Alf, chagrined and angry, stood up to step ashore. But the old fellow
laid a detaining hand on his sleeve. "You give shirt now. I take you
'Merican schooner," he proposed.
Then it was that all of Alf's American independence flamed up in his
breast. The Anglo-Saxon has a born dislike of being imposed upon, and to
Alf this was sheer robbery! Ten sen was equivalent to six American
cents, while his shirt, which was of good quality and was new, had cost
him two dollars.
He turned his back on the man without a word, and went out to the end of
the pier, the crowd, laughing with great gusto, following at his heels.
The majority of them were heavy-set, muscular fellows, and the July
night being one of sweltering heat, they were clad in the least possible
raiment. The water-people of any race are rough and turbulent, and it
struck Alf that to be out at midnight on a pier-end with such a crowd of
wharfmen, in a big Japanese city, was not as safe as it might be.
One burly fellow, with a shock of black hair and ferocious eyes, came
up. The rest shoved in after him to take part in the discussion.
"Give me shoes," the man said. "Give me shoes now. I take you 'Merican
schooner."
Alf shook his head, whereat the crowd clamored that he accept the
proposal. Now the Anglo-Saxon is so constituted that to browbeat or
bully him is the last way under the sun of getting him to do any certain
thing. He will dare willingly, but he will not permit himself to be
driven. So this attempt of the boatmen to force Alf only aroused all the
dogged stubbornness of his race. The same qualities were in him that are
in men who lead forlorn hopes; and there, under the stars, on the lonely
pier, encircled by the jostling and shouldering gang, he resolved that
he would die rather than submit to the indignity of being robbed of a
single stitch of clothing. Not value, but principle, was at stake.
Then somebody thrust roughly against him from behind. He whirled about
with flashing eyes, and the circle involuntarily gave ground. But the
crowd was growing more boisterous. Each and every article of clothing he
had on was demanded by one or another, and these demands were shouted
simultaneously at the tops of very healthy lungs.
Alf had long since ceased to say anything, but he knew that the
situation was getting dangerous, and that the only thing left to him was
to get away. His face was set doggedly, his eyes glinted like points of
steel, and his body was firmly and confidently poised. This air of
determination sufficiently impressed the boatmen to make them give way
before him When he started to walk toward the shore-end of the pier. But
they trooped along beside more noisily than ever. One of the youngsters
about Alf's size and build, impudently snatched his cap from his head;
and before he could put it on his own head, Alf struck out from the
shoulder, and sent the fellow rolling on the stones.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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