I was pleased to find that Jack knew a good argument when he heard it, so I rewarded his intelligence with another glass of brandy, and asked him if he had been long in the colonies. He said:
"My name's not Jack; that's what they call me, but it doesn't matter what my name is. I was brought up in Liverpool, but I wasn't born there; that doesn't matter either. I used to work at the docks, was living quite respectable, was married and had a little son about five years old. One night after I had had supper and washed myself, I said to th' missus, 'There's a peep-show i' Tithebarn Street, and if you'll wash Bobby's face I'll tek him there; its nobbut a penny.' You know it was one o' them shows where they hev pictures behind a piece o' calico, Paul Pry with his umbrella, Daniel i' th' lions' den, ducks swimming across a river, a giantess who was a man shaved and dressed in women's clothes, a dog wi' five legs, and a stuffed mermaid--just what little lads would like. There was a man, besides, who played on a flute, and another singing funny songs. When I went outside into the street there was little Billy Yates, as used to play with Bobby, so I says, 'Come along, Billy, and I'll tek thee to the show.' When we got there we set down on a bench, and, just as they began to show th' pictures, three black-fellows came in and set down on th' bench before us. They thowt they were big swells, and had on black coats, white shirts, stiff collars up to their ears, red and green neck-handkerchers, and bell-topper hats; so I just touched one of em on th' showder and said: 'Would you please tek your hats off to let th' lads see th' pictures?' Well, the nigger just turned his head half-round, and looked at me impudent like, but he kept his hat on. So I asked him again quite civil, and he called me a low fellow, towld me to mind my own business, and the other two niggers grinned. Well, you know, I could not stand that. I knew well enough what they were. They were stewards on the liners running between New York and Liverpool, and they were going round trying to pass for swells in a penny peep-show. I didn't want to make a row just then and spoil the show, so I said to th' lads, we mun go hooum, and I took 'em hooum, and then come back to th' show and waited at th' door. When the niggers come out I pitched into th' one as had given me cheek; but we couldn't have it out for th' crowd, and we were all shoved into th' street. I went away a bit, thinking no more about it, and met a man I knew and we went into a public house and had a quart o' fourpenny. We were in a room by ourselves, when the varra same three niggers come in and stood a bit inside the door. So I took my tumbler and threw it at th' head of th' man I wanted, and then went at him. But I couldn't lick him gradely because th' landlord come in and stopped us; so after a while I went hooum. Next morning I was going along Dale Street towards the docks to work, when who should I see but that varra same blackfellow: it looked as if th' devil was in it. He was by hisself this time, coming along at th' other side of th' street. So I crossed over and met him, and went close up to him and said, 'Well, what have you to say for yoursel' now?' and I gav him a lick under th' ear. He fell down on th' kerbstone and wouldn't get up-- turned sulky like. There was soon a crowd about, and they tried to wakken him up; but he wouldn't help hisself a bit--just sulked and wouldn't stir. I don't believe he'd ha' died but for that, because I nobbut give him but one hit. I thowt I'd better make mysel' scarce for a while, so I left Liverpool and went to Preston. Were you ever in Preston?" I said I was. "Well then, you'll remember Melling, the fish-monger, a varra big, fat man. I worked for him for about six months, and then come back to Liverpool, thinking there'd be no more bother about the blackfellow. But they took me up, and gev me fourteen year for it; and if it had been a white man I wouldn't ha' got more than twelve months, and I was sent out to Van Diemen's Land and ruined for ever, just for nowt else but giving a chance lick to a blackfellow. And now I hear they're going to war wi' Russia, and-- England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales--I hope they'll all get blooming well licked. It don't mend a man much to transport him, nor a woman either for that matter: they all grow worse than ever. When I got my ticket I sometimes went working in th' bush, sometimes whaling and sealing, and sometimes stripping bark at Western Port and Portland Bay, before there was such a place as Melbourne. I was in a whaler for two years about Wilson's Promontory, until the whales were all killed or driven away. I never saved any money until nine years back; we always went on th' spree and spent every penny directly we were paid off. At that time I went with a man from Port Albert to the Seal Islands in a boat. I knew of a place where there was a cave, a big hollow under the rocks, where th' seals used to go to sleep, and a blow hole coming out of it to th' top of the island. We hired a boat and went there, and made a kind of a door which we could drop down with a rope to shut up the mouth of th' cave and catch the seals inside. We killed so many that we couldn't take th' skins away all at once in the boat to Port Albert; we had to come back again. I thowt to myself I'd be richer than ever I was in my life; th' skins were worth hundreds of pounds. I had agreed to go halves with th' Port Albert man, but, you see, he'd ha' never gotten a penny but for me, because he knew nothing whatever about sealing. It didn't look quite fair to give him half; and then I thowt what a lucky thing it would be for me if he were drowned; and he was drowned, but mind you, I didn't do it. It was this way. When we got back to th' blow-hole th' weather was bad. One o' them sou'east gales set in, and th' big waves dashed agen the rocks, roaring and sending spray right across th' island. We had packed away all th' seal-skins snug in th' boat and pulled th' door up from th' bottom of th' chimney before th' gale started. When we were taking down the rope and tackle and th' shears, th' water began to come boiling up th' blow hole and sinking down again. There was a big rush of wind, first up and then down sucking you in like. It was a ticklish time, and just as we were going to lower th' shears, th' Port Albert man made a kind of slip, and was sucked in with the wind, and went head first into the boiling water and out of sight. I took hold of the slack of a rope, thinking I'd throw it to him; he might get hold of it, and then I could pull him out. In about half a minute he was thrown up again by th' next wave right to the top of th' chimney. I could see his face within four feet of me. He threw up his hands for something to catch at and looked at me, and then gave a fearful scream. I didn't throw him the rope; something stopped me. He might not have got hold of it, you know, anyhow. He went down again among th' white water, and I never saw him no more--only when I am dreaming. I always dream about him. I can see his face come up above the boiling water, and when he screams I wake up. I can never get clear of him out of my head; and yet, mind you, I didn't drown him; he fell in of his self, and I just missed throwing him th' rope, that's all; and I wasn't bound to do it, was I?
"As for the money I got for the seal skins, I could have lived comfortably on it all my life, but it never did me no good. I started drinking, trying to forget that Port Albert man, but it was no use. Every shilling was soon gone, and eversince I've been doing odd jobs and loafing about the publics. I've never done no good and never shall. Let's have just another nobbler afore we turn in."
A HAPPY CONVICT.
"Thrice did I receive forty stripes, save one."
It was court day at Palmerston, and there was an unusual amount of business that morning. A constable brought in a prisoner, and charged him with being a vagrant--having no lawful visible means of support. I entered the charge in the cause list, "Police v. John Smithers, vagrancy," and then looked at the vagrant. He was growing aged, was dressed in old clothes, faded, dirty, and ill-fitting; he had not been measured for them. His face was very dark, and his hair and beard were long and rough, showing that he had not been in gaol lately. His eyes wandered about the court in a helpless and vacant manner. Two boys about eight or nine years old entered the court, and, with colonial presumption, sat in the jury box. There were no other spectators, so I left them there to represent the public. They stared at the prisoner, whispered to each other, and smiled. The prisoner could not see anything to laugh at, and frowned at them. Then the magistrate came in, rubbing one of his hands over the other, glanced at the prisoner as he passed, and withered him with a look of virtuous severity. He was our Black Wednesday magistrate, and was death on criminals. When he had taken his seat on the bench, I opened the court, and called the first and only case. It was not often we had a man to sit on, and we sat heavily on this one. I put on my sternest look, and said "John Smithers"--here the prisoner instantly put one hand to his forehead and stood at "attention"-- "you are charged by the police with vagrancy, having no lawful visible means of support. What have you to say to that charge?"
"I am a blacksmith looking for work," said the prisoner; "I ain't done nothing, your worship, and I don't want nothing."
"But you should do something," replied the magistrate; "we don't want idle vagabonds like you wandering about the country. You will be sent to gaol for three months."
I stood up and reminded the justice respectfully that there was as yet no evidence against the prisoner, so, as a matter of form, he condescended to hear the constable, who went into the witness-box and proved his case to the hilt. He had found the man at nightfall sitting under the shelter of some tea-tree sticks before a fire; asked him what he was doing there; said he was camping out; had come from Melbourne looking for work; was a blacksmith; took him in charge as a vagrant, and locked him up; all his property was the clothes he wore, an old blanket, a tin billy, a clasp knife, a few crusts of bread, and old pipe, and half a fig of tobacco; could find no money about him.