At eight-thirty, more men with tickets were admitted, and by nine the little gate was opened to us.We crushed through somehow, and found ourselves packed in a courtyard like sardines.On more occasions than one, as a Yankee tramp in Yankeeland, I have had to work for my breakfast; but for no breakfast did I ever work so hard as for this one.For over two hours I had waited outside, and for over another hour I waited in this packed courtyard.I had had nothing to eat all night, and I was weak and faint, while the smell.of the soiled clothes and unwashed bodies, steaming from pent animal heat, and blocked solidly about me, nearly turned my stomach.So tightly were we packed, that a number of the men took advantage of the opportunity and went soundly asleep standing up.
Now, about the Salvation Army in general I know nothing, and whatever criticism I shall make here is of that particular portion of the Salvation Army which does business on Blackfriars Road near the Surrey Theatre.In the first place, this forcing of men who have been up all night to stand on their feet for hours longer, is as cruel as it is needless.We were weak, famished, and exhausted from our night's hardship and lack of sleep, and yet there we stood, and stood, and stood, without rhyme or reason.
Sailors were very plentiful in this crowd.It seemed to me that one man in four was looking for a ship, and I found at least a dozen of them to be American sailors.In accounting for their being 'on the beach,' I received the same story from each and all, and from my knowledge of sea affairs this story rang true.English ships sign their sailors for the voyage which means the round trip, sometimes lasting as long as three years; and they cannot sign off and receive their discharges until they reach the home port, which is England.
Their wages are low, their food is bad, and their treatment worse.