I was recently walking on a beach, which reminded me that “beach-comber” is a word defined in Agatha Annotated. Christie uses it to describe a character in the short story “The Adventure of the Egyptian Tomb,” and today’s readers may not be familiar with the history of the term.
In “The Adventure of the Egyptian Tomb,” Poirot and Hastings investigate a series of unexplained deaths that seem to be connected to an archaeological excavation. One of the deaths is that of Rupert Bleibner, a nephew of the man financing the dig. Christie writes:
Young Rupert Bleibner had been in low water for several years. He had been a beach-comber and a remittance man in several South Sea islands, but had returned to New York two years ago, where he had rapidly sunk lower and lower.
“Remittance man” is also in the glossary. The two terms gave 1920s readers a good idea of the kind of man Rupert was – and it’s not complimentary. “Remit” is derived from a Latin word meaning “to send.” In this case, it means to send money.
Occasionally, a wealthy Victorian family might realize that one of their young men was not satisfactory. He might be drinking and gambling too much or not applying himself to his studies. To help him shape up, they might ship him out to the colonies, sending a regular allowance (or remittance) for financial support. The hope was that their young man would learn a new profession and straighten out, but if that didn’t work, at least he was no longer in England, embarrassing the family.
Beach-combers were from a different social hierarchy. They tended to be out-of-work sailors trying to make ends meet. Often, these men were marooned in far-flung locations due to their ship sinking, but they might also have jumped ship on purpose. They would fish for food, and perhaps pick up useful bits on the shore, living on the fringe while trying to ingratiate themselves with the local population.
The more “native” a sailor became, the less English society trusted him, and the term “beach-comber” not only suggested a disreputable drifter, but possibly even a criminal. 1920s readers of “The Adventure of the Egyptian Tomb” would understand that, rather than some romantic figure communing with nature, Rupert was considered a degenerate.
The 1840 book Two Years Before the Mast by Richard Henry Dana, Jr. seems to be the first published use of the phrase “beach-comber,” and Dana uses it in two different ways. The first describes a long, rolling wave:
…they gave a shout, taking advantage of a great comber which came swelling in, rearing its head, and lifting up the stern of our boat nearly perpendicular.
Later, he uses the term to describe himself after his ship has sailed away, leaving him and a couple of other men behind to prepare the cargo they will be transporting:
In the twinkling of an eye, I was transformed from a sailor into a "beach-comber" and a hide-curer; yet the novelty and the comparative independence of the life were not unpleasant.
That Dana considered “beach-comber” to be a disgrace is underscored in a later edition of the book. He retraced his first journey years later and wrote:
Why should I care for them,—poor Kanakas and sailors, the refuse of civilization, the outlaws and beach-combers of the Pacific!
The connotation of “beach-comber” certainly has mellowed over the last hundred years! Young Rupert Bleibner may have been a ne’er-do-well, but I don’t consider myself “the refuse of civilization.” Even though I have spent many an hour combing a beach for pretty shells, sand dollars, and sharks’ teeth – and plan to do it again soon!