He Would Have Enlisted, But He
Was Too Small For The Army And Too Old For The Navy; And Thought
Himself fortunate at last to find a berth on board a trading dandy.
Somewhere in the Bristol Channel the dandy
Sprung a leak and went
down; and though the crew were picked up and brought ashore by
fishermen, they found themselves with nothing but the clothes upon
their back. His next engagement was scarcely better starred; for
the ship proved so leaky, and frightened them all so heartily
during a short passage through the Irish Sea, that the entire crew
deserted and remained behind upon the quays of Belfast.
Evil days were now coming thick on the Devonian. He could find no
berth in Belfast, and had to work a passage to Glasgow on a
steamer. She reached the Broomielaw on a Wednesday: the Devonian
had a bellyful that morning, laying in breakfast manfully to
provide against the future, and set off along the quays to seek
employment. But he was now not only penniless, his clothes had
begun to fall in tatters; he had begun to have the look of a street
Arab; and captains will have nothing to say to a ragamuffin; for in
that trade, as in all others, it is the coat that depicts the man.
You may hand, reef, and steer like an angel, but if you have a hole
in your trousers, it is like a millstone round your neck. The
Devonian lost heart at so many refusals. He had not the impudence
to beg; although, as he said, 'when I had money of my own, I always
gave it.' It was only on Saturday morning, after three whole days
of starvation, that he asked a scone from a milkwoman, who added of
her own accord a glass of milk. He had now made up his mind to
stow away, not from any desire to see America, but merely to obtain
the comfort of a place in the forecastle and a supply of familiar
sea-fare. He lived by begging, always from milkwomen, and always
scones and milk, and was not once refused. It was vile wet
weather, and he could never have been dry. By night he walked the
streets, and by day slept upon Glasgow Green, and heard, in the
intervals of his dozing, the famous theologians of the spot clear
up intricate points of doctrine and appraise the merits of the
clergy. He had not much instruction; he could 'read bills on the
street,' but was 'main bad at writing'; yet these theologians seem
to have impressed him with a genuine sense of amusement. Why he
did not go to the Sailors' House I know not; I presume there is in
Glasgow one of these institutions, which are by far the happiest
and the wisest effort of contemporaneous charity; but I must stand
to my author, as they say in old books, and relate the story as I
heard it. In the meantime, he had tried four times to stow away in
different vessels, and four times had been discovered and handed
back to starvation. The fifth time was lucky; and you may judge if
he were pleased to be aboard ship again, at his old work, and with
duff twice a week. He was, said Alick, 'a devil for the duff.' Or
if devil was not the word, it was one if anything stronger.
The difference in the conduct of the two was remarkable. The
Devonian was as willing as any paid hand, swarmed aloft among the
first, pulled his natural weight and firmly upon a rope, and found
work for himself when there was none to show him. Alick, on the
other hand, was not only a skulker in the brain, but took a
humorous and fine gentlemanly view of the transaction. He would
speak to me by the hour in ostentatious idleness; and only if the
bo's'un or a mate came by, fell-to languidly for just the necessary
time till they were out of sight. 'I'm not breaking my heart with
it,' he remarked.
Once there was a hatch to be opened near where he was stationed; he
watched the preparations for a second or so suspiciously, and then,
'Hullo,' said he, 'here's some real work coming - I'm off,' and he
was gone that moment. Again, calculating the six guinea passage-
money, and the probable duration of the passage, he remarked
pleasantly that he was getting six shillings a day for this job,
'and it's pretty dear to the company at that.' 'They are making
nothing by me,' was another of his observations; 'they're making
something by that fellow.' And he pointed to the Devonian, who was
just then busy to the eyes.
The more you saw of Alick, the more, it must be owned, you learned
to despise him. His natural talents were of no use either to
himself or others; for his character had degenerated like his face,
and become pulpy and pretentious. Even his power of persuasion,
which was certainly very surprising, stood in some danger of being
lost or neutralised by over-confidence. He lied in an aggressive,
brazen manner, like a pert criminal in the dock; and he was so vain
of his own cleverness that he could not refrain from boasting, ten
minutes after, of the very trick by which he had deceived you.
'Why, now I have more money than when I came on board,' he said one
night, exhibiting a sixpence, 'and yet I stood myself a bottle of
beer before I went to bed yesterday. And as for tobacco, I have
fifteen sticks of it.' That was fairly successful indeed; yet a
man of his superiority, and with a less obtrusive policy, might,
who knows? have got the length of half a crown. A man who prides
himself upon persuasion should learn the persuasive faculty of
silence, above all as to his own misdeeds.
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