He is a broad-shouldered, strongly-built man, with a stoop in his
shoulders, and a rather dull cast of features; from living so much in
the “shores” (sewers), his eyes have assumed a _peering_ kind of look,
that is quite rat-like in its furtiveness.
He answered our questions with great good humour, but in short
monosyllabic terms, peculiar to men who have little communion with
their fellows.
The “parlour” in which the man lives was literally swarming with
children when we paid him a visit (they were not all “belonging” to
him). Nor was it quite pleasant to find that the smell of the tea,
which had just been made, was overpowered by the odour of the rats
which he keeps in the same room.
The week’s wash was hanging across the apartment, and gave rather a
slovenly aspect to the room, not otherwise peculiar for its untidyness;
against the wall were pasted some children’s “characters,” which his
second son, who is at the coal-shed, has a taste for, and which, as
the “shoreman” observed, “is better than sweet-stuff for him, at all
events.”
A little terrier was jumping playfully about the room, a much more
acceptable companion than the bull-dog whose acquaintance we had been
invited to make (in the same court) by the “rat-killer.”
The furniture and appointments of the “parlour” were extremely
humble--not to say meagre in their character. After some trouble in
getting sufficiently lucid answers, the following was the result:--
“There are not so many rats about as there used to be--not a
five-hundredth part so many. I’ve seen long ago twenty or thirty in a
row near where the slaughter-houses are, and that like. I ketch them
all down the shores. I run after them and pick them up with my hand,
and I take my lantern with me.
“I have caught rats these six or seven years. When the money got to be
lowered, I took to ketching on them. One time I used to take a dog with
me, when I worked down St. John’s-wood way.
“They fetches all prices, does rats; some I get threepence a-piece for,
some twopence, some twopence-halfpenny--’cordin’ who has ’em.
“I works on the shores, and our time to leave off is four. I comes
home and gets my tea, and if there’s sale for them, why I goes out and
ketches a few rats. When I goes out I can ketch a dozen; but, years
ago, I could ketch two or three dozen without going so far, and that
shows there’s not so many now about.
“I finds some difficulty in ketching on them. If they gets into the
drain you can’t get ’em. Where the drains lay low to the shore it’s
most difficult, but where the drain is about two feet and a-half from
the shore you gets a better chance.
“Three or four dozen I used to ketch, but I haven’t ketched any this
last two or three weeks. In this hot weather people don’t like to be in
a room where ‘killing’ is going on; but in the winter time a man will
have his pint of beer and see a little sport that way. Three or four
year ago I did ketch a good many; there was a sale for ’em. I could go
and ketch two dozen in three hours, and that sooner than I can do a
dozen now. It’s varmint as wants to be destroyed.
“Rats’ll turn round when they finds theirselves beat, and sometimes
fly at your hand. Sometimes I’ve got bit--not very badly, though. To
tell the truth, I don’t like it. When they grip, they do holt so tight
before they’ll let go.
“I’ve been a shoreman these fifteen or sixteen year, ever since this
flushing commenced. I was put on by the Commissioners in Hatting
Garding; but the Commissioners is all done away with since Government
took to it. I’m employed by the parish now. Every parish has to do its
own flushing.
“We cleanses away all the soil what’s down below, and keeps the shore
as sweet as what we possibly can.
“Before I took to this life I was what they call a navvy; I used to
help to _make_ the shores, and before that, I was in the country at
farmers’ work.
“Ketching them rats ain’t all profit, ’cause you have to keep ’em and
feed ’em. I’ve some here, if I was to get sixpence a-piece for, why it
wouldn’t pay me for their feed. I give them barley generally, and bits
of bread.
“There’s a many about now ketchin’ who does nothink else, and who goes
down in the shores when they have no business there at all. They does
well by rats when they’ve good call for ’em. They can go down two or
three times a-day, and ketch a dozen and a half a time; but they can’t
do much now, there’s no killing going on. They takes ’em to beer-shops,
and sells ’em to the landlords, who gets their own price for ’em if
there’s a pit.
“Time ago you couldn’t get a rat under sixpence. But the tax on dogs
has done away wonderful with rat-killing. London would swarm with rats
if they hadn’t been ketched as they has been. I can go along shores and
only see one or two now, sometimes see none. Times ago I’ve drove away
twenty or thirty afore me. Round Newport-market I’ve seen a hundred
together, and now I go round there and perhaps won’t ketch one.
“As for poisonin’ ’em under buildings, that’s wrong; they’re sure to
lay there and rot, and then they smells so. No, pisoning a’n’t no good,
specially where there’s many on ’em.
“I’ve sold Jack Black a good many. He don’t ketch so many as he gets
killed. He’s what they call rat-ketcher to her Majesty.
“When I goes rat ketching, I generally takes a bag with me; a trap is
too much to lug about.
“Some parts of the shores I can find my way about better than I can
up above. I could get in nigh here and come out at High Park; only
the worst of it is, you’re always on the stoop. I never heerd talk of
anybody losing theirselves in the shores, but a stranger might.
“There’s some what we calls ‘gully-hunters’ as goes about with a sieve,
and near the gratings find perhaps a few ha’pence. Years ago we used
to find a little now and then, but we may go about now and not find
twopence in a week. I don’t think any shoreman ever finds much. But
years ago, in the city, perhaps a robbery might be committed, and then
they might be afraid of being found out, and chuck the things down the
drains.
“I come from Oxfordshire, about four miles from Henley-’pon-Thames. I
haven’t got now quite so many clods to tramp over, nor so many hills to
climb.
“I gets two shillings a-dozen if I sells the rats to a dealer, but if
I takes ’em to the pit myself I gets three shillings. Rats has come
down lately. There’s more pits, and they kills ’em cheaper; they used
to kill ’em at six shillings a-dozen.
“I’ve got five children. These here are not all belonging to me. Their
mother’s gone out a-nussing, and my wife’s got to mind ’em.
“My oldest son is sixteen. He’s off for a sailor. I had him on me for
two years doin’ nothink. He couldn’t get a place, and towards the
last he didn’t care about it. He _would_ go to sea; so he went to the
Marine School, and now he’s in the East Ingy Sarvice. My second is at a
coal-shed. He gets three shillings a-week; but, Lord, what’s that? He
eats more than that, let alone clothes, and he wears out such a lot of
shoe-leather. There’s a good deal of wear and tear, I can tell yer, in
carrying out coals and such-like.”