As may readily be imagined, some queer customers came aboard; and some curious scenes took place, both of the sentimental and comic order.
One of these latter I especially noticed; for it occurred under my very eyes, within earshot of where I was standing by the gangway.
“Downy,” as the men called him, the whilom digger of graves, who had so puzzled Commander Nesbitt on the first day of his joining, by giving his profession so peculiar a designation, had come on board without any sort of an outfit for the voyage.
So, at last not being able to go ashore to buy a stock of clothes on receiving his advance pay, the purser at that time not supplying the men, as is the custom nowadays, with what they required, the morose gentleman was obliged to have recourse to Poll Nash, one of the bumboat women, who had brought off a lot of “slop” clothing for those requiring a rig-out, and was selling the same on her own terms to all comers as quickly as she could dispose of her stock.
To her, therefore, Master “Downy” now applied, having nothing beyond the rather shabby suit of black in which he stood up, which was certainly somewhat unsuitable, to say the least, for a sailor’s wear, particularly a man-o’-war’s man, as the once gravedigger had been transformed into.
He had well-nigh fully invested, in this way, the entire amount he had just received from the purser, Mr Nipper, on account of his advance pay as an “ordinary seaman,” that being his rating; when, I noticed, a dark-faced, long-nosed gentleman come up to him and speak.
The two then got into a violent altercation that speedily attracted everyone’s attention, a small crowd gathering round the disputants just abaft the mainmast.
“I tell you I haven’t a ha’penny left,” I heard “Downy” say, after a lot of words passing between them the gist of which I could not catch. “No, not a ha’penny left, I swear. I’ve paid it all to this good lady here for clothes!”
“You haven’t paid me for the monkey jacket yet,” interposed Mrs Poll Nash, the bumboat woman, who was holding up the garment in question, waiting for the coin to be passed over before parting with it, the good lady having in her career learnt the wisdom of caution. “That’ll make three pun’ seventeen-and-six in all. Now, look sharp, my joker, or I’ll chuck the duds back into the wherry. I ain’t a-going to wait all day for my money, I tell you!”
“I’ll let you have it in a minute,” whined “Downy,” who was apparently afraid to show what he had in his pocket, the dark gentleman’s eye being upon him. “Can’t you give a fellow time? I ain’t a-going to run away.”