se they must live; and there is no
end to their toil. Very, very few find haven of any kind, and the earth,
whose ways they do not understand, is cruel to them, when they walk upon
it to drink and be merry after the manner of beasts. Jack ashore is a
pretty thing when he is in a book or in the blue jacket of the Navy.
Mercantile Jack is not so lovely. Later on, we will see where his
"sprees" lead him.

CHAPTER V

WITH THE CALCUTTA POLICE.

"The City was of Night--perchance of Death,
But certainly of Night."

--_The City of Dreadful Night._

In the beginning, the Police were responsible. They said in a
patronising way that they would prefer to take a wanderer round the
great city themselves, sooner than let him contract a broken head on his
own account in the slums. They said that there were places and places
where a white man, unsupported by the arm of the Law, would be robbed
and mobbed; and that there were other places where drunken seamen would
make it very unpleasant for him.

"Come up to the fire look-out in the first place, and then you'll be
able to see the city." This was at No. 22, Lal Bazar, which is the
headquarters of the Calcutta Police, the centre of the great web of
telephone wires where Justice sits all day and all night looking after
one million people and a floating population of one hundred thousand.
But her work shall be dealt with later on. The fire look-out is a little
sentry-box on the top of the three-storied police offices. Here a native
watchman waits to give warning to the brigade below if the smoke rises
by day or the flames by night in any ward of the city. From this eyrie,
in the warm night, one hears the heart of Calcutta beating. Northward,
the city stretches away three long miles, with three more miles of
suburbs beyond, to Dum-Dum and Barrackpore. The lamplit dusk on this
side is full of noises and shouts and smells. Close to the Police
Office, jovial mariners at the sailors' coffee-shop are roaring hymns.
Southerly, the city's confused lights give place to the orderly
lamp-rows of the _maidan_ and Chowringhi, where the respectabilities
live and the Police have very little to do. From the east goes up to the
sky the clamour of Sealdah, the rumble of the trams, and the voices of
all Bow Bazar chaffering and making merry. Westward are the business
quarters, hushed now; the lamps of the shipping on the river; and the
twinkling lights on the Howrah side. "Does th