reserve the same commercial status which is a SINE QUA NON at the
"home," they are treated like gentlemen; but in what follows lies
the essential difference, and the reason for this outburst of mine,
smothered in silence for years. An "outward bounder"--that is, a man
whose money is exhausted and who is living upon the credit; of his
prospective advance of pay--is unknown at the "home." No matter what the
condition of things is in the shipping world; though the man may have
fought with energy to get his discharge accepted among the crowd at
the "chain-locker;" though he be footsore and weary with "looking for a
ship," when his money is done, out into the street he must go, if haply
he may find a speculative boarding-master to receive him. This act,
although most unlikely in appearance, is often performed; and though the
boarding-master, of course, expects to recoup himself out of the man's
advance note, it is none the less as merciful as the action of the
"home" authorities is merciless. Of course a man may go to the "straw
house," or, as it is grandiloquently termed, the "destitute seaman's
asylum," where for a season he will be fed on the refuse from the
"home," and sheltered from the weather. But the ungrateful rascals do
not like the "straw house," and use very bad language about it.

The galling thing about the whole affair is that the "sailors' home"
figures in certain official publications as a charity, which must be
partially supported by outside contributions. It may be a charitable
institution, but it certainly is not so to the sailor, who pays fully
for everything he receives. The charity is bestowed upon a far different
class of people to merchant Jack. Let it be granted that a man is sober
and provident, always getting a ship before his money is all gone, he
will probably be well content at the home, although very few seamen like
to be reminded ashore of their sea routine, as the manner of the home
is. If the institution does not pay a handsome dividend, with its
clothing shops and refreshment bars, as well as the boarding-house
lousiness on such a large scale, only one inference can be fairly
drawn--there must be something radically wrong with the management.

After this burst of temper, perhaps I had better get back to the subject
in hand. It was, I suppose, in the usual contrary nature of things that,
while we were all in this nearly helpless condition, one evening just
before sunset, along comes a sperm