The first disturbance of this kind that I was in happened a few days after we entered the port. A large squad of us—perhaps twenty—had gone on shore, but Tony Trybrace and I had somehow got separated from our companions. We were both of us somewhat in liquor, and had a hankering—a usual one under the circumstances—to have something more to drink. So we entered a queer sort of Spanish gin-shop, and, not understanding the lingo very fluently, proceeded to help ourselves—of course with the intention of paying our way.
In the course of this proceeding, Tony was rudely thrust back from the counter by the proprietor of the place, a wiry Brazilian, and, at the same time, admonished by a torrent of invectives in the unknown lingo.
It is poor policy to treat a drunken man rudely, unless you are a policeman. A sailor, especially, will bear but little handling. Tony staggered back a moment, but, the next, the Brazilian was lying on the floor from a terrific blow between the eyes. Just at this moment, several English sailors entered the room, and, seeing that we were Americans, of course took the landlord's part. The latter was but little hurt and soon got up, muttering a great string of oaths, the usual consolation of the Spaniard, but, this time, in a much lower voice, and taking care to be out of the reach of Tony's powerful fist.
"Hit's ha hawful mean shame for to see ha poor cuss treated hin that 'ere way," mused one of the Englishmen to his comrades, in a tone so loud that it was evidently meant for our special benefit.
"That's so! Shiver my timbers eff I would stand it eff I was the Spanish cuss," was the elegant rejoinder.
"Whoever don't like it, can take it up whenever he wants," bluntly interposed Tony.
"His that 'ere remark hintended for me?" asked the first speaker.
"Well, it is," said Tony, "and so is this 'ere."
And before I could guess his intention, or move an inch to hinder it, down went the cockney before the same stanch fist of the Yankee sailor. The rest of the Britishers immediately sprung forward to avenge their comrade's fall; and, as I couldn't stand by and see little Tony overpowered, I also went in. There were ten of them, at least, and we were soon on the verge of destruction, when our cries for help reached the ears of friends outside, and in dashed Old Nick and Bluefish, at the head of a dozen or more of our lads, when the way that the Britishers and that entire gin-shop was cleaned out was a caution. Three policemen now dropped in, but we dropped them in as summary a way as the rest of them, and made our escape up the street.
This may be a rude picture, but it is one of truth, and I merely give it as a sample of sailors' life ashore in foreign parts.