- end_line
- 748
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.838Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 703
- text
- Upon this my benevolent friend thought that here was a grand
opportunity to befriend me.
“Yes, he’s quite a sportsman,” said he, “he’s got a very valuable
fowling-piece at home, perhaps you would like to purchase it, captain,
to shoot gulls with at sea? It’s cheap.”
“Oh! no, he had better leave it with his relations,” said the captain,
“so that he can go hunting again when he returns from England.”
“Yes, perhaps that _would_ be better, after all,” said my friend,
pretending to fall into a profound musing, involving all sides of the
matter in hand. “Well, then, captain, you can only give the boy three
dollars a month, you say?”
“Only three dollars a month,” said the captain.
“And I believe,” said my friend, “that you generally give something in
advance, do you not?”
“Yes, that is sometimes the custom at the shipping offices,” said the
captain, with a bow, “but in this case, as the boy has rich relations,
there will be no need of that, you know.”
And thus, by his ill-advised, but well-meaning hints concerning the
respectability of my paternity, and the immense wealth of my relations,
did this really honest-hearted but foolish friend of mine, prevent me
from getting three dollars in advance, which I greatly needed. However,
I said nothing, though I thought the more; and particularly, how that
it would have been much better for me, to have gone on board alone,
accosted the captain on my own account, and told him the plain truth.
Poor people make a very poor business of it when they try to seem rich.
The arrangement being concluded, we bade the captain good morning; and
as we were about leaving the cabin, he smiled again, and said, “Well,
Redburn, my boy, you won’t get home-sick before you sail, because that
will make you very sea-sick when you get to sea.”
And with that he smiled very pleasantly, and bowed two or three times,
and told the steward to open the cabin-door, which the steward did with
a peculiar sort of grin on his face, and a slanting glance at my
shooting-jacket. And so we left.
- title
- Chunk 3