A WOOING EXPEDITION AND ITS SEQUEL
In the last chapter I told how I started on "the tramp" with a female
companion to Middlesborough. It was early in the morning when we turned
our backs upon Keighley for the North. We trudged by road to Otley,
Ripley, and Ripon, Thirsk and on to Stockton-on-Tees. Here my petticoat
companion was so tired and weary that I left her, having secured her
lodgings with an old lady, who agreed to take care of her until my
return; my intention being to get work and a home in Middlesborough, and
then to fetch my partner thither.
FAMILY TROUBLES AT MIDDLESBOROUGH
I pushed on to Middlesborough, but was "flabbergasted" to find the girl's
uncle and several cousins--male, and all upgrown (!)--awaiting my
arrival! It turned out that they had been apprised of my probable arrival
by a letter from the girl's parents at Keighley. It was "blood and
thunder" for a few minutes when they saw me, and the uncle was fairly
exasperated to find that his niece was not with me. "What have you done
with her?" he asked, excitedly. "Have you drowned her?" I besought him to
"be quiet," and then I would tell him all about it. So he was quiet, and
I told him where I had left the girl. There were three sons with the
uncle, and the four received my story with distrust--they would see their
cousin that night they declared. Thus, my position was getting pretty
hot, and there was nothing for it but to return to Stockton. This
conclusion vexed me sore, for with my tired and weary frame I was
well-nigh ready to drop; but I saw there was no other way out of the
situation. I had already met three friends I knew in Middlesborough, the
three brothers O'Gorman--I had made their acquaintance some time
previously at Keighley--and they agreed to walk back with me to
Stockton-on-Tees. The girl's uncle and her three cousins made the party
into eight--a veritable cavalcade in quest of a poor, defenceless woman.
We got to Stockton all right, and the uncle and his sons took the girl in
charge, while I was left with my three friends, the O'Gormans, to do as I
liked. What was more, I was robbed of all opportunities of communing with
the "erstwhile companion of my choice"--
Who afterwards became, I trow,
A partner in my weal and woe.
My newly-found friends and I went back to Middlesborough. Going on the
quay one morning, I fell in with two men, whom I asked if there was any
chance of a job. After scanning me o'er and o'er they asked what I was
able to do--what trade I was at last. Out of my thousand and odd
"qualifications" I decided that I "had done a bit o' sailoring." "Can you
do anything in the dockyard?" asked one of them. "Yes," I thought I
could. Then was I engaged.
AS A DOCK-YARD LABOURER
The salary was fixed by my employers at 5 pounds per month, though I was
told that I should have to work a month "in hand;" which was rather hard
for me, seeing that I was without money. Soon after I again fell in with
the O'Gormans, and was introduced to the family. The head of the
household was Peter O'Gorman, who had been in America and understood
dock-yard business a good bit. Well, I got on fairly well as docker--a
free labourer, I think I was,--although the work was not by any means
regular, depending as it did on the arrival of timber-laden vessels from
Norway and Sweden. Having a good deal of time hanging on my hands I
visited various parts of the town, and it was one morning, while on an
errand of this sort, that one of the O'Gormans came up to me and showed
me an advertisement inviting applications for the execution of certain
excavating work in connection with the Middlesborough new cemetery.
ACTING THE NAVVY CONTRACTOR
The advertisement gave great prominence to the instruction, "No Irish
need apply." Now, my friend O'Gorman was an Irishman, and he was desirous
of applying for the job. So he asked me if I would be good enough to don
myself in his labourer's clothes and try to secure the contract. I said I
should be glad to do so. After receiving due instruction as to how to
proceed in the application, I went and presented myself to the
contractor. That individual, I found out, was a Scotchman of the name of
Macpherson. He put different questions to me as to whether I was capable
of doing the work, &c. One of his inquiries had reference to my abilities
for drawing. Could I draw? "Yes," I thought I could, and on a sheet of
paper which Mr Macpherson supplied, I tried my hand at drawing. My
production was satisfactory. "Can you find men?" he asked. "Yes," said I.
"What about the tools?" "Oh!" I had to reply, "I have no tools." This
notwithstanding, he said, I might start on the job next morning, and
bring all my men. I completed my arrangements with the Messrs O'Gorman,
and next morning my (?) workmen were "at it," spades, picks, &c, being
provided by Mr Macpherson. What may seem more surprising, I continued at
my own work in the dockyard, besides acting (though really but nominally)
as sub-contractor in the excavating work at the cemetery. In about a
week, however, Mr Macpherson "smelt a rat," and found out that the job
was a hoax so far as I was concerned; nevertheless the work went on all
right. The land was very soft and easily worked, being mostly formed of
sand and pebbles; and the contract was completed within five weeks. The
payment ran to 10s per day per man, all of us having agreed to go in
share and share alike. So that with this and my work at the dock-yard I
did very well, and "got on to my feet" again. Indeed, to make a long
story short I had got to be a regular "masher."
FALLING AMONG KEIGHLEY FRIENDS
I made up my mind to come back to Keighley, and let my folks see how I
was getting on.
Home of my boyish days, how can I call,
Scenes to my memory that did befall?
How can my trembling pen find power to tell
The grief I experienced in bidding farewell?
Can I forget the days joyously spent
That flew on so rapidly, sweet with content?
Can I then quit thee, whose memory's so dear,
Home of my boyish days, without one tear?
Can I look back on days that have gone by,
Without one pleasant thought, without one sigh?
Oh, no; though never these eyes may dwell
On thee, old cottage home I love so well;
Home of my childhood, wherever I be,
Thou art the nearest and dearest to me.
Accordingly I gave up my situation at the dockyard, and having bid adieu
to Middlesborough, I took train for Bradford. In Bradford, I have to say
to my sorrow, I fell in with some of my Keighley friends, and within a
very short time I had been induced to part with all my money, and, in
fact, some of my clothes. When I recovered my senses--for I must have
lost them to act as I did--I found myself in a sad and sorry plight.
ENLISTING IN THE ARMY
The time chanced to be about the outbreak of the Crimean War, and they
were "drumming up" for the army. There were recruiting sergeants to be
met with at every turn. It is said that even a worm will turn when
trodden on, and it did not require much of the sergeant's persuasive
oratory to induce me to take the Queen's shilling and enlist in the West
York Rifles.
I left yon fields so fair to view,
I left yon mountain pass and peaks;
I left two e'en so bonny blue,
A dimpled chin and rosy cheeks.
For a helmet gay and suit o' red
I did exchange my corduroy;
I mind the words the sergeant said
When I, in sooth, was but a boy.