Seamanship was shelved, for a time at least, and we were employed like
longshore labourers on the ship's hull. The rust and barnacles of our
outward passage had to be chipped off and scraped, and we had more than
enough of the din of chipping hammers and the stench of patent
compositions. One day Burke discovered his elder brother's name
painted on the piles of the wharf, and when he told us with pride of
the painter's position, 'Captain of a big tramp steamer,' we were
consoled by the thought that we were only going through the mill as
others had done before us. When the painting was finished we had the
satisfaction of knowing that our barque was not the least comely of the
many tall ships that lined the wharves.

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

'Sailor-town'--the Water Front, was first beyond the gangway. Here
were the boarding-houses and garish saloons, the money-changers' and
shoddy shops. The boarding-houses were cleaner than the dinginess of
an old-world seaport would allow, and the proprietors who manned their
doorways looked genial monuments of benevolence. On occasions they
would 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 _Shanghai
Passage_, and were chary of their advances. Often our evident distrust
was 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!" was
another salutation for brassbounders, but that came usually from a lady
at 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 entertainmen