The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1856-1888, 1858-04-15


A stranger passing through the streets Of Homo
lulu, in the busy season, is struck with the pre-
ponderance of the sailor element in the miscella
neous throng of. workers and idlers who GROVE
the public t~horoughfares. Groups of sailor
may be seen, chatting on the idewalk and
corners, or rolling hither and thither, or rafting
away on horseback in the direction of some on
of the valleys and plains that encircle the town
But wherever seen, Jack is always the same
jovial, generous and reckless fellow, ready at 9
moments notice to drink, to fight, or to share
the last of his hard-earned dollars with a friend
lSliiors seem to constitute a sort of society by
themselves, distinct from all other classes. Their
sea life, which debars them in a great measure
from home privileges and enjoyments, and i'm
parts to them a peculiar roughness of exterior
and bluntness of manner, at the same time tends
to unite them in a sort of common brotherhood,
and gives an individuality which the followers Of
no other calling possess.
The sailor ashore is a very different being from
the sailor ahoat. On shipboard, Jack is a lard
working man, and his life possesses but little OF
that charm of romance with which story-writers
are so apt to invest it. 1t is a life of exposure
and peril. Hard work and no play, constitute
his routine of action, and he is, for the time
being, the slave of an absolute dcpotism. Every
thing is subject to the control of his master, the
captain of the ship.
But when ON shore, freed from the irksome
restraint of ship discipline, and no longer dread
ing the sound of the unwelcome "eight bells,
with its hoarse accompaniment of " Tumble out,
you starboard watch !" he very naturally gives
himself up to the enjoyment of the moment, and
resolves in most cases to recompense himself by a
" jolly SPREE for all the ha-dships of the past.
When he has a pocket full Of shining dollars, in
the liberality of his heart, he cannot lest a mo-
ment until he has distributed them. He goes in
strongly for the diffusion of capital, and, what
with the numerous friends that stick to him
like leeches in his prosperity, and with all the
thousand ingenious ways which have been devised
for the express purpose of enticing money out of
sailors hands, his pile disappears like magic. 1t
melts like rosin in a flame. 1t passes away like
q mist in the morning sun and before he is
aware of his loss the treasure which seemed so in
exhaustible has slipped into the possession of bar
tenders, and store clerks. and stable keepers. The
pleasant chinking which his pockets gave forth
at every motion is succeeded by a gloomy silence,
and his hand comes forth empty from the desolate
recess.
No man works harder for his money than the
sailor, and no man is more prodigal in expanding
it. While it lasts it weighs upon him like an in
cubus, and scattering is the only thing which af-
fords relief. Curious ways he takes of spending
it, too, and curious pranks he sometimes cuts up.
A story is told of one old tar, Jerry Dsane by
name, in the little seaport town of Niarblehead,
New England, who on his arrival home from a
long cruise took a fancy to hire a horse and
chaise for the afternoon, and havea good ride, all
to himself. He drove away from the hotel in fine
style, and as he made the tip of lifelong lash curl
around the neck of his spirited steed. one would
have thought him a professional jockey. This
was about four o'clock in the afternoon. Towards
shutdown he was seen returning in the same vehi-
Gle, and at the same dashing rate, bat in an alto
gether different style. The chaise body was minus
the lcheeLs, and it thumped along over the uneven
surface of the road, j%olting and jumping like a
grasshopper. Jerry was inside, in a state of high
glee, holding on with both hands to the sides of
the carriage, except at intervals when he took
advantage Of a comparatively quiet moment to
whip up the horse. The bottom of the chaise
was worn through by the time he pulled UP at
the door of the tavern. The vehicle would not
have held together one hundred yards farther.
And as Jerry stepped from the carriage a smile
of triumph iElumined his weather beaten features.
as if he felt that he had successfully accomplished
a task that would have done honor to the endur-
ance of a Mungo Park.
Landlord, ; cried he, s. I have had a fine ride,
and shall not fail to recommend you to nv
friends"
& d. go - 1-.1.x-1l H. -. = - 1
host, :" where are your wheels?'
Wheels! ~ responded Jerry, turning around
ard observing for the first time the extent of his
Loss. swell, | thought she gave a heavy pitch -
Riding is a favorite amusement of sailors in
Honolulu. 1t is a common thing to see a party
of merry tars on horseback in our streets. Some of
them, perhaps, are pretty fair riders. Others
sway about on the saddle like a ship in a heavy
sea and if perchance the beast strikes from a
canter to a trot, they bounce up and down like
an India rubber ball-rarely, however, losing
their balance or their seats. Jack is free rider;
it is not to be wondered at if in the ebullition
of his spirits he sometimes gets into trouble for
riding. lie considers ten knots a desirable
rate Of speed in q horse as well as in a ship; but
in the case of the former he has not quite so good
a command over the helm, and for the avoidance
of accidents trusts rather to the chances of obsta-
getting out of the way than to the use of
the bride rein.
A ships forecastle often contains a curious
medley of characters-and sometimes not a little
genuine talent-talent which, If properly devel-
oped by education or ambition, would shine forth
a brilliant star in the armament of society. 1t
our lot, some years since, to make the ac-
of a forecastle genius-and a queer
genius he was. To all appearance he
nothing more than an ordinary, ignorant and
dirty Irshman and yet he was withal, al unu-
sually fine scholar in every department of polite
He had received a collegiate educa-
ton, and his mind was stored with the choicest
gems Of the old Greek and Latin poets. He was
familiar, too, with all the great writers of modern