JACKSON.

Te Aroha News, Volume I, Issue 31, 5 January 1884, Page 5

JACKSON.

Thk principal features of my connection •with Jackson were tho peculiar way in which we met and the peculiar way in which we parted. Botweon tho two events \ve only saw each other once, so thai, although I speak of my "connection" with him, in reality all my dealings with him might have been compi'essed into the space of half an hour. It was in the old palmy days of BadenBaden, before what we youngsters called *' meddling official prudery " had stepped in and banished from that place of peerless natural attractions the artificial attraction which did perhaps still more to throng her alleys and squares with the beau-monde of Europe. I was enjoying part of my holiday at Baden-Baden, blessed with a light heart, plenty of time before me, and a fairly-lined purse — not that I was a wealthy man ; but j I saved and saved up my money in those days for my annual holiday, religiously spent it during my holiday, and set to work with redoubled vigour to make it up after the holiday. I could not afford to sit down at the wicked tables from morning till night side by side with the haggard old habitues, the Hash ladies, and the titled foreign gentlemen with no possessions ; nor had I the inclination so to do, with the beautiful Black Forest at my very door wooing mo to far more rational and healthy enjoyment eveiy sunny morning ;but I did occasionally risk a modest five-franc piece or so— when I say risk, I mean I laid them down—for,w n— for, so far as I was concerned, there was no risk, as I invariably lost. Well, I went in one afternoon, "just to have a look." The saloons were crowded and the game was proceeding merrily— for some people. I had put down a couple of five-franc pieces, had resignedly seen them swept off by the rake of the statuesque croupier, and was contenting myself with observing the curious scene. Sitting next to where I was standing was a miserable looking individual, whose appearance, from its strange contrast with the brilliancy and gaietyjjof the scene around, arrested my attention. His face was sallow and tightly drawn over its clearly defined bones ; his eyes were haggard and bloodshot ; such whiskers as he wore wore ragged and unkempt, and his black hair strawed wildly over his forehead. His clothes had once been of fashionable hue and cut, but they were soiled, stained, and even patched in places, and the glitter of the paste diamond u pon hisjfilthy finger proclaimed an endeavour on the part of its owner to make a feeble appearance atone somewhat for a wretched actuality. He staked several times and lost as often ; then with a deep sigh he arose, and observing that my gaze was fixed steadily on him, took me by the sleeve and led me to a gilded alcove behind the ring of players. I don't know why I suffered him to do this, but I was interested in him. I felt that there was a history, possibly a romance, attaching to him, and I went. "Sir," he said, with a slight American intonation, "you are an Englishman, are you not ?" 1 admitted the soft impeachment. " And you come of a great, gallant, and generous race." I bowed my head on behalf of my nation. " You see me here before you," he continued, "a wretched, wicked, ruined man. Listen : I have never been at these tables before ! lam an honest, suber, industrious father of a family, and I have been ordered by my doctor to come here and drink the waters with the alternative of dying. My employers in London " (naming a wellknown city firm) "generously pr>id my expenses here in consideration of my long services. In an evil moment I was tempted to try my luck at the tables. You know what that means. One sip of Circe's cup, and the usual result. I lost ; I played on in hopes of recouping myself ; I lost again. This cannot go on for ever, I thought, and put my last money on the table. That has just been swept away ; and here am I, a penniless beggar, with a fond wife and four young children at home praying that my sojourn may restore me to health and to them. I have not even the necessary funds to take me back to England, or uncure.l as I am, I would hasten away from this sink of iniquity. There is a light in your eye, sir, which tells me that there is pity in your heart. Can you, will you, lend me £20, £15, £10?" As I was not a city man, used to and hardened to appeals from ruined men and beggars of other descriptions, I had not the art of warding him off or the science of making excuses, but I murmured out something about being a poor artist myself, who had not much more cash than I knew what to do with. But when a tear gathered in the corner of one of his bloodshot eyes, I was done for. I went to my hotel, came back to the Conversation Haus, and gave him £10, receiving in exchange a dusky card, upon which was engraved, "Jackson, Belinda Villa, Brixton, Surrey," and a profusion of tearful thanks and promises to pay directly he should reach home. My neighbour at the table d'hote that evening was a portly American citizen, who, in less than five minutes after we had taken our seats, informed me that he was in the pork line at Chicago, and that he and his " gals " were " voy'ging around Europe jes' to open up their minds some." From a detailed account of the present state of business in the States in general, and Chicago in particular, he proceeded to dilate upon the roguerieß practised upon innocent American travellers by hotelkeepers and other harpies in Europe. " And it's a circumstance, sir," he continued, "but although I guess we're as spry a3 most folk, I opine I've been done in the eye since I've been in Baden-Baden. I ain't a gambler ! no, sir, but Ido put a dollar down now and again for the good of the place, and I was doing so this evening, when a miserable-looking cuss comes to me and spins a long yarn about his being a ruined man and having a large family in the States dependent on him, and asks me if I'd loan him $50 to help him on his way home. Wai, I told him right away that I didn't believe nary a word he said ; but when he begun to turn on his water works, sir, it was too much and I loaned him $25." " Dear me," I said, " that's very strange, for the same thing occurred to me this afternoon. Did he give you an address?" " Wai," replied the American, •' he gave me this bit of pasteboard, which I guess is one of his stock in trade, for he had a powerful lot of others in the same pocket." I took the card and read : "Julius H. Vincent, Montgomery-street, San Francisco, Cal." "I beg your pardon for interposing in your conversation," said a lean Englishman from the opposite side of the table, " but I could not help hearing it and I was interested, for I think that the same individual must have addressed me at Homburg last week, only his address was somewhere in Brixton, Eng." "And did you give him anything?" I asked. " Well, I stuck out for a long time, but he looked so miserable, and told me such a tale of woe, and finally, as the American gentleman said, turned out his waterworks, go I gave him £5,"

" Wai," said the American, " I guess we may all three bet our bottom dollars that we've seen tho last of our money, and that's a fact." I resolved to find out Mr Jackson without dolay, but although during the whole of the next'threo days I wandered about the most likely places whero I imagined he would ply his calling, not a trace of him could 1 'iml. «-o T faced my bos as contentedly as I could, .uid moralisod over tho proverb that " expei ience tcachoth fools, and he is a| great ono who will not learn by it." Two years afterward I was in Venice during tho month of January, having, with truo British eccentricity, chosen that season of tho year to make- the soa trip tin! her from the Tyne. The carnival was at its height, and I, of course, was a frequont spectator thereof. Every evening of the week of its duration we regularly landed as tho gun from the arsenal in front of San Glorgia Maggiore boomed the hour of 8 and made our way to the centre of festivity, the Place of St. Mark, which ua? well-nigh impassable from the lounging, chattering, gesticulating, trick-playing crowd which surrounded the dancing stage erected under the shadow of tho gaunt, grave old Campanile. We were not very much impressed with the character of tho fun. Upper-class Venice certainly did not condescend to play tho fool in costumo, either because it was too chilly for such exercise, or because it was mox'e dignified to patronise the warm and brilliantly - lighted rooms of Ciloriau's or the Quadri. But lower-class Venice entered into tho affair with zest, and, like lower class anywhere else, marked their enthusiasm and delight at the temporary escape from order and decorum by horseplay and practical joking of a substantial rather than a refined nature. The best feature of the whole aftair to our minds was the antic? of a company of Pierrots, who, wo were told, were young gentlemen of position. Wherever they went there was fun and merriment of the genuine carnival type, although a similar exhibition on tho part, say, of Oxford or Cambridge undergraduates, would, according to our ideas, be deemed childish and an anchronism. An hour or so, however, of pushing and squeezing amid a hot, tobacco-and-garlic-impregnated crowd was enough for us, so we adjourned to a German restaurant famous for its beer. Tho place \\ as crowded and was dense with smoke, so that we only gained the beer by our exchango ; but were assured that there would be some fun presently, so we waited. Presently the Pierrots came in, tipping off hats, grimacing at old ladies, smiling and professing ardent love to young and comely ones ; swilling any beer that came handy, screeching horribly through tin horns, under the guidance of a gorgeously dressed individual, who carried a silk banner. This man attracted general attention from his absurd antics and his admirable burlesque acting ; but he riveted mine in particular, because under the mask of rouge and whitening I recognised a rejuvenated edition of—Jackson. They visited every table in succession, offering crackers and confetti, jabbei'in^ the most absurd nonsertse until they reached ours. One of the Perriots coming to me, I beseeched him in the best Italian I could muster to drop Momus for a minute, and to tell me who the leader was. "Oh," said he, " he's an American who lives at the Hotel Danieli — very rich, very rich." "Thanks," I replied. Jackson came prancing and piroueting up to our table, and apparently not observing me, commenced a volly of utter nonsense in most villainous Italian in the ears of my friend. "He's not an Italian, or I'm a Dutchman," said my friend to me in a whisper. "No," said I, aloud, " his name's Jackson, and he lives at Brixton. Look out, or he'll a?k you for the loan of $20 to carry him back to his starving wife and children." Jackson started and dropped his bag of confetti in utter amazement. "Yes," I continued, rising and holding him by the lappel of his embroidered coat, " you're a regular swindler, and I dare say you little expected to find anyone who would recognise you in such' a guise at such a time and place ; and I'm going to be even with you." By this time he had recovered his selfpossession, and, calling his troupe, pointed me out as an English lunatic who was calling him a swindler. This effrontery stirred my blood up, and I rep Bated my accusations in louder tones and with additional epithets. ~ This seemed to rouse some of tho Pierrots, who resented such an attack upon one who, for the time being at least, was one of them, and by their threatening gesticulations and fierce jabberings I saw a row imminent. The people in the restaurant, too, who had hitherto imagined that the whole aftair was part of the evening's entertainment, when they learned the real state of affairs, that a gentlemen Pierrot had been called a swindler and a blackguard by an English stranger, came crowding around, and I believe in another minute we should have been neck and crop out of the room, if not otherwise maltreated, had I not called out at the top of my voice : "Is there any Englishman here who can speak Italian ?" There was silence for a moment, then a gruff voice from a distant corner said : " Yes, I can speak the lingo ; I ain't been here for ten years without larnin' it. What is it, sir ?" I explained to the speaker, who was a big burly fellow, attired as a sailor, how matters stood. " Well, I'm blowed," he said, when I had finished, " that's the werry same chap that did me t' other day — just the Bame story, every bit on't. You're right, sir, and confound the mounseers, says I. Jes' lot me get a hold on him and I'll — " What he would have done did not transpire, for he jumped up from his seat, elbowed his way through the srowd, and made to where Jackson had been standing. But Jackson had gone. The next day I went to the Hotel Danieli. "Does anyone of the name of Jackson, an Englishman, live here?" I asked of the landlord. " No, sir," he replied ; "we have but one guest in the house and his name is Vincent, and he is an American — very rich, sir, very rich." " Is he in the house now ?" I then asked, "for I have some particular business with him." "I'll see, sir, replied the landlord, ringing the bell. "Is the American gentleman at home ?" he asked of the waiter. " No, sir," replied the man ; " he came in about midnight from the carnival, changed his dress, and went away again, saying he would return." I called two or three times during the week, but Jackson, alias Vincent, had not turned up, and the landlord was in despair, as his visitor had not paid his bill for a fortnight. We left shortly after, but I veiy much doubt if Jackson was seen in Venice again. Quite eight years afterward I took my passage one afternoon upon the good steamer Habakkuk E. Dodge, bound from St. Louis to New Orleans. I describe her as " good " because she was so described in the " sheddle" in the hall of the Granite House, St. Louis ; but so far as my subsequent experience

went, sho turned out to be anything but good, although the skipper, a rank Kentuckian, declared that he'd "fixed the voyago between St. Louis and New Orleans in five hours less time than any other boat, he had, and that's a fact." As I stepped on board "I saw another steamer lying alongside the quay, whioh had steam up, and was advertised to start with us ; and tne pilot, with whom I was already friends, guessed there'd be a raco. This was not comforting, for I had read in books of travel and adventures of midnight races between the high-pressure boats of the Mississippi, awd the chief associations in my mind with those ovents were the bursting of boilers, blowings up, conflagrations, and horrible collisions with snags. However, I had taken my ticket, my baggage was aboard, and the presence of two or three hundred other passengers solaced me with the idea that after all these were but travellers' yarns, or people would not travel so frequently by the steamers. Littlo was I acquainted with the recklessness of the American people, whose monopoly of " big things " in catastrophes, as in all else, makes them living exponents of the proverb that "familiarity breeds contempt." We started at midnight, and I was relieved to see that the St. Louis, tho opposition steamer, was still at her moorings, although her smoke-stacks were in full operation and her bell and whistle were going furiously. To retread old ground in tho shape of describing a Mississippi steamboat voyage does not come within the scope of this paper. Suffice it, therefore, to say that we reached Memphis, which is about a third of the way, without mishap, and without having even sighted the smoke of the St. Louis. Off Blues Point, however, somo miles below Memphis, about midnight there was a visible excitement in the neighbourhood of tho glass steering-house, and I, who was the only passenger awake, went up to inquire the reason, " Look thar, sir, astern," said the skipper, pointing with the thumb of his right hand over his shoulder without turning his head. That thars tho St. Louis. Wo oughtor be ten miles ahead of her, but them denied niggers were so powerfully slow in gettin' aboard them molasses at j Memphis." I looked, and behold amid the dense blackness of the night what seemed to be some unearthly fiery creature rounding the point wo had passed some five minutes previously— the two side lights representing the eyes, the glare of her furnace a horrible mouth, and tho distinctly audible beats of her huge paddles simulating her angry pantings to come up with us. " Keppins is spry, and that's a fact, "said the skipper, lighting a huge cigar ; "and I reckon he won't spare an inch of timber to send the St. Louis along, but tho old Hab she's got logs too, and ef Keppins beats us, as he oughter do, considerin' his boat's new and this 'ere has been runnin' five years, it'll be by accident, I'm thinkin'." "Accident !" I thought with a shudder; " that means to say that this reckless fellow is going to send us along at full speed until we either blow up or catch fire" — the latter scorning to bo the most probable to me when I thought that we wore but a huge mass of dry woodwork heaped liko spare fuel upon a seething, fiery furnace. Howcvor, here I was, so I quieted my fears as best I could, and even took sufficient interest in the race to take a quiet bet with the skipper that we would win. Our furnacp roared, our stacks poured forth volumes of smoke and sparks, our huge paddles thrashed the waters until we shook and throbbed as if the boat herself was audibly expressing her interest in the race. " Sec, sir, he's firing up," said the skipper. "Let her have it, boys," he roared down the tube communicating with the engine-room ; "four more revolutions a minute and §5 a head if we w hip her." Our craft , seemed to bound over tho sullen black waters ; the irregular, fantastic outlines of the trees on the banks sped by us like affrighted phantoms ; still tho fiery eyes and mouth of tho St. Louis grow bigger and bigger, and the sound of her pantings more and more distinct. Our skipper was almost beside himself. Cigar after cigar he smoked and threw away ; he pulled his broad hat over his eyes and flopped it back again ; he plunged his hands into his jjockets and withdrew them with a jerk as if they had been stung, all the while muttering execrations and charitable wishes, any single one of which, if it had taken effect, would certainly have sent the St. Louis and all on board of her to the bottom. Suddenly, as the nose of the enemy was within a, steamer's length of our stern in a parallel line about 300 yards away, there was a sharp click at our feet, followed by a rattling of chains. "Steering gear's snapped, sir," roared out a voice from somew here amid the black recesses of our stern. What the skipper said upon reception of this news I need not repeat, but he subsequently roared down the communication tube in a voice of frenzy, " Stop her !" Our paddles stopped, but our way on was considerable, and we drifted ahead for some yarcis ere it was patent that the Habakkufc E. Dodge was out of the race. "Whipped yer this time," was wafted over the water to us from the St. Louis, which was now directly abeam of us. Our skipper had not framed his stinging retort when a sheett of flame leaped into the air from where the St. Louis was, followed by an unearthly" roar, then for a second or two a dead silejpee, then a confused cry of agony from many directions. "Lower^away the boats!" yelled our skipper ; *&nd although this was done smartly eflough theiv progress from our boat to the scene of the disaster was considerably delayed by the frantic exertions of our passengers to get into them, for the fearful roar and the blaze of light had awakened them, and nothing but the absolute exertion of force could make them believe for some minutes that the accident had not happened to us. Horror-struck as I was, I could not resist the temptation of putting out with one of the boats on the errand of mercy. Our darkeys pulled with a will, and although thft scene of the disaster was now wrapped in the blackness of the night, the heartrending cries of the unfortunates still struggling for life in the waters were quite sufficient guides. We had pulled on board perhaps half a dozen men, women, and children, and as our craft was already almost gunwale deep in the water, we were turning her round for the steamer, when a faint voice, almost under where I was pulling, said : "Take us aboard — take us aboard, for pity's sake !" "Ain't g^ot. room," said the coxswain; but I, leaning over, caught hold of the poor fellow's arm, and so dragging him along, we went back as hard as the men could lay oars to water. Jua^ as we arrived at the foot of the aocommodation ladder I felt the hold of the man I had saved relax ; however, I stuck to him with my other hand and he was pulled up with the other poor wretches, some of whom seemed quite dazed and out of their minds at the reality of being saved.

The skipper came below with a lantorn and threw its glare on the face of him I had saved. " Guess he's fixed," ho said. " Poor old Keppins ! him and I hey had many a high old time of it racin' along this ore bit." "Keppins?" I said, as I looked at the face of the dead man. "When I last saw him his name was Jackson." " Mebbo," said tho skipper, "the old cuss was allus a-christenin' of himself, and between me and, you, sir, Koppins and 1 was allus good friends, but ho was a bit of a rogue, and that's a fact." Thus tragically terminated my connootion with Jaokson. —Frank Abell in ' 'Belgravia.' 1