What Saw in the EAST END

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, 1 August 1904, Page 361

What Saw in the EAST END

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jmfflfp HAD been dreaming— ®}wl K dreaming about our Nova *4 ffi. <iP Scotian mate, and the old f/f'V(|^ " Bonita." Things were Ix^^ i n a desperate state, and ust aS we °^ le crew *i|pE were about to rush aft iff*' anc^ over P ower the officers, Wb ""• wo^ e U P> an( i a 7 won " /i dering where in the world I was. How still the ship seemed, we must be at anchor in the Thames, I thought, yet whatever was that dull roar that went on unceasingly, like the sound of breakers on a rock-girt coast ? Wondering still, I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, and it was not until I endeavoured to climb out of my bunk, and met the carpeted floor with a groping foot, that I realised I was ashore in the Sailors' Rest. Then it was all as clear as day, the steady, unbroken roar that filled the air was of course caused by the traffic of the great City. It had filled my ears when I went to bed, and now at three o' clock in the morning it still continued "unabated. Having realised that there was no watch, to keep, and no trick at the wheel to take, I

crawled back into bed with a. sigh of satisfaction to wait for daylight. But there was no more sleep for me after once awakening to a true sense of my position. The very voices of this great Metropolis that I had come so far to see, fascinated me exceedingly, small wonder then that sleep should be effectually banished from my eyes. With the first streaks of daylight, I hastened to my window to take stock of my surroundings. It was not much of a view that met my gaze, but to me it proved most enchanting. Below was the street, where the City lights were already commencing to pale under the growing light of day. All sorts of vehicles were passing back and forth in endless succession, and the cold grey fog that hung thinly over them, gathered and thickened beyond the distant warehouses, where the maze of masts and rigging that towered above the docks loomed indistinctly. My breakfast was a hurried one, not too hurried though to notice the wistful glances of several ragged little urchins, who peered hungrily in at tlie half-closed door that opened on the street. When I stepped

forth to commence my first day in London, I was in a position to take better note of my lodgings. The Sailors' Rest was one of several founded by Lady Ashburton, and stood facing the pavement of Cus-tom-house Street, near the Royal Albert Docks. Almost directly opposite was a railway station, through which trains were running every five minutes, to and from Fenchurch Street in the heart of the City. The pavements were crowded with a motley gathering, consisting, largely of seafaring men, costermongers and dock-hands, and the street itself was a moving panorama of every conceivable kind of vehicle ranging from an ice cream cart to a furniture van. Almost before I had moved a yard from the door, I was accosted by a swarm of ragged little guttersnipes, armed with boot-blacking outfits, who vied with one another to obtain my custom. " Shine, sir ?" " Shine, sir ?" " 'Ere y'ar', sir !" " They do want a lick, Guvnor !" This last appeal from a particularly ragged and starved-looking little fellow was: irresistible, so I surrendered, and placing my foot on his boot-rest, prepared to watch operations. After giving my boots a preliminary brush to take the dirt off, he paused perplexedly and scratched his head. " What's the matter V I queried, wondering what was troubling him. " Blest if I ain't come wivout any water, Guvnor/' he answered, looking up at me in a comical fashion. u But 'old on, I'll manage. Hey, Jimmy," he shouted to another little guttersnipe, who appeared at that moment from somewhere amid the maze of horses feet and vehicles that crowded the street. " Come over 'ere, I want yer." " Wot's up ?" queried Jimmy, sidling down towards us. " Come 'ere an' 'elp spit on the blackin', while I cleans the Guvnor's boots," replied my boot-black, rais--Ing his brushes in anticipation. So Jimmy spat, and work commenced briskly. It was a triumph

of craft, and long before the two became completely dried up by their occupation, my boots were shining like mirrors under their united efforts. ' When they had finished, ] handed my first acquaintance a sixpence in payment, he looked at it, turned it over, looked at it again, and then commenced groping in his pockets with both hands. Then he paused and looked up forlornly. " I ain't got no change, Guvnor," he exclaimed. " Wait till I run over ter the stishun to one ov me pals." I hastened to inform him that I did not want any change, whereupon, apparently unable to believe his own senses at this unexpected windfall, he. gave vent to a low whistle of surprise, and took to his heels, with Jimmy in hot pursuit in hopes of a dividend. It was not until I was informed, later on in the day, that the usual charge for boot-blacking was a penny, that I understood his surprise and sudden disappearance. After this little episode, I resumed my wandering up the street, and had not proceeded far when my attention was attracted by the sounds of music coming from a little, narrow side-alley that turned off at right angles to my course. Upon rounding the corner I saw a sight calculated to make anyone unused to East End ways stare. A short distance up this alley a small group of men, women and children were congregated round two girls dressed in true Coster style, Ostrich feathers in their hats and all. These two had a long skipping rope stretched across the alley which they whirled vigorously to the lively strains of " What, ho ! she bumps \" played upon mouth organs by several other girls who stood at each side of the wielders of the skipping rope. The musicians took it in .'turn to rush in; and skip vigorously, playing away at their mouth organs with all their might meanwhile. It was glorious fun, and the onlookers appeared to enjoy it as much as the actual performers.

I lingered awhile admiring the agility of the frolicsome damsels, and then once more moved on through the crowd seeking fresh adventures. Every few yards brought me something fresh amid the crowds of hurrying people. Here an Italian ice-cream man servingout some awful abomination to a crowd of ragged little urchins. A few yards further on a large pianoorgan was performing vigorously, and a dozen ragged guttersnipes dancing wildly to its music. Scenes of this description were ■common enough throughout the length and breadth of Custom-

house Street and its neighbourhood, and that first day utterly bewildered me with its succession of surprises and experiences. Saturday night is the time to see the East End in its glory. The shops display their various contents lavishly by the aid of liberal illumination. Costermonger' s d onkey -barrows, laden with all manner of tempting merchandise, line the gutters in unbroken array. Every vendor of goods shouts and bawls his wonderful, low prices for high-grade materials, and the fun waxes fast and furious. A familiar cry smote my ear. It

was that of a very fat butcher, who stood with arms folded across his portly chest, shouting : " 'Ere y'ar' for yer prime Noo Zealand mutton !" That butcher always attracted me, he seemed like a friend in a strange land, somehow, and when one day, on passing his Aiop, I discovered several tins labelled " New Zealand Babbit '' iu his window, 1 was completely overcome, and immediately rushed in and bought one, as a pleasing reminder of the many chases I had had after the nimble bunny in far away .Fernland. Posted at all the street corners one generally saw the vendor of whelks, with his hand-cart laden with these delicacies of the briny. " Whelks, sir ? Lor' luv yer, sir, they're prime ones, orl the way from Yarmouth, and a pin, sir, 'ere y'ar', sir ! Whelks ! Whelks ! 'ere y'ar', prime whelks, only a penny a saucer !" So he goes on, and the fashionable young " lidy " of the feathers, her sisters and cousins, and other friends and relations rally round the borrow, and pursue the furtive whelk with eager eyes and pins. Fish shops are frequent in Cus-tom-house Street, and the savoury smell of fried lish assails the nostrils at short intervals. Then there is the sausage and mash shop, with " Sausage and Mash, 2d.," marked on the window, and inside the glass a great steaming dish of this delicacy. That was a bait that never failed to capture me about mid-day, and an excellent dinner it made, too, for those who, like myself, were not too inquisitive about its constituents. Every now and again in the course of my excursions into the mysterious regions of the East End, I came in sight of a crowd gathered upon the pavement. Closer inspection generally revealed a domestic difference in progress of settlement. As often as not the combatants would be women, sadly dilapidatedlooking creatures, dressed in tawdry rags, holding a young hopeful in

tight embrace with one arm and clawing fiercely at each other with the free member. Suggestions for the mutilation of one another werenumerous, and freely given by the spectators. "Go it, Sal ! Scratch 'er adjective eyes out V " Sheain't no class !" " Freeze on to 'er, Liza !" etc., etc., until the advent of a policeman who, generally after a severe bully-ragging from thetwo, clinched matters by leading"

one of them out of range, and advising her to "Go along 'ome, now, an' keep that for yer old man \" Everywhere signs of the deepest poverty and squalor were painfully evident, some of the faces I saw there haunted my dreams for months afterwards. The little donkey-barrows of the Costermongers were always a special delight to me. They were to be found everywhere, and the meek little " Jerusalem mokes " seemed to make light work, of the most im-possible-looking loads. I have often gazed with astonishment upon these:

diminutive little neddies trotting briskly along 1 , dragging a barrow piled up with goods, the driver, evidently considering he was rendering every assistance in his power by sitting on the shaft whistling cheerily, and using his stick liberally. The glimpses frequently obtained among the docks and warehouses of gleaming water, and great brownsailed barges drifting with the tide, struck me as exceedingly picturesque. The sun filtering through the usual haze of smoke and fog, that seems to hang at all times over this portion of the City, gives everything a peculiar dull copper tint, affording beautiful effects in colouring. Not far from my lodgings, a great battleship was in course of construction, and it was wonderful to watch the rate at which the building of the vessel was conducted. Towering high above the surrounding buildings, and encircled by a maze of scaffolding 1 , she made an impressive picture. The din from the building-yards was deafening at close quarters, and all day long the work was carried on without a break. A sight that I am afraid would give many of our prohibitionists a severe shock, were they able to see it, was that of the crowds of lyoung women of the Coster fraternity , who throng the bars of the publichouses, taking their beer with the utmost nonchalance. It is a common sight to see a crowd of diminutive boys and girls returning from the public-houses carrying large jugs of beer for the home supply. Any attempt to carry prohibition in the East End of London, would, I believe, result in consequences on a par with the great French Revolution. There was one cry that puzzled me exceedingly during my first week ashore in London, until one morning, happening to 'be out a little earlier than usual, I discovered the author of it. It turned out to be the war cry of the cat's meat man, an old, wrinkled-faced Coster,

whose "Mee-eat, mee-eat \" '"Ere y'-ar', Cat's Mee-eat !" brought every cat within hearing to the spot as if by magic. When I met him he was serving out scraps of meat to different customers, amid a perfect chorus of cater waulings from his feline friends, who clustered thickly round the legs of his barrow. Prompted by feelings of friendly compassion for the hungry swarms, 1 drew a. half -penny from my pocket, purchased a bunch and threw it down amongst them. The gory scrimmage that followed my mistaken philanthrophy caused infinite diversion to the spectators, and a temporary suspension of business to the old Coster, who was not slow to vent his annoyance in his own peculiar phraseology. One day, while wandering further afield than usual, 1 found myself on the borders of Epping Forest. It happened to be a public holiday, and upon alighting from the tram, I found a crowd of Costermongers with their sweethearts, wives and families, out for a " beano/' their equivalent to a picnic. Although still early in the day the fun was uproarious. Concertinas were being played for all they were worth, and the 'Arries and 'Arriets were engaged in every description of giddy pastime with the utmost abandon. On one side the amorous game of " Kiss-in-the-ring " was indulged in with the wildest enthusiasm. A little further on a number of youths, less amenable to feminine attractions, attired in full Coster uniform, pearly buttons and all, were trying their luck at cocoanut shies. The most attractive part of this sport was that, besides the usual cocoanuts on sticks, there was a man in a barrel, wearing a tall hat, who kept bobbing up his head like a disappearing target. The sticks rattled right merrily against the stav.es of the barrel, and once or twice, amid roars of laughter, the top-hat would be sent spinning by some well-aimed blow. Several Coster girls were running round with large bunches of peacock's tail

feathers for sale at a penny each. " 'Ere y'ar' for yer lidy's ticklers!" was their cry, and they did a good trade. Armed with these feathers, the amorous 'Arries dodged about among 1 the Lizas and the 'Arriets, tickling 1 them under the ear, to a chorus of, " Garn now, will yer \" " Wot yer pl'ym' at ?" etc., from these beauties. Never before had I seen such uproarious fun at any outing. I had witnessed the amount of merriment the Coster fraternity get out of their sordid lives in their native slums, but certainly did not imagine it possible that it could be so far exceeded when they foregathered under the greenwood tree. Perhaps the most interesting part of the day's proceedings, to a spectator, was when they harnessed up the Jerusalem mokes to the Coster barrows, and climbing aboard, set out on their return journey. With arms round one another's necks, and, concertinas playing merrily, the cavalcade started off. 'Arry wore Liza's hat with its bunches of ostrich feathers, and Liza in turn perched 'Arry's cap jauntily upon one side of her head, and his clay pipe in her mouth. So they rattled off towards the crowded City, supremely happy, leaving 'behind them the green grass and the cool shade of the spreading oaks, for another sojourn in the squalor and dirt of the East End slums. A thing that struck me particularly during the summer months in the City was the abundance and cheapness of fruit. Donkey-barrows full of strawberries and cherries were to be found everywhere, and all the fruit shops displayed a perfect wealth of these and other fruits. The vendors of summer drinks were numerous, and the quality of their liquids of a varied character. The most common, of course, was the ice-cream man, generally a swarthy Italiano, who lined up his white painted barrow with its fancy sunshade, alongside the gutter at various points of vantage. Here he plied his nefarious trade, surround-

ed at all times by a small crowd of ragged urchins, thirsting for a taste of the mystery that his barrow contained. Sarsaparilla formed another popular beverage, and handbarrows laden with great cans of this were generally to be found at the entrance to the railway stations and docks. One scorching hot day in midsummer, and it can be hot in London, too, I tried ice-creams in an ill-advised attempt to quench my thirst. The more 1 took the more I wanted, and the temptation was ever before me. The result was a severe attack of cramp and a rush to the nearest chemist to obtain relief. He was a stern, heavy-brow-ed, unbelieving sort of man, with strong temperance proclivities. He listened patiently to my relation of the cause of my trouble, but did not believe a word of it, for as he gave me a mixture, he uttered in dolorous tones the warning words : "It's the old story ; that cursed drink demon is the ruination of so many promising young men. The best thing you can do is " I swallow Ted the stuff and fled. It was doubtless made strong enough to counteract the effects of other indulgences,, and proved quite equal to a wrestle with ice-cream. The East End Music Halls were new experiences to me. The Paragon, one of the latest, is a gorgeous place. Here one may see almost any evening, such notabilities as Dan Leno, Little Tich, Marie Lloyd, and many of the other leadingstars of London Comedy. One striking feature of the Paragon, as in fact of most of the Music Halls, is the long bar, taking up one side of the building, where drinks and other refreshments are served out during the intervals. Thus, instead of the mad scramble, resembling nothing so much as a football scrimmage, which takes place during the interval in our Colonial theatres, there is a quiet, orderly movement by those who seek refreshment to to the bar, where after partaking of a " four 'alf " and a smoke, the

thirsty ones return quietly to their seats as the curtain rises on a new turn. The Eoyal Albert Docks were a favourite haunt of mine, and I never tired of strolling among the crowd of shipping that they at all times contained, Great P. and 0. boats with their swarming Lascar crews, Blue Anchor line steamers, Messageries Maritime liners, huge American grain steamers, Turret steamers from the Mediterranean, and our

•own well-known New Zealand Shipping Co., ShawSavill, and Tyser Line steamers, formed but a few of the many vessels of every conceivable nationality that packed several miles of docking. Here the Thames bargee, one of London's most fluent and striking personalities, is particularly in evidence. He sails his barge when there is breeze enough, ander a great, brown spritsail, square-head-ed topsail, and jib. If anything

gets in the way, lie runs into it, following up. his attack with a marvellous display of language of the most lurid character. If the vessel he runs into happens to be another barge, then his epithets are returned with interest,, and in a manner that is highly diverting to an onlooker. One old 'bargee, whom I found seated on the rail of his barge, enjoying his evening pipe, informed me during the course of a conversation, that " His farver had had a barge before him ; his two bruvvers both had barges, and his boy was agoin' to sail the barge after 'im." From which I concluded that the bargee, like the poet, is born and not made. Ratcliffe Highway, so much talked of and sung about by sailormen, I passed through almost daily. Although " Jack Ashore " may be met with in almost any part of the East End, it is here that his class most do congregate. It is here that the skipper can always pick up a likely crew, when hard set for A.B/s, which is seldom the case now that the foreign element is so cheap and plentiful in our Mercantile Marine. The good, old palmy days of Ratcliffe Highway have departed forever — the times when press-gangs raided its seafaring haunts, and carried off tough and brawny mariners, wearing short, wellgreased pigtails, with a crack on the skull to keep them quiet. Now-a-days, however, Jack, as often as not in a sadly dissolute condition, staggers about arm in arm with Sal or Liza in a blissful state of immunity from any interference with his enjoyment. When his money is spent he goes down to the sea again to begin once more the old life of strenuous toil and hardship, doing work that the hardest worked man ashore would look upon as impossible, work that requires a strong arm and a stout heart, and all for the sake of a few pounds to earn him yet another spree when the good ship, with bursting canvas, heads home once more for London town.