A thousand deaths by Jack London

Whereupon the restaurant-keeper lifted his arms indignantly and shrieked:

“Twenty-five sen! Twenty-five sen! You pay now!”

Quite a crowd had collected, and it was growing embarrassing for Alf Davis.

It was so ridiculous and petty, Alf thought. Such a disturbance about nothing!

And, decidedly, he must be doing something. Thoughts of diving wildly through

that forest of legs, and of striking out at whomsoever opposed him, flashed

through his mind; but, as though divining his purpose, one of the waiters, a short

and chunky chap with an evil-looking cast in one eye, seized him by the arm.

“You pay now! You pay now! Twenty-five sen!” yelled the proprietor, hoarse

with rage.

Alf was red in the face, too, from mortification; but he resolutely set out on

another exploration. He had given up the purse, pinning his last hope on stray

coins. In the little change-pocket of his coat he found a ten- sen piece and fivecopper

sen; and remembering having recently missed a ten-sen piece, he cut the

seam of the pocket and resurrected the coin from the depths of the lining. Twentyfive

sen he held in his hand, the sum required to pay for the supper he had eaten.

He turned them over to the proprietor, who counted them, grew suddenly calm,

and bowed obsequiously-in fact, the whole crowd bowed obsequiously and

melted away.

Alf Davis was a young sailor, just turned sixteen, on board the Annie Mine, an

American sailing-schooner, which had run into Yokohama to ship its season’s

catch of skins to London. And in this, his second trip ashore, he was beginning to

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54

snatch his first puzzling glimpses of the Oriental mind. He laughed when the

bowing and kotowing was over, and turned on his heel to confront another

problem. How was he to get aboard ship? It was eleven o’clock at night, and there

would be no ship’s boats ashore, while the outlook for hiring a native boatman,

with nothing but empty pockets to draw upon, was not particularly inviting.

Keeping a sharp lookout for shipmates, he went down to the pier. At Yokohama

there are no long lines of wharves. The shipping lies out at anchor, enabling a few

hundred of the short-legged people to make a livelihood by carrying passengers to

and from the shore.

A dozen sampan men and boys hailed Alf and offered their services. He selected

the most favorable-looking one, an old and beneficent- appearing man with a

withered leg. Alf stepped into his sampan and sat down. It was quite dark and he

could not see what the old fellow was doing, though he evidently was doing

nothing about shoving off and getting under way. At last he limped over and

peered into Alf’s face.

“Ten sen,” he said.

“Yes, I know, ten sen,” Alf answered carelessly. “But hurry up. American

schooner.”

“Ten sen. You pay now,” the old fellow insisted.

Alf felt himself grow hot all over at the hateful words “pay now.” “You take me to

American schooner; then I pay,” he said.

But the man stood up patiently before him, held out his hand, and said, “Ten sen.

You pay now.”

Alf tried to explain. He had no money. He had lost his purse. But he would pay.

As soon as he got aboard the American schooner, then he would pay. No; he

would not even go aboard the American schooner. He would call to his shipmates,

and they would give the sampan man the ten sen first. After that he would go

aboard. So it was all right, of course.

To all of which the beneficent-appearing old man replied: “You pay now. Ten

sen.” And, to make matters worse, the other sampan men squatted on the pier

steps, listening.

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.

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55

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 brow-beat 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 him and behind him,

shouting and laughing more noisily than ever. One of the youngsters, about Alf’s

size and build, impudently snatched his cap from his head; but before he could put

it on his own head, Alf struck out from the shoulder, and sent the fellow rolling on

the stones.

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56

The cap flew out of his hand and disappeared among the many legs. Alf did some

quick thinking; his sailor pride would not permit him to leave the cap in their

hands. He followed in the direction it had sped, and soon found it under the bare

foot of a stalwart fellow, who kept his weight stolidly upon it. Alf tried to get the

cap out by a sudden jerk, but failed. He shoved against the man’s leg, but the man

only grunted. It was challenge direct, and Alf accepted it. Like a flash one leg was

behind the man and Alf had thrust strongly with his shoulder against the fellow’s

chest. Nothing could save the man from the fierce vigorousness of the trick, and

he was hurled over and backward.

Next, the cap was on Alf’s head and his fists were up before him. Then he whirled

about to prevent attack from behind, and all those in that quarter fled

precipitately. This was what he wanted. None remained between him and the

shore end. The pier was narrow. Facing them and threatening with his fist those

who attempted to pass him on either side, he continued his retreat. It was exciting

work, walking backward and at the same time checking that surging mass of men.

But the dark-skinned peoples, the world over, have learned to respect the white

man’s fist; and it was the battles fought by many sailors, more than his own

warlike front, that gave Alf the victory.

Where the pier adjoins the shore was the station of the harbor police, and Alf

backed into the electric-lighted office, very much to the amusement of the dapper

lieutenant in charge. The sampan men, grown quiet and orderly, clustered like

flies by the open door, through which they could see and hear what passed.

Alf explained his difficulty in few words, and demanded, as the privilege of a

stranger in a strange land, that the lieutenant put him aboard in the police-boat.

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