by Louis Becke
DENISON'S SECOND BERTH ASHORE
I have already told how Tom Denison, the South Sea Island supercargo,took a berth ashore as overseer of a Queensland duck farm, whichwas mortgaged to a bank of which his brother was manager, and how heresigned the post in great despondency, and humped his swag to Cooktown.
Over his meeting with his brother let a veil be drawn. Suffice it to saythat the banker told him that he had missed the one great chance of hislife, and quoted Scripture about the ways of the improvident man to suchan extent that Denison forgot himself, and said that the bank and itsinfernal ducks could go and be damned. Thereupon his sister-in-law (whowas a clergyman's daughter, and revered the Bank as she did the Church)swooned, and his brother told him he was a heartless and dissolute youngruffian, who would come to a bad end. Feeling very hurt and indignant,the ex-supercargo stumped out of the bank, and went down to the wharf tolook for a ship.
But there was only a dirty little coasting steamer in port, and Denisonhated steamers, for once he had had to go a voyage in one as supercargo,and the continuous work involved by being constantly in port every fewdays, instead of drifting about in a calm, all but broke his heart.So he rented a room at a diggers' boarding-house kept by a Chinaman,knowing that this would be a dagger in the heart of his sister-in-law,who was the leading lady in Cooktown society; also, he walked about thetown without a coat, and then took a job on the wharf discharging coalsfrom a collier, and experienced a malevolent satisfaction when he oneevening met Mrs Aubrey Denison in the street. He was in company withfour other coal-heavers, all as black as himself; his sister-in-law waswalking with the wife of the newly-appointed Supreme Court judge. Sheglanced shudderingly at the disgraceful sight her relative presented,went home and hysterically suggested to Aubrey Denison, Esq., that hisbrother Tom was a degraded criminal, and was on the way to well-deservedpenal servitude.
After the coal-heaving job was finished, Denison lay back and luxuriatedon the L5, 17s. 6d. he had earned for his week's toil. Then one morninghe saw an advertisement, in the _North Queensland Trumpet-Call_, for aproof-reader. And being possessed of a certain amount of worldly wisdom,he went down to the bank, saw his brother (who received him with agloomy brow) and said he should like to write a letter to the editor ofthe _Trumpet-Call_. He wrote his letter--on bank paper--and then wentback to Sum Fat's to await developments. The following morning hereceived a note from the editor telling him to call at the office. ToSusie Sum Fat, his landlord's pretty half-caste daughter, he showedthe missive, and asked her to lend him one of her father's best shirts.Susie, who liked Denison for his nice ways, and the tender manner inwhich he squeezed her hand when passing the bread, promptly brought himher parent's entire stock of linen, and bade him, with a soft smile, totake his pick. Also that night she brought him a blue silk kummerbundstreaked with scarlet, and laid it on his pillow, with a writtenintimation that it was sent 'with fondiest love from Susie S. Fat.'
Arrayed in a clean shirt, and the swagger kummerbund, Denison presentedhimself next morning to the editor of the _Trumpet-Call_. There wereseven other applicants for the billet, but Denison's white shirt andnew kummerbund were, he felt, a tower of strength to him, and even theeditor of the _Trumpet-Call_ seemed impressed--clean shirts being ananomaly in Cooktown journalistic circles.
The editor was a tall, stately man, with red eyes and a distinctlyalcoholic breath. The other applicants went in first. Each one had abundle of very dirty testimonials, all of which recalled to DenisonJudge Norbury's remarks about the 'tender' letters of a certain breachof promise case. One little man, with bandy legs and a lurching gait,put his unclean hands on the editorial table, and said that his fatherwas 'select preacher to the University of Oxford.'
The red-eyed man said he was proud to know him. 'Your father, sir, wasa learned man and I reverence his name. But I never could forgive myselfdid I permit a son of such a great teacher to accept such a laboriousposition as proof-reader on the _Trumpet Call_. Go to Sydney orMelbourne, my dear sir. The editors of all our leading colonial paperswere clergymen or are sons of clergymen. I should be doing your futureprospects a bitter injustice. A bright career awaits you in this newcountry.'
He shook the hand of the select preacher's son and sent him out.
Among the other applicants was a man who had tried dugong fishing onthe Great Barrier Reef; a broken-down advance agent from a strandedtheatrical company; a local auctioneer with defective vision, but whohad once written a 'poem' for a ladies' journal; a baker's carter whowas secretary to the local debating society; and a man named Joss, whohad a terrific black eye and who told Denison, _sotto voce_, that ifthe editor gave _him_ any sauce he would 'go for him' there and thenand 'knock his bloomin' eye out,' and the son of the local bellman andbill-poster. The editor took their names and addresses, and said heshould write to them all in the morning and announce his decision. Then,after they had gone, he turned to Denison with a pleasant smile and anapproving look at Sum Fat's shirt, and asked him if he had had previousexperience of proof-reading. Denison, in a diffident manner, said thathe had not exactly had much.
'Just so. But you'll try and do your best, Mr Denison? Well, come inthis evening at eight o'clock, and see Mr Pinkham, the sub-editor. He'llshow you what to do. Salary, L2, 15s. Strict sobriety, I trust?'
The successful one said he never got quite drunk, expressed his thanksand withdrew. Once into the street he walked quickly into Sum Fat's, andtold the Celestial that he had taken a billet at 'thirty bob' a week ona newspaper.
'Wha' paper?' inquired Sum Fat, who was squeezing a nasty-lookingadipocerous mass into fish-balls for his boarders.
'The _Trumpet-Call_.'
'That's a lotten lag, if you li.' It close on banklupt this long time.'
Denison assented cheerfully. It _was_ a rotten rag, he said, andundoubtedly in a weak position financially; but the thirty bob would payhis board bill.
Then Sum Fat, who knew that the ex-supercargo was lying as regardedthe amount of his salary, nodded indifferently and went on pounding hisawful hash.
* * * * *
'Where is Mr Pinkham?' asked Denison at eight p.m., when an exceedinglydirty small boy brought him his first proof.
'He's tanked.{*} An' he says he ain't agoin' to help no blackguardsailor feller to read no proofs. And most all the comps is tanked, too.'
* 'Tanked.' A colonialism which indicates that a person has indulged in too much liquid refreshment.
However, with the intelligent assistance of the boy, Denison managed topull through that night, with the following result in the intercolonialTelegrams' column:--
'Melbourne, August 13.--The body of an elderly boat was foundd last night floating down the Yarra, down the Yarra, with its throat cut. It wvs dressed in v grey tweed suit with a flannel shirt, dressed in a grey tweed suit with a flannel shirt. This mourning a girl said the deceased was her father,' etc.
A few lines further down in the same column was the intelligence thatChief Justice Higinbotham of Victoria had 'sentenced the man Power toimprisonment for the term of his natural next.'
When Denison turned up next evening, the editor asked him in distinctlycold tones if he 'had read the paper.'
Denison said he had not--he was too tired.
Then the editor pointed out twenty-nine hideous mistakes, all underlinedin blue pencil and on a par with the two above-mentioned. Denisonexplained in regard to the word 'next' that he meant 'life,' but therebeing a turned 'e' in 'life' he somehow deleted the entire word, andjust then in his zeal, calling out 'next proof,' he unthinkingly wrote'next' on the proof instead of 'life.' As for the matter of the boat hehad no excuse to offer. The editor was not harsh, but said that a manof Denison's intelligence ought to be employed in building up Britainbeyond the seas instead of reading proofs.
For the next two issues he pulled through fairly well. Sum Fat advancedhim ten shillings, with which he bought Susie a pair of canvas shoes,and Susie kiss
ed him seven times and said she loved him because he neversaid horrid things to her like the other men. And when she laid herinnocent face upon his shoulder and wept, Denison was somewhat stirred,and decided to get away from Susie as quickly as possible.
On the fourth evening a beery local politician sent in a paragraph,written in an atrocious hand, stating that he (the beery man) had'received a number of replies to the circulars he had sent out tothe supporters of the Government,' etc. In the morning the paragraphappeared:--
'_Mr Ebenezer Thompson, the champion of Separation, for North Queensland, has again received quite a large number of reptiles,' _etc.
Of course Mr Thompson was terribly insulted--everyone in Cooktown knewthat he had periodical illnesses, during which he imagined he was chasedby large snakes joined to blue dogs with red eyes and crimson tails--anddemanded Denison's instant dismissal. The editor however, pleaded forhim on account of his inexperience, and the matter was passed over.
He worried along pretty well till the end of the week, and then freshtrouble arose. Mr Pinkham the sub-editor, who did the foreign cablesand the local fire-brigade items, got exceedingly drunk--a weeklyoccurrence--and, for his own safety, was locked up by the intelligentpolice. The three reporters, who all hated Pinkham, declined to sub-edithis cables, and consequently the editor was himself driven to takerefuge in drink. The business manager, however, took his place, and toldDenison that he relied on him to assist with the cables. Denison hintedat increased emoluments, and the manager promptly threatened to sack himand all the rest of the literary staff. He would do the cables himself,he said. He abhorred Denison on account of Susie and the kummerbund.
Just then the Emperor Frederick was dying at San Remo, and cables werecoming through _via_ Sydney.
At one a.m. the business manager came in to Denison and said that theyshould try to get along amicably. As both the editor and Mr Pinkham, hesaid, were in a disgraceful condition, he relied upon the rest of thestaff to maintain the credit of the _Trumpet-Call_, etc. Then he showedDenison a cable he had just received, and asked him if he could assisthim to make it out. It ran in this wise:
'London--Emperor Frederick condition very grave. German physicians hamper Morell Mackenzie, but approve suggestion operation trache Otomy esophagus without delay.'
Denison said (with secret joy) that he was afraid he couldn't help.But he believed that there were two world-famous Italian doctors namedTracchi and Tomy. 'Esophagus' was, he also remarked, no doubt meant for'sarcophagus'--the Latin name for the gullet. And he suggested to hisenemy that it would be well to rush the cable through as quickly aspossible. The business manager said he should--he merely felt a littledoubt about the proper spelling of the Italian doctors' names, thoughhe, of course, knew that there was no such word as esophagus. As he wentout Denison smiled like a fiend. His anticipations of an ample revengeupon the low, sordid creature who had refused him another sovereign aweek were gratified in the morning, for under a large heading he sawthis:--
'THE EMPEROR FREDERICK
'Serious Condition
'_San Remo.-- The Emperor Frederick's condition is causing grave anxiety. The German physicians in attendance hinder Morell Mackenzie in every possible way. They, however, agree to his suggestion to send for the two celebrated Italian specialists, Drs Tracchi and Tomy, and with them perform an operation on the Emperor's sarcophagus. Wheat is 1d. firmer. Hides are dull, bank rate unaltered. Tallow is improving._'
The absolute beauty of the thing, however, to Denison's mind, was thatthe business manager had sold a copy of his translation of the cablegramto the other local paper--run by the Cooktown Labour Union--which hadused it word for word.
Nothing of moment occurred after this till a report of a sermon by DrStanton, the first Bishop of North Queensland, appeared. His lordship,alluding to certain conditions of the human mind which rendered one'sjudgment 'subject to warp and bias,' the intelligent compositor made it'wasps and bees,' and Denison, being very sleepy when he read the proof,let it go. And Dr Stanton, good and generous man, laughed heartily whenDenison, with a contrite and broken heart called on him, and asked forhis forgiveness.
But Nemesis was coming along. There was a wealthy and atrociously vulgarmagnate in Cooktown, whose wife ran second to Mrs Aubrey Denison inlocal society, and who had just lost her father. The death announcementappeared as follows:--
'On June 18, at the Bungalow, Cooktown, Donald Dugald M'Whannel, Government Inspector of Artesian Bores for North Queensland, aged sixty-five.
'Also, at the same time and place, five trusses of Victoria hay, some pigs and calves, and twenty-six bags of onions and potatoes, all in prime order.'
Of course this was the last straw, and Denison was asked to resign. Butas Mrs Aubrey Denison wrote and said she should like to forgive him forhis disgraceful conduct before he went away, he sent the Scotch foremanof the _Trumpet-Call_ to explain to her that the catch-line of anauctioneer's advertisement had been 'dropped' on the same galley as themortuary notice, and overlooked when the forme was locked. And so, aftera tender farewell to little Susie Sum Fat, and with her kisses stillwarm upon his lips, Denison went out into the world again to look for aship.