Victoria, cap. 93—known as the " Mercantile
Marine Act." I shall have more to say on
that Act, when I speak of our maritime
legislation, presently; for the present, it suffices
that the seamen had presented a memorial
against it; had been very well received by
Mr. Labouchere; and were expecting an
answer before that evening. Hence the
restlessness which distinguished my friends in
the " Marlingspike," and which disturbed all
the ordinary chat of the day—" how the
' Mary Hann ' was going to Callao, and they
was offering two pun six: how short sailors
was in the Port o' London, and what a blessed
lot of foreign seamen there was knocking
about." All which was quite as lively, and
certainly more instructive, than much more
pretentious chat to be heard in other quarters.

At last, the hour arrived, and the meeting
was to come off. I adjourned from the
"Marlingspike," and turned down Ratcliffe
Highway to the scene. It was now dark.
The lamps in the Highway—which is in
appearance a kind of open sewer—were lit; and
gas-pipes, in small shops, crowded together,
flared upon those ragged bits of meat—lumps
of greasy candles—and ghastly, corpse-like
cod-fish, laid out in morgues—which are the
usual characteristics of neighbourhoods at
once poor and populous. I soon turned
through some dark streets, and ultimately
arrived at Temperance Hall, Prince's Square.
Here, I saw the company gathering—and
many sailors of the coal and coasting trades
beginning to fill the Hall. Some wore blue
frocks, and seemed fresh from work—with
clear, blue eyes shining through their dusty
and blackened faces. One sailor would stand
staring at the platform, in a long gaze of thirsty
curiosity: another—whose bran-new hat, as
shiny as an orange, indicated that he had just
been paid off, and was setting up, pro tem., as
a respectable civilian—kept his hands in his
pockets, and looked about him, observingly—
just as he would look to windward when the
sun was setting, and wind rising, and it
seemed wise to settle whether a reef shouldn't
be taken in the topsails for the night. The
Hall itself had once been a Chapel; and,
what was very curious, as you glanced round
the walls, your eye caught a glimpse of the top
of a tablet, with the words

SACRED
TO THE MEMORY OF

—here the remainder of the pious record was
hidden by a huge piece of canvas, stretching
half across the wall, displaying, in large black
letters, the supplicating watchword of the
movement, " USE US LIKE MEN!"

The platform was a raised wooden table,
with a couple of candles on it; and presently
the two sailor delegates made their appearance.
One of them was a fine-looking dark
man, with marked features; the other, who
seemed, what is vulgarly called, the " gun " of
the evening, was a wiry little sailor, with a
round, open, florid face—who came forward
as bold as a lion. He had just that sort of
manner which made him stand up "like a
man," to use the familiar expression. Withal,
too, an observer discerned tant soit peu of the
chairman, blending like a dash with the tar.
There was a certain official flavour already
perceptible in him. He was the man who
had boarded the Board of Trade, and had
sailed into the regions of red tape, as Blake
did into Carthagena.

There was a little awkwardness in the
platform arrangements just at first, enough
to justify my surprise at hearing of a nautical
agitation. The chairman (our florid friend)
muttered,

"Here, give us the paper; look sharp.
Some of you fellows'll second the resolution."

He then came forward with a slight roll,
and took a little cold water in the orthodox
style, and began with a " Brother Seamen"
out of hand. He started, by reading their
memorial, (which appeared in the " Times " of
March 6), scrambling through the big words
rather than over them, like a heavy fellow at
a high fence; and then began to harangue the
crowd, himself.

It was certainly a capital speech, full of
excellent sense and awful pronunciation. He
had previously cut short the reading of the
Memorial, by saying, " And there's lots more
of it—too long to read all just now;" and
spoke with exactly the same off-hand
independence all through. It was a lively, vigorous
harangue—a great deal better than you
usually hear at elections—and you readily
forgave " minute scrunity " and other little
slips. " The Board o' Trade had never so
much as sent them half a line of answer;"
he said " it was a downright insult. They
might as well have sent a line, if it was only
to say, 'We have nothing to communicate
just now, and postpone it for the present.'"
I was amused at Jack's dictation of an official
letter; it showed how quickly he had caught
the official tone. Some discursiveness was
then indulged in.

He " cleared " the subject in a style that
can only be properly described by nautical
metaphors; " running free " for a time, in
narrative; then " hauling his wind," and
beginning to argue; anon, " tacking," and
turning off in a different direction. One of the
great points of complaint was the power
which he said the new act gave the captains.
The captains are to carry an " official log " to
sea, now, in which they report on the seamen's
conduct. The seamen think this is not fair;
and our orator spoke bitterly of the character
of many of the skippers of the day.

"Why," said he, " not long ago, on the
Coast of Afriker, a cap'n was going to throw
one o' the crew that was dying, overboard,
before he was dead. So the man says, ' You
aint a-going to bury me alive, are you? '
' Oh,' says the captain, ' You needn't be so
jolly particular to a few minutes.'"