in habits and speech. The keelman has many points
in common with the pitman. He is more ignorant, because his life on the
water begins very early and he is isolated for the better part of every
week; so he is very simple and innocent of the world's ways. His horizon
is bounded by the black banks of his river. Of nature he knows nothing,
excepting that rivers run into the sea, and that tides have to be
watched. In the daytime he toils on the brown flood of the Tyne; and at
night he still toils on the same flood, which is then lit into lurid
brilliance by the fires of the low factory chimneys and furnaces. People
who work on crowded waterways seem to acquire an extraordinary
proficiency in the art of abuse, and in the said art a keelman is much
superior to the Thames bargeman. His collection of epithets is large,
and, since he is combative by nature, he engages freely in the war of
words when engagements at close quarters are impracticable. He is no
respecter of persons. The most dignified captain that ever stood on the
deck of a clipper is not safe from his criticism, and even her Majesty's
uniform is not sacred in his eyes. A keel once drifted against the bow of
a man-of-war, and the first lieutenant of the vessel inquired, "Do you
know the consequences of damaging one of her Majesty's ships?" The
keelman was unprepared with an answer to this problem, but with
characteristic flippancy he inquired, "Div ye knaw the conseekue of a
keel losin' her tide?" The keelman's ignorance of all objects not to be
seen on the river is really strange. Two worthies wanted to go on board a
brig called the "Swan." The vessel had a figure-head representing the
bird after which she was named, so the keelmen hailed in the following
terms, "Like-a-goose-and-not-a-goose, ahoy!" They were much disappointed
by the inattention of the crew. The keelman is religious in his way, but
his ideas lack lucidity. Two friends had left their keel aground up the
river and were walking across a field, when they were chased by a savage
bull. They fled to a tree, and the fleeter-footed man got to the first
fork. The second had swarmed a fair distance up the trunk, when the bull
arrived and began butting with such vigour that the tree was shaken. The
climber could not get up further; so his friend, seeing the imminent
danger, said, "Canst thou pray, Geordie?" The panting unfortunate
answered, "Yes." Whereupon his mate said, "Gan on then, for he'll have
thee in a m