INTO TRADE IN SPITE OF MYSELF
Splendid and universal as are the attainments of seamen, it is only the
bare truth to say that one of the rarest qualifications to find among
them is commercial aptitude. There are, of course, notable exceptions,
and in the days when masters and officers of vessels were allowed to
add to their income substantially by trade with the natives of the
countries which they visited, and were granted a certain amount of
space in the hold wherein to store the merchandise they bought, the
trading instinct must have been fairly general. Indeed there are not
wanting cynics at sea to-day, who will tell you that what with the
slop-chest, tobacco selling, and the outrageous rates of exchange,
many a deep water skipper of a sailing ship could give points to an
Armenian. And the latter is supposed by sailors to be equal in, let us
call it trading power, to five Parsees, one of whom again equals five
Jews.
But I do not think this is fair. It does not follow that a man is a
born trader because he can sell necessaries to people who must have
them from him or go without, and cannot go without. It only argues
lack of conscience on the part of the seller. And to expect, without
lack of competition, the same characteristics would, I am afraid,
be indicative of a weak mind. At any rate I am quite certain that,
speaking generally, a sailor when he comes ashore is helpless in the
hands of business people, and that it is a very long while before he is
able to think their thoughts and walk in their ways.
So when I first settled down ashore to steady employment in an
office at a fixed salary of £2 per week, after fifteen years of
irresponsibility as regards domestic affairs, I quickly learned that
I was very callow indeed in those matters. My first false step was in
buying furniture, wherewith to make a home, on the hire system. It
must be remembered that I had a wife and one child, but that I was
practically beginning a new life. And I did so by hanging round my neck
a burden of debt which I did not get rid of for fifteen years, and
then--but I must not anticipate the regular sequence of my story.
The next was to take a house. I had tried apartments several times, but
something always went wrong, I was always made to feel that I was only
in the house on sufferance, and being an enthusiast for peace, I always
moved rather than have a row. But moving as a fairly regular experience
is apt to pall upon one. It costs a good deal of money even when you
hire the local greengrocer's van and horse at one and sixpence an
hour, and it is very hard work, for unless you buckle to and do the
lion's share yourself, you find at nightfall that you have just got in,
you have parted with the bulk of your savings, and the best part of a
heavy night's work is before you, putting up bedsteads and reducing the
chaotic heap of your belongings to a condition in which you can find
what you want within reasonable distance of the time that you want it.
For this and other reasons which I need not now specify I decided to
take a house. I satisfied myself that by letting the floor below and
the floor above the one I intended to keep for ourselves at the current
rate in the neighbourhood, carefully ascertained beforehand, that I
should live rent free or nearly so, and of course in a neighbourhood
like that it was unthinkable that I should ever be empty. I mean the
house of course. By which process of reasoning I demonstrated that I
possessed one of the prime requirements of a tradesman--hope that my
venture would be justified by the profit on my outlay.
But, alas, I was not made of the fibre necessary in order to be a
successful sub-landlord. By the end of the first year of my tenancy
I had come to the conclusion that I was a known mark for all the
undesirables in the neighbourhood. If a tenant was clean he was utterly
unreasonable, looking upon me as his bond-slave, and his right to do
as he liked indefeasible, even though it might be destructive to my
peace of mind or rest of body. And his one argument in reply to any
remonstrance was, "I pay my rent and can go where I like. And don't you
interfere with me."
Amiable tenants found excuses for non-payment of rent or were dirty.
One I remember brought a sofa into the house the stuffing of which
I think must have been mainly bugs. I learned of this by the house
becoming infested beyond belief, and seeing hordes of these odoriferous
insects coming downstairs. This led to my making enquiries, when the
origin or hotbed was found to be the sofa aforesaid. Nothing could have
been more amiable than the manner in which my mild remonstrances were
received or more suave than the manner in which my modest request for
a small contribution towards the heavy expense of getting the house
cleansed and fumigated was denied.
Other lodgers smilingly avowed their inability to pay their rent, and
playfully urged me to get it if I could. Others fought furious battles
overhead, or engaged in gymnastic exercises which brought the ceilings
down, or contracted an offensive and defensive alliance with each other
(the top and bottom floors), with the avowed object of making us "sit
up," in which I may add they were surprisingly successful.
I do not say that I never had a desirable or satisfactory tenant,
because I had several, but alas, I never had two sets of desirable
tenants at the same time. And one of the nicest families I ever let
my ground floor to, seven in number, developed scarlet fever and gave
me perhaps more anxiety and put me to more expense than all the rest
put together. Taking them all round though, I can see there was ample
copy among them for a book on queer tenants. There were the widow
and her two daughters, aged respectively seventeen and fourteen. The
latter used to take turn about to beat their mother, and the screams
would at once attract a crowd, for it was a populous street. Then when
I interfered, the whole three would turn upon me, the mother fiercest
of all, and threaten me with unheard of penalties for daring to
interfere with their _menus plaisirs_. There was a fine specimen of a
British working man, who for six days of the week was a credit to his
country; clean, punctual, honest, and hard working. But on Saturday
night he invariably got partially drunk, and after eleven P.M. amused
himself until about 1 A.M. by stamping heavily up and down stairs,
along the passage, past my door, out of the front door, slamming it
behind him with great violence, immediately re-entering and repeating
the performance, and all the time uttering the most bloodthirsty and
blasphemous threats against me. Me! who never exchanged a word with
him, and against whom I could have had no possible ground of complaint,
except perhaps that he, being a socialist of the Keir Hardie or Will
Crooks type, was bound to show his resentment for having to pay me
rent.
But I must not multiply instances, though the temptation to do so is
very great, but pass on to what must have appeared to the reader to be
the inevitable result. I got behind with _my_ rent. Worry began to prey
upon me, to gnaw my vitals, and make me look almost despairingly around
for some means of earning more money. Fortunately for me, my landlord
was a kind hearted tradesman, who had a splendid business of his own,
and who had invested some of the profits in this house which I rented.
I paid my rent direct to him, and always met with the most kindly
consideration short of letting me off paying altogether, which I could
not expect.
Unhappily, however, his kindness led to the inevitable result. He
became my last resource. Creditors who would not wait got paid while
he continued to wait. Finding that he would take excuses and grant
delays which no one else would, I grew to depend upon him, and what was
worse, to feel aggrieved because others were not like-minded. It is
a vicious circle in which an enormous number of people travel, but I
think it will be found that the majority of them are too soft-hearted
to insist upon their own dues being paid them promptly, and are always
filled with wonder that their creditors are not actuated by the same
benevolent sentiments.
Meanwhile, if the charge of unbusiness-like and soft-hearted habits
could justly have been laid to my charge, extravagance certainly could
not. I lived personally poorer than any day labourer, scarcely ever
tasting meat except on Sunday, and then only the cheapest and coarsest
parts of the animal, which my skill in cookery rendered palatable in
stews and curries to all of us. I walked to and fro to business--a
matter of ten miles--daily, and never spent a penny for anything but
absolute necessaries. My sole recreation was in open air meetings for
religious purposes, which to me were theatre, circus, and concert all
in one. Yet I grew steadily poorer, and as to saving, well, the only
possible means of doing that was by insuring my life, which I am glad
to say I did to the amount of ten shillings a month, the utmost I could
spare.
I only mention these few details to show how I was being steadily
thrust in the direction of doing something outside my regular office
work, something to utilise the time which I felt was being wasted. My
long sea-training had made me an early riser, indeed I could get up
cheerfully at any time (and can still), and nothing was more irksome to
me than lying abed after my body was satisfied with rest. I used to get
up at most unearthly hours in the summer and go long walks with a book,
and lie and read after I came home at night until I could see no more.
Yet, thank God, I am writing this in a minute hand at the age of fifty,
without spectacles or feeling the need of them.
Constantly the thought would intrude itself, "why can't I get something
to do during the hours I am free from the office and don't want to
sleep?" My fellow-clerks, with but very few exceptions, had outside
employment, but this was usually literary, and for that I felt I had
neither aptitude nor training. Mechanical bent I felt sure I had none,
for I could hardly drive a nail or put a screw in without spoiling the
head. In short, I felt that I was a drug in the market, a passable
seaman perhaps, but I had thrown that employment behind me for ever,
and now I was a very mediocre _junior_ clerk, getting on into middle
age and being reminded of my deficiencies--which, alas, I knew only too
well--every day by my superiors.
Since these are confessions, shall I be blamed for saying that I prayed
for extra work? Well, anyhow I did; prayed as fervently as some people
do at certain crises for forgiveness of sin. You all know that I was
what is called very religious, that is to say, I lived an exceedingly
narrow life, looking upon all amusements as snares of the devil, and
consoled myself continually, for the loss of all that my fellows seemed
to prize in this world, by the thought of the glories of immortality.
Happily, I did not condemn all who differed from me in my theological
concepts to an eternity of unmentionable agony, because although this
was insisted upon as a cardinal item in their belief by the people
with whom I associated, my heart or brain or feelings--or my thinking
gear--simply would not let me do so. In fact, I felt that such an
idea of the God I believed in was blasphemy. And my freely expressed
opinions led to my being excommunicated in due form from several
bodies of Christians with whom I worked.
Yes, I did pray for some means of earning a little extra money, but
at the same time I was acutely conscious of my lack of ability to do
anything that employers of overtime men had any use for. Anything in
the way of manual labour was of course out of the question, while as
to canvassing! With shame I confess that I did try one or two of the
specious advertisements in the daily papers, which promise so much
and perform so little. But I speedily found that at soliciting custom
from door to door I should starve. I was too sensitive. So far from
realising the ideal of never taking no for an answer, which was always
held up to me, a glum look, or a door slammed in my face, was enough to
put me off my business for a whole evening. I realised then, as I had
never done before, the terrible truth of Longfellow's lines, long as
they had been graven in my heart--
"Who amid their wants and woes,
Hear the sound of doors that close,
And of feet that pass them by.
Grown familiar with disfavour,
Grown familiar with the savour
Of the bread by which men die!"
"The Legend Beautiful."
But I realised also that whatever my sentimental feelings on the matter
might be, the need of earning something extra grew not merely none the
less, but ever more pressing. Yet nothing seemed to present itself,
nor were there any of my acquaintances able to throw anything at all
in my way. At last a small chance came, a curious little eddy in one
of the backwaters of life, and I, ready for anything that I could do,
seized it. A friend of mine used to add to his income by selling to
his fellow-clerks such small articles of jewellery or fancy goods as
he could obtain at wholesale price, taking payment for them weekly
or monthly as the case might be. He was also Agent for several other
concerns such as Insurance Companies, photographers, etc., and finally
finding that he had more on his hands than he was able to do, and
attend to his clerical work as well, he decided to give up that part
of his outside work that was least profitable and imposed the greatest
amount of extra work upon him. This was the fancy goods business.
This he offered to me with his connection both for buying and selling,
and full explanation as to profits, etc. He did not certainly go so
far as to supply the capital, but he did everything else that he could
in order that I might start fair. Given a small amount of capital, the
business was simple enough. Having once obtained the entrée to certain
large wholesale firms in Houndsditch and its neighbourhood, anything
comprised within the enormous range of articles known as "fancy" could
be purchased for cash at wholesale prices, even in one twelfth of a
dozen, or "one only" as the trade term goes. And often an article from
a "clearing line," or goods which have been in stock longer than
they ought to have been, and were clamouring to be dispersed, could
be purchased for a sum which certainly did not represent the cost of
the raw material of the manufacture, to say nothing of the skilled
workmanship lavished upon it.
Goods were never bought on speculation, my capital would not admit of
that; indeed I often borrowed a few shillings for the purpose of buying
an ordered article, so that I was almost completely debarred from
taking advantage of these "clearing line" opportunities. No, I bought
when I had an order say for £1. I delivered the article and accepted
three sums of ten shillings each on successive monthly pay days. Now,
at first blush and remembering that I took no risk, this may seem an
exorbitant profit, but I found in practice that it was not so, and that
many retail establishments where goods are sold for cash charge quite
as much for similar goods as I did. Still, I am not apologising, I am
merely stating facts.
I did a strictly limited and non-expanding business for many reasons,
but principally because although I developed a fine business aptitude
as far as the mere buying and selling went, I had no notion of
accumulating a little capital--there were so many crying needs to be
supplied at home that I could not turn a deaf ear to them when I had
a little money made out of office hours like this, and assume that I
had not got it at all. Also, because I dared not incur any risks, my
customers had to be confined to those of my acquaintances whose affairs
were almost as well known to me as my own.
But timid and tentative as these little excursions of mine into
trade were, they were laden with instruction and interest; yes,
and occasionally a fair amount of amusement was obtained also. For
instance, most of the wholesale dealers whom I patronised were Hebrews,
and I, having like all sailors associated Jews generally with the
distinctively evil types of the ancient race who flourish in sailor
towns as tailors and boarding masters, was at first inclined to be very
shy and cautious in my dealings with them. Before long, however, I
made two curious discoveries. One was that the Jews whom I now met in
business were kindly, straightforward, honest, and hospitable, in fact
quite unlike my preconceived notions of Jews. The other was perhaps a
partial explanation of the former--wherever I went among them I was
taken for a Jew myself! At first my silly prejudices led me rather to
resent this; but I have always felt proud of an open mind, and after
considering the matter carefully, I came to the conclusion that the
mistake was rather a compliment than otherwise.
Now, as far as I know or can ascertain, the records of the old Dorset
family from which I am descended contain no reference to any admixture
of Jewish blood, and so although I am a firm believer in transmitted
physical and mental characteristics, I am compelled to believe that
this Hebraic cast of features is either accidental or is a throw back
to some remote ancestor. Be that as it may, I reaped a very definite
benefit from my Jewish physiognomy, in that I had never any difficulty
in getting my tiny orders filled at any Jewish wholesale house, and if
one firm could not supply me I was at once passed on to another who
could. Here also I may pause for a moment to point out, that during
my recent visit to Australia and New Zealand, I was always sought
after and made much of by the Jewish community, which is very highly
respected and powerful in those distant colonies. And when I laughingly
used to disclaim any tribal connection they invariably assured me that
it really did not matter, because even if I was a true Goy or Gentile,
I had so many traits in common with the best of Israel that I might
well be accepted as one of the Sephardim.
Well, this digression is merely to show how, in those feeble attempts
at trade, I was curiously helped and interested in this strange by-way.
But undoubtedly had I been a true son of Israel I should have become
a successful merchant, for I had every encouragement to launch out
except capital--and I now think that even that essential might have
been forthcoming had I chosen to seek it. I did not, but contented
myself with endeavouring to fill such small orders for bags, workboxes,
christening sets, clocks, cheap watches and chains, etc., as came
my way, gaining in the process a great amount of insight into the
workings of business of a certain kind.
One curious discovery I made which was of great service to me on
several occasions. (I hope the term "great" will be understood as
relative to my small affairs, in which shillings loomed as important
as hundreds of pounds to some people, and where a penny tram or bus
ride often meant a considerable shortage in a meal.) Of course I was
not very long ashore before I became familiar with the working of
the poor man's bank, the much abused pawnbroker. Many a time in dire
distress through sickness or some other sudden strain I have blessed
the means whereby a temporary loan could be effected without straining
the resources of a friend, or risking a rebuff from some one I thought
friendly. It is commonly supposed among people comfortably off that
only drunkards and shiftless people support pawnbrokers. Ah, well, a
great many other suppositions of a similar kind are made by those who
do not know, but I can assure them that were it not for the pawnbroker
pauperism would be much greater than it is.
I go farther and declare that it preserves the borrower's self-respect,
in that he need not cringe to those who may be temporarily better off
than he is, as long as he has any portable property that a pawnbroker
will look at, while the possession of such articles proves that he has
had foresight and been thrifty when it was possible for him to be so.
Better means might doubtless be devised for the assistance of the
temporarily embarrassed worker without robbing him of his self-respect,
but until they are, it is cruel as well as foolish to slander the
pawnbroker.
And now for the curious discovery. On one occasion I had purchased
a watch and chain for a customer, and had borrowed some money to
make up what I lacked of the price of the articles. My customer had
a misfortune which prevented him from keeping his bargain, and in
consequence I was left with the goods on my hands, and no means of
repaying the loan. In my extremity I turned to a pawnbroker of my
acquaintance and asked him to lend me as much as he could upon the
watch and chain. He asked me if I was likely to redeem them, and I
frankly answered no. Thereupon he lent me within a couple of shillings
of the price I had paid for them, and as I soon afterwards sold the
ticket for five shillings, I made a small profit on the transaction.
But this side line I could not feel was legitimate trade, and so,
although I was several times driven to avail myself of this knowledge
to meet a sudden emergency, I never attempted to use it except when
compelled. Another thing, I was never tempted, as I have known traders
to be, to pawn goods which, being unpaid for, were really not my own.
This was because I had no credit from anyone except from the landlord
and the Furnishing Company, and I found that burden heavy enough in
all conscience. But I have known a woman working for a wholesale mantle
house, and employing a dozen other women, to make up goods and pawn
them to pay her workers, take a portion of the order in and get more
material out, and so on in a vicious circle, with what wear and tear
of mental and moral fibre no one could possibly guess. No wonder the
lunacy rate rises.
And yet when you come to think of it, there is only a quantitative, not
a qualitative difference between that poor hunger-bitten woman making
ulsters at sixpence each, and some of our motor-driving fur-coated
manipulators of stocks and shares who pawn one lot of somebody else's
shares to buy a lot for a third party, and pledge the latest purchase
to redeem or contango or bedevil something else. Yes, there is one
great difference, the stock-dealer neither goes hungry nor cold, nor
runs much risk of "doing time," because he happens to be caught with
ten shillings short at delivery time.