"No good, John," he shouted, in Cockney accents and striving to add force to his remarks by a clumsy pantomime. "Berth take. No more. No good, John. All gone. But--" jerking his head sidewise--"Pst! John! I know one good berth. One dollar--" holding up a hand with forefinger and thumb in the form of that over-popular object--"All take, Joh--"
"Say, what t'ell's the game, anyhow, mate?" I interrupted.
His legs all but wilted under him.
"Sye, ol' man," he cried, patting me on the shoulder. "S'elp me, I took you for one o' these waps, as why shouldn't I, in that there sky-piece an' make-up? Of course you can 'ave the berth. Or sye, over 'ere by the port'ole's a far 'an'somer one. There y' are. Now, mite, if ever I can 'elp you out--" and he was still chattering when I climbed again on deck.
Unfortunately, in the rough and tumble of embarking I had lost sight of the Spaniards. When I found them again every berth was really taken, for there was a shortage--or rather considerably more than the legal number of tickets had been sold; and the quartet, having withstood the blackmail, were among those unprovided. That night they slept, if at all, on the bare deck. Next day I protested to the third-class steward and he spread for them two sacks of straw on a lower hatch. There, too, the icy sea air circulated freely. Worst of all, in spite of the solemn promises of the agent, their bags, in which they had packed not only blankets and heavier garments, but meat, bread, fruit, cheese, and botas of wine sufficient to supply them royally during all the journey, had been stowed away in the hold. For two days they showed, after the fashion of emigrants, no interest in gastronomic matters. When appetite returned they could not eat American--or rather English food. "No hay ajos!--It has no garlic!" they complained. Once or twice I acted as agent between them and an under cook who sneaked out of the galley with a roast chicken under his jacket, but they grew visibly leaner day by day.
On the whole steerage life on the New York was endurable. The third-class fare was on a par with most English cooking,--well-meant but otherwise uncommendable. The tables and dishes were moderately clean, the waiters, expecting a sixpence tip at the end of the passage, were almost obliging. In the steerage dining-room, large and airy, was a piano around which we gathered of an evening to chat, or to croak old-fashioned songs. Here it was that I felt the full force of my long total abstinence from English. It was days before I could talk fluently; many a time my tongue clattered about a full half-minute in quest of some quite everyday word.
On the fourth day out the oldest of the Spaniards appealed to me for the twentieth time to intercede for them with the third-class steward.
"Hombre," I answered, "it is useless; I have talked myself hoarse. Go to him yourself and it may have some effect."
"But he understands neither Castilian nor Eúscarra!" cried the Basque.
"No matter," I replied. "He is a man in such and such a uniform. When you run across him touch him on the sleeve and lay your head sidewise on your hand--the pantomime for sleep the world over--and he will remember your case."