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Redburn. His First Voyage

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REDBURN. HIS FIRST VOYAGE

by

HERMAN MELVILLE






Contents

I. HOW WELLINGBOROUGH REDBURN'S TASTE FOR THE SEA WAS BORN AND
BRED IN HIM
II. REDBURN'S DEPARTURE FROM HOME
III. HE ARRIVES IN TOWN
IV. HOW HE DISPOSED OF HIS FOWLING-PIECE
V. HE PURCHASES HIS SEA-WARDROBE, AND ON A DISMAL RAINY DAY PICKS
UP HIS BOARD AND LODGING ALONG THE WHARVES
VI. HE IS INITIATED IN THE BUSINESS OF CLEANING OUT THE PIG-PEN,
AND SLUSHING DOWN THE TOP-MAST
VII. HE GETS TO SEA AND FEELS VERY BAD
VIII. HE IS PUT INTO THE LARBOARD WATCH; GETS SEA-SICK; AND RELATES
SOME OTHER OF HIS EXPERIENCES
IX. THE SAILORS BECOMING A LITTLE SOCIAL, REDBURN CONVERSES WITH
THEM
X. HE IS VERY MUCH FRIGHTENED; THE SAILORS ABUSE HIM; AND HE
BECOMES MISERABLE AND FORLORN
XI. HE HELPS WASH THE DECKS, AND THEN GOES TO BREAKFAST
XII. HE GIVES SOME ACCOUNT OF ONE OF HIS SHIPMATES CALLED JACKSON
XIII. HE HAS A FINE DAY AT SEA, BEGINS TO LIKE IT; BUT CHANGES HIS
MIND
XIV. HE CONTEMPLATES MAKING A SOCIAL CALL ON THE CAPTAIN IN HIS CABIN
XV. THE MELANCHOLY STATE OF HIS WARDROBE
XVI. AT DEAD OF NIGHT HE IS SENT UP TO LOOSE THE MAIN-SKYSAIL
XVII. THE COOK AND STEWARD
XVIII. HE ENDEAVORS TO IMPROVE HIS MIND; AND TELLS OF ONE BLUNT AND HIS
DREAM BOOK
XIX. A NARROW ESCAPE
XX. IN A FOG HE IS SET TO WORK AS A BELL-TOLLER, AND BEHOLDS A HERD
OF OCEAN-ELEPHANTS
XXI. A WHALEMAN AND A MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN
XXII. THE HIGHLANDER PASSES A WRECK
XXIII. AN UNACCOUNTABLE CABIN-PASSENGER, AND A MYSTERIOUS YOUNG LADY
XXIV. HE BEGINS TO HOP ABOUT IN THE RIGGING LIKE A SAINT JAGO's MONKEY
XXV. QUARTER-DECK FURNITURE
XXVI. A SAILOR A JACK OF ALL TRADES
XXVII. HE GETS A PEEP AT IRELAND, AND AT LAST ARRIVES AT LIVERPOOL
XXVIII. HE GOES TO SUPPER AT THE SIGN OF THE BALTIMORE CLIPPER
XXIX. REDBURN DEFERENTIALLY DISCOURSES CONCERNING THE PROSPECTS OF
SAILORS
XXX. REDBURN GROWS INTOLERABLY FLAT AND STUPID OVER SOME OUTLANDISH
OLD GUIDE-BOOKS
XXXI. WITH HIS PROSY OLD GUIDE-BOOK, HE TAKES A PROSY STROLL THROUGH
THE TOWN
XXXII. THE DOCKS
XXXIII. THE SALT-DROGHERS, AND GERMAN EMIGRANT SHIPS
XXXIV. THE IRRAWADDY
XXXV. GALLIOTS, COAST-OF-GUINEA-MAN, AND FLOATING CHAPEL
XXXVI. THE OLD CHURCH OF ST. NICHOLAS, AND THE DEAD-HOUSE
XXXVII. WHAT REDBURN SAW IN LAUNCELOTT'S-HEY
XXXVIII. THE DOCK-WALL BEGGARS
XXXIX. THE BOOBLE-ALLEYS OF THE TOWN
XL. PLACARDS, BRASS-JEWELERS, TRUCK-HORSES, AND STEAMERS
XLI. REDBURN ROVES ABOUT HITHER AND THITHER
XLII. HIS ADVENTURE WITH THE CROSS OLD GENTLEMAN
XLIII. HE TAKES A DELIGHTFUL RAMBLE INTO THE COUNTRY; AND MAKES THE
ACQUAINTANCE OF THREE ADORABLE CHARMERS
XLIV. REDBURN INTRODUCES MASTER HARRY BOLTON TO THE FAVORABLE
CONSIDERATION OF THE READER
XLV. HARRY BOLTON KIDNAPS REDBURN, AND CARRIES HIM OFF TO LONDON
XLVI. A MYSTERIOUS NIGHT IN LONDON
XLVII. HOMEWARD BOUND
XLVIII. A LIVING CORPSE
XLIX. CARLO
L. HARRY BOLTON AT SEA
LI. THE EMIGRANTS
LII. THE EMIGRANTS' KITCHEN
LIII. THE HORATII AND CURIATII
LIV. SOME SUPERIOR OLD NAIL-ROD AND PIG-TAIL
LVI. UNDER THE LEE OF THE LONG-BOAT, REDBURN AND HARRY HOLD
CONFIDENTIAL COMMUNION
LVII. ALMOST A FAMINE
LVIII. THOUGH THE HIGHLANDER PUTS INTO NO HARBOR AS YET; SHE HERE
AND THERE LEAVES MANY OF HER PASSENGERS BEHIND
LIX. THE LAST END OF JACKSON
LX. HOME AT LAST
LXI. REDBURN AND HABBY, ARM IN ARM, IN HARBOR
LXII. THE LAST THAT WAS EVER HEARD OF HARRY BOLTON




Being the Sailor Boy
Confessions and Reminiscences
Of the Son-Of-A-Gentleman
In the Merchant Navy




I. HOW WELLINGBOROUGH REDBURN'S TASTE FOR THE SEA WAS BORN AND BRED IN
HIM


"Wellingborough, as you are going to sea, suppose you take this
shooting-jacket of mine along; it's just the thing--take it, it will
save the expense of another. You see, it's quite warm; fine long skirts,
stout horn buttons, and plenty of pockets."

Out of the goodness and simplicity of his heart, thus spoke my elder
brother to me, upon the eve of my departure for the seaport.

"And, Wellingborough," he added, "since we are both short of money, and
you want an outfit, and I Have none to give, you may as well take my
fowling-piece along, and sell it in New York for what you can get.--Nay,
take it; it's of no use to me now; I can't find it in powder any more."

I was then but a boy. Some time previous my mother had removed from New
York to a pleasant village on the Hudson River, where we lived in a
small house, in a quiet way. Sad disappointments in several plans which
I had sketched for my future life; the necessity of doing something for
myself, united to a naturally roving disposition, had now conspired
within me, to send me to sea as a sailor.

For months previous I had been poring over old New York papers,
delightedly perusing the long columns of ship advertisements, all of
which possessed a strange, romantic charm to me. Over and over again I
devoured such announcements as the following:

"FOR BREMEN.

"The coppered and copper-fastened brig Leda, having nearly completed her
cargo, will sail for the above port on Tuesday the twentieth of May.
For freight or passage apply on board at Coenties Slip."

To my young inland imagination every word in an advertisement like this,
suggested volumes of thought.

A brig! The very word summoned up the idea of a black, sea-worn craft,
with high, cozy bulwarks, and rakish masts and yards.

Coppered and copper-fastened! That fairly smelt of the salt water! How
different such vessels must be from the wooden, one-masted, green-and-
white-painted sloops, that glided up and down the river before our
house on the bank.

Nearly completed her cargo! How momentous the announcement; suggesting
ideas, too, of musty bales, and cases of silks and satins, and filling
me with contempt for the vile deck-loads of hay and lumber, with which
my river experience was familiar.

"Will sail on Tuesday the 20th of May"--and the newspaper bore date the
fifth of the month! Fifteen whole days beforehand; think of that; what
an important voyage it must be, that the time of sailing was fixed upon
so long beforehand; the river sloops were not used to make such
prospective announcements.

"For freight or passage apply on board!"

Think of going on board a coppered and copper-fastened brig, and taking
passage for Bremen! And who could be going to Bremen? No one but
foreigners, doubtless; men of dark complexions and jet-black whiskers,
who talked French.

"Coenties Slip."

Plenty more brigs and any quantity of ships must be lying there.
Coenties Slip must be somewhere near ranges of grim-looking warehouses,
with rusty iron doors and shutters, and tiled roofs; and old anchors and
chain-cable piled on the walk. Old-fashioned coffeehouses, also, much
abound in that neighborhood, with sunburnt sea-captains going in and
out, smoking cigars, and talking about Havanna, London, and Calcutta.

All these my imaginations were wonderfully assisted by certain shadowy
reminiscences of wharves, and warehouses, and shipping, with which a
residence in a seaport during early childhood had supplied me.

Particularly, I remembered standing with my father on the wharf when a
large ship was getting under way, and rounding the head of the pier. I
remembered the yo heave ho! of the sailors, as they just showed their
woolen caps above the high bulwarks. I remembered how I thought of their
crossing the great ocean; and that that very ship, and those very
sailors, so near to me then, would after a time be actually in Europe.

Added to these reminiscences my father, now dead, had several times
crossed the Atlantic on business affairs, for he had been an importer in
Broad-street. And of winter evenings in New York, by the well-remembered
sea-coal fire in old Greenwich-street, he used to tell my brother and me
of the monstrous waves at sea, mountain high; of the masts bending like
twigs; and all about Havre, and Liverpool, and about going up into the
ball of St. Paul's in London. Indeed, during my early life, most of my
thoughts of the sea were connected with the land; but with fine old
lands, full of mossy cathedrals and churches, and long, narrow, crooked
streets without sidewalks, and lined with strange houses. And especially
I tried hard to think how such places must look of rainy days and
Saturday afternoons; and whether indeed they did have rainy days and
Saturdays there, just as we did here; and whether the boys went to
school there, and studied geography, and wore their shirt collars turned
over, and tied with a black ribbon; and whether their papas allowed them
to wear boots, instead of shoes, which I so much disliked, for boots
looked so manly.

As I grew older my thoughts took a larger flight, and I frequently fell
into long reveries about distant voyages and travels, and thought how
fine it would be, to be able to talk about remote and barbarous
countries; with what reverence and wonder people would regard me, if I
had just returned from the coast of Africa or New Zealand; how dark and
romantic my sunburnt cheeks would look; how I would bring home with me
foreign clothes of a rich fabric and princely make, and wear them up and
down the streets, and how grocers' boys would turn back their heads to
look at me, as I went by. For I very well remembered staring at a man
myself, who was pointed out to me by my aunt one Sunday in Church, as
the person who had been in Stony Arabia, and passed through strange
adventures there, all of which with my own eyes I had read in the book
which he wrote, an arid-looking book in a pale yellow cover.

"See what big eyes he has," whispered my aunt, "they got so big, because
when he was almost dead with famishing in the desert, he all at once
caught sight of a date tree, with the ripe fruit hanging on it."

Upon this, I stared at him till I thought his eyes were really of an
uncommon size, and stuck out from his head like those of a lobster. I am
sure my own eyes must have magnified as I stared. When church was out, I
wanted my aunt to take me along and follow the traveler home. But she
said the constables would take us up, if we did; and so I never saw this
wonderful Arabian traveler again. But he long haunted me; and several
times I dreamt of him, and thought his great eyes were grown still
larger and rounder; and once I had a vision of the date tree.

In course of time, my thoughts became more and more prone to dwell upon
foreign things; and in a thousand ways I sought to gratify my tastes. We
had several pieces of furniture in the house, which had been brought
from Europe. These I examined again and again, wondering where the wood
grew; whether the workmen who made them still survived, and what they
could be doing with themselves now.

Then we had several oil-paintings and rare old engravings of my
father's, which he himself had bought in Paris, hanging up in the
dining-room.

Two of these were sea-pieces. One represented a fat-looking, smoky
fishing-boat, with three whiskerandoes in red caps, and their browsers
legs rolled up, hauling in a seine. There was high French-like land in
one corner, and a tumble-down gray lighthouse surmounting it. The waves
were toasted brown, and the whole picture looked mellow and old. I used
to think a piece of it might taste good.

The other represented three old-fashioned French men-of-war with high
castles, like pagodas, on the bow and stern, such as you see in
Froissart; and snug little turrets on top of the mast, full of little
men, with something undefinable in their hands. All three were sailing
through a bright-blue sea, blue as Sicily skies; and they were leaning
over on their sides at a fearful angle; and they must have been going
very fast, for the white spray was about the bows like a snow-storm.

Then, we had two large green French portfolios of colored prints, more
than I could lift at that age. Every Saturday my brothers and sisters
used to get them out of the corner where they were kept, and spreading
them on the floor, gaze at them with never-failing delight.

They were of all sorts. Some were pictures of Versailles, its
masquerades, its drawing-rooms, its fountains, and courts, and gardens,
with long lines of thick foliage cut into fantastic doors and windows,
and towers and pinnacles. Others were rural scenes, full of fine skies,
pensive cows standing up to the knees in water, and shepherd-boys and
cottages in the distance, half concealed in vineyards and vines.

And others were pictures of natural history, representing rhinoceroses
and elephants and spotted tigers; and above all there was a picture of a
great whale, as big as a ship, stuck full of harpoons, and three boats
sailing after it as fast as they could fly.

Then, too, we had a large library-case, that stood in the hall; an old
brown library-case, tall as a small house; it had a sort of basement,
with large doors, and a lock and key; and higher up, there were glass
doors, through which might be seen long rows of old books, that had been
printed in Paris, and London, and Leipsic. There was a fine library
edition of the Spectator, in six large volumes with gilded backs; and
many a time I gazed at the word "London" on the title-page. And there
was a copy of D'Alembert in French, and I wondered what a great man I
would be, if by foreign travel I should ever be able to read straight
along without stopping, out of that book, which now was a riddle to
every one in the house but my father, whom I so much liked to hear talk
French, as he sometimes did to a servant we had.

That servant, too, I used to gaze at with wonder; for in answer to my
incredulous cross-questions, he had over and over again assured me, that
he had really been born in Paris. But this I never entirely believed;
for it seemed so hard to comprehend, how a man who had been born in a
foreign country, could be dwelling with me in our house in America.

As years passed on, this continual dwelling upon foreign associations,
bred in me a vague prophetic thought, that I was fated, one day or
other, to be a great voyager; and that just as my father used to
entertain strange gentlemen over their wine after dinner, I would
hereafter be telling my own adventures to an eager auditory. And I have
no doubt that this presentiment had something to do with bringing about
my subsequent rovings.

But that which perhaps more than any thing else, converted my vague
dreamings and longings into a definite purpose of seeking my fortune on
the sea, was an old-fashioned glass ship, about eighteen inches long,
and of French manufacture, which my father, some thirty years before,
had brought home from Hamburg as a present to a great-uncle of mine:
Senator Wellingborough, who had died a member of Congress in the days of
the old Constitution, and after whom I had the honor of being named.
Upon the decease of the Senator, the ship was returned to the donor.

It was kept in a square glass case, which was regularly dusted by one of
my sisters every morning, and stood on a little claw-footed Dutch
tea-table in one corner of the sitting-room. This ship, after being the
admiration of my father's visitors in the capital, became the wonder and
delight of all the people of the village where we now resided, many of
whom used to call upon my mother, for no other purpose than to see the
ship. And well did it repay the long and curious examinations which they
were accustomed to give it.

In the first place, every bit of it was glass, and that was a great
wonder of itself; because the masts, yards, and ropes were made to
resemble exactly the corresponding parts of a real vessel that could go
to sea. She carried two tiers of black guns all along her two decks; and
often I used to try to peep in at the portholes, to see what else was
inside; but the holes were so small, and it looked so very dark indoors,
that I could discover little or nothing; though, when I was very little,
I made no doubt, that if I could but once pry open the hull, and break
the glass all to pieces, I would infallibly light upon something
wonderful, perhaps some gold guineas, of which I have always been in
want, ever since I could remember. And often I used to feel a sort of
insane desire to be the death of the glass ship, case, and all, in order
to come at the plunder; and one day, throwing out some hint of the kind
to my sisters, they ran to my mother in a great clamor; and after that,
the ship was placed on the mantel-piece for a time, beyond my reach, and
until I should recover my reason.

I do not know how to account for this temporary madness of mine, unless
it was, that I had been reading in a story-book about Captain Kidd's
ship, that lay somewhere at the bottom of the Hudson near the Highlands,
full of gold as it could be; and that a company of men were trying to
dive down and get the treasure out of the hold, which no one had ever
thought of doing before, though there she had lain for almost a hundred
years.

Not to speak of the tall masts, and yards, and rigging of this famous
ship, among whose mazes of spun-glass I used to rove in imagination,
till I grew dizzy at the main-truck, I will only make mention of the
people on board of her. They, too, were all of glass, as beautiful
little glass sailors as any body ever saw, with hats and shoes on, just
like living men, and curious blue jackets with a sort of ruffle round
the bottom. Four or five of these sailors were very nimble little chaps,
and were mounting up the rigging with very long strides; but for all
that, they never gained a single inch in the year, as I can take my
oath.

Another sailor was sitting astride of the spanker-boom, with his arms
over his head, but I never could find out what that was for; a second
was in the fore-top, with a coil of glass rigging over his shoulder; the
cook, with a glass ax, was splitting wood near the fore-hatch; the
steward, in a glass apron, was hurrying toward the cabin with a plate of
glass pudding; and a glass dog, with a red mouth, was barking at him;
while the captain in a glass cap was smoking a glass cigar on the
quarterdeck. He was leaning against the bulwark, with one hand to his
head; perhaps he was unwell, for he looked very glassy out of the eyes.

The name of this curious ship was La Reine, or The Queen, which was
painted on her stern where any one might read it, among a crowd of glass
dolphins and sea-horses carved there in a sort of semicircle.

And this Queen rode undisputed mistress of a green glassy sea, some of
whose waves were breaking over her bow in a wild way, I can tell you,
and I used to be giving her up for lost and foundered every moment, till
I grew older, and perceived that she was not in the slightest danger in
the world.

A good deal of dust, and fuzzy stuff like down, had in the course of
many years worked through the joints of the case, in which the ship was
kept, so as to cover all the sea with a light dash of white, which if
any thing improved the general effect, for it looked like the foam and
froth raised by the terrible gale the good Queen was battling against.

So much for La Reine. We have her yet in the house, but many of her
glass spars and ropes are now sadly shattered and broken,--but I will not
have her mended; and her figurehead, a gallant warrior in a cocked-hat,
lies pitching headforemost down into the trough of a calamitous sea
under the bows--but I will not have him put on his legs again, till I get
on my own; for between him and me there is a secret sympathy; and my
sisters tell me, even yet, that he fell from his perch the very day I
left home to go to sea on this my first voyage.



II. REDBURN'S DEPARTURE FROM HOME


It was with a heavy heart and full eyes, that my poor mother parted with
me; perhaps she thought me an erring and a willful boy, and perhaps I
was; but if I was, it had been a hardhearted world, and hard times that
had made me so. I had learned to think much and bitterly before my time;
all my young mounting dreams of glory had left me; and at that early
age, I was as unambitious as a man of sixty.

Yes, I will go to sea; cut my kind uncles and aunts, and sympathizing
patrons, and leave no heavy hearts but those in my own home, and take
none along but the one which aches in my bosom. Cold, bitter cold as
December, and bleak as its blasts, seemed the world then to me; there is
no misanthrope like a boy disappointed; and such was I, with the warmth
of me flogged out by adversity. But these thoughts are bitter enough
even now, for they have not yet gone quite away; and they must be
uncongenial enough to the reader; so no more of that, and let me go on
with my story.

"Yes, I will write you, dear mother, as soon as I can," murmured I, as
she charged me for the hundredth time, not fail to inform her of my safe
arrival in New York.

"And now Mary, Martha, and Jane, kiss me all round, dear sisters, and
then I am off. I'll be back in four months--it will be autumn then, and
we'll go into the woods after nuts, an I'll tell you all about Europe.
Good-by! good-by!"

So I broke loose from their arms, and not daring to look behind, ran
away as fast as I could, till I got to the corner where my brother was
waiting. He accompanied me part of the way to the place, where the
steamboat was to leave for New York; instilling into me much sage advice
above his age, for he was but eight years my senior, and warning me
again and again to take care of myself; and I solemnly promised I would;
for what cast-away will not promise to take of care himself, when he
sees that unless he himself does, no one else will.

We walked on in silence till I saw that his strength was giving out,--he
was in ill health then,--and with a mute grasp of the hand, and a loud
thump at the heart, we parted.

It was early on a raw, cold, damp morning toward the end of spring, and
the world was before me; stretching away a long muddy road, lined with
comfortable houses, whose inmates were taking their sunrise naps,
heedless of the wayfarer passing. The cold drops of drizzle trickled
down my leather cap, and mingled with a few hot tears on my cheeks.

I had the whole road to myself, for no one was yet stirring, and I
walked on, with a slouching, dogged gait. The gray shooting-jacket was
on my back, and from the end of my brother's rifle hung a small bundle
of my clothes. My fingers worked moodily at the stock and trigger, and I
thought that this indeed was the way to begin life, with a gun in your
hand!

Talk not of the bitterness of middle-age and after life; a boy can feel
all that, and much more, when upon his young soul the mildew has fallen;
and the fruit, which with others is only blasted after ripeness, with
him is nipped in the first blossom and bud. And never again can such
blights be made good; they strike in too deep, and leave such a scar
that the air of Paradise might not erase it. And it is a hard and cruel
thing thus in early youth to taste beforehand the pangs which should be
reserved for the stout time of manhood, when the gristle has become
bone, and we stand up and fight out our lives, as a thing tried before
and foreseen; for then we are veterans used to sieges and battles, and
not green recruits, recoiling at the first shock of the encounter.

At last gaining the boat we pushed off, and away we steamed down the
Hudson. There were few passengers on board, the day was so unpleasant;
and they were mostly congregated in the after cabin round the stoves.
After breakfast, some of them went to reading: others took a nap on the
settees; and others sat in silent circles, speculating, no doubt, as to
who each other might be.

They were certainly a cheerless set, and to me they all looked
stony-eyed and heartless. I could not help it, I almost hated them; and
to avoid them, went on deck, but a storm of sleet drove me below. At
last I bethought me, that I had not procured a ticket, and going to the
captain's office to pay my passage and get one, was horror-struck to
find, that the price of passage had been suddenly raised that day, owing
to the other boats not running; so that I had not enough money to pay
for my fare. I had supposed it would be but a dollar, and only a dollar
did I have, whereas it was two. What was to be done? The boat was off,
and there was no backing out; so I determined to say nothing to any
body, and grimly wait until called upon for my fare.

The long weary day wore on till afternoon; one incessant storm raged
on deck; but after dinner the few passengers, waked up with their
roast-beef and mutton, became a little more sociable. Not with me, for
the scent and savor of poverty was upon me, and they all cast toward me
their evil eyes and cold suspicious glances, as I sat apart, though
among them. I felt that desperation and recklessness of poverty which
only a pauper knows. There was a mighty patch upon one leg of my
trowsers, neatly sewed on, for it had been executed by my mother, but
still very obvious and incontrovertible to the eye. This patch I had
hitherto studiously endeavored to hide with the ample skirts of my
shooting-jacket; but now I stretched out my leg boldly, and thrust the
patch under their noses, and looked at them so, that they soon looked
away, boy though I was. Perhaps the gun that I clenched frightened them
into respect; or there might have been something ugly in my eye; or my
teeth were white, and my jaws were set. For several hours, I sat gazing
at a jovial party seated round a mahogany table, with some crackers and
cheese, and wine and cigars. Their faces were flushed with the good
dinner they had eaten; and mine felt pale and wan with a long fast. If I
had presumed to offer to make one of their party; if I had told them of
my circumstances, and solicited something to refresh me, I very well
knew from the peculiar hollow ring of their laughter, they would have
had the waiters put me out of the cabin, for a beggar, who had no
business to be warming himself at their stove. And for that insult,
though only a conceit, I sat and gazed at them, putting up no petitions
for their prosperity. My whole soul was soured within me, and when at
last the captain's clerk, a slender young man, dressed in the height of
fashion, with a gold watch chain and broach, came round collecting the
tickets, I buttoned up my coat to the throat, clutched my gun, put on my
leather cap, and pulling it well down, stood up like a sentry before
him. He held out his hand, deeming any remark superfluous, as his object
in pausing before me must be obvious. But I stood motionless and silent,
and in a moment he saw how it was with me. I ought to have spoken and
told him the case, in plain, civil terms, and offered my dollar, and
then waited the event. But I felt too wicked for that. He did not wait a
great while, but spoke first himself; and in a gruff voice, very unlike
his urbane accents when accosting the wine and cigar party, demanded my
ticket. I replied that I had none. He then demanded the money; and upon
my answering that I had not enough, in a loud angry voice that attracted
all eyes, he ordered me out of the cabin into the storm. The devil in me
then mounted up from my soul, and spread over my frame, till it tingled
at my finger ends; and I muttered out my resolution to stay where I was,
in such a manner, that the ticket man faltered back. "There's a dollar
for you," I added, offering it.

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