Poor Jack

Peter Anderson, my father, Ben, and many others were sitting on the benches, basking in the morning's sun, when Dick Harness made his appearance, limping along with his fiddle under his arm.

"Come along, Dick," said Ben the Whaler, "we'll stow close, and make room for you here."

"You must make elbow-room, too, my hearty, or I shan't be able to fiddle. Come, what will you have this fine morning?" said Harness, tuning his instrument. As soon as it was in tune he flourished a prelude from the top of the scale to the bottom, ending with an "Eh-haw! eh-haw!" in imitation of the braying of a donkey.

"Give us the Spanish Ladies, Dick," said my father. As this song was very popular at that time among the seamen, and is now almost forgotten, I shall by inserting it here for a short time rescue it from oblivion.

"Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish ladies,Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain;For we have received ordersFor to sail to old England,But we hope in a short time to see you again."

"Stop a moment, lads. I must screw him up a little more."

Dick regulated his first string, and then continued.

"We'll rant and we'll roar, like true British sailors,We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas;Until we strike soundingsIn the Channel of old England(From Ushant to Scilly 'tis thirty-five leagues)."Then we hove our ship to, with the wind at sou'west,my boys,Then we hove our ship to, for to strike soundings clear;Then we filled the maintopsailAnd bore right away, my boys,And straight up the Channel of old England did steer."So the first land we made, it is called the Deadman,Next Ram Head, off Plymouth, Start, Portland, andthe Wight;We sail-ed by Beachy,By Fairly and Dungeness,And then bore away for the South Foreland light."Now the signal it was made for the grand fleet toanchor,All in the Downs that night for to meet;Then stand by your stoppers,See clear your shank painters,Haul all your clew garnets, stick out tacks and sheets."

Here Dick was interrupted by another fiddle, which went "turn, turn—scrape—turn, turn."

"There's Opposition Bill, Dick," said my father; "I thought you would bring him out."

"All's right," replied Dick; "hope he aren't affronted; but he looks very black this morning."

"Now let every man lake off his full bumper,Let every man take off his full bowl;For we will be jollyAnd drown melancholy,With a health to each jovial and true-hearted soul."

"Now, then, Billy, fire away."

"You tink I 'bey your order, you Dick? No, sar, suppose I fire away, I go off. I not go off, I stay here."

"Well, but if you play, you'll get in trouble, Billy."

"How I get in trouble?"

"Why, you'll get in a scrape, won't you?"

"Ho! you just got out of one, anyhow."

Dick Harness then said to those who sat by him, "I'll make him sing the Negro General."

"Well, if you will howl, Mr. Billy," cried out Harness, "at all events don't give us that abominable Nigger General. It always gives me the toothache."

"Now I tink dat very fine song; so you may have whole jaw-ache for all I care. I sing dat, Mr. Dick; you jealous of dat song, I know."

Opposition Billy flourished a little, and then commenced—

"Listen, my boys, and I will tell youTell you a leetle 'bout Gin'ral Gabriel.Oh-e-oh! Oh-e-oh!"Dey advertise de Nigger Gin'ral,A dousand pounds dey advertise him.Oh, my boys, I'm most done!"And who betrayed de Nigger Gin'ral?A leetle boy betrayed de Gin'ral.Oh-e-oh! Oh-e-oh!"A leetle boy by de name of Daniel,Betrayed him down at Norfolk Landing.Oh, my boys, I'm most done!"He says, how do, my uncle Gabriel?But dis is not your uncle Gabriel.Oh-e-oh! Oh-e-oh!"Yes, it is my uncle Gabriel;For I do know you, uncle Gabriel.Oh, my boys, I'm most done!"De man belonged to Major Prosser,So cum and hang de Nigger Gin'ral.Oh-e-oh! Oh-e-oh!"For he's ruined old Virginny!Hard times in old Virginny.Oh, my boys, I'm most done!"Dey wrote a letter to de tailor,To cut out de Gin'ral's ruffles.Oh-e-oh! Oh-e-oh!"Dey cut de ruffles out o' iron!So they handcuff and chained him.Oh, my boys, I'm most done!"Dey went and called a troop of light horseTo come and guard de Nigger Gin'ral!Oh-e-oh! Oh-e-oh!"To guard him all to de city of Richmond,To guard him up unto de justice.Oh, my boys, I'm most done!"De justice tuk him to de gobnor—(Monroe he set up for gobnor).Oh-e-oh! Oh-e-oh!"Command him to de Penetenshy;On Thursday week come on his trial.Oh, my boys, I'm most done!"Dey went and called all de countryFor to come and see de Nigger Gin'ral.Oh-e-oh! Oh-e-oh!"Some dey call him Archy Mullen—'Myright name is John Decullen.'Oh, my boys, I'm most done!"I'm here to-day and gone to-morrow;I did not come for to stay for eber.'Oh-e-oh! Oh-e-oh!"So den dey tuk him to de gallows,Drive him down dere in a wagon.Oh, my boys, I'm most done!"Dey drive him down unto de gallows,Dey drive him down with four gray horses.Oh-e-oh! Oh-e-oh!"(Price's Ben, he drive de wagon)Very sad loss to Major Prosser.Oh, my boys, I'm most done!"Dey drove him right beneath de gallows,And den dey hang him and dey swing him.Oh-e-oh! Oh-e-oh!"And dat de fate of de Nigger Gin'ral,Who almost ruined old Virginny!Now, my boys, I'm quite done!"

"You've quite done, have you, Billy?" said Harness; "take my advice and never begin again."

"Eh, Mister Dick, you no ab song like dat in your budget, and I neber give you de tune."

"I hope you won't; but now I'll play you a tune which will beat you hollow." Hereupon Dick Harness imitated the squeaking of pigs and caterwauling of cats upon his fiddle, so as to set everybody laughing, except Opposition Bill, who pretended to be very sulky.

"Come, Dick, it's your turn now. Give us a regular forecastle song," said Ben the Whaler.

"Well, then, here's one that's been sung ever since the days of old Queen Anne:

"It was one November—the second day—The admiral he bore away,Intending for his native shore.The wind at sou'sou'west did roar;There was likewise a terrible sky,Which made the sea to run mountains high."The tide of ebb it was not done,But fiercely to the west did run;Which put us all in terrible fear,Because there was not room for to veer.The wind and weather increased sore,And drove ten sail of us on shore."Ashore went the 'Northumberland,'The 'Harwich,' and the 'Cumberland,'The 'Lion' and the 'Warwick' too;But the 'Elizabeth' had the most to rue—She came stem on—her fore-foot broke,And she sunk the 'Gloucester' at one stroke."But now remains what is worse to tell,The greatest ships had the greatest knell;The brave 'C'ronation' and all her menWas lost and drowned every one,Except the mate and eighteen moreWhat in the longboat com'd ashore."And thus they lost their precious lives;But the greatest loss was to their wives,Who, with their children left on shore,Their husbands' watery death deplore,And wept their loss with many tears—(But grief endureth not for years)."Now you who've a mind to go to sea,Pray take a useful hint from me,And live at home, and be contentWith what kind Providence has sent;For they were punish'd for their misdeeds,In grumbling when they had no needs."Now God preserve our noble Queen,Likewise her Ministers serene;And may they ever steer a courseTo make things better 'stead of worse,And England's flag triumphant fly,The dread of hevery he-ne-my."

"You call dat singing! Stop now! I sing a song you nebber hear in all your life," cried Opposition Bill, tuning his fiddle.

"And never wish to hear again, most likely," replied Dick. "Out with it, Bill; your face shines beautifully this morning."

"I take de shine out of you, Massa Dick; now you listen:

"Now your fader is asleep, maid, listen unto me;Will you follow in my trail to Ken-tuck-y?For cross de Alleghany to-morrow I must go,To chase de bounding deer on'de O-hi-o."And will you lub me truly, and kind to me will be,If I quit my fader's roof for Ken-tuck-y?And will you nebber leave me, if I consent to goTo your shanty by de stream of de O-hi-o?"Her fader's not asleep, and he will not agree,Dat you take away his dater to Ken-tuck-y.So alone by yourself, good hunter, you must go,Where the Ingin's rifle cracks on de O-hi-o."Your moder, too, is near, aldough you did not see,And wid her leave you nebber go to Ken-tuck-y.He hab a wife already, as I do surely know,Who weeps for his return to de O-hi-o."Man, I have dis purse of gold, half of it for ye;Woman, I hab ne'er a wife in Ken-tuck-y;Your dater is my only lub, so pridee let us goTo where my corn is ripening on de O-hi-o."De fader weighed de purse, he took his half wid glee,De moder said her child might go to Ken-tuck-y.So de hunter and de maid, arm-in-arm dey go,Across de Alleghany to de O-hi-o."

"Bravo, Billy, that's not so bad," said some of the pensioners.

"I tell you, Dick, I take de shine out of you. You nebber believe till I make you fall in my wake, and den you soon be where de little boat was—long way astarn."

"I'll tell you what, Billy," said Dick Harness, "you do improve, and we'll allow you to sing that song once more before you die, just by way of encouragement."

Dick then played several flourishes on his fiddle. Opposition Bill tried to imitate him, but made sad work of it. It was near dinner-time, and the pensioners rose and proceeded to the Painted Hall, for at that time they dined there, and not below in the crypts as they do now.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I get into very doubtful Company—I am tempted, and, like a true Son of Adam, I fall.

The reader must have observed that, under the tuition of Anderson, I promised to follow the right path, and, provided his good offices were not interfered with, there appeared little doubt but that such would be the case. But I was little aware, nor was he, that the humble profession which I had chosen for myself was beset with danger, and that the majority of those with whom I was associating were the most likely of all others to lead me into evil. Why I had not hitherto been tempted can only be ascribed to my tender years. In fact, I had not been considered strong enough, or of an age to be useful to them, but now that I was more than thirteen years old—being, moreover, very tall and strong for my age—the hour of temptation arrived; and fortunate was it for me that, previous to this epoch, I had been taken under the protection of Peter Anderson.

I have said in a former chapter that I was a regular mudlarker. So I was, as far as the ostensible occupation of those who are so denominated went; to wit, "picking up pieces of old rope, wood, etc." But the mudlarkers, properly speaking, at that time composed a very extensive body on the river, and were a more humble portion of the numerous river depredators, of which I may hereafter speak. A mudlarker was a man who had an old boat, generally sold by some merchant vessel, furnished with an iron bar full of hooks, which was lowered down by a rope to catch pieces of cordage, oakum, canvas or other articles, which might fall overboard from the numerous vessels in the river; these were sold to the marine stores, such as were kept by old Nanny. But, as I observed, this was the ostensible mode of livelihood; they had other resources, to which I shall presently refer. An old man of the name of Jones, who resided at Greenwich, was one of these mudlarkers by profession. He was a surly old fellow, his sharp nose and chin nearly meeting, and he usually went by the name of Old Grumble. I had occasionally assisted him with his boat, but without receiving money, or indeed thanks, for my pains, but for this I cared little. He was a very old man, and when he came on shore and went up to old Nanny with the few things he had collected during the day, I almost wondered how he could manage to subsist, and thought myself infinitely better off than he was.

One evening he said to me, "Jack, I'm going up the river, I wish you'd come in the boat and help me, and if I make anything I will give you something for your trouble, but if I don't you can't expect it."

As he was very infirm I went with him, more out of charity than with any hopes of profit. We pulled with the tide till we arrived a little above Deptford, where several ships were lying, and he went close to one and lowered down his grapnels. He dragged for a short time.

"Just you make a little further off, old fellow," cried the mate of the vessel.

"Won't allow a poor old man to earn a few pence, I suppose," replied Old Grumble, hauling up his grapnel and directing me to pull under the bows, where he dropped it down again. I now perceived, as I thought, some signs passing between him and one of the men in the head; but if so, they were soon over, and Old Grumble continued his avocation till the sun set.

"How long do you intend to remain here?" inquired I.

"Oh, not much longer, but I must wait a bit."

At last it was quite dark, and then Grumble pulled up his grapnel and dropped down nearer to the cutwater of the vessel. I soon distinguished a tinkling, as it were, of metal; and Old Grumble, holding up his hands, received some sheets of copper, which were lowered down by a rope-yarn. As soon as they were quietly landed in the stern of the boat, down came a bag, which he cast off and laid beside the copper. I was all astonishment, but still more so when a large bag of something weighing very heavy was lowered down by a rope after the small bag. A low whistle was then given, and the words "Monday night" pronounced in a whisper. Grumble whistled in return, and then, hauling up the grapnel, he told me to put out the oars and pull, while he took his grapnel on board. We then pulled down the river again, for the tide had turned, and as soon as we were clear of the shipping I began to interrogate him.

"Who gave you all these things?"

"Who? Why, that man."

"But what did he give them you for?"

"Why, out of charity, to be sure! But I can't talk now, I've no breath to spare. Let's pull ashore, and then I'll talk to you."

As we pulled down I observed that a lighter had broken adrift from her moorings, and was sweeping down the river with the ebb tide.

"There's a lighter adrift," said I.

"Yes," replied Grumble. "I'm too old for that work now; time was. There'll be pretty pickings as soon as she gets down a little lower. The Light Horsemen have cut her adrift."

"Light Horsemen! Who are they?"

"Bah! you know nothing. I tell ye again, I haven't no breath to spare; I can't pull and talk too."

I was convinced in my own mind that Old Grumble had not obtained the articles in the boat by fair means, and, annoyed that I should have been made a participator in any dishonest dealings, I was resolved to question him closely as soon as we landed. There was no one at the steps, and when we beached the boat I asked him whether he was going to take the things up to old Nanny's.

"Old Nanny! no. She's no fence now; she used to be a good one, but she was overhauled once or twice, and nearly sent on the other side of the water, and, since that, she's satisfied with little articles, sure profit and no risk."

"What do you mean by a fence?" inquired I.

"Why, don't you know that yet, boy? Well, a fence is one who receives things that are brought for sale, and never asks no questions."

"Well, but if these things were given you out of charity, as you say, why should you want to take them up to a fence, as you call it?"

"I tell you what, Jack, I can't be answering all these questions here, where there may be twenty pair of ears a-listening."

"Well, and if they do listen, what is the harm, if we are doing what is right?"

"It won't do to argufy here, I tell you. In my opinion, a poor man who works hard to get some victuals to keep body and soul together is doing what is right."

"Yes, if he works at an honest livelihood."

"Don't talk so loud about honesty; the very word is enough to make people suspect something not right. I'll tell you all when you come up to my house; for you see, Jack, you must help me to carry these things up. D'ye think you can manage this bag of pease? Let's try." Between us we contrived to get the bag, which weighed about half a hundredweight, on my back, and I walked off with it, Grumble following me with the copper and the other small bag, which I afterward found contained copper nails. When we arrived at his dwelling, which was as dilapidated and miserable as old Nanny's, he took out his key and fumbled a long while at the lock; at last he opened it. "You had better stay till I get a light," said he. In a minute he came with one to the door, and told me to follow him. I went in, put down the bag, and, some grains falling out, I took them up.

"Why, this is coffee, Grumble!"

"Well, pease is our name for coffee, sand for sugar, and vinegar for rum, when we get any."

"Well, but, Grumble, I wish to know how you came by these things?"

"I'll tell you, Jack, if you ask everybody how they come by things, you will have enough to do; but the fact is, the man wants me to sell them for him."

"Why, you said he gave them to you out of charity!"

"Oh, that was only because I couldn't spare breath to tell you all about it."

"But why should he lower them down in the dark, if they are his own property?"

"Jack, I don't ask whose property it is; all I know is that I come by it honestly. I don't steal it, and I can't prove that the man does. Why, Jack, if one is to be so nice as that, you can't go into a grocer's shop to buy sugar, or coffee, or pepper, or indeed into almost any shop, if you first want to know whether the people have come by the goods honestly before you buy of them."

"Still, it is so plain that the man must have stolen them."

"Suppose it is; how are so many poor people to find their livelihood and support their families, if they refuse to get a shilling or two when it is offered? If we were only to live upon what we get honestly, why, we should starve; the rich take good care of that by grinding us down so close. Why, Jack, how many thousands get their living on this river! and do you think they could all get their living honestly, as you call it? No; we all plunder one another in this world4. You asked me who were Light Horsemen?—that's a name for one set of people who live by plunder. That lighter will have a good slice of her cargo out to-night; for those who cut her adrift know what's on board of her. Then we have the Heavy Horsemen—they do their work in the daytime, when they go on board as lumpers to clear the ships. And then we've the Coopers and Bumboat men, and the Ratcatchers and the Scuffle Hunters, and the River Pirates; and, last of all, we have the Mudlarkers: all different professions, Jack; never interfering with each other, and all living by their wits. I'm too old now; I was a flash pirate once, but I'm now nearly eighty, and am only fit for a mudlarker."

"But," exclaimed I, with astonishment, "are they not discovered and punished?"

"That's very seldom, Jack; for you see we have receivers all down the river; some of them great men, and dining with the mayor and common council; others in a small way—all sorts, Jack: and then we have what we call Jew Carts, always ready to take goods inland, where they will not be looked after. Old Nanny was a receiver and fence in a large way once."

"Then the only honest people on the river are the watermen."

Here old Grumble chuckled. "Why, Jack, they be the worst of all, for they be both receivers and thieves. Do you think the watermen live by their fares? If you do, just wait on the steps one night, and you'll find that their night work is worth more than the day work is. We all must live, Jack; and now I've shown you a way by which you can earn more money in a night than you can in a fortnight by asking for halfpence. Here's five shillings for you, my boy; and when I want you again I'll let you know."

Alas! the five shillings, so easily and so unexpectedly earned, did, for the time, satisfy all my scruples: so easily are we bribed into what is wrong. I wished Old Grumble a good-night and left him. As I returned home, I thought of what he had said about night work, and, instead of making my way to Fisher's Alley, I returned to the landing-steps, resolving to watch for a time and see what occurred.

I thought of what had passed. I was not satisfied with myself. I thought of what Anderson would say, and I felt that I had done wrong. And then I attempted to exculpate myself. I could not prove that the things were stolen. I did not go with any intent to help in such a business. Old Grumble had only paid me for my work; but then, why did he pay me so much money? My conscience told me that it was because the dealings were unfair. I could not persuade myself that I was right. I looked up at the heavens—for it was a clear night, and there was a very bright star just above me; and as I looked at it it appeared as if it were an eye beaming down upon me, and piercing into my breast. I turned away from it, and then looked at it again—still it had the same appearance. I thought it was the eye of God—I trembled, and I resolved to reveal the whole to Anderson the next day, when I heard the sound of oars. I looked in the direction, and perceived a wherry with two men pulling in. I was down on the steps, under the shadow of the wall, and they did not see me. They landed, and handed out of the wherry three large and full canvas bags. "It's more than we can carry," said the voice of a waterman I well knew; "we must leave one in the boat; and be quick, for they are on our scent. Hollo! who's that? what are you doing here? Poor Jack, I declare."

"Well, mayn't I have a little night work as well as you?"

"Oh! you've come to that, have you?" replied he. "Well, as you're waiting for something else, I suppose you could not help us with one of these bags?"

"Yes, I can," replied I, forgetting all my resolutions; "put it on my back, if it's not too heavy."

"No, no; you're stout enough to carry it. I say, Jack, can you tell us, does old Nanny fence again, or has she given it up?"

"I believe she does not," replied I.

"Well," said he, "just put the question to her to-morrow morning, for she used to be a good 'un; now follow us."

I walked after them with my load until we came to a by-street; at the shutters of a shop they rapped three times on the iron bar outside which fixed them up; the door was opened, and we put the bags down in the passage, walked out again without a word, and the door was immediately closed.

"Well, Jack," said the waterman, "I suppose we must tip handsome for the first time: here's ten shillings for you, and we'll let you know when we want you to be on the lookout for us."

Ten shillings! and five before—fifteen shillings! I felt as I were a rich man; all scruples of conscience were, for the time, driven away. I hurried home rattling the silver in my pocket, and opening the door softly, I crept to bed. Did I say my prayers that night? No!!

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I am tempted again—My Pride is roused, and my Course of Life is changed in consequence.

I passed a dreaming restless night, and woke early. I recalled all that had passed, and I felt very much dissatisfied with myself; the fifteen shillings, with the added prospect of receiving more, did not yield me the satisfaction I had anticipated. From what the men had said about old Nanny I thought that I would go and see her; and why? because I wished support against my own convictions. If I had not been actuated by such a feeling I should, as usual, have gone to old Anderson. When I went down to breakfast I felt confused, and I hardly dared to meet the clear bright eye of my little sister, and I wished the fifteen shillings out of my pocket. That I might appear to her and my mother as if I were not guilty, I swaggered; my sister was surprised, and my mother justifiably angry. As soon as breakfast was over, I hastened to old Nanny's.

"Well, Jack," said she, "what brings you here so early?"

"Why, mother, I was desired to ask you a question last night—between ourselves."

"Well, why don't you ask it, since it's between ourselves?" replied she, with surprise.

"Some of the people want to know if you fence now?"

"Jack," said old Nanny, harshly, "who asked you that question, and how did you fall into their company? Tell me directly; I will know."

"Why, mother, is there any harm in it?" replied I, confused and holding down my head.

"Harm in it! Ask your own conscience, Jack, whether there's harm in it. Why do you not look me in the face like an honest boy? Would they have dared to put that question to you, if you had not been a party to their evil deeds, Jack?" continued she, shaking her head. "I thought better of you; now you have filled me full of sorrow."