He was called Christian George
King, and was fonder of all hands than anybody else was. Now, I confess,
for myself, that on that first day, if I had been captain of the
Christopher Columbus, instead of private in the Royal Marines, I should
have kicked Christian George King--who was no more a Christian than he
was a King or a George--over the side, without exactly knowing why,
except that it was the right thing to do.
But, I must likewise confess, that I was not in a particularly pleasant
humour, when I stood under arms that morning, aboard the Christopher
Columbus in the harbour of the Island of Silver-Store. I had had a hard
life, and the life of the English on the Island seemed too easy and too
gay to please me. "Here you are," I thought to myself, "good scholars
and good livers; able to read what you like, able to write what you like,
able to eat and drink what you like, and spend what you like, and do what
you like; and much _you_ care for a poor, ignorant Private in the Royal
Marines! Yet it's hard, too, I think, that you should have all the half-
pence, and I all the kicks; you all the smooth, and I all the rough; you
all the oil, and I all the vinegar." It was as envious a thing to think
as might be, let alone its being nonsensical; but, I thought it.
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