He swore like a pirateHe swore like a pirate
He swore like a pirate
The well deck was the outdoor privilege for steerage passengers, set nine feet down in the hull of the ship, forward the poop deck and aft second cabin promenade deck, with a railing across the latter to prevent cabin passengers falling off into the well deck. All view available for steerage passengers on the well deck was up into the sky—whence we might look and pray for deliverance. We could sit on the bulkheads that formed a part of the floor and lean our backs against the wall, which our women folk did.
Cabin passengers up top side would lean on that rail andspit on us! And they complained tomeabout it—of course they did—to whom else should they tell their troubles?—wasn't I Chairman of Committee on Complaints? I was, and it was another case of "Let George do it." There was no one to appeal to but "Beef." Captain and purser held aloof and wouldn't answer our petition.
I didn't have much hope in approaching "Beef" after my proposition of the night before at curfew—"Beef" knew I was driving at him—but I thought of Moses and how he had to appeal to Pharaoh, of the stony heart—what little I knew of the career of Moses was especially comforting to me—but since I'd been purged of the streak of yellow in me that prompted me to try and shake my steeragefriends I was willing to do anything; so I went to "Beef" and said: "Say, those low-brow cabin passengers along the rail up top side arespittin'on the ladies and gentlemen down here in the steerage!"
The enormity of the outrage didn't faze "Beef." Cabin passengers had the privilege to spit on steerage. He wouldn't do anything. All the attention he paid to the complaint was to look at me and say: "I don't consideryou'rea gentleman."
And I told him if inhisopinion I was a gentleman I'd go and hang myself.
And the indignation grew and grew.
All the comfort there was on hand was to lodge complaints with me and to express the hope that I'd do justice to the situation when I got home.
"Don't forget to tell about the rats, Allen," a man from Maryland piped up.
"Yes, touch up the rats," a man from Iowa admonished me, while a man from Kentucky said he had become so innured to hardship he didn't mind the rats so much, he could stand their running over his face nights, if they would only hurry across.
"Yes," a man from Massachusetts plaintively wailed, "itishard when they loiter, isn't it?" While a man from Florida said that he didn't mind their feet so much—it was the dragging their tails across his face that got ontohisnerves.
It is hard when they loiter"Itishard when they loiter, isn't it?"
"Itishard when they loiter, isn't it?"
"And don't forget to tell how they served us those little, pithy oranges that day, Allen," a man from California broke in.
This was hardly worthy. The man who lodged that complaint ought to have been ashamed of himself, and his ingenuity for finding things to kick about was of a low order—he was straining at a gnat and swallowing camels.
It's true the stewards brought them on in their dirty aprons and pitched them at us—not the stewards' fault, they were doing the best they could with the tools furnished them—but steerage passengers ought to be grateful for any kind of oranges, served in any shape. While it's quite true, in my adolescent years, as a boy on the farm I have fed apples to hogs with the same courtesy, the complaint was too trivial to be spread on the minutes of the meeting. But it was voted to spread it, hence the mention.
Before the meeting adjourned, under the head of "New Business," a portly judge advised that the petition sent to the captain be rewritten and signed again with the home addresses of all signers opposite their names, and that I take the resigned petition home with me. Some of the ship's letterheads were pasted together until we had a sheet nearly five feet long on which to rewrite the petition, andon both sides of the paper there was not enough space to hold the signers' names, and an overflow sheet had to be supplied.
The next day all steerage passengers were subjected to a medical examination. Americans examined on deck—immigrants in the dining saloon.
A brother-in-tribulation, "New York," and I, after we were released from the examination, started down a noisome alleyway to go to our cabins, and we had to pass through the dining-room, where immigrants were being examined. We were in "New York's" cabin when a dining-room steward came to us and told us he had been sent to tell us to go on deck; that we were holding up the medical examination. No steerage passengers were allowed in the cabins until medical examinations were completed, he told us, and that he was ordered to tell us to go on deck.
We had gotten so used to being ordered up and down and in and out that we obeyed like dumb driven cattle. As we were about to pass through a companionway to get on deck, dining-room stewards guarded it and told us we couldn't go on deck. "New York" was ahead, and paid no attention to the contradictory order. They let him pass, but when I followed, one of the guards took hold of my arm to stop me, and I brushed past him. He felldown and began to howl before he struck the deck. I joined "New York" on deck and told him I suspected a frame-up, and that I would hear of it later.
Sure enough, in about half an hour "Beef" hove in sight and told me the captain wanted to see me in the purser's room.
"Glory be, 'New York'," I said, "let's shake the nether regions and go up first and see the captain. I've an invitation to meet him in the purser's room. We've been wanting to see that fellow ever since we left Liverpool, and I invite you to go with me as my guest."
"Only Mr. Allen is wanted," "Beef" vouchsafed, but "New York" didn't pay any more attention to him than if he'd been a toadstool—I was going to say mushroom, but I like mushrooms—and together we went to pay our respects to his nibs, the captain, "Beef" following on behind.
As we neared the purser's room we passed the entrance to first-cabin dining-saloon, and as we saw the luscious fruits and viands prepared, and took in the luxurious surroundings, we clasped our hands and simultaneously exclaimed: "Is this heaven?"
I was ushered into the purser's room, "New York" sticking to me closer than a brother. There sat his nibs, the captain, togged out with enoughgold braid to scare a horse. The purser stood at his side, and "Beef" came in. There were some chairs in the room.
My! but those chairs did look good to "New York" and me. Neither of us had sat on anything soft for nearly a week.
An irresistible impulse to sit down on something soft seized us, and, unabashed in the presence of all that gold braid confronting us, we were about to sink into their luxurious depths when his royal gazooks, with an imperious wave of his hand, bade us remain standing in his presence. It was really an awful break on our part—we should have waited for him to have invited his guests to take a seat, but we were so dazzled and dazed by the sudden transition from steerage to first that we were momentarily shy a few buttons on the niceties—and besides, we wanted to sit on a cushioned chair—weachedto sit on a cushioned chair, I'm telling you, but we didn't—I thought of Lal and stood.
It was up tometo stand—I was up for trial before the most absolute monarch in the world, the commander of a ship at sea.
He asked me my name, and I told him.
"You are charged with assaulting an officer in the discharge of his duty," he said. "What have you to say for yourself?"
Beef came inAnd "Beef" came in
And "Beef" came in
I told him the circumstances, "And, captain," I said, "that chap fell down mighty easy, and began to howl before he struck the deck."
The captain ordered the damaged steward to be produced.
The purser and "Beef" had him on tap, around the corner somewhere, and "Beef" led him in limping and sniveling.
"Did this man assault you?" the captain asked, pointing to me.
"Yes, sir, captain, 'e did, sir, thank you, sir. Hi was guardin' a door accordin' to horders, sir, and 'e pushed me over and I got an awful bruise, sir, thank you, sir."
According to the evidence, I was the one to thank, but I guess he got his thanks bestowed where they belonged, all right.
"Beef" explained that the man was badly hurt and under the doctor's care, and he turned him tenderly around so the captain could see where his pants had come in contact with the deck.
And those pants did look bad, there was no doubt about that.
"Yes, yes," the captain said, in a commiserating tone, "the man is undoubtedly severely injured."
Those pants did look badAnd those pants did look bad. There was no doubt about that
And those pants did look bad. There was no doubt about that
"Yes, captain," "Beef" said, "and the other night at curfew, out on the well deck, Mr. Allen made aspeech and advised a lot of steerage passengers to knock down officers on the ship, no matter how many shoulder straps they wore."
This was a serious charge—mutiny on shipboard—and punishable, I am informed, with instant death.
With a shuddering gasp at the enormity of my crime—or was it ghoulish glee at having sufficient evidence to have me drawn and quartered—I credit him with the latter sentiment—a human being who would keep two free-born American citizens standing in his presence—men whom he knew had been living steerage on his ship for nearly a week—with those chairs standing tantalizingly, invitingly empty—the wearer of all that gold braid, lolling luxuriously in an easy chair, filled with such viands as "New York" and I had seen coming through—I'll never believe that man would shudder at crime. Rather, I think he was gloating over my ignoble end, and devising ways of still more horrible torture—that's the kind of a man I think that captain was, and I'll bet on it.
But according to the rules he didn't dare pass sentence without giving me a hearing. While he was judge, jury and prosecuting attorney, he had to give me a chance to clear myself, so he asked me what answer I had to make to the charge.
"Well, captain," I said, "'Bee—'—I mean your chief of steerage, hasn't got the story straight. At an indignation meeting out on the well deck the other night, as he has insulted women on this voyage, after he had ordered the women below decks at what you call your curfew time, I voiced the sentiments of the male portion of your steerage passengers by advising that if any of them caught an officer of the ship insulting a woman, whether she was an immigrant or an American, no matter how many brass buttons or shoulder straps he wore, to knock him down; and if he was too big to handle with the fist, to use a club."
"Beef" jumped up and shook his fist at me and bellowed: "If Mr. Allen says I've insulted women, he's a liar."
Right here is where "New York" shone.
"I would like a word here, captain," he said. "Mr. Allen is stating facts. Your chief of steeragehasinsulted women on this voyage."
That "impartial" judge, that embellished emblem of authority, said he had known "Beef" for a good many years, and he knew he wouldn't do such a thing, so, according to "Beef" and the captain, "New York" and I were both liars.
He's a liar"If Mr. Allen says I have insulted women, he's a liar"
"If Mr. Allen says I have insulted women, he's a liar"
Then that bedizened judge turned on "New York" and said: "You look like a clean-cut, up-standingman" (this last was the unkindest cut of all; it's a compliment to have some men call you a liar, but he needn't have used that word "up-standing"; Lord knows, "New York" didn'twantto stand up)—"how do you explain your associating with such a person as this man Allen?"
And then "New York" shone some more. He told the captain that he had found Mr. Allen a most agreeable and congenial companion on this voyage.
Oh, my! How this story does string out. I suppose "New York" saved my life. With "New York's" testimony the captain didn't pass the death sentence—he dismissed us with a magnificent wave of his embroidered coat-sleeve—the steward didn't die, but peeled potatoes, and I'm in New York, and Clinton only five hours away.
The End