Redburn, his first voyage :: :: University of Virginia Library

At last, Harry went to his chest, and drawing out a few
shillings, proposed that we should go ashore, and return with
a supper, to eat in the forecastle. Little else that was
eatable being for sale in the paltry shops along the wharves,
we bought several pies, some doughnuts, and a bottle of
ginger-pop, and thus supplied we made merry. For to us,
whose very mouths were become pickled and puckered, with
the continual flavor of briny beef, those pies and doughnuts
were most delicious. And as for the ginger-pop, why, that
ginger-pop was divine! I have reverenced ginger-pop ever
since.

We kept late hours that night; for, delightful certainty!
placed beyond all doubt—like royal landsmen, we were
masters of the watches of the night, and no starb-o-leens
ahoy! would annoy us again.

“All night in! think of that, Harry, my friend!”

“Ay, Wellingborough, it's enough to keep me awake forever,
to think I may now sleep as long as I please.”

We turned out bright and early, and then prepared for
the shore, first stripping to the waist, for a toilet.

“I shall never get these confounded tar-stains out of my
fingers,” cried Harry, rubbing them hard with a bit of
oakum, steeped in strong suds. “No! they will not come
out, and I'm ruined for life. Look at my hand once,
Wellingborough!”

It was indeed a sad sight. Every finger nail, like mine,

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was dyed of a rich, russet hue; looking something like bits
of fine tortoise shell.

“Never mind, Harry,” said I—“You know the ladies
of the east steep the tips of their fingers in some golden
dye.”

“And by Plutus,” cried Harry—“I'd steep mine up to
the arm-pits in gold; since you talk about that. But
never mind, I'll swear I'm just from Persia, my boy.”

We now arrayed ourselves in our best, and sallied ashore;
and, at once, I piloted Harry to the sign of a Turkey Cock
in Fulton-street, kept by one Sweeny, a place famous for
cheap Souchong, and capital buckwheat cakes.

“Well gentlemen, what will you have?”—said a waiter,
as we seated ourselves at a table.

“Gentlemen!” whispered Harry to me—“gentlemen!—
hear him!—I say now, Redburn, they didn't talk to us that
way on board the old Highlander. By heaven, I begin to
feel my straps again:—Coffee and hot rolls, he added aloud,
crossing his legs like a lord, “and fellow—come back—
bring us a venison-steak.”

“Havn't got it, gentlemen.”

“Ham and eggs,” suggested I, whose mouth was watering
at the recollection of that particular dish, which I had
tasted at the sign of the Turkey Cock before. So ham and
eggs it was; and royal coffee, and imperial toast.

But the butter!

“Harry, did you ever taste such butter as this before?”

“Don't say a word,”—said Harry, spreading his tenth
slice of toast. “I'm going to turn dairyman, and keep
within the blessed savor of butter, so long as I live.”

We made a breakfast, never to be forgotten; paid our
bill with a flourish, and sallied into the street, like two
goodly galleons of gold, bound from Acapulco to Old Spain.

“Now,” said Harry, “lead on; and let's see something
of these United States of yours. I'm ready to pace from
Maine to Florida; ford the Great Lakes; and jump the

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River Ohio, if it comes in the way. Here, take my arm;—
lead on.”

Such was the miraculous change, that had now come over
him. It reminded me of his manner, when we had started
for London, from the sign of the Golden Anchor, in Liverpool.

He was, indeed, in most wonderful spirits; at which I
could not help marveling; considering the cavity in his
pockets; and that he was a stranger in the land.

By noon he had selected his boarding-house, a private
establishment, where they did not charge much for their
board, and where the landlady's butcher's bill was not very
large.

Here, at last, I left him to get his chest from the ship;
while I turned up town to see my old friend Mr. Jones, and
learn what had happened during my absence.

With one hand, Mr. Jones shook mine most cordially;
and with the other, gave me some letters, which I eagerly
devoured. Their purport compelled my departure homeward;
and I at once sought out Harry to inform him.

Strange, but even the few hours' absence which had intervened;
during which, Harry had been left to himself, to
stare at strange streets, and strange faces, had wrought a
marked change in his countenance. He was a creature of
the suddenest impulses. Left to himself, the strange streets
seemed now to have reminded him of his friendless condition;
and I found him with a very sad eye; and his right hand
groping in his pocket.

“Where am I going to dine, this day week?”—he slowly
said. “What's to be done, Wellingborough?”

And when I told him that the next afternoon I must
leave him; he looked downhearted enough. But I cheered
him as well as I could; though needing a little cheering
myself; even though I had got home again. But no more
about that.

Now, there was a young man of my acquaintance in the

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city, much my senior, by the name of Goodwell; and a
good natured fellow he was; who had of late been engaged
as a clerk in a large forwarding house in South-street; and
it occurred to me, that he was just the man to befriend Harry,
and procure him a place. So I mentioned the thing to my
comrade; and we called upon Goodwell.

I saw that he was impressed by the handsome exterior
of my friend; and in private, making known the case, he
faithfully promised to do his best for him; though the
times, he said, were quite dull.

That evening, Goodwell, Harry, and I, perambulated the
streets, three abreast:—Goodwell spending his money freely
at the oyster-saloons; Harry full of allusions to the London
Club-houses: and myself contributing a small quota to the
general entertainment.

Next morning, we proceeded to business

Now, I did not expect to draw much of a salary from the
ship; so as to retire for life on the profits of my first voyage;
but nevertheless, I thought that a dollar or two might be
coming. For dollars are valuable things; and should not
be overlooked, when they are owing. Therefore, as the
second morning after our arrival, had been set apart for
paying off the crew, Harry and I made our appearance on
ship-board, with the rest. We were told to enter the
cabin; and once again I found myself, after an interval of
four months, and more, surrounded by its mahogany and
maple.

Seated in a sumptuous arm-chair, behind a lustrous, inlaid
desk, sat Captain Riga, arrayed in his City Hotel suit, looking
magisterial as the Lord High Admiral of England. Hat
in hand, the sailors stood deferentially in a semicircle before
him, while the captain held the ship-papers in his hand, and
one by one called their names; and in mellow bank notes—
beautiful sight!—paid them their wages.

Most of them had less than ten, a few twenty, and two,
thirty dollars coming to them; while the old cook, whose

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piety proved profitable in restraining him from the expensive
excesses of most seafaring men, and who had taken no pay
in advance, had the goodly round sum of seventy dollars as
his due.

Seven ten dollar bills! each of which, as I calculated at
the time, was worth precisely one hundred dimes, which
were equal to one thousand cents, which were again subdivisible
into fractions. So that he now stepped into a fortune
of seventy thousand American “mills.” Only seventy
dollars, after all; but then, it has always seemed to me,
that stating amounts in sounding fractional sums, conveys a
much fuller notion of their magnitude, than by disguising
their immensity in such aggregations of value, as doubloons,
sovereigns, and dollars. Who would not rather be worth
125,000 francs in Paris, than only £5000 in London, though
the intrinsic value of the two sums, in round numbers, is
pretty much the same.

With a scrape of the foot, and such a bow as only a
negro can make, the old cook marched off with his fortune;
and I have no doubt at once invested it in a grand, underground
oyster-cellar.

The other sailors, after counting their cash very carefully,
and seeing all was right, and not a bank-note was dog-eared,
in which case they would have demanded another: for they
are not to be taken in and cheated, your sailors, and they
know their rights, too; at least, when they are at liberty,
after the voyage is concluded:—the sailors also salaamed,
and withdrew, leaving Harry and me face to face with the
Paymaster-general of the Forces.

We stood awhile, looking as polite as possible, and expecting
every moment to hear our names called, but not a
word did we hear; while the captain, throwing aside his
accounts, lighted a very fragrant cigar, took up the morning
paper—I think it was the Herald—threw his leg over one
arm of the chair, and plunged into the latest intelligence
from all parts of the world.

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I looked at Harry, and he looked at me; and then we
both looked at this incomprehensible captain.

At last Harry hemmed, and I scraped my foot to increase
the disturbance.

The Paymaster-general looked up.

“Well, where do you come from? Who are you, pray?
and what do you want? Steward, show these young gentlemen
out.”

“I want my money,” said Harry.

“My wages are due,” said I.

The captain laughed. Oh! he was exceedingly merry;
and taking a long inspiration of smoke, removed his cigar,
and sat sideways looking at us, letting the vapor slowly
wriggle and spiralize out of his mouth.

“Upon my soul, young gentlemen, you astonish me. Are
your names down in the City Directory? have you any letters
of introduction, young gentlemen?”

“Captain Riga!” cried Harry, enraged at his impudence
—“I tell you what it is, Captain Riga; this won't do—
where's the rhino?”

“Captain Riga,” added I, “do you not remember, that
about four months ago, my friend Mr. Jones and myself had
an interview with you in this very cabin; when it was
agreed that I was to go out in your ship, and receive three
dollars per month for my services? Well, Captain Riga,
I have gone out with you, and returned; and now, sir, I'll
thank you for my pay.”

“Ah, yes, I remember,” said the captain. “Mr. Jones!
Ha! ha! I remember Mr. Jones: a very gentlemanly gentleman;
and stop—you, too, are the son of a wealthy French
importer; and—let me think—was not your great-uncle a
barber?”

“No!” thundered I.

“Well, well, young gentleman, really I beg your pardon.
Steward, chairs for the young gentlemen—be seated, young
gentlemen. And now, let me see,” turning over his accounts

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—“Hum, hum!—yes, here it is: Wellingborough Redburn,
at three dollars a month. Say four months, that's twelve
dollars; less three dollars advanced in Liverpool—that
makes it nine dollars; less three hammers and two scrapers
lost overboard—that brings it to four dollars and a quarter.
I owe you four dollars and a quarter, I believe, young gentleman?”

“So it seems, sir,” said I, with staring eyes.

“And now let me see what you owe me, “and then we'll
be able to square the yards, Monsieur Redburn.”

Owe him! thought I—what do I owe him but a grudge,
but I concealed my resentment; and presently he said, “By
running away from the ship in Liverpool, you forfeited your
wages, which amount to twelve dollars; and as there has
been advanced to you, in money, hammers, and scrapers,
seven dollars and seventy-five cents, you are therefore indebted
to me in precisely that sum. Now, young gentleman,
I'll thank you for the money;” and he extended his
open palm across the desk.

“Shall I pitch into him?” whispered Harry.

“I was thunderstruck at this most unforeseen announcement
of the state of my account with Captain Riga; and I
began to understand why it was that he had till now ignored
my absence from the ship, when Harry and I were in London.
But a single minute's consideration showed that I
could not help myself; so, telling him that he was at liberty
to begin his suit, for I was a bankrupt, and could not pay
him, I turned to go.

Now, here was this man actually turning a poor lad adrift
without a copper, after he had been slaving aboard his ship
for more than four mortal months. But Captain Riga was
a bachelor of expensive habits, and had run up large wine
bills at the City Hotel. He could not afford to be munificent.
Peace to his dinners.

“Mr. Bolton, I believe,” said the captain, now blandly
bowing toward Harry. “Mr. Bolton, you also shipped for

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three dollars per month: and you had one month's advance in
Liverpool; and from dock to dock we have been about a
month and a half; so I owe you just one dollar and a half,
Mr. Bolton; and here it is;” handing him six two-shilling
pieces.

“And this,” said Harry, throwing himself into a tragical
attitude, “this is the reward of my long and faithful services!”

Then, disdainfully flinging the silver on the desk, he exclaimed,
“There, Captain Riga, you may keep your tin! It
has been in your purse, and it would give me the itch to retain
it. Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, young gentlemen; pray, call again,” said
the captain, coolly bagging the coins. His politeness, while
in port, was invincible.

Quitting the cabin, I remonstrated with Harry upon his
recklessness in disdaining his wages, small though they were;
I begged to remind him of his situation; and hinted that
every penny he could get might prove precious to him. But
he only cried Pshaw! and that was the last of it.

Going forward, we found the sailors congregated on the
forecastle-deck, engaged in some earnest discussion; while
several carts on the wharf, loaded with their chests, were
just in the act of driving off, destined for the boarding-houses
up-town. By the looks of our shipmates, I saw very plainly
that they must have some mischief under weigh; and so it
turned out.

Now, though Captain Riga had not been guilty of any
particular outrage against the sailors; yet, by a thousand
small meannesses—such as indirectly causing their allowance
of bread and beef to be diminished, without betraying
any appearance of having any inclination that way, and without
speaking to the sailors on the subject—by this, and kindred
actions, I say, he had contracted the cordial dislike of
the whole ship's company; and long since they had bestowed
upon him a name unmentionably expressive of their contempt.

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The voyage was now concluded; and it appeared that the
subject being debated by the assembly on the forecastle was,
how best they might give a united and valedictory expression
of the sentiments they entertained toward their late lord and
master. Some emphatic symbol of those sentiments was
desired; some unmistakable token, which should forcibly impress
Captain Riga with the justest possible notion of their
feelings.

It was like a meeting of the members of some mercantile
company, upon the eve of a prosperous dissolution of the concern;
when the subordinates, actuated by the purest gratitude
toward their president, or chief, proceed to vote him a
silver pitcher, in token of their respect. It was something
like this, I repeat—but with a material difference, as will
be seen.

At last, the precise manner in which the thing should be
done being agreed upon, Blunt, the “Irish cockney,” was
deputed to summon the captain. He knocked at the cabin-door,
and politely requested the steward to inform Captain
Riga, that some gentlemen were on the pier-head, earnestly
seeking him; whereupon he joined his comrades.

In a few moments the captain sallied from the cabin, and
found the gentlemen alluded to, strung along the top of the
bulwarks, on the side next to the wharf. Upon his appearance,
the row suddenly wheeled about, presenting their
backs; and making a motion, which was a polite salute to
every thing before them, but an abominable insult to all
who happened to be in their rear, they gave three cheers,
and at one bound, cleared the ship.

True to his imperturbable politeness while in port, Captain
Riga only lifted his hat, smiled very blandly, and
slowly returned into his cabin.

Wishing to see the last movements of this remarkable
crew, who were so clever ashore and so craven afloat, Harry
and I followed them along the wharf, till they stopped at a
sailor retreat, poetically denominated “The Flashes.” And

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here they all came to anchor before the bar; and the landlord,
a lantern-jawed landlord, bestirred himself behind it,
among his villainous old bottles and decanters. He well
knew, from their looks, that his customers were “flush,” and
would spend their money freely, as, indeed, is the case with
most seamen, recently paid off.

It was a touching scene.

“Well, maties,” said one of them, at last—“I spose we
shan't see each other again:—come, let's splice the mainbrace
all round, and drink to the last voyage!”

Upon this, the landlord danced down his glasses, on the
bar, uncorked his decanters, and deferentially pushed them
over toward the sailors, as much as to say—“Honorable
gentlemen, it is not for me to allowance your liquor;—help
yourselves, your honors.”

And so they did; each glass a bumper; and standing in
a row, tossed them all off; shook hands all round, three times
three; and then disappeared in couples, through the several
doorways; for “The Flashes” was on a corner.

If to every one, life be made up of farewells and greetings,
and a “Good-by, God bless you,” is heard for every “How
d'ye do, welcome, my boy”—then, of all men, sailors shake
the most hands, and wave the most hats. They are here
and then they are there; ever shifting themselves, they shift
among the shifting: and like rootless sea-weed, are tossed to
and fro.

As, after shaking our hands, our shipmates departed,
Harry and I stood on the corner awhile, till we saw the last
man disappear.

“They are gone,” said I.

“Thank heaven!” said Harry.