courage. West Nohno 4 long trips to West Africa with a sick
and physically dead chief engineer. I break my leg—he dies—
all hands drunk and criminally neglectful—I take charge with
a useless leg and body filled with fever and bring her home with
credit. Now holding ship for me, also offered post engineer
and dock master’s job at Nigeria—unable however to take either
account this broken leg.
Drink is something that does not bother me—a drink or
two and finish—that is my absolute rule—there have only been
some three times during my life time when I have gone under.
Once at Doc. B’s after coming back from a big party and cele
bration in Newark, poison home made stuff and then at B’s a
glass of absinth on top. I’ve felt more sorry than I can say for
that. Once in France when because I would never carouse
with the gang they doped a bacardi on me, then left me to stagger
on by myself. But though it took near all night I got safely back
to my ship alone. The other time I can’t remember except in a
foggy uncertain way, I’m certain however that there was an
other. That is the extent of drink. I’ve got a bottle of Johnny
Walker, black label, right here in my room—for me it will last
six months or a year. I like however to bring it back to my
friends—think perhaps they might appreciate it.
Now for women—yes—I don’t hate them too much—but not
just any woman and never a bad one. Comparing myself with
a lot of men I know I would certainly draw down the grand halo
for purity etc. etc. etc. No joke.
Now what’s next? Go west. Well we’ll see. I had hopes
of taking a run out there this time being as I simply can’t do
any work anyhow. As to staying out there—I can’t see it—that
is to staying in Chicago. As to running vessels on the Mississippi
—well—
Now please write some more and let’s get at the base trouble
of your wonderful attitude. One thing is sure, I never loaf—
with health and able body I couldn’t—not only on my own part
—but the shipping men who know me wouldn’t let me alone.
I’m wanted. How now for your good for nothing—drunkard
—women master and man of no honor. Pray that I may get a
good leg that I may go some more.
Love and kindest wishes B.O.S.
4
TWO FUGITIVE POEMS (1910)
MARTIN AND KATHERINE
Alone today I mounted that steep hill
On which the Wartburg stands. Here Luther dwelt