Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"Well, well (just mix another afore the glass cools off), to think how
the time goes. Here it are autumn ag'in, and in a few weeks 'twill be
winter. It reminds me (I'll take one more, if you please, with one
lump less of sugar and the space in rum) that I'm gittin' old, and I
feels it. My eyes ain't so good and my legs ain't so good, and I ain't
so good all over. When I goes down to the dock my lantern are heavier
than it used to were, and the distance ain't so short as it used to
seem from the dock to the house. Afore many years I'll be put quietly
away, and though I'd prefer bein' beautifully sewed up and launched
shipshape in blue water, with a hundred pound weight for to keep me
down, I s'poses it won't make much difference, nohow. Anyhow, if I
lives as long as old Wiggins, I hopes I may go as well at the end. I
don't think I ever told you about him, and if you'll let him fill 'em
up ag'in--for it's one of the vartues of hot rum that the more you
drinks the thirstier you gits--I'll reel you the yarn right off.
"Old Wiggins had been all his life into the Liverpool trade and had
got well fixed, so far as cash were consarned; and so when he came for
to be seventy or seventy-two years old he were persuaded for to knock
off for a full due and spend the balance of his life ashore. Goin' up
to some place in Connecticut, he buys hisself a place there and
settles down. Well, for a time he were all right, a-fixin' up his
house, a-buildin' new barns and hen-coops and fences and the like, and
I've heerd tell that the house where he kep' his pigs were better than
any dwellin'-house in that region, and the whole place were the wonder
of the country roundabout; but arter he had fixed his house all up
like a ship, with little staterooms all through the upper part of it,
and had got everythin' inside and out in shipshape order, and there
weren't nothin' else he could think of for to do, he gits terribly
homesick and discontented, and times when he'd come to the city for to
collect his sheer of the profits of ships as he had a interest in,
he'd sit for hours on the wharf a-watchin' the vessels on the river,
and it were like drawin' teeth for to git him to leave and go up to
his home. His eyes had giv' out sometime afore he quit the sea, and
his legs was shaky, so as he had to walk with a settin' pole, and his
hand were tremblin' and unsteady; but aloft he were still all right,
and his head were as clear as a bell.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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