Round the Galley Fire

by William Clark Russell

These are the “dignity men.” They have a little room in which they may dine apart from the Lascars, Kanakas, John Chinamen, and the others; but, somehow, they don’t seem to value exclusiveness, for most of them will quit their table to join the pigtails and half-castes in the big eating-room downstairs, where they find a relish in their rice and fish which appears to be wanting in the dishes in the other apartment. In one of the dormitories we came across a Javanese—one of the troupe—sitting cross-legged on his bed, ill with a cold in the head. His unsmoked pipe lay by his side, and he was listlessly handling some pieces of printed calico, though the use he meant to put them to I could not divine. There is a no more melancholy object than a coloured man suffering from a bad cold in the head. I saw him shiver, and then roll his eyes—black as ebony set in orange—upon the window, and I thought to myself, “How this harmless, coloured man, who speaks nothing but Javanese, and who belongs to a country where the air is radiant with beautiful birds and fragrant with delicious fruits, must enjoy the climate of the West India Dock Road!”

We struggled to impart sympathy by several kinds of gestures and motions, but it would not do; we could not get further than alarming him, and so we left him. In another dormitory we found a Ceylon man, a Madrassee Lascar, and a Japanese. The Ceylon man was a very handsome fellow, his hair parted down the middle, and he had as fine a pair of eyes as ever I saw in the human countenance, regular features, and a wonderfully good figure. He was reading an English book, and spoke English so well that, what with his correct utterance, the colour of his skin, and his striking face, a misgiving seized me.

“Are you a pure Cingalese?” I asked.

“No, no,” cried he, with much anxiety in his manner; “my father was an English sailor!”

But the Madrassee man, in a measure, atoned for this disappointment. He was the real thing—just the sort of conformation to tumble about in a surf-boat, very black, very lean, with snow-white teeth, and a high long nose as thin as a hatchet. The secretary conversed with him in his native lingo, and it seemed to do the poor fellow good to talk. The Japanese had a wooden face, and had very little to say. Indeed, I always think that the people of his race and the Chinese view us and our works with a good deal of contempt. What a mean opinion they must have of our toys, of our paintings, in which the literal is sacrificed to the poetical; of our clothes, tea, head-dresses, coiffures, and a thousand other matters! They have a Chinese porter at the Home, who is dressed in a black coat and wears a hat. I did not speak to him, but I should judge, from observing the expression on his face when in a state of repose, that he has but a poor opinion of Great Britain. In another dormitory were a couple of Arabs mending shirts; and downstairs, in the scullery, I met a Zulu, who told me that he was a subject of Cetewayo, and had called at that King’s lodgings when he was in London, but had not managed to see his Majesty. One of the suite promised to write and appoint an hour for an interview; but no letter ever reached the youth, and the next thing he heard of Cetewayo was that he had sailed for Africa. This scullery led into a large kitchen, very well appointed, and in spick and span condition. Adjoining was the provision room, containing one large sack of rice, a quantity of smoked herrings, a jar of chillies, another jar of curry powder, and other Eastern relishes.

“The mackerel is the favourite dish with our inmates, be they of whatever nationality they will,” said the secretary. “They consider it the finest fish that is caught in European waters, and lament when the season for catching them is over.”

I asked what food they were supplied with in the Home.

“We have,” he replied, “what we call three messes. The first-class mess is sixteen shillings a week—this includes a separate cabin; the second, without a cabin, is fourteen shillings; and the third, which we term the curry and rice mess, is ten shillings. The first two messes comprise, for breakfast, fish or eggs, coffee, bread and butter; for dinner we give beef or mutton, with vegetables, and curry and rice always; tea, the same as breakfast.”

“The charge is small enough,” said I.

“But they have other privileges,” said he. “For instance, there are hot and cold water baths downstairs, for the use of which no charge is made. We also receive and take care of their money and valuables—for some of the people who come here bring real valuables, such as jewels, with them, I assure you. Since last January the amount deposited in money with us has amounted to £2,285, of which I do not scruple to say that, but for the existence of this home, the greater portion would have been stolen from its owners by the crimps and boarding-house people who haunt our neighbourhood. That room you see there is our shipping-office; captains come to us and select men for their vessels, and when the choice has been made we accompany the men to the marine offices, see them sign articles and that the advance is duly made. Indeed, we do all that we possibly can to help and protect these poor strangers.”