Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"Well, sir," said the old sailor, "here we are ag'in. I ain't been
round here much lately, and atwixt you and me, she's put the 'kybosh'
onto it, holdin' that comin' round here and hystin' are promotin' of
rheumatics, which, as are well known, they come of long and various
exposures in all climates, to say nothin' of watchin' onto a damp dock
night arter night continual. But what's the use? Everybody knows as a
quiet home are better than silver and fine gold, which it stands to
reason are to be obtained in two ways. Wimmin are like sailors in some
respects; whoever has anythin' to do with 'em must either be saddled
and bridled, leastwise, or else booted and spurred. You've got to ride
'em, or else they'll ride you. Bein' a sailorman myself, it ain't
likely as I'd say anythin' ag'in 'em; but if the truth must be told,
I'll say this--that while it'll never do, not at no price, for to let
sailors git the upper hand, there's many a man as has giv' the helm
into the hands of his old woman and made a better v'yage thereby; and
I don't mind sayin', sir, that havin' while follerin' the water got
into the habit of allowin' her for to be skipper in the house durin'
my short stoppin's on shore, it got for to be so much the custom, that
since comin' home for a full due I ain't never tried for to break away
from it; and though human natur' is falliable, and she does make
mistakes, especially about the hystin', on the whole, and by and
large, I judges I've been a gainer by it, as I believes at least eight
men out of ten would be if they took the hint accordin' and went and
done likewise.
"I don't go for to say as she ever goes to go to say I ain't a-goin'
for to let you go there; but it are terrible aggrivokin' when the
rheumatics twinges awful, and as it might be that this saw-mill don't
want no more splinters laid onto it, to have her feelin'ly remark,
'Well, if you will go round a-guzzlin' ale with your swell friends and
a-leavin' your lawful wife to home alone you must expect to pay for
it,' whereas I know it are the dock and other causes long gone by; but
that knowledge don't ease the pain a morsel, and the last time I were
that way tantalized I swore I wouldn't come here no more. But whatever
are the use? Man resolves and reresolves and then takes another
snifter, and so here I are, and bein' as its cold, as so she sha'n't
have no basis for her unfeelin' remark about guzzlin' ale, we'll let
him make it hot rum, and arter the old receipt, neither economizin' in
the rum or the sugar, but givin' a fair drink for honest money.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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