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diff --git a/11187-0.txt b/11187-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c97bb9a --- /dev/null +++ b/11187-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,460 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11187 *** + +CAPTAINS ALL + +By W.W. Jacobs + + + +THE FOUR PIGEONS + +[Illustration: "The Four Pigeons."] + +The old man took up his mug and shifted along the bench until he was in +the shade of the elms that stood before the _Cauliflower_. The action also +had the advantage of bringing him opposite the two strangers who were +refreshing themselves after the toils of a long walk in the sun. + +"My hearing ain't wot it used to be," he said, tremulously. "When you +asked me to have a mug o' ale I 'ardly heard you; and if you was to ask +me to 'ave another, I mightn't hear you at all." + +One of the men nodded. + +"Not over there," piped the old man. "That's why I come over here," he +added, after a pause. "It 'ud be rude like to take no notice; if you was +to ask me." + +He looked round as the landlord approached, and pushed his mug gently in +his direction. The landlord, obeying a nod from the second stranger, +filled it. + +"It puts life into me," said the old man, raising it to his lips and +bowing. "It makes me talk." + +"Time we were moving, Jack," said the first traveller. The second, +assenting to this as an abstract proposition, expressed, however, a +determination to finish his pipe first. + +I heard you saying something about shooting, continued the old man, and +that reminds me of some shooting we 'ad here once in Claybury. We've +always 'ad a lot o' game in these parts, and if it wasn't for a low, +poaching fellow named Bob Pretty--Claybury's disgrace I call 'im--we'd +'ave a lot more. + +It happened in this way. Squire Rockett was going abroad to foreign +parts for a year, and he let the Hall to a gentleman from London named +Sutton. A real gentleman 'e was, open-'anded and free, and just about +October he 'ad a lot of 'is friends come down from London to 'elp 'im +kill the pheasants. + +The first day they frightened more than they killed, but they enjoyed +theirselves all right until one gentleman, who 'adn't shot a single thing +all day, shot pore Bill Chambers wot was beating with about a dozen more. + +Bill got most of it in the shoulder and a little in the cheek, but the +row he see fit to make you'd ha' thought he'd been killed. He laid on +the ground groaning with 'is eyes shut, and everybody thought 'e was +dying till Henery Walker stooped down and asked 'im whether 'e was hurt. + +It took four men to carry Bill 'ome, and he was that particular you +wouldn't believe. They 'ad to talk in whispers, and when Peter Gubbins +forgot 'imself and began to whistle he asked him where his 'art was. +When they walked fast he said they jolted 'im, and when they walked slow +'e asked 'em whether they'd gone to sleep or wot. + +Bill was in bed for nearly a week, but the gentleman was very nice about +it and said that it was his fault. He was a very pleasant-spoken +gentleman, and, arter sending Dr. Green to him and saying he'd pay the +bill, 'e gave Bill Chambers ten pounds to make up for 'is sufferings. + +Bill 'ad intended to lay up for another week, and the doctor, wot 'ad +been calling twice a day, said he wouldn't be responsible for 'is life if +he didn't; but the ten pounds was too much for 'im, and one evening, just +a week arter the accident, he turned up at this _Cauliflower_ public-'ouse +and began to spend 'is money. + +His face was bandaged up, and when 'e come in he walked feeble-like and +spoke in a faint sort o' voice. Smith, the landlord, got 'im a +easy-chair and a couple of pillers out o' the parlour, and Bill sat there +like a king, telling us all his sufferings and wot it felt like to be +shot. + +I always have said wot a good thing beer is, and it done Bill more good +than doctor's medicine. When he came in he could 'ardly crawl, and at +nine o'clock 'e was out of the easy-chair and dancing on the table as +well as possible. He smashed three mugs and upset about two pints o' +beer, but he just put his 'and in his pocket and paid for 'em without a +word. + +"There's plenty more where that came from," he ses, pulling out a handful +o' money. + +Peter Gubbins looked at it, 'ardly able to speak. "It's worth while +being shot to 'ave all that money," he ses, at last. + +"Don't you worry yourself, Peter," ses Bob Pretty; "there's plenty more +of you as'll be shot afore them gentlemen at the Hall 'as finished. +Bill's the fust, but 'e won't be the last--not by a long chalk." + +"They're more careful now," ses Dicky Weed, the tailor. + +"All right; 'ave it your own way," ses Bob, nasty-like. "I don't know +much about shooting, being on'y a pore labourin' man. All I know is I +shouldn't like to go beating for them. I'm too fond o' my wife and +family." + +"There won't be no more shot," ses Sam Jones. + +"We're too careful," ses Peter Gubbins. + +"Bob Pretty don't know everything," ses Dicky Weed. + +"I'll bet you what you like there'll be some more of you shot," ses Bob +Pretty, in a temper. "Now, then." + +"'Ow much'll you bet, Bob," ses Sam Jones, with a wink at the others. +"I can see you winking, Sam Jones," ses Bob Pretty, "but I'll do more +than bet. The last bet I won is still owing to me. Now, look 'ere; I'll +pay you sixpence a week all the time you're beating if you promise to +give me arf of wot you get if you're shot. I can't say fairer than +that." + +"Will you give me sixpence a week, too?" ses Henery Walker, jumping up. + +"I will," ses Bob; "and anybody else that likes. And wot's more, I'll +pay in advance. Fust sixpences now." + +Claybury men 'ave never been backward when there's been money to be made +easy, and they all wanted to join Bob Pretty's club, as he called it. +But fust of all 'e asked for a pen and ink, and then he got Smith, the +land-lord, being a scholard, to write out a paper for them to sign. +Henery Walker was the fust to write 'is name, and then Sam Jones, Peter +Gubbins, Ralph Thomson, Jem Hall, and Walter Bell wrote theirs. Bob +stopped 'em then, and said six 'ud be enough to go on with; and then 'e +paid up the sixpences and wished 'em luck. + +Wot they liked a'most as well as the sixpences was the idea o' getting +the better o' Bob Pretty. As I said afore, he was a poacher, and that +artful that up to that time nobody 'ad ever got the better of 'im. + +They made so much fun of 'im the next night that Bob turned sulky and +went off 'ome, and for two or three nights he 'ardly showed his face; and +the next shoot they 'ad he went off to Wickham and nobody saw 'im all +day. + +That very day Henery Walker was shot. Several gentlemen fired at a +rabbit that was started, and the next thing they knew Henery Walker was +lying on the ground calling out that 'is leg 'ad been shot off. + +He made more fuss than Bill Chambers a'most, 'specially when they dropped +'im off a hurdle carrying him 'ome, and the things he said to Dr. Green +for rubbing his 'ands as he came into the bedroom was disgraceful. + +The fust Bob Pretty 'eard of it was up at the _Cauliflower_ at eight +o'clock that evening, and he set down 'is beer and set off to see Henery +as fast as 'is legs could carry 'im. Henery was asleep when 'e got +there, and, do all he could, Bob Pretty couldn't wake 'im till he sat +down gentle on 'is bad leg. + +[Illustration: "The fust Bob Pretty 'eard of it was up at the +_Cauliflower_ at eight o'clock that evening."] + +"It's on'y me, old pal," he ses, smiling at 'im as Henery woke up and +shouted at 'im to get up. + +Henery Walker was going to say something bad, but 'e thought better of +it, and he lay there arf busting with rage, and watching Bob out of the +corner of one eye. + +"I quite forgot you was on my club till Smith reminded me of it," ses +Bob. "Don't you take a farthing less than ten pounds, Henery." + +Henery Walker shut his eyes again. "I forgot to tell you I made up my +mind this morning not to belong to your club any more, Bob," he ses. + +"Why didn't you come and tell me, Henery, instead of leaving it till it +was too late?" ses Bob, shaking his 'ead at 'im. + +"I shall want all that money," ses Henery in a weak voice. "I might 'ave +to have a wooden leg, Bob." + +"Don't meet troubles arf way, Henery," ses Bob, in a kind voice. "I've +no doubt Mr. Sutton'll throw in a wooden leg if you want it, and look +here, if he does, I won't trouble you for my arf of it." + +He said good-night to Henery and went off, and when Mrs. Walker went up +to see 'ow Henery was getting on he was carrying on that alarming that +she couldn't do nothing with 'im. + +He was laid up for over a week, though it's my opinion he wasn't much +hurt, and the trouble was that nobody knew which gentleman 'ad shot 'im. +Mr. Sutton talked it over with them, and at last, arter a good deal o' +trouble, and Henery pulling up 'is trousers and showing them 'is leg till +they was fair sick of the sight of it, they paid 'im ten pounds, the same +as they 'ad Bill. + +It took Bob Pretty two days to get his arf, but he kept very quiet about +it, not wishing to make a fuss in the village for fear Mr. Sutton should +get to hear of the club. At last he told Henery Walker that 'e was going +to Wickham to see 'is lawyer about it, and arter Smith the landlord 'ad +read the paper to Henery and explained 'ow he'd very likely 'ave to pay +more than the whole ten pounds then, 'e gave Bob his arf and said he +never wanted to see 'im again as long as he lived. + +Bob stood treat up at the _Cauliflower_ that night, and said 'ow bad he'd +been treated. The tears stood in 'is eyes a'most, and at last 'e said +that if 'e thought there was going to be any more fuss of that kind he'd +wind up the club. + +"It's the best thing you can do," ses Sam Jones; "I'm not going to belong +to it any longer, so I give you notice. If so be as I get shot I want +the money for myself." + +"Me, too," ses Peter Gubbins; "it 'ud fair break my 'art to give Bob +Pretty five pounds. I'd sooner give it to my wife." + +All the other chaps said the same thing, but Bob pointed out to them that +they 'ad taken their sixpences on'y the night afore, and they must stay +in for the week. He said that was the law. Some of 'em talked about +giving 'im 'is sixpences back, but Bob said if they did they must pay up +all the sixpences they had 'ad for three weeks. The end of it was they +said they'd stay in for that week and not a moment longer. + +The next day Sam Jones and Peter Gubbins altered their minds. Sam found +a couple o' shillings that his wife 'ad hidden in her Sunday bonnet, and +Peter Gubbins opened 'is boy's money-box to see 'ow much there was in it. +They came up to the _Cauliflower_ to pay Bob their eighteen-pences, but he +wasn't there, and when they went to his 'ouse Mrs. Pretty said as 'ow +he'd gone off to Wickham and wouldn't be back till Saturday. So they 'ad +to spend the money on beer instead. + +That was on Tuesday, and things went on all right till Friday, when Mr. +Sutton 'ad another shoot. The birds was getting scarce and the gentlemen +that anxious to shoot them there was no 'olding them. Once or twice the +keepers spoke to 'em about carefulness, and said wot large families +they'd got, but it wasn't much good. They went on blazing away, and just +at the corner of the wood Sam Jones and Peter Gubbins was both hit; Sam +in the leg and Peter in the arm. + +The noise that was made was awful--everybody shouting that they 'adn't +done it, and all speaking at once, and Mr. Sutton was dancing about +a'most beside 'imself with rage. Pore Sam and Peter was 'elped along by +the others; Sam being carried and Peter led, and both of 'em with the +idea of getting all they could out of it, making such 'orrible noises +that Mr. Sutton couldn't hear 'imself calling his friends names. + +"There seems to be wounded men calling out all over the place," he ses, +in a temper. + +"I think there is another one over there, sir," ses one o' the keepers, +pointing. + +Sam Jones and Peter Gubbins both left off to listen, and then they all +heard it distinctly. A dreadful noise it was, and when Mr. Sutton and +one or two more follered it up they found poor Walter Bell lying on 'is +face in a bramble. + +"Wot's the matter?" ses Mr. Sutton, shouting at 'im. + +"I've been shot from behind," ses Walter. "I'd got something in my boot, +and I was just stooping down to fasten it up agin when I got it. + +"But there oughtn't to be anybody 'ere," ses Mr. Sutton to one of the +keepers. + +"They get all over the place, sir," ses the 'keeper, scratching his 'ead. +"I fancied I 'eard a gun go off here a minute or two arter the others was +shot." + +"I believe he's done it 'imself," says Mr. Sutton, stamping his foot. + +"I don't see 'ow he could, sir," ses the keeper, touching his cap and +looking at Walter as was still lying with 'is face on 'is arms. + +They carried Walter 'ome that way on a hurdle, and Dr. Green spent all +the rest o' that day picking shots out o' them three men and telling 'em +to keep still. He 'ad to do Sam Jones by candle-light, with Mrs. Jones +'olding the candle with one hand and crying with the other. Twice the +doctor told her to keep it steady, and poor Sam 'ad only just passed the +remark, "How 'ot it was for October," when they discovered that the bed +was on fire. The doctor said that Sam was no trouble. He got off of the +bed by 'imself, and, when it was all over and the fire put out, the +doctor found him sitting on the stairs with the leg of a broken chair in +'is hand calling for 'is wife. + +Of course, there was a terrible to-do about it in Claybury, and up at the +Hall, too. All of the gentlemen said as 'ow they hadn't done it, and Mr. +Sutton was arf crazy with rage. He said that they 'ad made 'im the +laughing-stock of the neighbourhood, and that they oughtn't to shoot with +anything but pop-guns. They got to such high words over it that two of +the gentlemen went off 'ome that very night. + +There was a lot of talk up at the _Cauliflower,_ too, and more than one +pointed out 'ow lucky Bob Pretty was in getting four men out of the six +in his club. As I said afore, Bob was away at the time, but he came back +the next night and we 'ad the biggest row here you could wish for to see. + +Henery Walker began it. "I s'pose you've 'eard the dreadful news, Bob +Pretty?" he ses, looking at 'im. + +"I 'ave," ses Bob; "and my 'art bled for 'em. I told you wot those +gentlemen was like, didn't I? But none of you would believe me. Now you +can see as I was right." + +"It's very strange," ses Henery Walker, looking round; "it's very strange +that all of us wot's been shot belonged to Bob Pretty's precious club." + +"It's my luck, Henery," ses Bob, "always was lucky from a child." + +"And I s'pose you think you're going to 'ave arf of the money they get?" +ses Henery Walker. + +"Don't talk about money while them pore chaps is suffering," ses Bob. +"I'm surprised at you, Henery." + +"You won't 'ave a farthing of it," ses Henery Walker; "and wot's more, +Bob Pretty, I'm going to 'ave my five pounds back." + +"Don't you believe it, Henery," ses Bob, smiling at 'im. + +"I'm going to 'ave my five pounds back," ses Henery, "and you know why. +I know wot your club was for now, and we was all a pack o' silly fools +not to see it afore." + +"Speak for yourself, Henery," ses John Biggs, who thought Henery was +looking at 'im. + +"I've been putting two and two together," ses Henery, looking round, "and +it's as plain as the nose on your face. Bob Pretty hid up in the wood +and shot us all himself!" + +For a moment you might 'ave heard a pin drop, and then there was such a +noise nobody could hear theirselves speak. Everybody was shouting his +'ardest, and the on'y quiet one there was Bob Pretty 'imself. + +"Poor Henery; he's gorn mad," he ses, shaking his 'ead. + +"You're a murderer," ses Ralph Thomson, shaking 'is fist at him. + +"Henery Walker's gorn mad," ses Bob agin. "Why, I ain't been near the +place. There's a dozen men'll swear that I was at Wickham each time +these misfortunate accidents 'appened." + +"Men like you, they'd swear anything for a pot o' beer," ses Henery. +"But I'm not going to waste time talking to you, Bob Pretty. I'm going +straight off to tell Mr. Sutton." + +"I shouldn't do that if I was you, Henery," ses Bob. + +"I dessay," ses Henery Walker; "but then you see I am." + +"I thought you'd gorn mad, Henery," ses Bob, taking a drink o' beer that +somebody 'ad left on the table by mistake, "and now I'm sure of it. Why, +if you tell Mr. Sutton that it wasn't his friends that shot them pore +fellers he won't pay them anything. 'Tain't likely 'e would, is it?" + +Henery Walker, wot 'ad been standing up looking fierce at 'im, sat down +agin, struck all of a heap. + +"And he might want your ten pounds back, Henery," said Bob in a soft +voice. "And seeing as 'ow you was kind enough to give five to me, and +spent most of the other, it 'ud come 'ard on you, wouldn't it? Always +think afore you speak, Henery. I always do." + +Henery Walker got up and tried to speak, but 'e couldn't, and he didn't +get 'is breath back till Bob said it was plain to see that he 'adn't got +a word to say for 'imself. Then he shook 'is fist at Bob and called 'im +a low, thieving, poaching murderer. + +"You're not yourself, Henery," ses Bob. "When you come round you'll be +sorry for trying to take away the character of a pore labourin' man with +a ailing wife and a large family. But if you take my advice you won't +say anything more about your wicked ideas; if you do, these pore fellers +won't get a farthing. And you'd better keep quiet about the club mates +for their sakes. Other people might get the same crazy ideas in their +silly 'eads as Henery. Keepers especially." + +That was on'y common sense; but, as John Biggs said, it did seem 'ard to +think as 'ow Bob Pretty should be allowed to get off scot-free, and with +Henery Walker's five pounds too. "There's one thing," he ses to Bob; +"you won't 'ave any of these other pore chaps money; and, if they're men, +they ought to make it up to Henery Walker for the money he 'as saved 'em +by finding you out." + +"They've got to pay me fust," ses Bob. "I'm a pore man, but I'll stick +up for my rights. As for me shooting 'em, they'd ha' been 'urt a good +deal more if I'd done it--especially Mr. Henery Walker. Why, they're +hardly 'urt at all." + +"Don't answer 'im, Henery," ses John Biggs. "You save your breath to go +and tell Sam Jones and the others about it. It'll cheer 'em up." + +"And tell 'em about my arf, in case they get too cheerful and go +overdoing it," ses Bob Pretty, stopping at the door. "Good-night all." + +Nobody answered 'im; and arter waiting a little bit Henery Walker set off +to see Sam Jones and the others. John Biggs was quite right about its +making 'em cheerful, but they see as plain as Bob 'imself that it 'ad got +to be kept quiet. "Till we've spent the money, at any rate," ses Walter +Bell; "then p'r'aps Mr. Sutton might get Bob locked up for it." + +Mr. Sutton went down to see 'em all a day or two afterwards. The +shooting-party was broken up and gone 'ome, but they left some money +behind 'em. Ten pounds each they was to 'ave, same as the others, but +Mr. Sutton said that he 'ad heard 'ow the other money was wasted at the +_Cauliflower,_ and 'e was going to give it out to 'em ten shillings a +week until the money was gorn. He 'ad to say it over and over agin afore +they understood 'im, and Walter Bell 'ad to stuff the bedclo'es in 'is +mouth to keep civil. + +Peter Gubbins, with 'is arm tied up in a sling, was the fust one to turn +up at the _Cauliflower,_ and he was that down-'arted about it we couldn't +do nothing with 'im. He 'ad expected to be able to pull out ten golden +sovereigns, and the disapp'intment was too much for 'im. + +"I wonder 'ow they heard about it," ses Dicky Weed. + +"I can tell you," ses Bob Pretty, wot 'ad been sitting up in a corner by +himself, nodding and smiling at Peter, wot wouldn't look at 'im. "A +friend o' mine at Wickham wrote to him about it. He was so disgusted at +the way Bill Chambers and Henery Walker come up 'ere wasting their +'ard-earned money, that he sent 'im a letter, signed 'A Friend of the +Working Man,' telling 'im about it and advising 'im what to do." + +"A friend o' yours?" ses John Biggs, staring at 'im. "What for?" + +"I don't know," ses Bob; "he's a wunnerful good scholard, and he likes +writin' letters. He's going to write another to-morrer, unless I go over +and stop 'im." + +"Another?" ses Peter, who 'ad been tellin' everybody that 'e wouldn't +speak to 'im agin as long as he lived. "Wot about?" + +"About the idea that I shot you all," ses Bob. "I want my character +cleared. O' course, they can't prove anything against me--I've got my +witnesses. But, taking one thing with another, I see now that it does +look suspicious, and I don't suppose any of you'll get any more of your +money. Mr. Sutton is so sick o' being laughed at, he'll jump at +anything." + +"You dursn't do it, Bob," ses Peter, all of a tremble. + +"It ain't me, Peter, old pal," ses Bob, "it's my friend. But I don't +mind stopping 'im for the sake of old times if I get my arf. He'd listen +to me, I feel sure." + +At fust Peter said he wouldn't get a farthing out of 'im if his friend +wrote letters till Dooms-day; but by-and-by he thought better of it, and +asked Bob to stay there while he went down to see Sam and Walter about +it. When 'e came back he'd got the fust week's money for Bob Pretty; but +he said he left Walter Bell carrying on like a madman, and, as for Sam +Jones, he was that upset 'e didn't believe he'd last out the night. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Four Pigeons, by W.W. Jacobs + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11187 *** |