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Redburn. His First Voyage/Chapter LVIII

LVIII. THOUGH THE HIGHLANDER PUTS INTO NO HARBOR AS YET; SHE HERE AND THERE LEAVES MANY OF HER PASSENGERS BEHIND
Although fast-sailing ships, blest with prosperous breezes, have frequently made the run across the Atlantic in eighteen days; yet, it is not uncommon for other vessels to be forty, or fifty, and even sixty, seventy, eighty, and ninety days, in making the same passage. Though in the latter cases, some signal calamity or incapacity must occasion so great a detention. It is also true, that generally the passage out from America is shorter than the return; which is to be ascribed to the prevalence of westerly winds.

We had been outside of Cape Clear upward of twenty days, still harassed by head-winds, though with pleasant weather upon the whole, when we were visited by a succession of rain storms, which lasted the greater part of a week.

During the interval, the emigrants were obliged to remain below; but this was nothing strange to some of them; who, not recovering, while at sea, from their first attack of seasickness, seldom or never made their appearance on deck, during the entire passage.

During the week, now in question, fire was only once made in the public galley. This occasioned a good deal of domestic work to be done in the steerage, which otherwise would have been done in the open air. When the lulls of the rain-storms would intervene, some unusually cleanly emigrant would climb to the deck, with a bucket of slops, to toss into the sea. No experience seemed sufficient to instruct some of these ignorant people in the simplest, and most elemental principles of ocean-life. Spite of all lectures on the subject, several would continue to shun the leeward side of the vessel, with their slops. One morning, when it was blowing very fresh, a simple fellow pitched over a gallon or two of something to windward. Instantly it flew back in his face; and also, in the face of the chief mate, who happened to be standing by at the time. The offender was collared, and shaken on the spot; and ironically commanded, never, for the future, to throw any thing to windward at sea, but fine ashes and scalding hot water.

During the frequent hard blows we experienced, the hatchways on the steerage were, at intervals, hermetically closed; sealing down in their noisome den, those scores of human beings. It was something to be marveled at, that the shocking fate, which, but a short time ago, overtook the poor passengers in a Liverpool steamer in the Channel, during similar stormy weather, and under similar treatment, did not overtake some of the emigrants of the Highlander.

Nevertheless, it was, beyond question, this noisome confinement in so close, unventilated, and crowded a den: joined to the deprivation of sufficient food, from which many were suffering; which, helped by their personal uncleanliness, brought on a malignant fever.

The first report was, that two persons were affected. No sooner was it known, than the mate promptly repaired to the medicine-chest in the cabin: and with the remedies deemed suitable, descended into the steerage. But the medicines proved of no avail; the invalids rapidly grew worse; and two more of the emigrants became infected.

Upon this, the captain himself went to see them; and returning, sought out a certain alleged physician among the cabin-passengers; begging him to wait upon the sufferers; hinting that, thereby, he might prevent the disease from extending into the cabin itself. But this person denied being a physician; and from fear of contagion—though he did not confess that to be the motive—refused even to enter the steerage. The cases increased: the utmost alarm spread through the ship: and scenes ensued, over which, for the most part, a veil must be drawn; for such is the fastidiousness of some readers, that, many times, they must lose the most striking incidents in a narrative like mine.

Many of the panic-stricken emigrants would fain now have domiciled on deck; but being so scantily clothed, the wretched weather—wet, cold, and tempestuous—drove the best part of them again below. Yet any other human beings, perhaps, would rather have faced the most outrageous storm, than continued to breathe the pestilent air of the steerage. But some of these poor people must have been so used to the most abasing calamities, that the atmosphere of a lazar-house almost seemed their natural air.

The first four cases happened to be in adjoining bunks; and the emigrants who slept in the farther part of the steerage, threw up a barricade in front of those bunks; so as to cut off communication. But this was no sooner reported to the captain, than he ordered it to be thrown down; since it could be of no possible benefit; but would only make still worse, what was already direful enough.

It was not till after a good deal of mingled threatening and coaxing, that the mate succeeded in getting the sailors below, to accomplish the captain's order.

The sight that greeted us, upon entering, was wretched indeed. It was like entering a crowded jail. From the rows of rude bunks, hundreds of meager, begrimed faces were turned upon us; while seated upon the chests, were scores of unshaven men, smoking tea-leaves, and creating a suffocating vapor. But this vapor was better than the native air of the place, which from almost unbelievable causes, was fetid in the extreme. In every corner, the females were huddled together, weeping and lamenting; children were asking bread from their mothers, who had none to give; and old men, seated upon the floor, were leaning back against the heads of the water-casks, with closed eyes and fetching their breath with a gasp.

At one end of the place was seen the barricade, hiding the invalids; while—notwithstanding the crowd—in front of it was a clear area, which the fear of contagion had left open.

"That bulkhead must come down," cried the mate, in a voice that rose above the din. "Take hold of it, boys."

But hardly had we touched the chests composing it, when a crowd of pale-faced, infuriated men rushed up; and with terrific howls, swore they would slay us, if we did not desist.

"Haul it down!" roared the mate.

But the sailors fell back, murmuring something about merchant seamen having no pensions in case of being maimed, and they had not shipped to fight fifty to one. Further efforts were made by the mate, who at last had recourse to entreaty; but it would not do; and we were obliged to depart, without achieving our object.

About four o'clock that morning, the first four died. They were all men; and the scenes which ensued were frantic in the extreme. Certainly, the bottomless profound of the sea, over which we were sailing, concealed nothing more frightful.

Orders were at once passed to bury the dead. But this was unnecessary. By their own countrymen, they were torn from the clasp of their wives, rolled in their own bedding, with ballast-stones, and with hurried rites, were dropped into the ocean.

At this time, ten more men had caught the disease; and with a degree of devotion worthy all praise, the mate attended them with his medicines; but the captain did not again go down to them.

It was all-important now that the steerage should be purified; and had it not been for the rains and squalls, which would have made it madness to turn such a number of women and children upon the wet and unsheltered decks, the steerage passengers would have been ordered above, and their den have been given a thorough cleansing. But, for the present, this was out of the question. The sailors peremptorily refused to go among the defilements to remove them; and so besotted were the greater part of the emigrants themselves, that though the necessity of the case was forcibly painted to them, they would not lift a hand to assist in what seemed their own salvation.

The panic in the cabin was now very great; and for fear of contagion to themselves, the cabin passengers would fain have made a prisoner of the captain, to prevent him from going forward beyond the mainmast. Their clamors at last induced him to tell the two mates, that for the present they must sleep and take their meals elsewhere than in their old quarters, which communicated with the cabin.

On land, a pestilence is fearful enough; but there, many can flee from an infected city; whereas, in a ship, you are locked and bolted in the very hospital itself. Nor is there any possibility of escape from it; and in so small and crowded a place, no precaution can effectually guard against contagion.

Horrible as the sights of the steerage now were, the cabin, perhaps, presented a scene equally despairing. Many, who had seldom prayed before, now implored the merciful heavens, night and day, for fair winds and fine weather. Trunks were opened for Bibles; and at last, even prayer-meetings were held over the very table across which the loud jest had been so often heard.

Strange, though almost universal, that the seemingly nearer prospect of that death which any body at any time may die, should produce these spasmodic devotions, when an everlasting Asiatic Cholera is forever thinning our ranks; and die by death we all must at last.

On the second day, seven died, one of whom was the little tailor; on the third, four; on the fourth, six, of whom one was the Greenland sailor, and another, a woman in the cabin, whose death, however, was afterward supposed to have been purely induced by her fears. These last deaths brought the panic to its height; and sailors, officers, cabin-passengers, and emigrants—all looked upon each other like lepers. All but the only true leper among us—the mariner Jackson, who seemed elated with the thought, that for him—already in the deadly clutches of another disease—no danger was to be apprehended from a fever which only swept off the comparatively healthy. Thus, in the midst of the despair of the healthful, this incurable invalid was not cast down; not, at least, by the same considerations that appalled the rest.

And still, beneath a gray, gloomy sky, the doomed craft beat on; now on this tack, now on that; battling against hostile blasts, and drenched in rain and spray; scarcely making an inch of progress toward her port.

On the sixth morning, the weather merged into a gale, to which we stripped our ship to a storm-stay-sail. In ten hours' time, the waves ran in mountains; and the Highlander rose and fell like some vast buoy on the water. Shrieks and lamentations were driven to leeward, and drowned in the roar of the wind among the cordage; while we gave to the gale the blackened bodies of five more of the dead.

But as the dying departed, the places of two of them were filled in the rolls of humanity, by the birth of two infants, whom the plague, panic, and gale had hurried into the world before their time. The first cry of one of these infants, was almost simultaneous with the splash of its father's body in the sea. Thus we come and we go. But, surrounded by death, both mothers and babes survived.

At midnight, the wind went down; leaving a long, rolling sea; and, for the first time in a week, a clear, starry sky.

In the first morning-watch, I sat with Harry on the windlass, watching the billows; which, seen in the night, seemed real hills, upon which fortresses might have been built; and real valleys, in which villages, and groves, and gardens, might have nestled. It was like a landscape in Switzerland; for down into those dark, purple glens, often tumbled the white foam of the wave-crests, like avalanches; while the seething and boiling that ensued, seemed the swallowing up of human beings.

By the afternoon of the next day this heavy sea subsided; and we bore down on the waves, with all our canvas set; stun'-sails alow and aloft; and our best steersman at the helm; the captain himself at his elbow;—bowling along, with a fair, cheering breeze over the taffrail.

The decks were cleared, and swabbed bone-dry; and then, all the emigrants who were not invalids, poured themselves out on deck, snuffing the delightful air, spreading their damp bedding in the sun, and regaling themselves with the generous charity of the captain, who of late had seen fit to increase their allowance of food. A detachment of them now joined a band of the crew, who proceeding into the steerage, with buckets and brooms, gave it a thorough cleansing, sending on deck, I know not how many bucketsful of defilements. It was more like cleaning out a stable, than a retreat for men and women. This day we buried three; the next day one, and then the pestilence left us, with seven convalescent; who, placed near the opening of the hatchway, soon rallied under the skillful treatment, and even tender care of the mate.

But even under this favorable turn of affairs, much apprehension was still entertained, lest in crossing the Grand Banks of Newfoundland, the fogs, so generally encountered there, might bring on a return of the fever. But, to the joy of all hands, our fair wind still held on; and we made a rapid run across these dreaded shoals, and southward steered for New York.

Our days were now fair and mild, and though the wind abated, yet we still ran our course over a pleasant sea. The steerage-passengers—at least by far the greater number—wore a still, subdued aspect, though a little cheered by the genial air, and the hopeful thought of soon reaching their port. But those who had lost fathers, husbands, wives, or children, needed no crape, to reveal to others, who they were. Hard and bitter indeed was their lot; for with the poor and desolate, grief is no indulgence of mere sentiment, however sincere, but a gnawing reality, that eats into their vital beings; they have no kind condolers, and bland physicians, and troops of sympathizing friends; and they must toil, though to-morrow be the burial, and their pallbearers throw down the hammer to lift up the coffin.

How, then, with these emigrants, who, three thousand miles from home, suddenly found themselves deprived of brothers and husbands, with but a few pounds, or perhaps but a few shillings, to buy food in a strange land?

As for the passengers in the cabin, who now so jocund as they? drawing nigh, with their long purses and goodly portmanteaus to the promised land, without fear of fate. One and all were generous and gay, the jelly-eyed old gentleman, before spoken of, gave a shilling to the steward.

The lady who had died, was an elderly person, an American, returning from a visit to an only brother in London. She had no friend or relative on board, hence, as there is little mourning for a stranger dying among strangers, her memory had been buried with her body.

But the thing most worthy of note among these now light-hearted people in feathers, was the gay way in which some of them bantered others, upon the panic into which nearly all had been thrown.

And since, if the extremest fear of a crowd in a panic of peril, proves grounded on causes sufficient, they must then indeed come to perish;—therefore it is, that at such times they must make up their minds either to die, or else survive to be taunted by their fellow-men with their fear. For except in extraordinary instances of exposure, there are few living men, who, at bottom, are not very slow to admit that any other living men have ever been very much nearer death than themselves. Accordingly, craven is the phrase too often applied to any one who, with however good reason, has been appalled at the prospect of sudden death, and yet lived to escape it. Though, should he have perished in conformity with his fears, not a syllable of craven would you hear. This is the language of one, who more than once has beheld the scenes, whence these principles have been deduced. The subject invites much subtle speculation; for in every being's ideas of death, and his behavior when it suddenly menaces him, lies the best index to his life and his faith. Though the Christian era had not then begun, Socrates died the death of the Christian; and though Hume was not a Christian in theory, yet he, too, died the death of the Christian,—humble, composed, without bravado; and though the most skeptical of philosophical skeptics, yet full of that firm, creedless faith, that embraces the spheres. Seneca died dictating to posterity; Petronius lightly discoursing of essences and love-songs; and Addison, calling upon Christendom to behold how calmly a Christian could die; but not even the last of these three, perhaps, died the best death of the Christian.

The cabin passenger who had used to read prayers while the rest kneeled against the transoms and settees, was one of the merry young sparks, who had occasioned such agonies of jealousy to the poor tailor, now no more. In his rakish vest, and dangling watch-chain, this same youth, with all the awfulness of fear, had led the earnest petitions of his companions; supplicating mercy, where before he had never solicited the slightest favor. More than once had he been seen thus engaged by the observant steersman at the helm: who looked through the little glass in the cabin bulk-head.

But this youth was an April man; the storm had departed; and now he shone in the sun, none braver than he.

One of his jovial companions ironically advised him to enter into holy orders upon his arrival in New York.

"Why so?" said the other, "have I such an orotund voice?"

"No;" profanely returned his friend—"but you are a coward —just the man to be a parson, and pray."

However this narrative of the circumstances attending the fever among the emigrants on the Highland may appear; and though these things happened so long ago; yet just such events, nevertheless, are perhaps taking place to-day. But the only account you obtain of such events, is generally contained in a newspaper paragraph, under the shipping-head. There is the obituary of the destitute dead, who die on the sea. They die, like the billows that break on the shore, and no more are heard or seen. But in the events, thus merely initialized in the catalogue of passing occurrences, and but glanced at by the readers of news, who are more taken up with paragraphs of fuller flavor; what a world of Me and death, what a world of humanity and its woes, lies shrunk into a three-worded sentence!

You see no plague-ship driving through a stormy sea; you hear no groans of despair; you see no corpses thrown over the bulwarks; you mark not the wringing hands and torn hair of widows and orphans:—all is a blank. And one of these blanks I have but filled up, in recounting the details of the Highlander's calamity.

Besides that natural tendency, which hurries into oblivion the last woes of the poor; other causes combine to suppress the detailed circumstances of disasters like these. Such things, if widely known, operate unfavorably to the ship, and make her a bad name; and to avoid detention at quarantine, a captain will state the case in the most palliating light, and strive to hush it up, as much as he can.

In no better place than this, perhaps, can a few words be said, concerning emigrant ships in general.

Let us waive that agitated national topic, as to whether such multitudes of foreign poor should be landed on our American shores; let us waive it, with the one only thought, that if they can get here, they have God's right to come; though they bring all Ireland and her miseries with them. For the whole world is the patrimony of the whole world; there is no telling who does not own a stone in the Great Wall of China. But we waive all this; and will only consider, how best the emigrants can come hither, since come they do, and come they must and will.

Of late, a law has been passed in Congress, restricting ships to a certain number of emigrants, according to a certain rate. If this law were enforced, much good might be done; and so also might much good be done, were the English law likewise enforced, concerning the fixed supply of food for every emigrant embarking from Liverpool. But it is hardly to be believed, that either of these laws is observed.

But in all respects, no legislation, even nominally, reaches the hard lot of the emigrant. What ordinance makes it obligatory upon the captain of a ship, to supply the steerage-passengers with decent lodgings, and give them light and air in that foul den, where they are immured, during a long voyage across the Atlantic? What ordinance necessitates him to place the galley, or steerage-passengers' stove, in a dry place of shelter, where the emigrants can do their cooking during a storm, or wet weather? What ordinance obliges him to give them more room on deck, and let them have an occasional run fore and aft?—There is no law concerning these things. And if there was, who but some Howard in office would see it enforced? and how seldom is there a Howard in office!

We talk of the Turks, and abhor the cannibals; but may not some of them, go to heaven, before some of us? We may have civilized bodies and yet barbarous souls. We are blind to the real sights of this world; deaf to its voice; and dead to its death. And not till we know, that one grief outweighs ten thousand joys, will we become what Christianity is striving to make us.

title: Redburn. His First Voyage/Chapter LVIII


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And in her best petticoat burnt a great hole. Poor pussy's weeping, she'll have no more milk Until her best petticoat's mended with silk,

license: Creative Commons - Attribution Share-Alike - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

title: Page:A Book of Nursery Rhymes.djvu/44


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Rh She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed,

For they'd left all their tails behind 'em! It happened one day, as Bo-peep did stray,

Unto a meadow hard by—

There she espied their tails side by side,

All hung on a tree to dry.

She heaved a sigh, and wiped her eye,

And over the hillocks she raced;

And tried what she could, as a shepherdess should,

That each tail should be properly placed.

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 As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives, Every wife had seven sacks, Every sack had seven cats, Every cat had seven kits: Kits, cats, sacks, and wives, How many were there going to St. Ives?

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 Rh "Oh, don't be so angry," said the Princess; "I can't bear that; but I've had such a strange dream."

" Bless me!" said the Dragon; "if I ever heard the like of these dreams—there's no end to them. And pray, what did you dream now?"

"I thought the ferryman down at the ferry came and asked how long he was to stop there and carry folk over," said the Princess.

"The dull fool!" said the Dragon; "he'd soon be free if he chose. When any one comes who wants to go across he has only to take and throw him into the river, and say, 'Now, carry folk over yourself till some one sets you free.' But now, pray let's have an end of these dreams, else I'll lead you a pretty dance."

So the Princess let him sleep on. But as soon as all was still, and the miller's lad heard that the Dragon snored, he crept out. Before it was light the Dragon rose; but he had scarce set both his feet on the floor before the lad cut off his head, and plucked three feathers out of his tail Then came great joy, and both the lad and the Princess took as much gold, and silver, and money, and precious things as they could carry; and when they came down to the ford, they so puzzled the ferryman with all they had to tell, that he quite forgot to ask what the Dragon had said about him till they had got across.

"Halloa, you sir," he said, as they were going off, "did you ask the Dragon what I begged you to ask?"

"Yes, I did," said the lad, "and he said, 'When any one comes and wants to go over, you must throw him into the midst of the river, and say 'Now, carry folk over yourself till some one comes to set you free,' and then you'll be free."


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 212 "Ah, bad luck to you," said the ferryman; "had you told me that before you might have set me free yourself."

So when they got to the first palace, the Queen asked if he had spoken to the Dragon about her gold keys.

"Yes," said the lad, and whispered in the Queen's ear; "he said you must look among the bushes where you lay the day you wot of."

"Hush! hush! don't say a word," said the Queen, and gave the lad a hundred dollars.

When they came to the second palace the King asked if he had spoken to the Dragon of what he begged him, "Yes," said the lad, "I did; and see, here is your daughter."

At that the King was so glad he would gladly have given the Princess to the miller's lad to wife, and half the kingdom beside; but as he was married already he gave him two hundred dollars, and coaches and horses, and as much gold and silver as he could carry away.

When he came to the third King's palace, out came the King and asked if he had asked the Dragon of what he begged him.

"Yes," said the lad, "and he said you must dig out the well, and take out the rotten old stump which lies at the bottom, and then you'll get plenty of clear water."

Then the King gave him three hundred dollars, and he set out home; but he was so loaded with gold and silver, and so grandly clothed, that it gleamed and glistened from him, and he was now far richer than Peter the Pedlar.

When Peter got the feathers he hadn't a word more to say against the wedding; but when he saw all that wealth, he asked if there was much still left at the Dragon's castle.


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Redburn. His First Voyage/Chapter LIX

LIX. THE LAST END OF JACKSON
"Off Cape Cod!" said the steward, coming forward from the quarter-deck, where the captain had just been taking his noon observation; sweeping the vast horizon with his quadrant, like a dandy circumnavigating the dress-circle of an amphitheater with his glass.

Off Cape Cod! and in the shore-bloom that came to us— even from that desert of sand-hillocks—methought I could almost distinguish the fragrance of the rose-bush my sisters and I had planted, in our far inland garden at home. Delicious odors are those of our mother Earth; which like a flower-pot set with a thousand shrubs, greets the eager voyager from afar.

The breeze was stiff, and so drove us along that we turned over two broad, blue furrows from our bows, as we plowed the watery prairie. By night it was a reef-topsail-breeze; but so impatient was the captain to make his port before a shift of wind overtook us, that even yet we carried a main-topgallant-sail, though the light mast sprung like a switch.

In the second dog-watch, however, the breeze became such, that at last the order was given to douse the top-gallant-sail, and clap a reef into all three top-sails.

While the men were settling away the halyards on deck, and before they had begun to haul out the reef-tackles, to the surprise of several, Jackson came up from the forecastle, and, for the first time in four weeks or more, took hold of a rope.

Like most seamen, who during the greater part of a voyage, have been off duty from sickness, he was, perhaps, desirous, just previous to entering port, of reminding the captain of his existence, and also that he expected his wages; but, alas! his wages proved the wages of sin.

At no time could he better signalize his disposition to work, than upon an occasion like the present; which generally attracts every soul on deck, from the captain to the child in the steerage.

His aspect was damp and death-like; the blue hollows of his eyes were like vaults full of snakes; and issuing so unexpectedly from his dark tomb in the forecastle, he looked like a man raised from the dead.

Before the sailors had made fast the reef-tackle, Jackson was tottering up the rigging; thus getting the start of them, and securing his place at the extreme weather-end of the topsail-yard—which in reefing is accounted the post of honor. For it was one of the characteristics of this man, that though when on duty he would shy away from mere dull work in a calm, yet in tempest-time he always claimed the van, and would yield it to none; and this, perhaps, was one cause of his unbounded dominion over the men.

Soon, we were all strung along the main-topsail-yard; the ship rearing and plunging under us, like a runaway steed; each man gripping his reef-point, and sideways leaning, dragging the sail over toward Jackson, whose business it was to confine the reef corner to the yard.

His hat and shoes were off; and he rode the yard-arm end, leaning backward to the gale, and pulling at the earing-rope, like a bridle. At all times, this is a moment of frantic exertion with sailors, whose spirits seem then to partake of the commotion of the elements, as they hang in the gale, between heaven and earth; and then it is, too, that they are the most profane.

"Haul out to windward!" coughed Jackson, with a blasphemous cry, and he threw himself back with a violent strain upon the bridle in his hand. But the wild words were hardly out of his mouth, when his hands dropped to his side, and the bellying sail was spattered with a torrent of blood from his lungs.

As the man next him stretched out his arm to save, Jackson fell headlong from the yard, and with a long seethe, plunged like a diver into the sea.

It was when the ship had rolled to windward, which, with the long projection of the yard-arm over the side, made him strike far out upon the water. His fall was seen by the whole upward-gazing crowd on deck, some of whom were spotted with the blood that trickled from the sail, while they raised a spontaneous cry, so shrill and wild, that a blind man might have known something deadly had happened.

Clutching our reef-points, we hung over the stick, and gazed down to the one white, bubbling spot, which had closed over the head of our shipmate; but the next minute it was brewed into the common yeast of the waves, and Jackson never arose. We waited a few minutes, expecting an order to descend, haul back the fore-yard, and man the boat; but instead of that, the next sound that greeted us was, "Bear a hand, and reef away, men!" from the mate.

Indeed, upon reflection, it would have been idle to attempt to save Jackson; for besides that he must have been dead, ere he struck the sea—and if he had not been dead then, the first immersion must have driven his soul from his lacerated lungs —our jolly-boat would have taken full fifteen minutes to launch into the waves.

And here it should be said, that the thoughtless security in which too many sea-captains indulge, would, in case of some sudden disaster befalling the Highlander, have let us all drop into our graves.

Like most merchant ships, we had but two boats: the longboat and the jolly-boat. The long boat, by far the largest and stoutest of the two, was permanently bolted down to the deck, by iron bars attached to its sides. It was almost as much of a fixture as the vessel's keel. It was filled with pigs, fowls, firewood, and coals. Over this the jolly-boat was capsized without a thole-pin in the gunwales; its bottom bleaching and cracking in the sun.

Judge, then, what promise of salvation for us, had we shipwrecked; yet in this state, one merchant ship out of three, keeps its boats. To be sure, no vessel full of emigrants, by any possible precautions, could in case of a fatal disaster at sea, hope to save the tenth part of the souls on board; yet provision should certainly be made for a handful of survivors, to carry home the tidings of her loss; for even in the worst of the calamities that befell patient Job, some one at least of his servants escaped to report it.

In a way that I never could fully account for, the sailors, in my hearing at least, and Harry's, never made the slightest allusion to the departed Jackson. One and all they seemed tacitly to unite in hushing up his memory among them. Whether it was, that the severity of the bondage under which this man held every one of them, did really corrode in their secret hearts, that they thought to repress the recollection of a thing so degrading, I can not determine; but certain it was, that his death was their deliverance; which they celebrated by an elevation of spirits, unknown before. Doubtless, this was to be in part imputed, however, to their now drawing near to their port.

title: Redburn. His First Voyage/Chapter LIX


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 Rh "Yes, I should think so," said the lad; "there was much more than I could carry with me—so much, that you might load many horses with it; and if you choose to go you may be sure there'll be enough for you."

So his son-in-law told him the way so clearly that he hadn't to ask it of any one.

"But the horses," said the lad, "you'd best leave this side the river; for the old ferryman, he'll carry you over safe enough."

So Peter set off, and took with him great store of food, and many horses; but these he left behind him on the river's brink, as the lad had said. And the old ferryman took him upon his back; but when they had come a bit out into the stream he cast him into the midst of the river, and said,—

"Now you may go backwards and forwards here, and carry folk over till you are set free."

And unless some one has set him free, there goes Rich Peter the Pedlar backwards and forwards, and carries folk across this very day.

GERTRUDE'S BIRD.

those days when our Lord and St. Peter wandered upon earth, they came once to an old wife's house, who sat baking. Her name was Gertrude, and she had a red mutch on her head. They had walked a long way, and were both hungry, and our Lord begged hard for a bannock to stay their hunger. Yes, they should have it.


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 PREFACE.

Work here offered to the Public consists of papers written at different times, but taking their rise from the following occasion.

About eighteen years ago I was informed, that the Rev. Mr. Gay, then living, asserted the possibility of deducing all our intellectual pleasures and pains from association. This put me upon considering the power of association. Mr. Gay published his sentiments on this matter, about the same time, in a Dissertation on the fundamental Principle of Virtue, prefixed to Mr. Archdeacon Law's Translation of Archbishop King's Origin of Evil.

From inquiring into the power of association, I was led to examine both its consequences, in respect of morality and religion, and its physical cause. By degrees many disquisitions foreign to the doctrine

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 of association, or at least not immediately connected with it, intermixed themselves. I have here put together all my separate papers on these subjects, digesting them in such order as they seemed naturally to suggest; and adding such things as were necessary to make the whole appear more complete and systematical.

I think, however, that I cannot be called a system-maker, since I did not first form a system, and then suit the facts to it, but was carried on by a train of thoughts from one thing to another, frequently without any express design, or even any previous suspicion of the consequences that might arise. And this was most remarkably the case, in respect of the doctrine of necessity; for I was not at all aware, that it followed from that of association, for several years after I had begun my inquiries; nor did I admit it at last, without the greatest reluctance.

There are two things in these papers, which require a particular apology. First, The imperfect state in which they are presented to the reader. Secondly, The great freedom which I have used in respect to all orders of men in the conclusion of the Second Part.

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 As to the first; If the reader will be so favourable to me as to expect nothing more than hints and conjectures in difficult and obscure matters, and a short detail of the principal reasons and evidences in those that are clear, I hope he will not be much disappointed. However, be this as it will, I have in one part or other of these papers alleged all that I know material, in support of my system; and therefore am now desirous to recommend it to the consideration of others.

I have tried to reconcile such inconsistencies, real or apparent, and to cut off such repetitions and redundancies, as have arisen from my writing the separate parts of this work at different times, and in different situations of mind. But I have still need of great indulgence from the reader on these and other accounts.

As to the second thing; I can truly say, that my free and unreserved manner of speaking has flowed from the sincerity and earnestness of my heart. But I will not undertake to justify all that I have said. Some things may be too hasty and censorious; or, however, be unbecoming my place and station. I heartily wish, that I could have observed the true medium. For, want of candour

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 is not less an offence against the Gospel of Christ, than false shame, and want of courage in his cause.

Some persons may perhaps think, that I ought not to have delivered my opinions so freely and openly, concerning the necessity of human actions, and the ultimate happiness of all mankind; but have left the reader to deduce these consequences, or not, as should appear most reasonable to him. But this would, in my opinion, have been a disingenuous procedure. Besides, these tenets appear to me not only innocent, but even highly conducive to the promotion of piety and virtue amongst mankind. However, that no one may misapprehend me to his own hurt, I will here make two remarks by way of anticipation.

First, then, I no where deny practical free-will, or that voluntary power over our affections and actions, by which we deliberate, suspend, and choose, and which makes an essential part of our ideas of virtue and vice, reward and punishment; but, on the contrary, establish it (if so plain a thing will admit of being farther established) by shewing in what manner it results from the frame of our natures.

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 Secondly, I do most firmly believe, upon the authority of the Scriptures, that the future punishment of the wicked will be exceedingly great both in degree and duration, i.e. infinite and eternal, in that real practical sense to which alone our conceptions extend. And were I able to urge any thing upon a profane careless world, which might convince them of the infinite hazard to which they expose themselves, I would not fail to do it, as the reader may judge even from those passages for which I have above apologized.

 * December, 1748.

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Redburn. His First Voyage/Chapter LX

LX. HOME AT LAST
Next day was Sunday; and the mid-day sun shone upon a glassy sea.

After the uproar of the breeze and the gale, this profound, pervading calm seemed suited to the tranquil spirit of a day, which, in godly towns, makes quiet vistas of the most tumultuous thoroughfares.

The ship lay gently rolling in the soft, subdued ocean swell; while all around were faint white spots; and nearer to, broad, milky patches, betokening the vicinity of scores of ships, all bound to one common port, and tranced in one common calm. Here the long, devious wakes from Europe, Africa, India, and Peru converged to a line, which braided them all in one.

Full before us quivered and danced, in the noon-day heat and mid-air, the green heights of New Jersey; and by an optical delusion, the blue sea seemed to flow under them.

The sailors whistled and whistled for a wind; the impatient cabin-passengers were arrayed in their best; and the emigrants clustered around the bows, with eyes intent upon the long-sought land.

But leaning over, in a reverie, against the side, my Carlo gazed down into the calm, violet sea, as if it were an eye that answered his own; and turning to Harry, said, "This America's skies must be down in the sea; for, looking down in this water, I behold what, in Italy, we also behold overhead. Ah! after all, I find my Italy somewhere, wherever I go. I even found it in rainy Liverpool."

Presently, up came a dainty breeze, wafting to us a white wing from the shore—the pilot-boat! Soon a monkey-jacket mounted the side, and was beset by the captain and cabin people for news. And out of bottomless pockets came bundles of newspapers, which were eagerly caught by the throng.

The captain now abdicated in the pilot's favor, who proved to be a tiger of a fellow, keeping us hard at work, pulling and hauling the braces, and trimming the ship, to catch the least cat's-paw of wind.

When, among sea-worn people, a strange man from shore suddenly stands among them, with the smell of the land in his beard, it conveys a realization of the vicinity of the green grass, that not even the distant sight of the shore itself can transcend.

The steerage was now as a bedlam; trunks and chests were locked and tied round with ropes; and a general washing and rinsing of faces and hands was beheld. While this was going on, forth came an order from the quarter-deck, for every bed, blanket, bolster, and bundle of straw in the steerage to be committed to the deep.—A command that was received by the emigrants with dismay, and then with wrath. But they were assured, that this was indispensable to the getting rid of an otherwise long detention of some weeks at the quarantine. They therefore reluctantly complied; and overboard went pallet and pillow. Following them, went old pots and pans, bottles and baskets. So, all around, the sea was strewn with stuffed bed-ticks, that limberly floated on the waves—couches for all mermaids who were not fastidious. Numberless things of this sort, tossed overboard from emigrant ships nearing the harbor of New York, drift in through the Narrows, and are deposited on the shores of Staten Island; along whose eastern beach I have often walked, and speculated upon the broken jugs, torn pillows, and dilapidated baskets at my feet.

A second order was now passed for the emigrants to muster their forces, and give the steerage a final, thorough cleaning with sand and water. And to this they were incited by the same warning which had induced them to make an offering to Neptune of their bedding. The place was then fumigated, and dried with pans of coals from the galley; so that by evening, no stranger would have imagined, from her appearance, that the Highlander had made otherwise than a tidy and prosperous voyage. Thus, some sea-captains take good heed that benevolent citizens shall not get a glimpse of the true condition of the steerage while at sea.

That night it again fell calm; but next morning, though the wind was somewhat against us, we set sail for the Narrows; and making short tacks, at last ran through, almost bringing our jib-boom over one of the forts.

An early shower had refreshed the woods and fields, that glowed with a glorious green; and to our salted lungs, the land breeze was spiced with aromas. The steerage passengers almost neighed with delight, like horses brought back to spring pastures; and every eye and ear in the Highlander was full of the glad sights and sounds of the shore.

No more did we think of the gale and the plague; nor turn our eyes upward to the stains of blood, still visible on the topsail, whence Jackson had fallen; but we fixed our gaze on the orchards and meads, and like thirsty men, drank in all their dew.

On the Staten Island side, a white staff displayed a pale yellow flag, denoting the habitation of the quarantine officer; for as if to symbolize the yellow fever itself, and strike a panic and premonition of the black vomit into every beholder, all quarantines all over the world, taint the air with the streamings of their fever-flag.

But though the long rows of white-washed hospitals on the hill side were now in plain sight, and though scores of ships were here lying at anchor, yet no boat came off to us; and to our surprise and delight, on we sailed, past a spot which every one had dreaded. How it was that they thus let us pass without boarding us, we never could learn.

Now rose the city from out the bay, and one by one, her spires pierced the blue; while thick and more thick, ships, brigs, schooners, and sail boats, thronged around. We saw the Hartz Forest of masts and black rigging stretching along the East River; and northward, up the stately old Hudson, covered with white sloop-sails like fleets of swans, we caught a far glimpse of the purple Palisades.

Oh! he who has never been afar, let him once go from home, to know what home is. For as you draw nigh again to your old native river, he seems to pour through you with all his tides, and in your enthusiasm, you swear to build altars like mile-stones, along both his sacred banks.

Like the Czar of all the Russias, and Siberia to boot, Captain Riga, telescope in hand, stood on the poop, pointing out to the passengers, Governor's Island, Castle Garden, and the Battery.

"And that" said he, pointing out a vast black hull which, like a shark, showed tiers of teeth, "that, ladies, is a line-of-battle-ship, the North Carolina."

"Oh, dear!"—and "Oh my!"—ejaculated the ladies, and— "Lord, save us," responded an old gentleman, who was a member of the Peace Society.

Hurra! hurra! and ten thousand times hurra! down goes our old anchor, fathoms down into the free and independent Yankee mud, one handful of which was now worth a broad manor in England.

The Whitehall boats were around us, and soon, our cabin passengers were all off, gay as crickets, and bound for a late dinner at the Astor House; where, no doubt, they fired off a salute of champagne corks in honor of their own arrival. Only a very few of the steerage passengers, however, could afford to pay the high price the watermen demanded for carrying them ashore; so most of them remained with us till morning. But nothing could restrain our Italian boy, Carlo, who, promising the watermen to pay them with his music, was triumphantly rowed ashore, seated in the stern of the boat, his organ before him, and something like "Hail Columbia!" his tune. We gave him three rapturous cheers, and we never saw Carlo again.

Harry and I passed the greater part of the night walking the deck, and gazing at the thousand lights of the city.

At sunrise, we warped into a berth at the foot of Wall-street, and knotted our old ship, stem and stern, to the pier. But that knotting of her, was the unknotting of the bonds of the sailors, among whom, it is a maxim, that the ship once fast to the wharf, they are free. So with a rush and a shout, they bounded ashore, followed by the tumultuous crowd of emigrants, whose friends, day-laborers and housemaids, stood ready to embrace them.

But in silent gratitude at the end of a voyage, almost equally uncongenial to both of us, and so bitter to one, Harry and I sat on a chest in the forecastle. And now, the ship that we had loathed, grew lovely in our eyes, which lingered over every familiar old timber; for the scene of suffering is a scene of joy when the suffering is past; and the silent reminiscence of hardships departed, is sweeter than the presence of delight.

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 seized upon the opening that was thus presented to him with all the decisive action of the typical American, and soon obtained possession of the immense deposits of the unrivalled fertiliser, in which phosphate of lime is so large a constituent. Upon his application the Government granted him a long lease of the islands for the purpose of working the guano beds, which have since proved a source of wealth to the family, no less than 48,000 tons of the material being shipped between the years 1884 and 1896.

Having made an independence, Mr. Broadhurst retired from active business life, and leaving his affairs in the charge of his son, Mr. Florance C. Broadhurst, went to reside in London. The young manager, who was born at Kilmore, Victoria, in 1861, found his hands very full of weighty responsibilities, but he proved himself quite deserving of the confidence reposed in him, and the operations of the firm are now known all over the civilised world. Arriving in the colony with his father, who had come to Western Australia from Victoria in order to take charge of the Denison Plains Pastoral Company, he was educated at the Government School, Perth, and afterwards received a mercantile training. In 1888 he was promoted to take the sole control of the export trade of the Abrolhos Islands, which has now assumed very large proportions. At different times no fewer than ninety vessels have been chartered to take cargoes of guano to Mauritius, London, Hamburg, Antwerp, New Zealand, Java, Tasmania, or to Fremantle, and forty Malays are employed by Mr. Broadhurst on the islands all the year round. The eager demand for supplies of the guano in the United Kingdom and on the continent of Europe made it necessary for Mr. Broadhurst to undertake an extensive tour through those countries in order to organise the trade on a large scale and to appoint agents in the leading cities.

Mr. Broadhurst has kindly supplied us with a very graphic account of the chief characteristics of the Abrolhos Islands, which possess a great deal of interest for the naturalist. He says:—"The islands lie very low on the horizon, so that they are not perceived by shipmasters who have not previously visited these waters until they are closely approached. In anything like hazy weather they might be mistaken by a stranger for a streak of cloud low down on the sky-line, for at high water the islands are not more than fifteen feet above sea level. They are of coral formation, which probably accounts for their having for centuries been the favourite resort of myriads of sea birds, who, in the interstices of the coral, found nesting-places already provided that were entirely suitable for the hatching and bringing up of their broods, in sheltered nooks, where the warmth necessary for successful incubation could be uniformly maintained. In excavating the guano, which covers the islands for a depth of about two feet, there is disclosed cavities so thickly pitting the surface of the coral that the islands may be said to be honeycombed all over; certainly these holes are closer together than the burrows of a rabbit warren, and when they are filled up by the droppings of the birds the feathered population must have felt very exposed and homeless, but by that time they had become too much attached to the islands by their associations with the home of their ancestors for countless generations that they did not care to leave them. No one who has not visited the Abrolhos can form any conception of the multitude of birds which fly to them at night and leave in the morning in search of food. If you disturb them by the firing of a gun or by a sudden shout so as to make the various flocks take wing simultaneously, the sky is darkened as though by a sudden eclipse of the sun, the ground seems to be moving like a sea, in weird gloomy shadows cast by the beating wings. There is an infinite variety among the species of the birds, including the true sea eagle, the cormorant, the sooty tern, noddy tern, gulls, divers, stormy petrel, and mollymawks—all the sea birds common to these climes. When they are flying together the noise is like the roaring of the wind through the rigging of a ship in a gale."

Mr. Broadhurst, who is a member of the Royal Geographical Society of Australasia, spends a good deal of his time on the islands superintending the loading of the vessels and in observing the habits of the birds; in their bleak citadel he has many interesting experiences. He also carries on a large and important lighterage business at Geraldton, the shoal waters of the harbour prohibiting the larger merchantmen from berthing alongside the pier. Mr. Broadhurst has helped to promote the mining interest with quite as much if not more benefit to the community than to himself, inasmuch as he has not drawn any large prizes from his ventures, but he remembers with pleasure that he was one of the members of a syndicate which sent out Mr. Clarence Browne, who found Mount Sir Samuel in the Murchison district. Mr. Broadhurst was married, in 1892, to Miss Heslop, daughter of Mr. John Heslop of "Murrafield," Edinburgh, and he has a family of two children.

Although Mr. Broadhurst has, to use a common saying, been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, it cannot be doubted by anyone who is acquainted with his clear-sighted methods and organising power, that if his patrimony had been a pewter ladle he would soon have been able to discard the base metal for one that possessed the hall mark of Goldsmiths' Hall. As His Excellency the Governor, Sir Gerard Smith said, on a recent occasion, in replying to the toast of his health on the day that a Parliamentary party assembled at "Carlisle," Guildford:—" Some men are born with a power to do credit to the commercial genius of the British race, and such men build up the national prosperity, together with their own, by their intuitive adherence to the principles of sound finance and trade." The description may be aptly applied to Mr. Florance C. Broadhurst.

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Redburn. His First Voyage/Chapter LXI

LXI. REDBURN AND HARRY, ARM IN ARM, IN HARBOR
There we sat in that tarry old den, the only inhabitants of the deserted old ship, but the mate and the rats.

At last, Harry went to his chest, and drawing out a few shillings, proposed that we should go ashore, and return with a supper, to eat in the forecastle. Little else that was eatable being for sale in the paltry shops along the wharves, we bought several pies, some doughnuts, and a bottle of ginger-pop, and thus supplied we made merry. For to us, whose very mouths were become pickled and puckered, with the continual flavor of briny beef, those pies and doughnuts were most delicious. And as for the ginger-pop, why, that ginger-pop was divine! I have reverenced ginger-pop ever since.

We kept late hours that night; for, delightful certainty! placed beyond all doubt—like royal landsmen, we were masters of the watches of the night, and no starb-o-leens ahoy! would annoy us again.

"All night in! think of that, Harry, my friend!"

"Ay, Wellingborough, it's enough to keep me awake forever, to think I may now sleep as long as I please."

We turned out bright and early, and then prepared for the shore, first stripping to the waist, for a toilet.

"I shall never get these confounded tar-stains out of my fingers," cried Harry, rubbing them hard with a bit of oakum, steeped in strong suds. "No! they will not come out, and I'm ruined for life. Look at my hand once, Wellingborough!"

It was indeed a sad sight. Every finger nail, like mine, was dyed of a rich, russet hue; looking something like bits of fine tortoise shell.

"Never mind, Harry," said I—"You know the ladies of the east steep the tips of their fingers in some golden dye."

"And by Plutus," cried Harry—"I'd steep mine up to the armpits in gold; since you talk about that. But never mind, I'll swear I'm just from Persia, my boy."

We now arrayed ourselves in our best, and sallied ashore; and, at once, I piloted Harry to the sign of a Turkey Cock in Fulton-street, kept by one Sweeny, a place famous for cheap Souchong, and capital buckwheat cakes.

"Well, gentlemen, what will you have?"—said a waiter, as we seated ourselves at a table.

"Gentlemen!" whispered Harry to me—"gentlemen!—hear him!—I say now, Redburn, they didn't talk to us that way on board the old Highlander. By heaven, I begin to feel my straps again:—Coffee and hot rolls," he added aloud, crossing his legs like a lord, "and fellow—come back—bring us a venison-steak."

"Haven't got it, gentlemen."

"Ham and eggs," suggested I, whose mouth was watering at the recollection of that particular dish, which I had tasted at the sign of the Turkey Cock before. So ham and eggs it was; and royal coffee, and imperial toast.

But the butter!

"Harry, did you ever taste such butter as this before?"

"Don't say a word,"—said Harry, spreading his tenth slice of toast "I'm going to turn dairyman, and keep within the blessed savor of butter, so long as I live."

We made a breakfast, never to be forgotten; paid our bill with a flourish, and sallied into the street, like two goodly galleons of gold, bound from Acapulco to Old Spain.

"Now," said Harry, "lead on; and let's see something of these United States of yours. I'm ready to pace from Maine to Florida; ford the Great Lakes; and jump the River Ohio, if it comes in the way. Here, take my arm;—lead on."

Such was the miraculous change, that had now come over him. It reminded me of his manner, when we had started for London, from the sign of the Golden Anchor, in Liverpool.

He was, indeed, in most wonderful spirits; at which I could not help marveling; considering the cavity in his pockets; and that he was a stranger in the land.

By noon he had selected his boarding-house, a private establishment, where they did not charge much for their board, and where the landlady's butcher's bill was not very large.

Here, at last, I left him to get his chest from the ship; while I turned up town to see my old friend Mr. Jones, and learn what had happened during my absence.

With one hand, Mr. Jones shook mine most cordially; and with the other, gave me some letters, which I eagerly devoured. Their purport compelled my departure homeward; and I at once sought out Harry to inform him.

Strange, but even the few hours' absence which had intervened; during which, Harry had been left to himself, to stare at strange streets, and strange faces, had wrought a marked change in his countenance. He was a creature of the suddenest impulses. Left to himself, the strange streets seemed now to have reminded him of his friendless condition; and I found him with a very sad eye; and his right hand groping in his pocket.

"Where am I going to dine, this day week?"—he slowly said. "What's to be done, Wellingborough?"

And when I told him that the next afternoon I must leave him; he looked downhearted enough. But I cheered him as well as I could; though needing a little cheering myself; even though I had got home again. But no more about that.

Now, there was a young man of my acquaintance in the city, much my senior, by the name of Goodwell; and a good natured fellow he was; who had of late been engaged as a clerk in a large forwarding house in South-street; and it occurred to me, that he was just the man to befriend Harry, and procure him a place. So I mentioned the thing to my comrade; and we called upon Goodwell.

I saw that he was impressed by the handsome exterior of my friend; and in private, making known the case, he faithfully promised to do his best for him; though the times, he said, were quite dull.

That evening, Goodwell, Harry, and I, perambulated the streets, three abreast:—Goodwell spending his money freely at the oyster-saloons; Harry full of allusions to the London Clubhouses: and myself contributing a small quota to the general entertainment.

Next morning, we proceeded to business.

Now, I did not expect to draw much of a salary from the ship; so as to retire for life on the profits of my first voyage; but nevertheless, I thought that a dollar or two might be coming. For dollars are valuable things; and should not be overlooked, when they are owing. Therefore, as the second morning after our arrival, had been set apart for paying off the crew, Harry and I made our appearance on ship-board, with the rest. We were told to enter the cabin; and once again I found myself, after an interval of four months, and more, surrounded by its mahogany and maple.

Seated in a sumptuous arm-chair, behind a lustrous, inlaid desk, sat Captain Riga, arrayed in his City Hotel suit, looking magisterial as the Lord High Admiral of England. Hat in hand, the sailors stood deferentially in a semicircle before him, while the captain held the ship-papers in his hand, and one by one called their names; and in mellow bank notes—beautiful sight! —paid them their wages.

Most of them had less than ten, a few twenty, and two, thirty dollars coming to them; while the old cook, whose piety proved profitable in restraining him from the expensive excesses of most seafaring men, and who had taken no pay in advance, had the goodly round sum of seventy dollars as his due.

Seven ten dollar bills! each of which, as I calculated at the time, was worth precisely one hundred dimes, which were equal to one thousand cents, which were again subdivisible into fractions. So that he now stepped into a fortune of seventy thousand American "mills." Only seventy dollars, after all; but then, it has always seemed to me, that stating amounts in sounding fractional sums, conveys a much fuller notion of their magnitude, than by disguising their immensity in such aggregations of value, as doubloons, sovereigns, and dollars. Who would not rather be worth 125,000 francs in Paris, than only £5000 in London, though the intrinsic value of the two sums, in round numbers, is pretty much the same.

With a scrape of the foot, and such a bow as only a negro can make, the old cook marched off with his fortune; and I have no doubt at once invested it in a grand, underground oyster-cellar.

The other sailors, after counting their cash very carefully, and seeing all was right, and not a bank-note was dog-eared, in which case they would have demanded another: for they are not to be taken in and cheated, your sailors, and they know their rights, too; at least, when they are at liberty, after the voyage is concluded:— the sailors also salaamed, and withdrew, leaving Harry and me face to face with the Paymaster-general of the Forces.

We stood awhile, looking as polite as possible, and expecting every moment to hear our names called, but not a word did we hear; while the captain, throwing aside his accounts, lighted a very fragrant cigar, took up the morning paper—I think it was the Herald—threw his leg over one arm of the chair, and plunged into the latest intelligence from all parts of the world.

I looked at Harry, and he looked at me; and then we both looked at this incomprehensible captain.

At last Harry hemmed, and I scraped my foot to increase the disturbance.

The Paymaster-general looked up.

"Well, where do you come from? Who are you, pray? and what do you want? Steward, show these young gentlemen out."

"I want my money," said Harry.

"My wages are due," said I.

The captain laughed. Oh! he was exceedingly merry; and taking a long inspiration of smoke, removed his cigar, and sat sideways looking at us, letting the vapor slowly wriggle and spiralize out of his mouth.

"Upon my soul, young gentlemen, you astonish me. Are your names down in the City Directory? have you any letters of introduction, young gentlemen?"

"Captain Riga!" cried Harry, enraged at his impudence—"I tell you what it is, Captain Riga; this won't do—where's the rhino?"

"Captain Riga," added I, "do you not remember, that about four months ago, my friend Mr. Jones and myself had an interview with you in this very cabin; when it was agreed that I was to go out in your ship, and receive three dollars per month for my services? Well, Captain Riga, I have gone out with you, and returned; and now, sir, I'll thank you for my pay."

"Ah, yes, I remember," said the captain. "Mr. Jones! Ha! ha! I remember Mr. Jones: a very gentlemanly gentleman; and stop—you, too, are the son of a wealthy French importer; and —let me think—was not your great-uncle a barber?"

"No!" thundered I.

"Well, well, young gentleman, really I beg your pardon. Steward, chairs for the young gentlemen—be seated, young gentlemen. And now, let me see," turning over his accounts— "Hum, hum!—yes, here it is: Wellingborough Redburn, at three dollars a month. Say four months, that's twelve dollars; less three dollars advanced in Liverpool—that makes it nine dollars; less three hammers and two scrapers lost overboard— that brings it to four dollars and a quarter. I owe you four dollars and a quarter, I believe, young gentleman?"

"So it seems, sir," said I, with staring eyes.

"And now let me see what you owe me, and then well be able to square the yards, Monsieur Redburn."

Owe him! thought I—what do I owe him but a grudge, but I concealed my resentment; and presently he said, "By running away from the ship in Liverpool, you forfeited your wages, which amount to twelve dollars; and as there has been advanced to you, in money, hammers, and scrapers, seven dollars and seventy-five cents, you are therefore indebted to me in precisely that sum. Now, young gentleman, I'll thank you for the money;" and he extended his open palm across the desk.

"Shall I pitch into him?" whispered Harry.

I was thunderstruck at this most unforeseen announcement of the state of my account with Captain Riga; and I began to understand why it was that he had till now ignored my absence from the ship, when Harry and I were in London. But a single minute's consideration showed that I could not help myself; so, telling him that he was at liberty to begin his suit, for I was a bankrupt, and could not pay him, I turned to go.

Now, here was this man actually turning a poor lad adrift without a copper, after he had been slaving aboard his ship for more than four mortal months. But Captain Riga was a bachelor of expensive habits, and had run up large wine bills at the City Hotel. He could not afford to be munificent. Peace to his dinners.

"Mr. Bolton, I believe," said the captain, now blandly bowing toward Harry. "Mr. Bolton, you also shipped for three dollars per month: and you had one month's advance in Liverpool; and from dock to dock we have been about a month and a half; so I owe you just one dollar and a half, Mr. Bolton; and here it is;" handing him six two-shilling pieces.

"And this," said Harry, throwing himself into a tragical attitude, "this is the reward of my long and faithful services!"

Then, disdainfully flinging the silver on the desk, he exclaimed, "There, Captain Riga, you may keep your tin! It has been in your purse, and it would give me the itch to retain it. Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, young gentlemen; pray, call again," said the captain, coolly bagging the coins. His politeness, while in port, was invincible.

Quitting the cabin, I remonstrated with Harry upon his recklessness in disdaining his wages, small though they were; I begged to remind him of his situation; and hinted that every penny he could get might prove precious to him. But he only cried Pshaw! and that was the last of it.

Going forward, we found the sailors congregated on the forecastle-deck, engaged in some earnest discussion; while several carts on the wharf, loaded with their chests, were just in the act of driving off, destined for the boarding-houses uptown. By the looks of our shipmates, I saw very plainly that they must have some mischief under weigh; and so it turned out.

Now, though Captain Riga had not been guilty of any particular outrage against the sailors; yet, by a thousand small meannesses—such as indirectly causing their allowance of bread and beef to be diminished, without betraying any appearance of having any inclination that way, and without speaking to the sailors on the subject—by this, and kindred actions, I say, he had contracted the cordial dislike of the whole ship's company; and long since they had bestowed upon him a name unmentionably expressive of their contempt.

The voyage was now concluded; and it appeared that the subject being debated by the assembly on the forecastle was, how best they might give a united and valedictory expression of the sentiments they entertained toward their late lord and master. Some emphatic symbol of those sentiments was desired; some unmistakable token, which should forcibly impress Captain Riga with the justest possible notion of their feelings.

It was like a meeting of the members of some mercantile company, upon the eve of a prosperous dissolution of the concern; when the subordinates, actuated by the purest gratitude toward their president, or chief, proceed to vote him a silver pitcher, in token of their respect. It was something like this, I repeat—but with a material difference, as will be seen.

At last, the precise manner in which the thing should be done being agreed upon, Blunt, the "Irish cockney," was deputed to summon the captain. He knocked at the cabin-door, and politely requested the steward to inform Captain Riga, that some gentlemen were on the pier-head, earnestly seeking him; whereupon he joined his comrades.

In a few moments the captain sallied from the cabin, and found the gentlemen alluded to, strung along the top of the bulwarks, on the side next to the wharf. Upon his appearance, the row suddenly wheeled about, presenting their backs; and making a motion, which was a polite salute to every thing before them, but an abominable insult to all who happened to be in their rear, they gave three cheers, and at one bound, cleared the ship.

True to his imperturbable politeness while in port, Captain Riga only lifted his hat, smiled very blandly, and slowly returned into his cabin.

Wishing to see the last movements of this remarkable crew, who were so clever ashore and so craven afloat, Harry and I followed them along the wharf, till they stopped at a sailor retreat, poetically denominated "The Flashes." And here they all came to anchor before the bar; and the landlord, a lantern-jawed landlord, bestirred himself behind it, among his villainous old bottles and decanters. He well knew, from their looks, that his customers were "flush," and would spend their money freely, as, indeed, is the case with most seamen, recently paid off.

It was a touching scene.

"Well, maties," said one of them, at last—"I spose we shan't see each other again:—come, let's splice the main-brace all round, and drink to the last voyage!"

Upon this, the landlord danced down his glasses, on the bar, uncorked his decanters, and deferentially pushed them over toward the sailors, as much as to say— "Honorable gentlemen, it is not for me to allowance your liquor;—help yourselves, your honors."

And so they did; each glass a bumper; and standing in a row, tossed them all off; shook hands all round, three times three; and then disappeared in couples, through the several doorways; for "The Flashes" was on a corner.

If to every one, life be made up of farewells and greetings, and a "Good-by, God bless you," is heard for every "How d'ye do, welcome, my boy"—then, of all men, sailors shake the most hands, and wave the most hats. They are here and then they are there; ever shifting themselves, they shift among the shifting: and like rootless sea-weed, are tossed to and fro.

As, after shaking our hands, our shipmates departed, Harry and I stood on the corner awhile, till we saw the last man disappear.

"They are gone," said I.

"Thank heaven!" said Harry.

title: Redburn. His First Voyage/Chapter LXI


text:
Redburn. His First Voyage/Chapter LXII

LXII. THE LAST THAT WAS EVER HEARD OF HARRY BOLTON
That same afternoon, I took my comrade down to the Battery; and we sat on one of the benches, under the summer shade of the trees.

It was a quiet, beautiful scene; full of promenading ladies and gentlemen; and through the foliage, so fresh and bright, we looked out over the bay, varied with glancing ships; and then, we looked down to our boots; and thought what a fine world it would be, if we only had a little money to enjoy it. But that's the everlasting rub—oh, who can cure an empty pocket?

"I have no doubt, Goodwell will take care of you, Harry," said I, "he's a fine, good-hearted fellow; and will do his best for you, I know."

"No doubt of it," said Harry, looking hopeless.

"And I need not tell you, Harry, how sorry I am to leave you so soon."

"And I am sorry enough myself," said Harry, looking very sincere.

"But I will be soon back again, I doubt not," said I.

"Perhaps so," said Harry, shaking his head. "How far is it off?"

"Only a hundred and eighty miles," said I.

"A hundred and eighty miles!" said Harry, drawing the words out like an endless ribbon. "Why, I couldn't walk that in a month."

"Now, my dear friend," said I, "take my advice, and while I am gone, keep up a stout heart; never despair, and all will be well."

But notwithstanding all I could say to encourage him, Harry felt so bad, that nothing would do, but a rush to a neighboring bar, where we both gulped down a glass of ginger-pop; after which we felt better.

He accompanied me to the steamboat, that was to carry me homeward; he stuck close to my side, till she was about to put off; then, standing on the wharf, he shook me by the hand, till we almost counteracted the play of the paddles; and at last, with a mutual jerk at the arm-pits, we parted. I never saw Harry again.

I pass over the reception I met with at home; how I plunged into embraces, long and loving:—I pass over this; and will conclude my first voyage by relating all I know of what overtook Harry Bolton.

Circumstances beyond my control, detained me at home for several weeks; during which, I wrote to my friend, without receiving an answer.

I then wrote to young Goodwell, who returned me the following letter, now spread before me.

"Dear Redburn—Your poor friend, Harry, I can not find any where. After you left, he called upon me several times, and we walked out together; and my interest in him increased every day. But you don't know how dull are the times here, and what multitudes of young men, well qualified, are seeking employment in counting-houses. I did my best; but could not get Harry a place. However, I cheered him. But he grew more and more melancholy, and at last told me, that he had sold all his clothes but those on his back to pay his board. I offered to loan him a few dollars, but he would not receive them. I called upon him two or three times after this, but he was not in; at last, his landlady told me that he had permanently left her house the very day before. Upon my questioning her closely, as to where he had gone, she answered, that she did not know, but from certain hints that had dropped from our poor friend, she feared he had gone on a whaling voyage. I at once went to the offices in South-street, where men are shipped for the Nantucket whalers, and made inquiries among them; but without success. And this, I am heartily grieved to say, is all I know of our friend. I can not believe that his melancholy could bring him to the insanity of throwing himself away in a whaler; and I still think, that he must be somewhere in the city. You must come down yourself, and help me seek him out."

This! letter gave me a dreadful shock. Remembering our adventure in London, and his conduct there; remembering how liable he was to yield to the most sudden, crazy, and contrary impulses; and that, as a friendless, penniless foreigner in New York, he must have had the most terrible incitements to committing violence upon himself; I shuddered to think, that even now, while I thought of him, he might no more be living. So strong was this impression at the time, that I quickly glanced over the papers to see if there were any accounts of suicides, or drowned persons floating in the harbor of New York.

I now made all the haste I could to the seaport, but though I sought him all over, no tidings whatever could be heard.

To relieve my anxiety, Goodwell endeavored to assure me, that Harry must indeed have departed on a whaling voyage. But remembering his bitter experience on board of the Highlander, and more than all, his nervousness about going aloft, it seemed next to impossible.

At last I was forced to give him up.

Years after this, I found myself a sailor in the Pacific, on board of a whaler. One day at sea, we spoke another whaler, and the boat's crew that boarded our vessel, came forward among us to have a little sea-chat, as is always customary upon such occasions.

Among the strangers was an Englishman, who had shipped in his vessel at Callao, for the cruise. In the course of conversation, he made allusion to the fact, that he had now been in the Pacific several years, and that the good craft Huntress of Nantucket had had the honor of originally bringing him round upon that side of the globe. I asked him why he had abandoned her; he answered that she was the most unlucky of ships.

"We had hardly been out three months," said he, "when on the Brazil banks we lost a boat's crew, chasing a whale after sundown; and next day lost a poor little fellow, a countryman of mine, who had never entered the boats; he fell over the side, and was jammed between the ship, and a whale, while we were cutting the fish in. Poor fellow, he had a hard time of it, from the beginning; he was a gentleman's son, and when you could coax him to it, he sang like a bird."

"What was his name?" said I, trembling with expectation; "what kind of eyes did he have? what was the color of his hair?"

"Harry Bolton was not your brother?" cried the stranger, starting.

Harry Bolton!

It was even he!

But yet, I, Wellingborough Redburn, chance to survive, after having passed through far more perilous scenes than any narrated in this, My First Voyage—which here I end.

title: Redburn. His First Voyage/Chapter LXII


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Page:History of West Australia.djvu/509

N the great gold-producing fields of Western Australia, where metallurgical knowledge is of paramount importance to the colony's welfare, it becomes a matter of deep concern that skilful experts in chemistry should supervise operations. The treatment of local ores has been subjected to several processes owing to the want of water, and it is comforting to know that in the new processes we have thoroughly able, practical, and theoretical chemists to check, revise, and conduct. Few, if any, possess such a grasp of them in theory and practice as Mr. Frank H. Backhouse. His knowledge has been reaped from incessant experimental study in the laboratory and in the mine.

Mr. Backhouse was born in Brisbane, Queensland, in 1863. His father was the Hon. Benjamin Backhouse, M.L.C., of New South Wales; his brother is a Judge of the New South Wales Bench. It would be a surprise if such paternal and fraternal intellectual endowments were but slightly disseminated in Mr. Frank, who received commercial and scientific instruction at the Grammar School and King's School, Sydney—institutions which in an efficient way prepared young lads for the University. Little external pressure or kindly demonstration was necessary to make Mr. Frank feel at home amid the noxious gases and disagreeable aromas of the laboratory. He revelled in its interesting disclosures, and before many months preferred, like every true scientist, to gloat over some pages of Roscoe to the sensational delights of a modern novel. Equipped with fundamental knowledge, he entered the college gates of the University. No one knows but the 'undergrad' the strange feelings, delightful yet strange, that pulsate through every nerve and fibre of the frame on the day he enters as a son of his alma mater. He now assumes the toqa viriles, and swells beneath its folds. Science was the faculty in which the name of Mr. Backhouse was enrolled. For three years he was a matriculated student of science. His career, as an alumnus, augured a bright future for him. By his perseverance and diligence in study, he won for himself the kindly guiding influence of the Professor, who gave him every encouragement in his work. After finishing his course he was appointed assistant professor to Mr. W. A. Dixon, F.I.C., Professor of the Chair of Chemistry in the Technical College, Sydney. Such an appointment, the desire and envy of budding graduates, can only be made to what is termed in academic phraseology a "star." For eighteen months he assisted Professor Dixon in scientific research in the laboratory. Part of his duties consisted in delivering a course of lectures to the students of the college on metallurgy, and another part in demonstration in the laboratory. For an assistant professor to gain the respect and attention of his students is not an easy task, but Mr. Backhouse was a favourite with the young fellows. Up to this point he had continued his scientific studies unremittingly. That nursery of inventions—the laboratory had been his abode and joy. Still, without the college walls, a wider world claimed the fruits of his knowledge. His first extra-academic appointment was as assayer to the Sunny Corner Silver and Gold Mine in the Bathurst district. He was there but a short time when he left to gain full acquaintance with the operations and ways of the mining world, and became assistant manager of the Australian K.O. and M. Company, Joadja Creek, Mittagong. Here his extensive knowledge of both inorganic and organic chemistry proved a remunerative boon to the company. He introduced cheaper and more convenient methods of treatment, and gave them the full benefit of his scientific knowledge. But somehow his heart was given to assaying. Metallurgy had always been his favourite subject, and back to Sunny Corner he went as Government Assayer. He was there nine months when he proceeded to the Evelyn Silver Mine, in the Northern Territory, as an assayer and metallurgist. On this mine he assayed for twelve months, and then resolved to exploit Kimberley, in Western Australia. The Kimberley Goldfields had been opened up six months before, and were reported as inconceivably rich. He managed after many weary days of travel, heat, and fatigue to reach the golden west. He started prospecting. Success, however, was moderate, and he returned to Sydney in 1889, and accepted the post of metallurgist in the Kohinoor Mine at Captain's Flat, Braidwood, N.S.W. Like Huma, the bird that never lights and is always on the wing, he went from there to the White Rock Mine in the Tenterfield district. Then he took the management of the Clyde Smelting and Refining Works at Granville, N.S.W.—very large and important works belonging to the Hudson Brothers. His next role was the managerial trust of the Nambucca's Head Gold Mine, situated in the Macleay district. Up to the time of the Western Australian excitement the mining pulse had long

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 beaten slowly. The general tidal-wave that bore in its flood many fortune-mongers, received Mr. Backhouse on its crest and left him high and dry in Western Australia. This was his second Argonautic expedition to the land of the "Golden Fleece." In August, 1893, immediately after his arrival, he started practice in Perth as mining and consulting engineer. His scientific reputation was the means of his obtaining a considerable practice. His counsel and opinion were sought for continually in mining matters, and he gradually gained a business connection with leading mining companies.

The West Australian Goldfields, Limited, was absolutely the pioneer of English companies in Coolgardie. Its directors had just entered into some large mining transactions, and invited Mr. Backhouse to accept the managership of their mines; they acted with discretion in their choice. Since his appointment the company has flourished and been paying goodly dividends, due to the managerial ability. This company, which was floated on the London market by the Hon. H. J. Saunders, M.L.C., a few years ago, is now accredited with the possession of extensive real estate and various properties which necessitate Mr. Backhouse's travelling over large portions of the colony. In his twin capacity of manager and overseer, he inspects and takes accurate bearings and measurements of all the different properties. A series of flotations by the company early took place in rapid succession; the White Feather Reward Mine, Mount Jackson Gold Mine, Mount Margaret Reward Claim, the Princess Alice, the Quartz Hill Reward, and the Yerilla Gold mines. The subsidiary companies now owning these have invested large capital in them, and add the degree of "limited" after their names. As offshoots from the parent stem, it behoves Mr. Backhouse to carefully look to the young twigs and tender branches. Any advice, scientific or mechanical, is to be tendered to them.

Acute and observant, his reports and scientific accounts of the physical features of the country he has traversed, which includes all the gold fields of the interior, must be regarded as stamped with authority, especially in view of his extensive geological and chemical knowledge. He was the first mining engineer in Coolgardie to perform the journey from Coolgardie to Lake Way through the Murchison Goldfields to Geraldton. It was considered a great feat to accomplish. And such a luke-warm epithet does not in any way compensate for the fatigue and many harassing discomforts of the march. His trip was undertaken for a purely scientific purpose, namely, exploration.

In 1895 he was elected a councillor in the Coolgardie municipality. Various corporate bodies in their collective capacity claim his active services. He holds (1896) the honorary position of vice-president of the Chamber of Mines and Commerce. The utility of this body of mining men in standing by and seeing that justice is wrought is now beginning to be more widely recognised. Athletics is natural in the Australian citizen, and with all Mr. Backhouse's flood of business he finds time for patronising various kinds of sport. The Rugby Football Club of Coolgardie may think itself honoured by the presence of his name on the syllabus as vice-president. Similar sporting clubs enrol his name as patron or honorary office-bearer. The very surface of this sketch shows a rich outcrop of energy. That wealth of scientific experience, which is a mechanical mixture of theory and practice, serves well its twofold purpose in Coolgardie. The student of promise in the University has not belied the propitious prophecy. His alma mater has every reason to be proud of one of the ablest of her sons, whose name will long be associated with scientific progress in the gold mining industry of Coolgardie.

WILLIAM MUMME.

HE evolutionary ideal of pure altruism has not yet reconciled itself to the world of commerce. From the satiety of "commercial egoism" flows a subsequent and secondary spirit of philanthropy. In the race for life there are many "watery kindnesses." The zeal and zest of each individual's energy is awakened and quickened to the consideration of the narrow region of self, and by very slow degrees to the region of not-self.

In reviewing the several stages of the life of pioneers, we cannot but take into consideration the many hardships and difficulties of their lot. William Mumme is a living proof of the theory that the universe of commerce demands rigid laws of her own. Till these are obeyed there is no high-water mark of success. Mr. Mumme was born in Hamburg in 1838. He left school at an early age, and became engaged in a brewery in Wohldorf, near Hamburg. He subsequently transferred his services to the Poppenbuttel Brewery. After acquiring complete knowledge of the art of brewing, he resolved to go to a field where there would be sufficient scope for his energies. In 1857 he sailed to South Australia, and found employment at

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Page:Transactions of the Second International Folk-Congress.djvu/103

 QUELQUES OBSERVATIONS

SUR LES

"INCIDENTS COMMUNS AUX CONTES EUROPÉENS

ET AUX CONTES ORIENTAUX",, 1891,

EMMANUEL COSQUIN.

me faisant l'honneur de me demander un travail sur las Incidents communs aux contes européens et aux contes orientaux, le Comité d'organisation du Folk-lore Congress m'a laissé libre dé traiter le sujet à ma guise. J'userai de cette permission.

D'abord, je ne m'arrêterai pas à montrer quelle masse d'incidents les contes orientaux ont en commun avec las contes européens. Le fait est bien connu, et pour s'en convaincre il suffit de jeter un coup-d'œil, par exemple, sur les rapprochements si nombreux contenus dans les remarques que j'ai jointes à mes Contes populaires de Lorraine.

Mais je me permettrai de faire observer qua ce n'est pas seulement d'incidents qu'il faut parlar ici; c'ast bien da combinaisons tout entières d'incidents, c'ast-à-dire de récits dans tout leur développement.

⁂

II me semble, du reste—ceci est une réflexion générale—que certains folk-loristes ne regardent trop souvent que d'un œil distrait les ensembles dans les contes populaires. Les incidents, moins que cela, les idées qui entrant dans le tissu de ces incidents, voila ce à quoi mon honorable contradicteur M. Andrew Lang et ses disciples s'attachent surtout at presque exclusivement. Et, parce que certaines de ces idées—bêtes qui parlent, objets magiques, etc.—se rencontrant parmi les croyances superstitieuses des sauvages de différents pays, les folk-loristes de cette école an tirent cette conclusion, qui, tout récemment encore, était formulée par M. Lang


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 68 lui-même: II n'y a rien d'improbable, tout au contraire, à ce que "des esprits se trouvant dans un même état de croyance superstitieuse puissent, independamment les uns des autres, développer des récits analogues."

En d'autres termes: nous constatons chez une foule de peuples, en Orient comme en Occident, l'existence de contes populaires présentant partout les plus étonnantes ressemblances (car tels sont les contes auxquels M. Lang fait allusion); or, il est possible que ces contes n'aient entre eux aucun lien d'origine; ils ont pu parfaitement germer et pousser spontanément dans les divers pays, au temps ou les "idées sauvages" y régnaient.

Eh bien! ma conviction, de plus en plus affermie, est que cela est impossible, que cette thèse est insoutenable, et que, si l'on rencontre en Orient et en Occident des contes semblables, c'est qu'ils ont une origine commune, c'est qu'ils se sont propagés de pays en pays.

Je voudrais, par un exemple, faire toucher la chose du doigt.

⁂

Prenons, dans les contes populaires, un thème très simple et très répandu, le thème de la jeune fille livrée à un dragon et sauvée par le héros, qui tue le monstre.

Cette idée a-t-elle pu éclore dans plusieurs pays, dans plusieurs cerveaux "sauvages", sans qu'il y ait eu communication de l'un à l'autre? Admettons-le, si Ton veut, bien que livrer à jour fixe une victime humaine à un monstre, par suite d'un accord avec ledit monstre et pour prévenir un plus grand mal, ne soit pas ce qu'il y a de plus naturel. Mais examinons de quelle manière cette idée, "sauvage" ou non, se présente dans les contes qui ont été recueillis jusqu'ici.

Dans un conte grec moderne de l'lle de Syra (Hahn, No. 70), le héros apprend un jour d'une bonne vieille, son hôtesse, que, dans le pays où il se trouve, on livre, tous les huit jours, une victime humaine à un serpent à douze têtes, pour que le monstre laisse


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 puiser de l'eau a l'unique fontaine de la ville; le sort vient de tomber sur la fille du roi. Le héros se rend a la fontaine, près de laquelle la princesse est attachée à un rocher. Il la délie et lui dit qu'il la protégera; il ajoute qu'il est fatigué et qu'en attendant la venue du serpent il la prie (il faut bien appeler les choses par leur nom) de lui chercher un peu les poux. Pendant qu'elle le fait, il s'endort, et la princesse lui attache une bague dans les cheveux. Mais, quand le serpent arrive, elle est si épouvantée que la voix lui manque et qu'elle ne peut que pleurer: une de ses larmes tombe sur la joue du héros et le réveille. "Ho! ho!" crie le serpent en voyant le jeune homme et la princesse, "jusqu'ici on ne me donnait qu'un morceau a manger; aujourd'hui j'en ai deux."

La première pensée qu'on aura en lisant ce passage, c'est que les détails de la narration, les enjolivements, sont l'œuvre des conteurs grecs. Voyons s'il en est ainsi.

En 1888, M. Maxence de Rochemonteix a publié, parmi les Contes nubiens qu'il a donnés aux Mémoires de l'Institut égyptien, un conte où je relève l'épisode suivant: Le héros, Himmed, arrive dans un certain pays et se loge chez une vieille femme. Un jour, dit le conte, elle lui apporta de l'eau saumâtre. "Pourquoi, grand'mère, cette eau est-elle saumâtre?" Et la vieille lui raconta qu'un crocodile arrêtait le fleuve. "Chaque jour, il lui faut une vierge, et c'est aujourd'hui le tour de la fille du roi." "C'est bien," dit Himmed, et, se levant, il alla trouver la jeune fille. "Ma petite sœur," lui dit il, "que fais-tu ici toute seule?" "On m'a amenée ici pour être livrée au crocodile. Va-t-en." "C'est bien," dit Himmed; "laisse-moi dormir, la tête sur tes genoux, et tire-moi un pou. Quand le crocodile viendra, réveille-moi." Et il s'étendit par terre, la tête sur les genoux de la jeune fille. A la vue du crocodile, celle-ci se mit à pleurer: une larme tomba dans l'oreille de Himmed et le réveilla. "Pourquoi pleures-tu?" dit-il. " Voici le crocodile; sauve-toi!" En même temps le crocodile leur criait de loin: "Pourquoi donc êtes vous deux?"

Voilà tout-à-fait, sur les rives du Haut-Nil, notre récit grec moderne, et non pas seulement le sens général de cet incident; les plus petits, les plus étranges détails s'y retrouvent: monstre qui prive d'eau une ville, bizarres idées du héros, larme qui le réveille, exclamation du monstre.


text:
Author:Emmanuel Cosquin

Works

 * Contes populaires de Lorraine
 * Quelques Observations sur les "Incidents communs aux Contes Européens et aux Contes Orientaux" 	Transactions of the Second International Folk-Congress 1891.

title: Author:Emmanuel Cosquin


text:
Hobson v. Lord/Dissent Bradley

MR. JUSTICE BRADLEY dissenting.

I dissent from the judgment of the court in this case. It seems to me a dangerous precedent to allow contribution to the crew's wages when a ship does not deviate from her course, but is merely delayed for repairs on the route of her regular voyage. Such claims will too often be put forward, and a shipper will never know when he has done paying freight for the transportation of his property. I concede that the American rule is more liberal in this respect than the English; but I think it has never been carried so far as the present case.

title: Hobson v. Lord/Dissent Bradley


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 70 En Arménie, encore même narration, si ce n'est que le trait réaliste de la toilette à faire au héros a disparu, peut-être par un excès de délicatesse de la part du collectionneur. Mais ce trait se rencontre ailleurs, dans des épisodes semblables, par exemple dans un conte valaque (Schott, No. 10), où se trouve aussi la "larme brûlante"; dans un conte suédois (Cavallius, p. 110). Et si ce dernier n'a pas la larme qui réveille le héros, il nous offre un trait du conte grec moderne que nous n'avions pas encore rencontré jusqu'ici, celui de la bague attachée dans les cheveux du jeune homme. (Comparer le conte écossais No. 4 de la collection Campbell.)

⁂

Ici arrêtons-nous un instant et posons-nous cette question:

Etant admis que l'idée de victimes humaines livrées périodiquement à un monstre pour prévenir un plus grand mal, et de la délivrance d'une de ces victimes, soit une de ces "idées sauvages" qui, nous dit-on, peuvent éclore partout où existe l'état d'esprit "sauvage"—cela étant admis, est-il possible que les Grecs modernes, les Nubiens, les Arméniens, les Valaques, aient développé absolument de la même façon cette "idée sauvage" trouvée (c'est l'hypothèse) par chacum de ces peuples dans son héritage traditionnel? est-il possible que, par exemple, ils aient imaginé tous que le héros se serait endormi avant le combat, la tête sur les genoux de la fille du roi; qu'une larme de celle-ci, tombée sur le visage du jeune homme, l'aurait réveillé, etc.?

Non, évidemment, cela n'est pas possible.

Donc la forme tellement spéciale sous laquelle l'"idée sauvage" — si "idée sauvage" il y a—se présente à nous aujourd'hui chez ces divers peuples, ne peut se rencontrer à la fois chez tous que par suite de communications de l'un a l'autre et d'importation de l'idée déjà spécialisée.

⁂

Mais nous sommes encore loin d'avoir tout considéré dans les récits qui viennent d'être analysés.

Ces récits, ils ont été recueillis, non point isolés et formant tout le conte à eux seuls, mais encadrés dans un conte plus étendu.