CRIMP AND SAILOR--THE COOK'S MARXIAN EFFORT
The cook was pleased with my investigation of the Captain's room. "Don't
you know," said he, "I was impressed with the unusual sounds there? I
was beginning to relinquish my hold on the Material, and to give way
more to the unknown and unseen things of life. But you can see that we
are all creatures of imagination. There are no limitations to it,
especially with those who are superstitious. Now I can plainly
understand how such sounds could be produced by rats, just as you say."
He took his stand in the pantry, and continued, from this point of
vantage. "It is a shame," he shouted, "that there is so much
superstition in the world. If there were not so much, the capitalist
would not have the opportunity to exploit his ill-gotten goods on the
highways and byways of our economic system."
Stirring something in a glass, no doubt extract of lemon, he tipped it
to his lips and swallowed it with a grunt of satisfaction.
"With such ignorance in the world," he said, "how are we to combat this
scourge of humanity? Let me say here," shaking his fist at me, "the only
solution is education without discrimination. With this useful weapon we
can equalize the scales of justice. Without it we continue to be slaves
to the old and new masters. Take, for instance, the ignorance and
superstition of our crew forward. While they are hunting for ghosts the
parasites are picking their pockets. What can society expect of them? No
wonder they are a prey to apparitions at sea and crimps ashore. Once we
were homeward bound from New Zealand to Frisco. The crew, as usual,
consisted of many nationalities. She carried twenty-four seamen forward.
I frequently talked to these men evenings about joining the Socialist
Labor Party, much to the disgust of the Captain. Well, they all agreed
that when they should reach San Francisco they would join the
organization. I believe that they really intended to, but you know the
sailorman ashore scents the rum barrel, and becomes an easy prey to the
crimp and boarding-house runner. Two days after our arrival in that
wicked city we were paid off by the U. S. Government. I waited until the
last man had his money. 'Men,' said I, 'come with me to our hall and
join the one organization that is going to redeem the world.'
"The crimp runners were pretty well represented, as they usually are
when a ship pays off. They tried every possible means to entice the men
away, telling them that they would not have to pay for room or board,
and that furthermore they could pick their own ship when they felt like
going to sea again. The latter is considered a great concession to a
sailor. But the crimps do not stop there. They have old sailors who are
kept with them for years, who make it their business to know as many as
possible of the men who follow the sea. We had an Irishman in the crew,
and this lost the day for me. Just as we started for the hall, out of
the crowd strolled a seasoned veteran of the sea. With a shout of joy he
fell upon one of our crew, crying:
"'If me eyes don't deceive me, I see Jamey Dugan. Dead or alive, I shake
hands with you.'
"Whether Dugan knew the greasy beachcomber or not, I knew that the bunko
steering talk would get him. It was very flowery.
"'Why, certainly, you remember me. In Valparaiso. You were in the good
old ship so-and-so.'
"I could see that there was no time to lose if I expected to reach the
hall with all of them. I mounted a fire-hydrant near by, and pleaded
with them, telling them that this crook who had hold of them was nothing
but a hireling of the crimp, and tomorrow, all of their money being
spent, they would most likely be shipped off to sea in any old tub whose
master offered the most money to the boarding-house keeper.
"My pleading was in vain. They kept edging away as if I were a wild
beast of the jungle. The influence of the gangster was getting stronger.
Again I beseeched and implored these men of the sea to come with me.
They only started to move away. It was with a sickened heart that I
stepped down from the hydrant. I had no chance with this barnacle of the
sea, for they were already starting in his wake for Ryan's saloon across
the street."
The cook, lamenting his loss, started to stir up another lemon-de-luxe.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, I stole up on deck to relieve the
second mate for dinner. He must have thought that I had foundered on the
noodle soup and plum-pudding.
The cook and I may not altogether have agreed on the social things of
life, but I was with him heart and soul in his fight for better and
cleaner conditions for sailors ashore. I, too, know the crimps, and had
suffered more than once from their dastardly methods of making money.
They were always on the lookout for anything that resembled a sailor
when a ship was ready to sail, and a short-handed captain would offer
one of them fifty or a hundred dollars a head blood-money. With that
would go from one to two months' advance in wages to the unfortunate
victim, which eventually fell into the crimp's hands also. He would not
stop even at murder if necessary to fill the required quota.
What if he did ship a dead man or two? They were not supposed to awake
for at least twenty-four hours after they were brought aboard. By that
time they were under way, and the curses of the captain were lost in
sheeting home the upper topsails.
The mate, on the other hand, took a lively interest in restoring the
sleeper to life. After he had spent some time clubbing him, and trying
every method known to the hard-boiled mates of former times, he would
find a belaying-pin, and beat the drugged man on the soles of his shoes.
This was the final test. If he did not respond to it, the officer would
report to the captain that one of the crew who had just come aboard was
dead. Cursing and swearing, the captain would say: "How do you know that
he is dead?"
"Well, Captain, I have awakened a great many of them in my time, and
there isn't a kick in this fellow."
"Did you try the mirror?"
Holding the mirror at his mouth, to see whether by chance there might be
precipitation was the last act. It would never occur to them to feel for
the pulse, probably because their hands were too heavily calloused to
permit of it. Furthermore, it would never do to lower the mate's
dignity in the presence of the crew by so gracious an act.
"No, sir, I have not tried the mirror yet. I am thinking that you have
booked a losing."
"Booked Hell," the captain would shout, "Here, take this drink of brandy
and pour it into him, then hold the mirror over his mouth. If that
doesn't work, throw him overboard."
Those who were shanghaied were not usually sailors. One would find
tailors, sheep-herders, waiters and riff-raff of the slums, who had
fallen prey to the greed of the boarding-house keeper.
When one did respond to the mate's treatment, he would awake to a living
Hell, until the next port was reached, which would take three, four or
even five months.