The white (negative) version of The Sail is intended for dark backgrounds. If The Sail cannot be reproduced in color, use the black, white, or aluminium (CMYK) version. Never convert the dark blue sail to grayscale.
The Black Pete character, often played by adults wearing blackface makeup, has sparked a decade of demonstrations and counter-demonstrations in the Netherlands by protesters who consider him a racist caricature and supporters who insist he is a harmless children's character.
Among others, I remember, was a little brig from the Coast of Guinea. In appearance, she was the ideal of a slaver; low, black, clipper-built about the bows, and her decks in a state of most piratical disorder.
MESSRS. TINKER, TAILOR, arid CANDLESTICK- MAKER, respected brother toilersand gainers of bread by the sweat of your manly brow, to as many of you who, ona fair and sunshiny Saturday afternoon, standing in the proud and enviableposition of men who have just concluded another of many satisfactory weeks'work, and have got the wages snugly buttoned in your breeches pocket to proveit, and who having deliberately argued the matter, have arrived at the sensibleconclusion that a bit of a holiday is now your due, and that you mean"going in for it," this paper is in all good fellowship dedicated. About the holiday! What is to be the extent of it, and whereare you going to enjoy it? Is it your intention to join the party that haschartered the greengrocer s pleasure-van with the blue silk curtains and thepair of grays and piebald leader, which starts to-morrow (Sunday) morning ateleven o'clock precisely, from the "Three Cows," its destination beingEpping Forest? Are you for boating it on the Lea, or for steaming to Greenwich,to disport in the park there and invest ninepence in tea with shrimps on thesummit of One-Tree Hill? Are you bent on a day's jaunt with the missus inWiggins' shaycart, along with Mr. and Mrs. W.? or shall Citizen Z. and aPutney tea-gardens partake of your patronage? Maybe there are many worse waysthan either of those mentioned of spend-[-296-]inga holiday certainly there is at least one way that is both better and cheaper. It must be observed, however, that this better and cheaperway demands the sacrifice of Monday as well as Sunday. "Then that,"I think I hear Mr. Candlestickmaker exclaim, "that settles the business. Itis pull enough out of a man's bit of savings to spend a dozen or fifteenshillings on a Sunday, and it can't be done cheaper, if you only take the missusand the baby, go the cheapest way to work ; but when it comes to wasting Monday,to say nothing of the extra spending, why, it can't be done. It may be all verywell for chaps that can afford it - single chaps who carry all their cares andresponsibilities under their hat, or for snobs who never on any account work onMonday ; but with a respectable mechanic like myself it is different. I'm asober man, and stick to my work, and if I for once in a while let the rope fallslack on a Sunday, I'll bet a penny that you find me hauling at it precious soonnext morning towards fetching it all right and taut again. I'm bound to do it Ishould very soon find my affairs in a tangle if I did not." All very nice and proper, Mr. C., a very noble sentiment, andone in which Betsy your wife coincides. But did you never find - this betweenourselves, of course - did you never find in footing it along the rigid linewhich, in your bumptious self-reliance, you chalk out for yourself, that youhave obliterated the chalk mark to such an extent as to make it difficult torecover your way, when having gone the length of your before-hand measuredtether you turn about for your starting-point? Did it never happen to you thatwhen Wiggins, who is a fat and good-humoured man, and never such jolly companyas when he is mellow, observed, "Come, let us have another sixpen'orthround before the ostler puts the mare in the shay ; we don't kill a pig everyday, Mr. Candlestick- maker" - did it never happen, I ask, that you havebeen led to consent solely out of your excellent opinion of yourself as a [-297-]man utterly incapable of porcine slaughter for as many even as two daysconsecutively, and who consequently for the time being can afford to actgenerously towards himself, and that you have had that other glass of grog - ay,and another after that, just to keep the cold out, for by this time it is latein the evening, and chilly driving through the green lanes? Don't be ashamed toown to the weakness, Mr. C. ; there is really very little sin in it. It is oneof common perpetration. I can answer for myself, at all events. I am not of yourguild, but I, as well as yourself, know a Wiggins, and have yielded to thepleasant villain's seduction many a time, and am still on the friendliest termswith him. But there is this difference between us, Mr. Candlestick-maker. After an evening with Wiggins, for the life of me I cannot rise with thelark next morning. I am full of yawns and gapes, and have an ache in my head,and an unpleasant sensation at the pit of my stomach, and want of all things tolie still yet a while. But you are all right, Mr. C., or rather you would be,only that those detestable shrimps you had yesterday at tea at Greenwich, or thenasty smell of the river as you were coming home from Putney, or the disgustingindisposition of Mrs. Swigger in the greengrocer's pleasure-van during thehomeward journey; or the damp grass on which you injudiciously sat down inEpping Forest, has quite upset you and on waking at half-past five am., verylittle reflection convinces you that rather than carry such a sorry-looking faceamongst your shopmates you had better lose a "quarter" and "pullyourself together a bit." And very much refreshed are you for that extrahour's sleep and that cup of tea of extra strength, and quite chirp and cheerfulyou set out for the shop after breakfast. But as ill-luck has it, just as youare turning the corner - thinking of nothing in the world but the day's workbefore you-whom do you ran against but Mr. Tinker and Mr. Tailor, who were yourcompanions of yesterday, and [-298-] who strangelyenough find themselves unaccountably " upset" as you were, so much soindeed that they began to grow alarmed, and when you encountered them they wereon the way to your house to inquire if you likewise were a sufferer. Such tendersolicitude must not pass unrecognized, especially as the "ThreeCrows," the house from which the van started, is close at hand, and thebest beer in the neighbourhood is drawn at the "Three Crows," and atthe rear of that hostel there is a good dry skittle-ground. And there goes yourMonday, Mr. C., and there go several more shillings than you would care to tellBetsy of, when, still a little unsteady from the effect of those perniciousGreenwich shrimps, you return home at 11 pm. with a peace-offering in a littlebottle in your pocket. I won't inquire the number of shillings invested at the"Crows" or the gross amount of them and the twelve or fifteenshillings spent on Sunday. I will guarantee that together they will make a sumsufficient, or very nearly, to defray the expenses of the holiday that Irecommend. So put the money in your pocket and follow me, and I will show yousuch value for it as shall satisfy you, or you are indeed hard to please. You shall start from London Bridge, Betsy, and the baby, andyourself, while it is yet early in the fair and sunny Saturday afternoon - (youknock off at two o'clock, please to recollect) and taking train, shall enjoy,through two hours and a quarter, a swift and healthful journey through a lovelycountry of pasture, and hops, and growing grain, finally alighting in one of theprettiest and quaintest, and cleanest sea towns in the kingdom. Whilst yet inthe railway carriage, and distant a mile of your destination, you shall knowthat you are approaching the sea by reason of its soft breezes coming out towelcome you, and leaving the flavour of their kisses on your lips; and steppingout at the station you will be at once for rushing down to the beach. This,however, would not be fair towards Betsy, who finds baby a tremendous drag atordinary times, and now that its infantine [-299-] appetitehas been invigorated by the keen country air, its mother's distress must besomething considerable. Besides, you have a lodging as well as a tea to seek.And with little or no trouble you shall find both - a tea ten times nicer andquite as cheap as can be procured at a close unclean London coffee- shop, and abed the hangings and sheeting of which, on account of their snowiness, makeBetsy hold her breath in awe and admiration. After tea there yet remain to Saturday three fair hours ofdaylight. Then you shall fill your pipe and accompanied by your wife, go down toone of the most wonderful beaches to be found round the British coasts. This ifthe tide is out. If it is not you shall find delightful seats so close to theocean that you may kick a stone into it, and there you may sit with the eveningsun sparkling on the watery wilderness before you and on the few-and-far-betweenwhite sails of the yachts and black sails of the fishing-boats, and on the waveslooking like white sea horses with their ample snowy manes all blown a-tangleracing for the shore; meanwhile you calmly smoke your pipe, and discourse toBetsy of the azure main and as many of its wonders as you are cognizant of. Let us hope that the tide is out, however - far out, for thenyou shall see something that shall astonish you. You shall see protrudingthrough the brown, fast-set sand, gnarled roots and mighty boles of treessnapped off short as you could snap a tobacco-pipe, and when you see this yousee all that remains of what was once a great green forest skirting the sea; butone night, three hundred years ago and more, there arose a mighty tempest, andthe sea put out its giant arms, and bursting its old boundary, captured the landon which the forest stood, and dredged it of its trees and shaped it to suit itswill, and from that time to this would never let it go. And you shall walk a little farther along the brown sandssoft as any carpet, and presently you shall come on a broad space of [-300-]heaped-up stones, each of a ton weight at least, and skirting the stonesshort butts of timber worn sharp as needles through constant wave-washing. Andwhen you see this you see all that remains of a magnificent pier (the second orthird) constructed at a vast expense by good Queen Elizabeth, and great was thepride and rejoicing of the townsmen. "But behold when men were most secure,and thought the worke to be perpetual, on All Saints' Day, in 1597, appeared themighty force of God, who with the finger of His hand, at one great and exceedinghigh spring tyde, with a south-east wind, overthrew the huge worke in less thanan hower to the great terror and abasement of all beholders." Walk still farther along this wonderful beach for thedistance of about a mile, and you shall come on another marvel. Bedded in thebrown sand there is a ship that foundered there a hundred years ago. You maycount her ribs jutting out here and there like old teeth, and thereby tell hershape and length. It is only her upper works that have gone to decay; locked inthe sea bed her under decks and her hold are sound enough, as was proved scarceforty years since, when a party of adventurers, taking advantage of anuncommonly low tide, set manfully to work to dig the sand out of her. They dugdown as far as the old ship's bows and fished out a barrel of knives and someother trifles, but the sea would stand no further trifling with her lawfultreasure, and rising up with a will drove the daring landsmen off, and somehowsince that time the experiment has not been renewed. There is a fortune for you,Mr. C., if you can hit on a means of raising that old Dutch ship; her hold isknown to be full of sheet copper! By the time you have explored this last wonder, and smokedout a pipe sitting on one of the buried ship's ribs, the tide will be rising,and you had better turn your face lodging-ward, or you will find no time to play"ducks and drakes," to which sport of your boyhood you will beirresistibly enticed by the [-301-] thousands ofhandy little flat stones lying about the shore. The windows of the house whereyou are to lodge shall overlook the sea, and until deep dusk, in happier chatwith Betsy than you recollect for many a day, and with a brown jug of simpleale, you shall there sit. Now you shall discover another odd fact in connectionwith this holiday. Dusk shall find you sleepy and inclined for bed. It isSaturday night, and were you in London bed would be out of the question for twohours to come at least, but here you shall have retired and be soundly andhealthily asleep long before half-past ten of the clock. Your artificialCockneyfied habits will not avail you in these parts. Nature has the great seato look after, and cannot waste time pottering over you, and making as regardsroosting, one law for you and another for cocks and hens. You shall rise early next morning, which is Sunday morning,and while Betsy is busy over her own and baby's toilet, if you take my adviceyou will stroll down to the beach, and at the price of a couple of pots of beeravail yourself of one of the greatest luxuries in life - a sea bath. Then backto the enjoyment of a jolly country breakfast. Then for as delightful a walk ascan be imagined - field, forest, flowers, fruit, and sea all combining to makethe scenery perfect. Then, if you have a mind to church; to a lovely old church,tiny as a barn, and shapeless under its ivy mantle. Or if you choose you shallinstead climb a huge cliff 400 feet high, and ramble over the ruins of one ofthe very oldest of English castles, so old that nobody knows who built it. It isa poor old tottering wreck now, and looks as though it was under considerableobligation to the green climbers whose tough limbs bind about its gray stones;but once, a thousand years ago about, it was a tremendous place, with a greatarmy within its walls to resist the landing of any of Britain's foes that mightdesign to attack us by way of the sea. Times are altered since then. Admissionto the castle cost William Rufus the flower of his army; now you may get in for [-302-] 3d., and in place of the whiz of cross-bolts the invader hearsnothing more harmful than the popping of the corks of ginger-beer, which potentbeverage is retailed by the old lady who keeps the gate at the rate of 2d. perbottle. Home to dinner, afterwards sauntering on the beach. Home to tea,afterwards sauntering on the beach, sitting about, lying about, picking upshells, hunting for star fish, for mussels, for whelks-anything till bed-time. "And up in the morning, once more to walk, sit, andlounge upon the beach, I suppose," says Mr. Candlestickmaker, with theleast bit of a sneer disfiguring his manly countenance. Not exactly, Mr. C. Ifthat were all I had to offer you I should not have been so pressing in myinvitation for you to prolong your holiday till Monday. No ; the best part ofall is in store for you. Be up betimes, and you shall see the fishermen comehome in their black boats and be witness to the sale of their night's catch. Itis a strange sight for a Cockney who never saw fish except in a dish at home, orat the fishmonger's, or any other sort of fisherman but he of the rod and lineat the New River's brink expending fourpen'orth of bait for a ha'porth ofgudgeon. Our fisherman himself is a being worth the journey to behold.He is a brown being-rusty, ruddy brown. His smock is of that colour, as are hisheavy, baggy blanket trousers, and his great hairy hands and his long,odd-looking, weather-beaten face his very hair is rusty, and his brown tarpaulinsou'-wester seems to have ripened in the sun like a pear. He is a slow man -slow of gait, slow of speech and deliberate, and meditative in his puffing outof tobacco smoke. His eyes have a solemn look about them as those of a man grownused to constantly impending peril and past fear of it. But he can be brisk enough when briskness is required, as youshall witness, if you rise betimes and watch him manoeuvring his boat to thebeach to get the first of the market. By his [-303-] boatI mean the row boat that attends his smack. There are twenty such smacksstanding off the shore, and the business of each is to land its catch with allspeed, so as to secure a good sale. From the smacks the fish is brought to thebeach in baskets in the row boats, and then turned out in heaps-plaice,flounders, mackerel, eels, anything the sea may have yielded. The buyers for thetown and for the London markets gather round the heaps, and the auctioneer ispresent. He is not a spruce, black-coated auctioneer like his brother of London,but a brown man like a fisherman, and dressed as such. He does not go about hisbusiness like a London auctioneer, but backwards. There are no biddings.Standing by a heap of fish on the shingle, cries the auctioneer, "Who'llgive ten shillin' for this lot of plaice? Who'll give nine shillin'? Eight andsix? Eight? Seven and six ?" "Snaps!" somebody shouts, and thatsomebody is the buyer. ("Snaps" is the magic word that clinches everybargain.) And so with all the heaps, one after another, and in an hour's timeyou may meet the fishwives, and even the fishers themselves, in all parts of thetown bawling their dabs, and their soles and their mackerel; which they carry intubs or baskets, slung to a yoke, after the fashion of London milkmen. You, however, must not go home empty handed to breakfast, Mr.C- you must buy of the catchers a brace of fine mackerel bright from the briny,and have them instantly split and grilled with a little butter and pepper andsalt. The worst of the treat is that your appetite for London mackerel is spoiltfor ever afterwards. After breakfast- But exigency and space forbid. Afterbreakfast you must find your way about without my guidance, Mr. Candlestickmaker.I am allowed but one more line, and that I will devote to giving you the name ofthe wonderful place in question - it is Hastings. 2b1af7f3a8