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- We had no watches to stand, a ship-keeper, hired from shore, relieving
us from that; and all the while the men’s wages ran on, as at sea.
Sundays we had to ourselves.
Thus, it will be seen, that the life led by sailors of American ships
in Liverpool, is an exceedingly easy one, and abounding in leisure.
They live ashore on the fat of the land; and after a little wholesome
exercise in the morning, have the rest of the day to themselves.
Nevertheless, these Liverpool voyages, likewise those to London and
Havre, are the least profitable that an improvident seaman can take.
Because, in New York he receives his month’s advance; in Liverpool,
another; both of which, in most cases, quickly disappear; so that by
the time his voyage terminates, he generally has but little coming to
him; sometimes not a cent. Whereas, upon a long voyage, say to India or
China, his wages accumulate; he has more inducements to economize, and
far fewer motives to extravagance; and when he is paid off at last, he
goes away jingling a quart measure of dollars.
Besides, of all sea-ports in the world, Liverpool, perhaps, most
abounds in all the variety of land-sharks, land-rats, and other vermin,
which make the hapless mariner their prey. In the shape of landlords,
bar-keepers, clothiers, crimps, and boarding-house loungers, the
land-sharks devour him, limb by limb; while the land-rats and mice
constantly nibble at his purse.
Other perils he runs, also, far worse; from the denizens of notorious
Corinthian haunts in the vicinity of the docks, which in depravity are
not to be matched by any thing this side of the pit that is bottomless.
And yet, sailors love this Liverpool; and upon long voyages to distant
parts of the globe, will be continually dilating upon its charms and
attractions, and extolling it above all other seaports in the world.
For in Liverpool they find their Paradise—not the well known street of
that name—and one of them told me he would be content to lie in
Prince’s Dock till _he hove up anchor_ for the world to come.
Much is said of ameliorating the condition of sailors; but it must ever
prove a most difficult endeavor, so long as the antidote is given
before the bane is removed.
Consider, that, with the majority of them, the very fact of their being
sailors, argues a certain recklessness and sensualism of character,
ignorance, and depravity; consider that they are generally friendless
and alone in the world; or if they have friends and relatives, they are
almost constantly beyond the reach of their good influences; consider
that after the rigorous discipline, hardships, dangers, and privations
of a voyage, they are set adrift in a foreign port, and exposed to a
thousand enticements, which, under the circumstances, would be hard
even for virtue itself to withstand, unless virtue went about on
crutches; consider that by their very vocation they are shunned by the
better classes of people, and cut off from all access to respectable
and improving society; consider all this, and the reflecting mind must
very soon perceive that the case of sailors, as a class, is not a very
promising one.
Indeed, the bad things of their condition come under the head of those
chronic evils which can only be ameliorated, it would seem, by
ameliorating the moral organization of all civilization.
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