The S.S. Glory

Somebody was playing a mouth-organ in the midst of a group of "hard cases" that waited on a certain wharf at Montreal. You who arrive there in spick and span passenger steamers can pick out the place from the promenade decks as you come alongside, for on the shed roofs is painted, with waterproof paint, "The Saint Lawrence Shipping and Transport Co., Ltd."

At the gable of these sheds the Hard Cases waited, alert for anybody of importance coming from citywards. But they did not forget that the important person might be already in the sheds. Therefore, as they strolled a step or two forth and back, or double-shuffled in response to the mouth organ, they cast glances now and then into the shed, between the lattice-work of a barrier at its end, a barrier that continued the slope of the roof to the wharf-side and about a foot beyond. A determined man could have clambered round it at the projecting part, or over it for that matter—although it looked fragile at the top as well as showing many prominent nails. But no one did clamber over it, or round it even. In America there is a sneaking regard for the man who climbs over, or crawls round, barricades; but it was hardly likely that any of the Hard Cases, who waited for a job outside the barrier, would have obtained that job at the end of such gymnastics. These men were not hoboes, tramps, sundowners, beachcombers, though there was not a handkerchief-full of luggage in the crowd. They were cattlemen, who lead a life more hard and uncertain than that of sparrows, crossing and recrossing the great, grey Atlantic, with Liverpool for their British port; and, for their American ports, Montreal, Halifax, Boston.