The Brassbounder: A Tale of the Sea

by David W. Bone

  IX

  IN 'FRISCO TOWN

  We moored at Mission Wharf to discharge what cargo the fire had spared,and there we made a lubberly picture, outcast among so many trim ships.The firemen had done their duty and had left us to do ours, and we hadto work our hardest to put the ship in order again. A firm ofshipwrights were employed to repair the damage--the twisted stanchions,buckled beams, burnt decks, worthless pumps, and hold fittings. OldJock was not a Scotchman for nothing, and to make their contractprofitable, the 'wrights did nothing that they could wriggle out of.So we had extra work to do--their work--and from daylight to dark werekept hard at it, man-driven as only our hardcase Mate could drive. Itwas no wonder that we were in a state of discontent. Here we were,after a long, hard voyage, working our 'soul-case' to shreds! Andthere--just across the wharf--were the lights of Market Street, thatseemed to beckon us to come ashore! There were angry mutterings, andonly a wholesome fear of the Mate's big hands kept us at the task.

  With the men forward it was even worse. The word had gone out that nomoney would be advanced until the cargo was discharged and the ship putto rights. No money--not even the price of a 'schooner'! And theghost of nigh six months, salt beef waiting to be 'laid!'

  Their state of mind was soon observed by the boarding-masters. Whalerswere in the Bay, fitted out and ready for sea, and only a lack ofsailormen kept them within the Golden Gate. To get these men--theblood-money for their shipment, rather--was the business of the'crimps,' who showed a wealth of imagination in describing the varioustopping shore jobs that they held at their disposal. Now it was a'mine manager' they were looking for in our forecastle; to-morrow itwould be a fruit salesman they wanted! They secured smiling Dutch Johnas a decoy, and set him up behind the bar of a Water Front saloon.There, when work was over for the day, his former shipmatesforegathered, and John (fairly sober, considering) put up free drinksand expanded on the goodness of a long-shore life.

  "Vat jou boysh stop _mit der_ ship on? Jou tinks dere vas no yobs onshore? De boardin'-master damn lie, eh? ... Ah vas get me fourdollars a day; _und der_ boss, ven 'e see me de glasses break, say menodings! Ah goes from _der haus, und_ comes to _der haus in--und_ 'esay nod like _der_ Mate, 'Vat jou do dere, _verdamt shwine_? Was _fuer_jou no go on mit jour vark?' ... _'ttverdam_! It vas _der_ life,_mein_ boysh! It vas _der_ life!"

  Against such a pronouncement from their whilom shipmate, and with theplain evidence of his prosperity before their eyes, it was useless toargue. Here was John able to stand free drinks all round, and thesaloon boss 'standin' by' and smiling pleasantly. Didn't John say,"Here, boss, jou gif me a light for _mein_ cigar!" and the owner of theplace handed out his silver box instanter? John! A 'Dutchman,'too,--not even the best sailorman of the 'crowd'! ... ("Here, boss,what was that job ye was talkin' about? I _guess_ there ain't nuthin'I can't do w'en I sets my 'ead to it!") Soon the 'crimps,' ever readyat hand, were off to the ship, hot-foot, for bags and baggage!

  Those who still held by the ship were visited at all hours, and thecomings and goings of the tempters were not even checked by the Mate.The dinner hour was the most opportune time for them, for then they hadthe miserable meal to point to in scorn.

  "Call yewrselves min," they said, "a sittin' hyar at yer lobscouse an'dawg biscuits, an' forty dallars a month jest waitin' t' be picked up?... Forty dallars ... an' no more graft 'n a boy kin dew! Darn it, Iwouldn't give that mess to me dawg! ... A fine lot yees are, fer sure!Ain't got no heart t' strike aout f'r decent grub 'n a soft job....Forty dallars, I guess! ... Is thar a 'man' among ye? ... Chip inyewr dunnage an' step ashore, me bucks! A soft job in a free country,an' no damn lime juice Mate t' sweat ye araound!"

  The 'spell worked'! Within a fortnight of our arrival most of the menwho had signed with us had, '_Deserted. Left no effects_,' enteredagainst their names in our official Log. Soon the whalers were at sea,standing to the north, and Dutch John shorn of his proud position, wasshipped as cook on a hard-case New Yorker!

  The bos'un and Old Martin were still with us, and we had Welsh John andHouston safe in the hospital--about the only place in 'Frisco where nohealthy 'crimp' could gain admission. For want of better game,perhaps, the boarding-masters paid some attention to the half-deck, butwe had, in the Chaplain of the British Seamen's Institute, a muscularmentor to guide us aright. From the first he had won our hearts by hisability to put Browne (our fancy man) under the ropes in three rounds.It was said that, in the absence of a better argument, he was able andwilling to turn his sleeves up to the stiffest 'crimp' on the Front.Be that as it may, there was no doubt about his influence withbrassbounders in the port. Desertions among us--that had formerly beenfrequent--were rare enough when James Fell came, swinging his stick, tosee what was doing on the Front!

  With the crew gone, we found matters improved with us. The Mate,having no 'crowd' to rush around, was inclined to take things easy,and, when sober, was quite decent. Although but a few weeks in thecountry, we were now imbued with the spirit of freedom; learned to'guess' and 'reckon'; called Tuesday 'Toosday'; and said "No, sir-rr!"when emphatic denial was called for. Eccles even tried the democraticexperiment of omitting his "sir" when answering the Mate. Disastrousresult!

  Seamanship was shelved, for a time at least, and we were employed likelongshore labourers on the ship's hull. The rust and barnacles of ouroutward passage had to be chipped off and scraped, and we had more thanenough of the din of chipping hammers and the stench of patentcompositions. One day Burke discovered his elder brother's namepainted on the piles of the wharf, and when he told us with pride ofthe painter's position, 'Captain of a big tramp steamer,' we wereconsoled by the thought that we were only going through the mill asothers had done before us. When the painting was finished we had thesatisfaction of knowing that our barque was not the least comely of themany tall ships that lined the wharves.

  At night, when work was over, we had the freedom of the City. It wasgood to be on the beach again. Money was scarce with us, and in aplace where five cents is the smallest currency, we found our littlestock go fast, if not far. If luxuries were beyond our reach, at leastthe lighted streets were ours, and it was with a delightful sense offreedom from ship discipline that we sauntered from 'sailor-town' to'China-town,' or through the giant thoroughfares that span the heart ofthe City itself. Everything was new, and fine, and strange. Thesimple street happenings, the busy life and movements, the glare andgaudery of the lights, were as curious to us as if we had never landedbefore.

  'Sailor-town'--the Water Front, was first beyond the gangway. Herewere the boarding-houses and garish saloons, the money-changers' andshoddy shops. The boarding-houses were cleaner than the dinginess ofan old-world seaport would allow, and the proprietors who manned theirdoorways looked genial monuments of benevolence. On occasions theywould invite us in--"Come right in, boyees, an' drink the health o' th'haouse," was the word of it--but we had heard of the _ShanghaiPassage_, and were chary of their advances. Often our evident distrustwas received with boisterous laughter. "Saay," they would shout."_Yew_ needn't shy, me sucking bloody Nelsons! It's little use _yew_'ud be aboard a packet!" ... "Light--the--binnacle, bo--oy!" wasanother salutation for brassbounders, but that came usually from a ladyat an upper window, and there would be a sailorman there--out of sight,as prompters properly are.

  At the clothing shop doors, the Jews were ever on the alert for custom.A cheap way of entertainment was to linger for a moment at theirwindows, pointing and admiring. Isaac would be at us in a moment,feeling the texture of our jackets with his bony fingers and calling onthe whole street to witness that it was "a biece 'f damn good shduff!"Then it would be, "Gome into de shop, Misdur! I guess I god de tingshyou vannt!"

  After we had spent a time examining and pricing his scent-bottles andspring garters, and hand-painted braces and flowered velvet slippersand 'Green River' sheath-knives, we thought it but right to tell himthat Levy Eckstein of Montgomery Street was our man; that our Captain
would pay no bills for us but his!

  With Levy our business was purely financial; cent, per cent,transactions in hard cash. He had contracted with the Old Man tosupply us with clothing, but, though our bills specified an outfit ofsubstantial dry goods, we were always able to carry away the parcels inour smallest waistcoat pocket. "One dollar for two," was Levy's motto.If his terms were hard, his money was good, and, excepting for the OldMan's grudging advances, we had no other way of 'raising the wind.'

  In 'China-town' we found much to astonish us. We could readily fancyourselves in far Cathay. There was nothing in the narrow streets andfancily carved house fronts to suggest an important City in the States.Quaint shop signs and curious swinging lanterns; weird music and noisesin the 'theatres'; uncanny smells from the eating-houses; the cat-likesound of China talk--all jumbled together in a corner of the mostwestern city of the West!

  The artisans in their little shops, working away far into the night,interested us the most, and some of our little money went to purchasesmall wares for the home folks. It was here that Munro bought thatlong 'back-scratcher'; the one he took home to his father!

  Sometimes, when we could induce our Burke to make up to one of hiscompatriots (the blue-coated, six-foot Fenians who keep 'Frisco undermartial law), we saw something of the real, the underground China-town.It was supposed to be a hazardous excursion, but, beyond treading thedark, forbidding alleys, haunts of 'Li-Johns' and 'Highbinders,' we hadno sight of the sensational scenes that others told us of. We sawopium dens, and were surprised at the appearance of the smokers.Instead of the wasted and debauched beings, of whom we had read, wefound stout Johns and lean Johns, lively Johns and somnolent Johns,busy and idle--but all looking as if they regarded life as a huge joke.

  They laughed amiably at our open mouths, and made remarks to us.These, of course, we were unable to understand, but at least we couldgrin, and that seemed to be the answer expected. When our guide tookus to free air again, and we found ourselves far from where we hadentered, we could readily 'take it from Michael' that the undergroundpassages offered harbour to all the queer fellows of the City. Withthe night drawing on, and a reminder in our limbs that we had done ahard day's work, we would go to Clark's, in Kearney, a coffee-housefamed among brassbounders. There we would refresh and exchange shipnews with 'men' from other ships. Clark himself--a kindly person witha hint of the Doric amidst his 'Amurricanisms'--was always open toreason in the middle of the week, and we never heard that he had lostmuch by his 'accommodations.'

  When we returned to the streets, the exodus from the theatres would bestreaming towards cars and ferry. It was time we were on board again.Often there would be a crowd of us bound for the wharves. It was acustom to tramp through 'sailor-town' together. On the way we wouldcheer the 'crimps' up by a stave or two of 'Mariners of England.'