FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   8   9   10   11   12   13   14   15   16   17   18   19   20   21   22   23   24   25   26   27   28   29   30   31   32  
33   34   35   36   37   38   39   40   41   42   43   44   45   46   47   48   49   50   51   52   53   54   55   56   57   >>   >|  
must have a beginning for the yarn (said Captain Shreve), I'll begin with that morning, in this very port of San Francisco, when I walked out of the Shipping Commissioner's office with my first A.B.'s discharge in my hand, and a twelve months' pay-day jingling in my pocket. For I must explain something of my state of mind on that morning, so you will understand how I got Into Yankee Swope's blood-ship. It was the heyday of the crimps, and I walked through the very heart of crimpdom, along the old East street. It is not a very prepossessing thoroughfare even to-day, when it masquerades as the Embarcadero, a sinner reformed. In those days, when it was just East street, it consisted of solid blocks of ramshackle frame buildings, that housed all the varieties of sharks and harpies who live off Jack ashore; it was an ugly, dirty, fascinating way, a street with a garish, besotted face. But on this morning it seemed the most wonderful avenue in the world to me. I saw East street through the colorful eyes of youth--the eyes of Romance. I stepped along with my chest out and my chin up-tilted. A few paces behind me a beachcomber wobbled along with my sea-bag on his shoulder--for what A.B. would demean himself with such labor on pay-day, when moochers abounded at his heel! I was looking for a boarding-house. But it was not the Sailors' Home. That respectable institution might do very well for boys, and callow ordinary seamen, but it certainly would not do for a newly made A.B. Nor was I looking for Mother Harrison's place, as I told Mother's runner, who stuck at my elbow for a time. Mother Harrison's was known as the quietest, most orderly house on the street; it might do for those quiet and orderly old shellbacks whose blood had been chilled by age; but it would never do for a young A.B., a real man, who was wishful for all the mad living the beach afforded. No; I was looking for the Knitting Swede's. Knitting Swede Olson! Remember him, Briggs? A fine hole for a young fool to seek! But I was a man, remember--a MAN--and that precious discharge proved it. I was nineteen years old, and manhood bears a very serious aspect at nineteen. No wonder I was holding my head in the air. The fellows in my watch would listen to my opinions with respect, now I was an able seaman. No longer would I scrub the foc'sle floor while the lazy beggars slept. No longer would I peggy week in and week out. I was A.B. at last; a
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   8   9   10   11   12   13   14   15   16   17   18   19   20   21   22   23   24   25   26   27   28   29   30   31   32  
33   34   35   36   37   38   39   40   41   42   43   44   45   46   47   48   49   50   51   52   53   54   55   56   57   >>   >|  



Top keywords:

street

 

Mother

 

morning

 

longer

 
Knitting
 

nineteen

 

orderly

 

walked

 

discharge

 

Harrison


runner
 

quietest

 
shellbacks
 
respectable
 

institution

 

Sailors

 
boarding
 

abounded

 
seamen
 
callow

ordinary

 

wishful

 

aspect

 

manhood

 
remember
 
precious
 

proved

 

holding

 

listen

 

opinions


respect

 
fellows
 

living

 

afforded

 

beggars

 
seaman
 

moochers

 

Remember

 
Briggs
 

chilled


colorful

 

Yankee

 

understand

 
heyday
 

crimps

 

masquerades

 

Embarcadero

 

sinner

 

reformed

 

thoroughfare