And
so at the age of twenty-two, being then a worthless vagabond, I was
aboard a three-masted schooner working my way from Australia to England
as a common sailor. That was during the year of 1881.
CHAPTER II
Phrenologists after studying the bumps on my head have invariably told
me that I lacked diplomacy. This, as I understand it, simply means an
incapability of acting the hypocrite. And it does seem under the present
system of human existence, that he who fails to practice hypocrisy finds
innumerable obstacles to overcome, which otherwise might be avoided. So,
lacking in this virtue, as diplomacy is sometimes styled, led me into
trouble with nearly everybody with whom I had any dealings. Indeed, had
it not been for this very defect in my nature, I should not have been
forced to pass through the most remarkable life, I think, ever
experienced by living man. And so the ship had barely passed out of the
harbor before I had undiplomatically aroused the enmity of all the other
seamen, and within two weeks I was thoroughly detested by every man
aboard from the captain to the cook. The crew was composed of an
unusually tough set of characters who avowed from the beginning that
they did not like Yankees and would make life insufferable for me before
reaching the next port. Fist fights became frequent and each one of the
sailors took a "punch at my head" at different times, only to learn that
I enjoyed that kind of sport and retaliated in a way that laid the
offender up for repairs afterward.
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