Finally, the full crew was on board, and made a class of sailors that the mate had no use for. Americans, Irish, Irish Americans—men of that class usually stick together; on the other hand, a mixed crew of all nationalities does the reverse.
The anchor was weighed, our trip for Liverpool was begun, and our destination would not be reached too soon for any of us. The first day at sea war was declared. Our mate was the notorious bully, Billy Shackleford. At one o'clock he came to the forecastle door and in a gruff voice ordered watch on deck. "And he'd be —— if there would be any afternoon watch below on his ship!" He was curtly told to "Go to ----"
"Do you fellows know who Billy Shackleford is?"
"Yes, we know all about you, and any monkey business on your part, overboard you go!"
Billy was perfectly docile for the rest of that trip. That was the toughest crew I ever sailed with—nearly all old acquaintances in Mobile. The amount of money in our possession was over a thousand dollars, in gold coin. Usually, sailors on a ship leaving port are all dead broke. An Irishman, for security, had bound a rag around his ankle containing sixty dollars. One morning his rag was missing. He bewailed his loss at a terrible rate. Somebody had quietly shaved his original style of money-belt with a razor while he was taking his sleep on deck during a night-watch. I was the next victim; twenty dollars in gold was taken from my sea chest. The chest had been opened with a key. I said very little about my loss, as I had a strong suspicion that a certain man had taken it. He had shown me how safe his money was. It was rolled up in a rag in his trousers' pocket with a string tied around the outside of the pocket, so that the money could not be reached unless the string was untied, and that could not be done without removing his trousers, as he explained to me. His custom was to get into bed all-a-stand—that is, without undressing. The first stormy night we had plenty of work to do, reefing the top-sails, and all of us were tired and sleepy when our watch went below. All were soon asleep but myself, for my hour of revenge had arrived. With a sharp penknife, I cut a slit in the trousers of my dishonest friend, the end of the pocket containing the gold slipped out, then I cut off the whole business. The money was all I wanted, and the string, rag, and remnants of the pocket I left as a souvenir.
Ten five-dollar and one two-and-a-half gold pieces was the total amount. I "planted" the money in a secure place and went to bed, and when my misguided friend awoke there was more anguish in the camp. He had my sympathy and consolation over the fact that we should both land in Liverpool dead broke, and this made our friendship more binding.
Instead of making a trip in five weeks, as we expected, we were over two months in getting to port. For a wonder, no one was killed during the voyage. The ship was towed up the Mersey River, and we arrived at Liverpool just at high tide and were taken alongside the outer dock, ready to enter the gates as soon as they were opened. Every one of us got our baggage and jumped on shore, and "dock-wallopers" had to be hired in our stead to dock the ship. Bully Billy Shackleford was furious at our leaving so abruptly, and he was politely invited to come on shore and have a parting drink, which he very wisely declined to do.
Each man had some favourite boarding-place, so we all became separated. I went to Whitechapel and had my meals and lodging at what the English call a "cook-shop." As I could not find a ship returning to Mobile, I made up my mind to go to Cardiff, Wales, by railroad, and there probably I could ship on some vessel loaded with railroad iron down to Mobile or New Orleans. My stay in Liverpool was only for two days. I crossed the river to Birkenhead—and now for my first trip on an English railroad.
On my arrival at the railroad station I purchased a ticket for Cardiff; then I wanted a check for my sea chest, but checking baggage was not a custom in England, and an official addressed me thus: "Will you 'ave your luggage booked?" My name and destination were duly inscribed. "Sixpence, please." I got on the train thinking it would be smooth sailing for "me luggage" and myself, but such was not the case. I was told to change cars at a certain station, which I did, and, at the time, I noticed that "me luggage" was on the platform at the station. Getting on my train, another link of my journey was being made, and, about nine o'clock that night, I found myself at a town called Open Gates, quite a distance on the wrong road. They informed me that I should have changed trains some distance back. "Why in —— didn't you tell me to?" was my reply. A free ride back and a new start was made in the right direction, and, finally, I brought up at a town called Newport. There the "line of rails," as they are called, ended. Twelve miles from Cardiff only, and "me luggage" and I had to take another road, and "me luggage" could not be found and no one knew anything about it. Now, what puzzles me to this day is what the "booking" meant. And I have never been able to find out, although it is the English custom. I went to a cook-shop and remained in Newport a couple of days, and in the meantime there were many inquiries about the "Young Hamerican's luggage." It was finally located, and when I changed cars the first time I learned that it was my duty to have it placed in the luggage car. While I was on my way to Open Gates, the chest was left on the platform, where I had last seen it. In the course of time a continuation of the journey was made, and at last Cardiff was reached. Hunting up an old acquaintance, he took me to a nice, quiet boarding-place.