- end_line
- 7776
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.842Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 7710
- text
- 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.
But several of them had secret places in the ship, from whence they
daily drew pound after pound of tobacco, which they smuggled ashore in
the manner following.
When the crew went to meals, each man carried at least one plug in his
pocket; _that_ he had a right to; and as many more were hidden about
his person as he dared. Among the great crowds pouring out of the
dock-gates at such hours, of course these smugglers stood little chance
of detection; although vigilant looking policemen were always standing
by. And though these _“Charlies”_ might suppose there were tobacco
smugglers passing; yet to hit the right man among such a throng, would
be as hard, as to harpoon a speckled porpoise, one of ten thousand
darting under a ship’s bows.
Our forecastle was often visited by foreign sailors, who knowing we
came from America, were anxious to purchase tobacco at a cheap rate;
for in Liverpool it is about an American penny per pipe-full. Along the
docks they sell an English pennyworth, put up in a little roll like
confectioners’ mottoes, with poetical lines, or instructive little
moral precepts printed in red on the back.
Among all the sights of the docks, the noble truck-horses are not the
least striking to a stranger. They are large and powerful brutes, with
such sleek and glossy coats, that they look as if brushed and put on by
a valet every morning. They march with a slow and stately step, lifting
their ponderous hoofs like royal Siam elephants. Thou shalt not lay
stripes upon these Roman citizens; for their docility is such, they are
guided without rein or lash; they go or come, halt or march on, at a
whisper. So grave, dignified, gentlemanly, and courteous did these fine
truck-horses look—so full of calm intelligence and sagacity, that often
I endeavored to get into conversation with them, as they stood in
contemplative attitudes while their loads were preparing. But all I
could get from them was the mere recognition of a friendly neigh;
though I would stake much upon it that, could I have spoken in their
language, I would have derived from them a good deal of valuable
information touching the docks, where they passed the whole of their
dignified lives.
There are unknown worlds of knowledge in brutes; and whenever you mark
a horse, or a dog, with a peculiarly mild, calm, deep-seated eye, be
sure he is an Aristotle or a Kant, tranquilly speculating upon the
mysteries in man. No philosophers so thoroughly comprehend us as dogs
and horses. They see through us at a glance. And after all, what is a
horse but a species of four-footed dumb man, in a leathern overall, who
happens to live upon oats, and toils for his masters, half-requited or
abused, like the biped hewers of wood and drawers of water? But there
is a touch of divinity even in brutes, and a special halo about a
horse, that should forever exempt him from indignities. As for those
majestic, magisterial truck-horses of the docks, I would as soon think
of striking a judge on the bench, as to lay violent hand upon their
holy hides.
It is wonderful what loads their majesties will condescend to draw. The
truck is a large square platform, on four low wheels; and upon this the
lumpers pile bale after bale of cotton, as if they were filling a large
warehouse, and yet a procession of three of these horses will
tranquilly walk away with the whole.
- title
- Chunk 4