The Autobiography of a Super Tramp 14

The Autobiography of a Super Tramp 14

I had scarcely been in the office a week, when I was offered a boat

for London. Only one two-pound man was required, all the others, with

the exception of one, who was to receive fifteen shillings, were

ten-shilling men. Red had no chance on this boat, and I was not sorry,

knowing how his extravagant habits would spoil the trip's enjoyment.

This was a voyage of some delight, both aboard and ashore. Having been

in London before, I knew what enjoyment could be had with but little

expense--of museums, parks, gardens, picture galleries, etc. I made

friends with a decent fellow, who had been a schoolmaster, and,

persuading him out of Deptford, we procured lodgings in Southwark, and

from that place we paid our visits to the different scenes. We saw

none of the other cattlemen until the hour of sailing. Many of the

poor fellows had lost their money on the first night ashore, and now

had strange experiences to relate of workhouses, shelters,

soup-kitchens, and unsuccessful begging. When we arrived at Baltimore

it wanted one week to Christmas Day, and there was not much chance to

ship again for two or three weeks, owing to the number of men waiting.

 

As I have said before, the people of Baltimore are extremely

kind-hearted, and no man need starve if he has the courage to express

his wants. The women seem to be as beautiful as they are good, for I

have never seen finer women than those of Baltimore, and a man would

not be making the worst of life if he idled all day in a principal

street, reading the face of beauty, and studying the grace of forms

that pass him by. But it is of their kindness and generosity that I

would now speak. For Christmas Eve had come, and Australian Red,

accompanied by Blackey, had taken me on one side, the former beginning

in this way: "Will you join this night's expedition? What we want you

to do is to carry a small bag, no more, and all the begging will be

done by us." I had visions of the police stopping me and enquiring the

contents of such a strange burden, but being an unsuccessful beggar,

and feeling too independent to have others perform this office for me,

without making some little effort to deserve their maintenance, I

agreed to their proposal, and that evening at six p. m., we sallied

forth together. They both started on a long street, Red taking one

side and Blackey the other, whilst I waited the result some yards in

advance--a safe distance away. They could scarcely have been refused

in one house, for in less than ten minutes they were both at my side,

dropping paper parcels into the empty bag, the mouth of which I held

open. All at once Blackey disappeared, having been called in to

supper. The same thing happened to Red, two or three minutes after.

When they approached me again with other parcels, they both agreed to

accept no more invitations to supper, but that they would excuse

themselves as having families at home. They continued this for half an

hour, hardly more, when the bag was full to the mouth. "Now," said

Blackey, "take this to the office, and we will remain to fill our

pockets, after which we will follow as soon as possible. Or do you

prefer to wait for us?" I preferred to go, and, avoiding the main

streets and lighted places, succeeded in getting back without rousing

the curiosity of the police. They soon followed, with another supply

stored in their capacious pockets. What delighted them most--but of

which I took very little account, knowing to what use it would be

put--was that they had received several small amounts in money, the

total being one dollar and seventy-five cents. I shall never forget

this begging expedition. When the different parcels were unrolled, we

beheld everything that the most fastidious taste could desire, for not

one parcel, I believe, consisted of simple bread and butter, much less

the former by its own common self. There were fried oysters, turkey,

chicken, beef, mutton, ham and sausages; Irish potatoes, sweet

potatoes and yams; brown bread, white bread; pancakes, tarts, pie and

cake of every description; bananas, apples, grapes and oranges;

winding up with a quantity of mixed nuts and a bag of sweets. Such

were the contents of over sixty parcels, got with such ease. Blackey

had been refused at three doors; and Red had failed at five, but had

been requested to call back at two of them, and had not troubled to do

so, not having properly located the houses.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XII

 

THIEVES

 

 

Cockney More was a cattleman, hailing from the port of Baltimore. He

was a born thief and, strange to say, nearly blind; but without doubt,

he was a feeler of the first magnitude. If he borrowed a needle, and

the said article was honestly returned, it behoved the lender, knowing

the borrower's thievish propensities, to carefully examine it

to see that the eye had not been abstracted; for, as Donovan

remarked--"Cockney More could steal the milk out of one's tea."

 

When I have looked at Cockney's long thin fingers, I have often

wondered whether he had power to disjoint them at will, letting them

down the legs of his trousers to rummage the locality, while he stood

innocently talking to us with his hands in his pockets. That honour

which is supposed to exist among thieves, was not known to Cockney

More, for he would rob his best friend, and do it in such a way that

no man could take umbrage. For instance, six of us had landed in

Liverpool, having been paid off that morning. Cockney, knowing the ins

and outs of that city, and its numerous pitfalls for strangers,

escorted us at once to a cheap lodging-house, where we paid in

advance for a week's bed, thus being assured of shelter until the ship

was ready to return. The next morning we sat six disconsolate men in

the lodging-house kitchen, not one of us having the price of his

breakfast. Cockney, being the last to rise, entered at last, and

noting our despondent looks enquired as to the cause. On being told he

went out and returned in a few moments with tea, sugar, bread and

sausages. In fact, he continued these kind deeds during our week

ashore. The others, being mostly strangers, blessed him for a good

fellow, but it occurred to me that he was simply returning us our own,

for he spent three times more money during those few days than he had

received for the trip.

 

I remembered a mean little trick that he had performed on one of the

cattlemen that very first morning ashore. True, we were all getting

drunk fast, but I never thought Cockney would be daring enough to

attempt such a deed in our first stage of intoxication. He had asked

this cattleman for a chew of tobacco and the man had generously

offered him the whole plug to help himself. Cockney took this plug

and, biting off a piece, returned the bitten part to the owner, and

himself pocketed the plug. I was speechless with astonishment at

seeing this: and more so when the strange cattleman innocently

received the bitten part, and put it in his pocket without having

perceived anything wrong.

 

Cockney and myself were on the best of terms, and yet, some time

previous to the above episode, he had served me a trick which ought to

have severed our friendship for ever. I was at the shipping office and

had that morning signed for a trip to London. "Have you sufficient

tobacco, and a spoon, knife, fork and plate?" enquired Cockney. "Yes,"

I replied, "and I have also a new pack of cards, so that we may enjoy

our leisure hours aboard." Cockney was pleased to hear this, although

he was not to accompany me on this trip. "Let me see them," said he.

This I did and being, as I have said, nearly blind, he took them to

the window for examination, but returned them almost immediately. Then

came a shout for all men who had signed for the London trip, and,

hastily wishing Cockney and others good-bye, I left the office. On the

second day out we were all at leisure for an hour or more, and

enquiries went around as to who had a pack of cards. My cards were at

once produced and, taking partners, we were about to settle to a

little enjoyment. Alas, when my cards were taken out of the new case,

they were found to be a dirty, greasy old pack with several missing,

and, of course, card playing was out of the question. I at once knew

what had happened: Cockney had substituted these old ones for the new,

what time he pretended to be interested at the window. That little

trick meant twelve days' misery for eight men, for we could not get

another pack until we landed in London.

 

On that trip, when I had the pleasure of Cockney's company, we had

with us Donovan who, as a thief, certainly ran Cockney a good second.

The truth of the matter is that all cattlemen are thieves, and the one

who complains of going ashore without his razor, often has in his

possession another's knife, comb or soap. On the second day out I

missed my pocket-knife and, without loss of time boldly accused

Cockney More to his face, telling him that however much I admired his

dexterity in other people's pockets I had not the least suspicion that

he would be guilty of such a trick on an old pal. "No more have I,"

said he. "What kind of knife was it?" On being told, he advised me to

say no more about it, and that he would endeavour to find it. He

succeeded in doing so, and the next day Donovan was shouting

indignantly--"Who has been to my bunk and stolen a knife?" After this

I lost my soap, but did not think it worth while mentioning such a

petty loss. On approaching Cockney More for the loan of his,

he--giving me strict injunctions to return it at once, and not leave

it exposed to the eyes of thieves--lent me my own soap.

 

This trip was a memorable one, and no doubt Cockney made the best haul

of his life. We were together in Liverpool, Cockney, Donovan and

myself, and as usual drinking. A stranger, hearing by our

conversation that we hailed from America, invited us to drink; and in

the course of conversation expressed a regret that he was out of work,

and had no means of visiting America. "Nothing is easier," said

Cockney, "if you place yourself unreservedly in our hands. We are to

sail on Thursday, and I can stow you away, as I have successfully done

with others." "Many thanks," replied the other, and so it was agreed.

 

On the following Thursday we went aboard, the Cockney carrying a large

bag which contained the stowaway's clothes, etc. When the ship's

officers entered our forecastle the stowaway was, of course, not

present, but when they were searching other places, the stowaway was

then sitting comfortably among us, these things being well managed by

Cockney More. After this search they would pay us no more visits, and

the stowaway was safe, and could go on deck at night for fresh air.

The only danger now was to land him in America. This, the Cockney

affirmed, was a danger of little account.

 

Now, as I have said, this stowaway had a bag, and Cockney More and

Donovan were great thieves. Therefore, it was not at all surprising to

hear that the poor fellow was soon without a second shirt to his back.

He had lent me a book, the value of which I did not think him capable

of appreciating, and I had made up my mind that it should not be

returned until asked for. But when I heard him complain of losing so

many things, through pity I became honest and returned it. But where

was his watch and chain, his brushes, and where were his clothes, his

tools, razor, strop, and many other useful articles? All these things

were in possession of Donovan, and Cockney knew it and appeared to be

grieving over lost chances; for he was supposed to have that honour

which is among thieves, and as Donovan had been too fast for him, he

had no other option than to sit quiet under the circumstances.

 

On the day before our arrival at Baltimore, I happened to enter the

forecastle and found Donovan, his face pale, feverously rummaging

Cockney More's bunk. "What do you think?" said he. "That blasted

Cockney has robbed me of everything." And so he had. He had allowed

Donovan to do all the dirty work, of abstracting the goods one by one,

as the chance occurred; he had allowed him the pleasure of their care

and possession for many days, and then he had robbed him. But the

artful part of the business was this: he had not left Donovan any

chance to recover the goods, for he had made friends with one of the

sailors--the latter having a forecastle to themselves--and had

prevailed on that person to take charge of a parcel for him until all

the cattlemen landed; "for," said he, "these cattlemen are born

thieves." Yes, he had done the business neatly, for the desperate and

much aggrieved Donovan who intended on landing to recover the goods

by force, saw Cockney More walk ashore as empty-handed as himself, and

he was almost shaken in his belief that the said Cockney was, after all, the thief triumphant.