screaming at once, and a crew like the populations of a hundred

thousand worlds like ours all swearing at once. Well, I never

heard the like of it before.

We roared and thundered along side by side, both doing our level

best, because I’d never struck a comet before that could lay over

me, and so I was bound to beat this one or break something. I

judged I had some reputation in space, and I calculated to keep it.

I noticed I wasn’t gaining as fast, now, as I was before, but still

I was gaining. There was a power of excitement on board the comet.

Upwards of a hundred billion passengers swarmed up from below and

rushed to the side and begun to bet on the race. Of course this

careened her and damaged her speed. My, but wasn’t the mate mad!

He jumped at that crowd, with his trumpet in his hand, and sung out

“Amidships! amidships, you -! (1) or I’ll brain the last idiot of

you!”

Well, sir, I gained and gained, little by little, till at last I

went skimming sweetly by the magnificent old conflagration’s nose.

By this time the captain of the comet had been rousted out, and he

stood there in the red glare for’ard, by the mate, in his shirt-

sleeves and slippers, his hair all rats’ nests and one suspender

hanging, and how sick those two men did look! I just simply

couldn’t help putting my thumb to my nose as I glided away and

singing out:

“Ta-ta! ta-ta! Any word to send to your family?”

Peters, it was a mistake. Yes, sir, I’ve often regretted that – it

was a mistake. You see, the captain had given up the race, but

that remark was too tedious for him – he couldn’t stand it. He

turned to the mate, and says he –

“Have we got brimstone enough of our own to make the trip?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sure?”

“Yes, sir – more than enough.”

“How much have we got in cargo for Satan?”

“Eighteen hundred thousand billion quintillions of kazarks.”

“Very well, then, let his boarders freeze till the next comet

comes. Lighten ship! Lively, now, lively, men! Heave the whole

cargo overboard!”

Peters, look me in the eye, and be calm. I found out, over there,

that a kazark is exactly the bulk of a HUNDRED AND SIXTY-NINE

WORLDS LIKE OURS! They hove all that load overboard. When it fell

it wiped out a considerable raft of stars just as clean as if

they’d been candles and somebody blowed them out. As for the race,

that was at an end. The minute she was lightened the comet swung

along by me the same as if I was anchored. The captain stood on

the stern, by the after-davits, and put his thumb to his nose and

sung out –

“Ta-ta! ta-ta! Maybe YOU’VE got some message to send your friends

in the Everlasting Tropics!”

Then he hove up his other suspender and started for’ard, and inside

of three-quarters of an hour his craft was only a pale torch again

in the distance. Yes, it was a mistake, Peters – that remark of

mine. I don’t reckon I’ll ever get over being sorry about it. I’d

‘a’ beat the bully of the firmament if I’d kept my mouth shut.

But I’ve wandered a little off the track of my tale; I’ll get back

on my course again. Now you see what kind of speed I was making.

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