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- 12044
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- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.846Z
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- structure-extraction-lambda
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There we sat in that tarry old den, the only inhabitants of the
deserted old ship, but the mate and the rats.
At last, Harry went to his chest, and drawing out a few shillings,
proposed that we should go ashore, and return with a supper, to eat in
the forecastle. Little else that was eatable being for sale in the
paltry shops along the wharves, we bought several pies, some doughnuts,
and a bottle of ginger-pop, and thus supplied we made merry. For to us,
whose very mouths were become pickled and puckered, with the continual
flavor of briny beef, those pies and doughnuts were most delicious. And
as for the ginger-pop, why, that ginger-pop was divine! I have
reverenced ginger-pop ever since.
We kept late hours that night; for, delightful certainty! placed beyond
all doubt—like royal landsmen, we were masters of the watches of the
night, and no _starb-o-leens ahoy!_ would annoy us again.
“All night in! think of _that,_ Harry, my friend!”
“Ay, Wellingborough, it’s enough to keep me awake forever, to think I
may now sleep as long as I please.”
We turned out bright and early, and then prepared for the shore, first
stripping to the waist, for a toilet.
“I shall never get these confounded tar-stains out of my fingers,”
cried Harry, rubbing them hard with a bit of oakum, steeped in strong
suds. “No! they will _not_ come out, and I’m ruined for life. Look at
my hand once, Wellingborough!”
It was indeed a sad sight. Every finger nail, like mine, was dyed of a
rich, russet hue; looking something like bits of fine tortoise shell.
“Never mind, Harry,” said I—“You know the ladies of the east steep the
tips of their fingers in some golden dye.”
“And by Plutus,” cried Harry—“I’d steep mine up to the armpits in gold;
since you talk about _that._ But never mind, I’ll swear I’m just from
Persia, my boy.”
We now arrayed ourselves in our best, and sallied ashore; and, at once,
I piloted Harry to the sign of a Turkey Cock in Fulton-street, kept by
one Sweeny, a place famous for cheap Souchong, and capital buckwheat
cakes.
“Well, gentlemen, what will you have?”—said a waiter, as we seated
ourselves at a table.
“_Gentlemen!_” whispered Harry to me—“_gentlemen!_—hear him!—I say now,
Redburn, they didn’t talk to us that way on board the old Highlander.
By heaven, I begin to feel my straps again:—Coffee and hot rolls,” he
added aloud, crossing his legs like a lord, “and fellow—come back—bring
us a venison-steak.”
“Haven’t got it, gentlemen.”
“Ham and eggs,” suggested I, whose mouth was watering at the
recollection of that particular dish, which I had tasted at the sign of
the Turkey Cock before. So ham and eggs it was; and royal coffee, and
imperial toast.
But the butter!
“Harry, did you ever taste such butter as this before?”
“Don’t say a word,”—said Harry, spreading his tenth slice of toast “I’m
going to turn dairyman, and keep within the blessed savor of butter, so
long as I live.”
We made a breakfast, never to be forgotten; paid our bill with a
flourish, and sallied into the street, like two goodly galleons of
gold, bound from Acapulco to Old Spain.
“Now,” said Harry, “lead on; and let’s see something of these United
States of yours. I’m ready to pace from Maine to Florida; ford the
Great Lakes; and jump the River Ohio, if it comes in the way. Here,
take my arm;—lead on.”
Such was the miraculous change, that had now come over him. It reminded
me of his manner, when we had started for London, from the sign of the
Golden Anchor, in Liverpool.
He was, indeed, in most wonderful spirits; at which I could not help
marveling; considering the cavity in his pockets; and that he was a
stranger in the land.
By noon he had selected his boarding-house, a private establishment,
where they did not charge much for their board, and where the
landlady’s butcher’s bill was not very large.
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