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- 7718
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.842Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 7646
- text
- found it in the gutter—hush! don’t speak! give me the money, and it’s
yours.”
“My friend,” said I, “I don’t trade in these articles; I don’t want
your ring.”
“Don’t you? Then take that,” he whispered, in an intense hushed
passion; and I fell flat from a blow on the chest, while this infamous
jeweler made away with himself out of sight. This business transaction
was conducted with a counting-house promptitude that astonished me.
After that, I shunned these scoundrels like the leprosy: and the next
time I was pertinaciously followed, I stopped, and in a loud voice,
pointed out the man to the passers-by; upon which he absconded; rapidly
turning up into sight a pair of obliquely worn and battered boot-heels.
I could not help thinking that these sort of fellows, so given to
running away upon emergencies, must furnish a good deal of work to the
shoemakers; as they might, also, to the growers of hemp and
gallows-joiners.
Belonging to a somewhat similar fraternity with these irritable
merchants of brass jewelry just mentioned, are the peddlers of
Sheffield razors, mostly boys, who are hourly driven out of the dock
gates by the police; nevertheless, they contrive to saunter back, and
board the vessels, going among the sailors and privately exhibiting
their wares. Incited by the extreme cheapness of one of the razors, and
the gilding on the case containing it, a shipmate of mine purchased it
on the spot for a commercial equivalent of the price, in tobacco. On
the following Sunday, he used that razor; and the result was a pair of
tormented and tomahawked cheeks, that almost required a surgeon to
dress them. In old times, by the way, it was not a bad thought, that
suggested the propriety of a barber’s practicing surgery in connection
with the chin-harrowing vocation.
Another class of knaves, who practice upon the sailors in Liverpool,
are the pawnbrokers, inhabiting little rookeries among the narrow lanes
adjoining the dock. I was astonished at the multitude of gilded balls
in these streets, emblematic of their calling. They were generally next
neighbors to the gilded grapes over the spirit-vaults; and no doubt,
mutually to facilitate business operations, some of these
establishments have connecting doors inside, so as to play their
customers into each other’s hands. I often saw sailors in a state of
intoxication rushing from a spirit-vault into a pawnbroker’s; stripping
off their boots, hats, jackets, and neckerchiefs, and sometimes even
their pantaloons on the spot, and offering to pawn them for a song. Of
course such applications were never refused. But though on shore, at
Liverpool, poor Jack finds more sharks than at sea, he himself is by no
means exempt from practices, that do not savor of a rigid morality; at
least according to law. In tobacco smuggling he is an adept: and when
cool and collected, often manages to evade the Customs completely, and
land goodly packages of the weed, which owing to the immense duties
upon it in England, commands a very high price.
As soon as we came to anchor in the river, before reaching the dock,
three Custom-house underlings boarded us, and coming down into the
forecastle, ordered the men to produce all the tobacco they had.
Accordingly several pounds were brought forth.
“Is that all?” asked the officers.
“All,” said the men.
“We will see,” returned the others.
And without more ado, they emptied the chests right and left; tossed
over the bunks and made a thorough search of the premises; but
discovered nothing. The sailors were then given to understand, that
while the ship lay in dock, the tobacco must remain in the cabin, under
custody of the chief mate, who every morning would dole out to them one
plug per head, as a security against their carrying it ashore.
“Very good,” said the men.
- title
- Chunk 3