ding-house keepers came alongside and were soon on deck looking for
victims. A hard-looking case asked me if I had ever been in New York
before.

"No, this is my first trip across the ocean."

"Well, come to my house. I have a nice place."

"All right," I answered, "I will go, on condition that you get my
clothes and take me from the ship right off."

He told his runner to take his row-boat under the port bow. Going to the
forecastle, I pointed out my bag. I was to go in the boat; then he was
to throw me my valuable wardrobe. The passengers were at the rail,
looking at Castle Garden. Crowding in between, I found there was a rope
hanging over the ship's side, and, in an instant, I was on the rail,
grabbing hold of the rope. I intended going down "hand over hand" with
my feet on the vessel's side, but the rope was not fastened as I
supposed, consequently I fell about twenty feet, striking the water back
first and just barely missing the row-boat. The runner helped me in,
then down came the bag, and we were off for dry land. My career on the
ocean as a sailor before the mast had terminated most unexpectedly to
me, and that proved to be my last voyage.

On landing, we walked to the worst locality in New York city. On the way
I was told that a brig bound for the West Indies needed a crew, and
would I ship on her? "Certainly," I replied. Now the intention was to
"shanghai" me (that is, steal my advance money), my landlord supposing
that I was a greenhorn. Finally, we entered a dirty old house on Cherry
Street, the worst street in the city at that time. I was invited to take
a drink, which I refused. The sleeping apartment was shown to me---a
filthy room with bunks around the sides, made out of rough boards. The
brig was to sail the next day.

"Well, I must have a new pair of shoes."

"All right, come with me."

He took me to a store and I selected a pair, which were charged to the
landlord.

"Now I want a hair-cut and a shave."

Into a barber-shop we went, and that was also charged up. Going back to
the house, I had my supper, and it was a holy terror for "shore food." I
loafed around the place until after dark, then I started for home, being
ashamed to have the neighbours see me in daylight in my ragged and still
wet clothing. As for the sailors' boarding-house, it was only a case of
"wolf eat wolf." They had simply caught the wrong man for a sucker.

I rang the door bell and a strange servant girl asked me whom