Chapter 29 - Page 2

half-past nine we resumed work; and finally knocked of at four o'clock
in the afternoon, unless something particular was in hand. And after
four o'clock, we could go where we pleased, and were not required to be
on board again till next morning at daylight.

As we had nothing to do with the cargo, of course, our duties were light
enough; and the chief mate was often put to it to devise some employment
for us.

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