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Chapter VI The Voyage of the Pwmgraf1
“Hurry! Hurry!” the Earwig2 called. “All aboard that’s coming aboard!” The airship was certainly very imposing. It was longer than a house and wider than a river, and its balloon was painted in gold and red stripes. Just as Alice had read in the poem, the words ‘The Odorous Pwmgraf’ were written in ornate, black lettering at its pointed nose, and similarly ‘No Hawkers or Circulars’ at its tail. The basket which hung from it was also very ornate. It seemed to be made from gilded wrought-iron, looking for all the world like a royal carriage, and without a moment’s hesitation Alice had run up to the Earwig to ask to board the strange craft. 
“Trips to the lake, a pound and twenty dollars,” the Earwig said, barring her way. It was holding a large umbrella which seemed to have been made from banknotes of various denominations, and on its head was a hat folded from a gazetteer of the world. “Trips around the Whether-House,” it continued, “a franc and seventy pounds. Trips to the Four Corners of the Globe, a penny and a centime and two-thirds of one-half of three cents.” “My, my,” thought Alice, “some of those prices certainly sound dear.” But she was eager to get on board the delightful craft, so she decided to try for the least expensive. “Please, sir,” she said to the Earwig, “I should like to go to the Four Corners of the Globe.” (Until that time, Alice had not been aware that globes had corners, so the trip was an exciting prospect.) “Two hundred and fifty three pounds,” the Earwig promptly replied. “And a guinea.” “But a minute ago, you were only asking a penny and a centime and . . . and something rather less,” Alice pleaded. “Gone up,” the Earwig said. “Three hundred and twenty five pounds. And two guineas. Pig or fowl, it makes no odds.” “Isn’t that rather a lot?” Alice asked. “Where I spend most of my time,” the Earwig replied, “five hundred and thirty two pounds is hardly anything. One might almost call it nothing. Why, it is less than nothing.” “If it is less than nothing,” Alice said, eager to move the conversation on before the price got any higher, “then surely you should give it to me.” “Oh, do you think so?” the Earwig sighed, and it sat down wearily on a chair beside the Pwmgraf’s entrance, and took off its hat to balance it on the handle of the umbrella. “If truth be told,” it continued, “I find all these finances terribly confusing.” The creature produced from its wallet a wad of banknotes, and proceeded to count them at great speed. So far as Alice could tell, no two of the banknotes came from the same country. However, the Earwig was counting them so fast, and all the time muttering: “Three and five farthings, carry the pound sign,” or somesuch, so the girl found it difficult to judge. Eventually the Earwig was counting so fast that pieces of paper were flying in all directions, and covering the ground like confetti. “At this rate,” Alice thought, “I would not be surprised if it ends up with no money whatsoever.” All of a sudden the creature shouted: “It’s no good! You couldn’t afford it even if I paid!” And it threw the remains of the banknotes to the four winds in a tangle of arms and legs. “Whoever told you that you’d be able to join the craft?” it asked. “Riddle me that, if you can!” “Well, nobody told me as such,” Alice replied. “I was simply reading from the Ballerina’s book when . . .” “The Ballerina, did I hear?” the Earwig cried3, jumping up once more. “Why didn’t you say so to begin with? Of course you can join the ship! The Ballerina is my dearest friend, or would be if I ever had the chance to meet her.” The creature smiled broadly, as if it had never asked Alice for a penny in the first place, and all but dropped the ticket it was waving vaguely in her direction. Alice took the ticket from its hand and studied it, to find written the words ‘All trips 2/-.’ But rather than argue the point she simply walked straight into the airship, and was gone before the Earwig had a chance to discuss its finances further. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The inside of the airship was every bit as plush as the outside. Having passed through the outer door, and underneath a sign which read ‘Welcome Aboard the Odorous Pwmgraf,’ Alice found herself pushing through a pair of velvet curtains to enter a large and luxurious cabin. A chandelier hung from the ceiling to light the room, and cast shadows dancing this way and that as it swayed with the rocking of the ship. In one corner of the room, far to the back and well out of any of the chandelier’s light, sat two figures which Alice immediately recognised: the Mad Hatter and the March Hare4. The Hatter’s chair was surrounded by a number of important-looking papers in large disorganised piles, and he was busily signing each and every one with an enormous fountain pen. The papers were not prone to stay in their piles for very long, however, since most of the windows were wide open and a howling gale was blowing through the cabin. The Hatter was wearing a well-padded blue coat against this; nevertheless, it completely failed to stop him from shivering violently, and all he could do was shout: “Too cold! Too many papers!” before selecting a toothbrush from a bunch held in his top pocket, and using it to furiously scrub his mouth. Sadly, this seemed to make the Hatter forget where he had got up to, and he invariably had to start signing again from the very beginning. The March Hare sat in the chair next to the Hatter, with its legs crossed and sipping from a large mug of tea. At first Alice thought that it was simply waiting for the Hatter to finish with his papers. However, it was not long before she noticed that it was waiting, rather, for him to come to the last pile but one. Whenever the Hatter reached that stage the Hare would stand up and cry: “Cold? Cold! I’m not cold! Look!” And, as if to prove it was not in the slightest bit chilly, it would open yet another window. Of course, this caused the wind to pick up yet more, and the Hatter’s papers to fly around the cabin once again. “I do believe the Hare is every bit as cold as the other,” Alice exclaimed. “Why, it’s ears are turning blue, and I am sure that it just shivered a little.” Indeed, the wind was really beginning to bite now, and it was only moments before the girl had decided to take matters into her own hands, and closed half the windows. She turned, beaming, to the Hatter, who she felt sure would be grateful. However, he had hardly seemed to notice the change, and even the Hare (who Alice thought would have been miffed at the end to its mischief) did not give the girl a second glance. After a moments thought, Alice decided that this was some sort of balanced reaction, at least. “Now, lad,” the Hare said to the Hatter, breaking the routine. “How about a game of some kind?” “A game? A game?” the Hatter cried. “What kind of a game, pray tell?” “Well,” the other replied, “what about a game of Squash5?” And to Alice’s astonishment it immediately grasped the Hatter by the scruff of the neck, and attempted to push him through one of the windows. “I can well see why it calls the game ‘Squash,”’ Alice thought, “but it might at least have chosen one of the windows which was still open.” She ran to the pair to try to help the poor man, who was by this time perched at a quite untenable angle, and grimacing in the most frightful way. The Hare had managed to push the Hatter’s left foot and right arm up onto the window pane, and was now proceeding to fold the rest of him up like a letter. Alice tried to pull the Hare’s front paws away from the Hatter, and when this didn’t work, the Hatter’s limbs away from the window, so that eventually the three of them became entangled in a large knot. “Enough!” shouted the Hatter suddenly. He bounded away from the group to sit calmly back in his chair as if nothing had happened, leaving Alice and the Hare sitting on the floor, neither entirely sure whose limbs were whom’s. “Good match, good match,” he continued to the Hare. “I think you had the best of me there. But I was not at all impressed with the umpiring.” And here he glared at Alice momentarily, before turning back to the Hare and asking: “when are we to be off, then?” “I believe,” said the Hare, pointing at Alice with its ears, “that it is up to her.” “Me?” enquired Alice. “How can it be up to me?” “You do have the book, don’t you?” asked the Hatter, and Alice suddenly realised that she was still holding the book she had taken from between the book-ends. It had come through the recent tussle relatively unscathed, but the picture of the airship on its front now seemed to be moored beside a little quay, much like the ship they were in. Alice did not have time to think about such things, though, for the Hare immediately demanded: “Read some, can’t you?” She opened the book to a page near the middle, and began to read:
Let me tell you the tale of a voyage I made “Souvenirs! Lovely souvenirs!” a voice cried, and Alice turned to see the Earwig wandering up and down the cabin with a heavily laden tray hanging from its neck. Somehow, Alice had come to be sitting in a window seat. The floor of the cabin was juddering with a regular thump, as if a steam-engine had somehow become attached, and it did seem to the girl that the craft was now in motion. The Hatter and the Hare were seated beside her, both tucking in to a huge plate piled high with mashed-potatoes, gravy and Yorkshire pudding, of which the Hare had drenched the entirety in tomato catsup. The motions of the cabin were causing this mountain of food to vibrate in a quite revolting way, and rather than face the unsavoury sight Alice turned to the window to look out. Not to her great surprise, the ship now seemed to be sailing high above the clouds, and she found herself staring at a patchwork of fields and little villages far below. “It’s just as if the airship took off while I was reading the poem,” she commented. “Souvenirs!” the Earwig called again, moving in Alice’s direction. (This did seem to be the logical thing to do, since there was no-one else on board apart from the two diners.) “Sea-shells! Unique sisters! Discrete liaisons! Get them while they’re hot.” “Well,” thought Alice. “I already have a number of sisters, each as unique as the next; I certainly don’t want any more. And I am sure that a discrete liaison would be frowned on if I should take it home, especially a hot one. But a sea-shell might be rather nice.” And she handed the Earwig a penny-farthing she had found in her pocket. However, before she could choose a sea-shell from its tray, the Hatter had leaned over from his seat and grabbed a small mobile6 from right under her nose. It was a beautiful toy, and hanging from it were a number of trinkets and boxes which made the whole thing look very impressive. It also had one arm that whirled around, almost hitting everything in sight, and another that wobbled precariously but didn’t quite fall off as it blew in the wind. Indeed, at first sight it seemed that the Hatter’s mobile could do virtually anything; however, it was practically impossible to get it to work at all, without one or other of the arms getting tangled, or the whole thing simply revolving in pointless circles. Staring all the while at his trophy, the Hatter jumped from his seat, and started to make for the back of the cabin. For some reason, however, he was finding the going very difficult, seeming able to move at only the slowest of speeds, and going backwards far more often than forwards. “Why is he so slow?” Alice whispered to the Hare. “He’s going as fast as he possibly can!” the Hare retorted at the top of its voice. “He’ll be there in less than three hours, you know.” Alice was about to ask whether three hours was not a rather long time to get from one end of the cabin to the other, when the Hatter suddenly put on a burst of speed and shot through one of the open windows. “What I said,” the Hare began, anticipating Alice’s question, “was that he will take less than three hours. As was undoubtedly the case.” “Will he be all right?” the girl enquired, rather more worried about the Hatter than the Hare seemed to be. “It can’t be good for one, you know, to jump from an airship having just eaten so much mashed-potato. Won’t he be smashed to bits?” “Not he,” the Hare replied. “Why, at this very minute he is sitting on the tail of the Pwmgraf, staring at his mobile and looking out for the horizon. And he did very well today; usually it takes him ever such a long time to get there. Some days he has to start before breakfast, just to be there in time to go to sleep!” Alice turned back to the Earwig, still eager to buy herself a souvenir sea-shell; but the creature had by now turned away, and was busy was steering the ship by turning a large wheel at the front of the cabin. Looking out of the window, the girl saw that they were now approaching the sea again, from over a headland on which stood a building of some kind. As they approached, the girl realised that it was the ruin she had been meaning to visit ever since she had passed through the curtain, so she ran to the Earwig and cried: “Stop! Oh, please stop!” However, the Earwig only shrugged its shoulders and kept the wheel straight, so that the airship would follow a steady course. “Can’t do that,” it said. “Had no orders.” And here it indicated the book once more. Without further ado Alice ran back to the window, to find that they were now passing directly over the ruin. Quickly, she turned the pages of the book - on whose cover the airship was now flying high - to find an appropriate verse, and leaning out of the window, lest she loose sight of the building, she began to read:
Let me tell you the tale of an error I made. But before she could finish reading the piece a gust of wind jolted the ship, and the book was torn from Alice’s grasp. “Oh dear!” she cried. “What am I to do? If I don’t finish the verse, the airship will not be able to land, and I shall never get to see the ruin!” She soon saw that the book had decided not to fall away too quickly, so she leaned out of the window to catch it. However, it did not seem to matter how far she stretched, or how well she pushed herself through the window, or even how loud came the words of encouragement from the Hare and the Hatter (who was watching the proceedings from his position on the tail); the book was always just out of reach. Indeed, whenever Alice felt she almost had it, it would jump back a little, and so it was only a matter of time before the girl stretched just too far, and tumbled through the window also. With a shriek she started falling to earth. To begin with she was scared, but soon she got quite used to falling this way and that. “At any rate,” she reasoned, “I don’t appear to be falling all that fast, and the view is lovely from here.” One minute she would be facing up, so that she could see the Hare and Hatter waving sadly goodbye, and the next she would be facing down, watching the ruin come closer and closer towards her. Thus she spiralled down, while the Pwmgraf with the Earwig at its helm gently sailed away to the north. Alice watched the airship grow smaller for a number of minutes, until finally it disappeared altogether, and she hit the ground with a soft bump.
Chapter V - Mirror Writing Chapter V - Mirror Writing | Chapter VII - Panicking Chapter VII - Panicking
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