CONTINUED TROUBLE
By some strange freak of good fortune to which I was totally
unaccustomed, the very next day after my summary dismissal from the
trunk-maker's, I got a job in a big dairy company's business. I have
forgotten exactly how it happened, but I think that one of my street
chums told me he had seen the notice in the shop window, and hurrying
off at once, I secured the situation. At first blush I was almost
overwhelmed with the magnitude of my good fortune. For my wages were
to be six shillings per week, and a pint of milk twice a day, which to
me was wealth indeed, and I began to have visions of getting a little
pocket-money out of my earnings, and perhaps even, blissful thought, a
new suit of clothes, a possession that I had never yet enjoyed.
My delight was somewhat tempered by the fact that my hours of business
were to be from 4.30 A.M. to 9 P.M., on Sunday and week-day alike, in
summer; and from 5.30 A.M. to 9 P.M. in winter. But of course that was
merely a detail. As I had to begin at so unholy an hour in the morning,
of course it was unthinkable that I could get any food in the house,
and so my landlady made arrangements, in consideration of receiving the
whole of my earnings _and_ the milk, to subsidise a local coffee-stall
keeper to the extent of one cup of coffee and one slice of cake, price
together one penny, every morning. This I bolted at the street corner,
often scalding my mouth, for I need hardly say that the margin of
time was never very great. And if a boy arrived late, well, there was
an end, for his van had gone without him, since it might not linger,
obstructing the others.
After swallowing my coffee, I fled as fast as my legs would carry me
towards my place of business (sounds important, doesn't it?), which,
when I reached it, was a roaring vortex of noise. For the railway vans
had just arrived from Paddington Station, and the huge churns of milk
were being shifted with much clangour and shouting from the street to
the cellar of the shop, where their contents were being distributed
into the polished churns which went into the distributing vans. Every
man and boy was hard at work, the majority fitting out their respective
vans with cans, kettles, etc.; and in half an hour from beginning this
work, every van (there were sixteen of them) with its driver and its
attendant boy, a crate full of empty cans, and two brimming churns of
milk, had rattled off towards the district, often three or four miles
away, which was allotted to it.
In summer this eager rush and excitement was rather pleasant, and
more in the nature of a huge frolic than otherwise; but in winter, on
bitter, bleak, snowy, or wet mornings, it was undoubtedly terribly
hard upon such children as I, poorly clad and insufficiently fed, as
most of us were. There were two of us in my van besides the driver,
it being a _heavy_ district, and there was consequently considerable
rivalry between my fellow-worker and myself, which kept both of us
from lagging. Our boss was a gruff, unsociable sort of fellow, but he
must have had a soft spot in his heart somewhere, for he invariably
pulled up at the first coffee stall (it was set against a dead wall,
nearly opposite the entrance to Kensington Palace Gardens, I remember),
and treated each of us to a pennyworth of coffee and cake; and this
kindness he repeated when we had finished our round, if the weather was
cold.
Upon arriving at the commencement of our district we at once flew into
violent activity, distributing the milk in cans down the areas and at
the doors; but at seven we began to serve at the doors, the servants
being about, and many a chunk of cake and mug of hot coffee fell to my
lot from kind-hearted kitchen-maids. So, taking it all round, it was
not entirely unpleasant if very exhausting. But one thing I have never
been able to understand, the wonderful memory we developed. We carried
no books, and yet when we returned to the shop at about eight, each of
us went before the cashier and repeated, without an effort apparently,
as he read out the numbers of the houses, the quantity of milk we had
served them with. I do not remember learning this, and indeed it seemed
to come naturally to all of us. And when it is remembered that out of
150 gallons of milk we were only allowed one quart for margin, it can
easily be understood that we must have been pretty correct.
We had an hour allowed for breakfast, and then the boys had to return
and wash and polish the big cans or kettles, as we called them, a task
which took us till the afternoon, when we sallied forth again in all
the glory of white smocks, shining cans, and trim equipages. This was
the pleasant time, for there were nice little snacks obtainable at
kitchen doors, and many an opportunity of making a dishonest halfpenny
by selling milk to strangers, which deficiency in our pails we made
up by giving short measure to regular and large customers, but never,
as far as I know, by calling in the aid of the pump. At night when we
returned, and the men took their vans off to the stables, the boys
washed up the hundreds of small cans under the acute supervision of an
old foreman. All the cans were washed and rinsed, were stacked with
open lids ready for the morning, and at about 9.30 we were released.
I do not know how long this strenuous employment claimed me, but I
know that I was one day discharged suddenly without explanation. The
only reason I can assign is that some of my petty pilferings of milk
had been discovered, and the only excuse I can give is that of all my
earnings I never had a halfpenny to call my own--it all went for my
keep.
Why or how I went to my next place I shall never know. It is to me
and always has been a profound mystery. It was at a "lath-render's,"
a place where laths were made by hand from curved fillets of Russian
pine, with a groove down the centre as if showing whence the pith had
been removed, that had often aroused my wonder as to their use. I was
to receive, as far as I remember, small wages, and certainly no food,
but I was to learn the business! But my only occupation while I was
there was to tie up chips for sale and keep the fire going in the
stove, although I watched the men splitting the long laths from the
billets with a sort of hatchet with keenest interest. Ah, yes, I used
to saw the billets into lengths, I remember, but not to any extent. I
was too small for such strenuous labour.
Well, my whole course there is misty in retrospect, but deeply
flavoured with the pleasant scent of the pine wood, except the manner
of my leaving, which was sudden, dramatic, and mysterious. I have said
that my principal occupation was the tying up of chips. There were
naturally a great many of these, and they were made into bundles by
the aid of a rude machine, and sold, largely to laundresses, who used
to send for them as being more economical than the bundle-wood at
the oil-shops. Now what perverse demon tempted me I know not, but one
day I thought it would be a desirable thing to conceal in the heart
of each bundle a lump of clinker from the stove! No possible benefit
could accrue to me from doing this, and had my reasoning powers been in
working order, I must have known that detection and subsequent disaster
must inevitably be swift.
But I did not think, and I did include clinkers in my bundles, with
the result that one day a horde of infuriated washerwomen, mostly
of Irish extraction, descended upon the shop armed with clinkers,
with which, after briefest prologue, they pelted my unfortunate and
totally innocent employer. He, poor man, could do nothing but close the
establishment under this rapid fire of missiles; and then, thinking
quickly, turned upon me and flung me out, not, I rejoice to say, as a
sacrifice to the mob, but by a rear door, whence I escaped along the
canal side. Explanation of my conduct I have none, and there I must
leave the matter. It may have been the budding of incipient genius, but
in the mellow light of retrospect I confess that it appears very like
the act of a lunatic of which I had been guilty.
Again, I was free and still characterless. This time I suffered, as
no doubt I deserved, hunger, thirst, and pain before I again entered
employment, but when I did get a berth it promised fairer than any of
my previous ones. Just how I fell in with this astounding piece of
luck, I have forgotten, but what is indelibly impressed upon my memory
is the fact that in my new situation I received board and clothing and
two shillings a week--quite sufficient to pay for my poor little bed
in a room which I shared with a cobbler, who used it for a workshop,
toiling far into the night after I had gone to sleep; but while I was
awake, entertaining me vastly with scraps of quaint philosophy. No
wonder I was what they used to call an old-fashioned kid! But bless
that dear old cobbler's heart. He was gentle, kind, and wise, except
in one direction, but even in his cups I never remember hearing him
say ought that a little child might not listen to, or ask and obtain
the meaning of unsullied. He was very fond of me, and I of him. I
daresay we meant a great deal to each other, meeting as we did in that
little eddy out of the great rapids of life, and without visible effort
supplying each other's needs. I well remember meeting him one day--it
must have been when I was looking for a job--surrounded by a little mob
of children "avin a gime wiv im" in the vernacular. Taking me gently by
the arm he said, with a grand wave of his free hand, "Now here is an
example for you, ill-mannered brats that you are, that can only shout
'Ullo, Trotty.' I know I trot, I know I am old, but you are ill-bred to
remind me of it, and as for this dear child!" And much to my horror and
entire discomfiture, he lifted me up and kissed me. I did not get over
that, or escape the consequences of his ill-timed affection for a long
time, I promise you.
But I am forgetting Mr Green, my employer. He kept an establishment
in Westbourne Grove for the manufacture and sale of paper patterns
of fashionable dresses. In those far-off days I think he must have
been a pioneer in this business, and I know he used to visit Paris
periodically, in order to obtain the latest modes; and returning with
them, his wife and her assistants reduplicated them in coloured paper,
which elaborate models were exhibited in a grand show-room and sold.
My business was to wear a fine suit of clothes with many silvered
buttons, and lie hidden in the hall to conduct clients upstairs to the
show-rooms, which was on the first floor over a shop. Another and more
important part of my duties was to carry parcels to clients' houses, at
which times I wore a shiny top-hat bedecked with silver braid. Indeed,
so fine was I that my old companions of the street forbore to guy me,
but paid me undisguised tribute of admiration for my splendour.
At such times as I was not employed in public work as aforesaid, I
assisted the housemaid in her domestic duties, and was indeed a boy
of all work. But taking it all round, I had a good place, and but
for the one defect of never having any money of my own, I might have
remained there until I began to grow a beard. But I could not resist
the temptation of pilfering, because I had never anything of my own,
and so in spite of my comfort and ease I forfeited this good place, and
was suddenly kicked out. I had not yet, it will be seen, discovered for
myself that honesty was the best policy, and I was certainly not one
of those wonderful children of whom we read in prize-books that they
would starve rather than steal. I stole whenever I saw a favourable
opportunity, and when found out and made to suffer therefor, only
blamed my own stupidity in not taking more elaborate precautions.
My next employment was at a chemist's, and my never ending wonder
is, that I am alive to tell of my experiences there. For it was a
large business, and they employed a light porter, a big boy of about
eighteen, to do the work I was too weak for; and this fellow led me on
to sample portions of the stock, which exercise on several occasions
nearly proved fatal to me. But my direst experience was not due to him
at all. I was sent one day with a basket containing six syphons of soda
to a client's house in Inverness Place, and at the corner of Inverness
Terrace, where it joins the Place, I, resting, saw a fellow errand-boy
approaching. After salutations, he suddenly caught sight of my burden
as I sat upon the handle of the basket, and immediately asked me why I
did not have a drink, and give him some. I, who knew nothing of syphons
and their peculiarities, scoffed at the idea. But he very seriously
gave me to understand that soda water was a kind of sublimated
lemonade, and that it was most easy to get out of these patent bottles,
which indeed were made for the purpose.
I needed little persuasion to try the experiment, and so in a minute or
two behold me kneeling on the pavement, while that fiend, taking out
one of the syphons, inserted the spout in my mouth, and telling me to
draw hard, pulled the trigger! Merciful powers, shall I, can I, ever
forget the agony of that moment! I felt the impact of that surcharged
stream against my diaphragm, and simultaneously a regurgitating flood
seemed to be beating against my skull, while a double stream poured
down my nostrils. He, the miscreant, yelling with delight, dropped the
syphon on the pavement and fled, leaving me three parts dead, with a
charge against me of something like five shillings and sixpence for a
broken syphon. Fun to him doubtless, but to me!!!
I must pass rapidly over several other adventures at that fatal shop,
such as my putting a handful of soft soap in my mouth in mistake for
honey, and exuding soapsuds from every pore for hours as it seemed,
eating greedily of ipecacuanha lozenges and worm tablets, both given me
by the light porter, with equally disastrous results, until one fateful
Saturday night came with the remark from the manager as he handed me my
four shillings and sixpence, that I was too volatile for his business,
and that as he did not want a post-mortem on the premises, I had
better not trouble to return on Monday morning. Which valediction I
received as quite in keeping with the recognised scheme of things as
far as I was concerned.
But I could not help feeling that a crisis in my affairs had arrived,
and I dared not return to my lodging with the now too familiar remark,
"I've got the sack," so forgathering with another boy, similarly
situated, I cut loose from such conventionalities as I had hitherto
preserved; and after a riotous expenditure of sixpence in fried fish
and chips and gingerbeer, we climbed the railings of Kensington
Gardens, and creeping like Indians through the gloom, ensconced
ourselves within the shrubbery by the Serpentine under a heap of plant
matting, and slept soundly till morning.
That was the beginning of an Arab life in the great city, which, I
suppose, must have had a certain charm for me, in that it was made
up almost entirely of exciting episodes, tempered by the two salient
factors of cold and hunger. I can never remember being warm and
well fed together for more than an hour or two at a time, and those
occasions were so rare as to mark their occurrence indelibly as periods
to be reckoned from. I had no prevision, no ambition except to get
a good feed and a warm place to sleep, no anxiety save to avoid the
policeman, for the School Board Official was not yet in existence, nor
as far as I was aware, any other person whose business it was to look
after waifs and strays such as I was.
Now, curiously enough, one fact stands out in great prominence for
which I cannot account at all. It will have been noticed that I had, to
put it mildly, no excessive scruples as to taking what did not belong
to me, if I thought I needed it; but one thing I would not, could not,
did not do, was beg. In the whole of that adventurous time of which
I am writing, and afterwards when I was stranded in strange places
between voyages in the early days, although I often suffered most acute
pangs of hunger, I never once asked alms. And that, I think, will be
found quite characteristic of the London street boy. It is a curious,
and, I think, not unsatisfactory feature in his make-up. But there is
no denying that we were all predatory in the highest degree. And this
habit grew upon us, well, I had better say me, in a case of this kind;
until when the lot fell upon me to do the "nicking" for the party, I
went and did it with the most natural air in the world.
There was nothing melodramatic about it either, no stealthy dartings
from shadow to shadow with an occasional "hist, I am observed," so
dear to the old play-writers. Oh, no. For instance, it once fell to
me to "nick" something, and I have the most precise recollection of
walking deliberately into a large grocer's shop in Westbourne Grove,
its counter laden as usual with samples of goods for sale, and under
the nose of the dumfounded salesman, who had watched me enter, lifting
a large box of biscuits and retreating before he had even attempted
to clear the obstacles between us. And that was only a type of many
such adventures. Since, however, this recital tends to become highly
immoral, I will only quote one more instance which must even yet linger
in the memories of such of its participants as are still alive.
There used to be a large sweet-stuff shop at the corner of Newton Road,
Westbourne Grove, which did a fine trade, and was very fully stocked.
One night, dared thereunto by some of my companions who had contributed
an extraordinary full and varied meal, I entered this shop and calmly
lifted a large glass off a side shelf, which contained five or six
pounds of chocolate in penny bars covered with silver paper. I took
no precautions whatever, beyond leaving the door wide open, nor did I
hurry. But upon emerging into the Grove I immediately turned up the
dark way of Newton Road, and whistled shrilly for my chums, who were
supposed to be keeping _nix_, although their idea of doing so was to
get as far away as possible in case of accidents.
I found them all, however, in Kildare Gardens, which used to be reached
by a sort of paved alley way guarded by posts at each end, and was a
most select, silent, and quasi-aristocratic retreat. A veritable oasis
of quiet comfort just off the main artery of Westbourne Grove, then
beginning to be famous through the exertions of Mr W. Whiteley. And
we sat down on the kerb of the central garden in the dark to divide
the spoil. This being done, and each boy's pocket laden with chocolate
sticks, one uneasy wight raised the question, "What should we do with
the show-glass?" The obvious thing would have been to leave it there in
the dark, but when did boys affect the obvious?
Then arose the genius of the party and propounded a scheme which made
us all cavort with delight (I have said that we were full fed). He
proposed that our quartette should advance upon the first house in that
utterly silent square, one member carrying the glass container, another
the cover, while the other two ascended the steps under the portico and
seized, one the knocker, and the other the bell. Then at a given signal
the glass must be hurled at the front of the house, the knocker banged,
the bell pulled as hard as might be, and--flight. This was at ten p.m.
The instructions were carried out to the foot of the letter; and never,
not in a mutiny on board ship, or a coolie riot, have I heard so
infernal a row or seen so sudden an upheaval of temporarily mad people.
We four were also suddenly frantic, and in our mad flight up Kildare
Terrace, assisted the tumult by snatching at the bells at the garden
gates as we ran. But on arriving in the Talbot Road, breathless, we
halted, and alter a brief consultation, decided that we would return
and view the result. We did, and we were completely satisfied. The
gardens were full of people, each with a different theory, and the
majority clad in strange garb. We circulated and enjoyed ourselves
listening. But gradually the concourse melted away; and we, quite
happy, stole off to our various lairs.