Page:Twenty years before the mast - Charles Erskine, 1896.djvu/325

 Screw him, and there he’ll stay, Fire, maringo, fire away; Stow him in his hole below, Fire, maringo, fire away; Say he must, and then he’ll go, Fire, maringo, fire away. In New Orleans they say, Fire, maringo, fire away, That General Jackson’s gained the day, Fire, maringo, fire away!"

I found stowing cotton in a ship’s hold to be the most exhausting labor I had ever performed. We wore nothing but trousers, with a bandana handkerchief tied  over our heads. The hold was a damp, dark place. The thermometer stood at nearly one hundred, not a breath of air stirred, and our bodies were reeking with  perspiration. This was more than my frail body could endure. When I was paid, Saturday evening, with eight silver Spanish dollars for my four days’ labor, I came to  the conclusion that they were the hardest eight dollars  I had ever earned, and that there would be no more  screwing cotton by the day for me.

The following Monday I went to work at painting ships and steamboats for an old Portuguese, by the name  of Desimees, in Algiers, a town situated on the opposite  side of the river. A party of five, one an old shipmate of mine, hired a small shanty and kept bachelor’s hall. We employed an old colored woman as housekeeper. On Saturdays we used to quit work early and go across the river to New Orleans and purchase our weekly supply  of provisions. Although there was a United States mint in the city, there were at this time no cents in