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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/11191-0.txt b/11191-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1a9c98a --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5115 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11191 *** + + *CAPTAINS ALL* + + _By_ + + W. W. JACOBS + + + 1911 + + ―――― + + + + +CONTENTS + + + ILLUSTRATIONS + CAPTAINS ALL + THE BOATSWAIN'S MATE + THE NEST EGG + THE CONSTABLE'S MOVE + BOB'S REDEMPTION + OVER THE SIDE + THE FOUR PIGEONS + THE TEMPTATION OF SAMUEL BURGE + THE MADNESS OF MR. LISTER + THE WHITE CAT + + ―――― + + ―――― + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + “Captains All.” + “The Boatswain's Mate.” + “'I Gives You the Two Quid Afore You Go Into The House,' + Continued the Boatswain.” + “The Nest Egg.” + “He Said It Was a Bad Road and A Little Shop, And 'ad Got A Look + About It he Didn't Like.” + “The Constable's Move.” + “Mr. Grummit, Suddenly Remembering Himself, Stopped Short And + Attacked the Bed With Extraordinary Fury.” + “Bob's Redemption.” + “Afore George Had Settled With the Cabman, There Was A Policeman + Moving the Crowd On.” + “Over the Side.” + “The Four Pigeons.” + “The Fust Bob Pretty 'eard of It Was up at The cauliflower at + Eight O'clock That Evening.” + “The Temptation of Samuel Burge.” + “The Madness of Mr. Lister.” + “A Friendship Sprang up Between the Two Men Which Puzzled The + Remainder of the Crew Not a Little.” + “The White Cat.” + “He 'ad a Little Collar and Chain Made for It, And Took It Out + for a Walk.” + + + + +CAPTAINS ALL + + + + +Every sailorman grumbles about the sea, said the night-watchman, +thoughtfully. It's human nature to grumble, and I s'pose they keep on +grumbling and sticking to it because there ain't much else they can do. +There's not many shore-going berths that a sailorman is fit for, and +those that they are—such as a night-watchman's, for instance—wants such +a good character that there's few as are to equal it. + +Sometimes they get things to do ashore. I knew one man that took up +butchering, and 'e did very well at it till the police took him up. +Another man I knew gave up the sea to marry a washerwoman, and they +hadn't been married six months afore she died, and back he 'ad to go to +sea agin, pore chap. + +A man who used to grumble awful about the sea was old Sam Small—a man +I've spoke of to you before. To hear 'im go on about the sea, arter he +'ad spent four or five months' money in a fortnight, was 'artbreaking. +He used to ask us wot was going to happen to 'im in his old age, and +when we pointed out that he wouldn't be likely to 'ave any old age if he +wasn't more careful of 'imself he used to fly into a temper and call us +everything 'e could lay his tongue to. + +One time when 'e was ashore with Peter Russet and Ginger Dick he seemed +to 'ave got it on the brain. He started being careful of 'is money +instead o' spending it, and three mornings running he bought a newspaper +and read the advertisements, to see whether there was any comfortable +berth for a strong, good-'arted man wot didn't like work. + +He actually went arter one situation, and, if it hadn't ha' been for +seventy-nine other men, he said he believed he'd ha' had a good chance +of getting it. As it was, all 'e got was a black eye for shoving another +man, and for a day or two he was so down-'arted that 'e was no company +at all for the other two. + +For three or four days 'e went out by 'imself, and then, all of a +sudden, Ginger Dick and Peter began to notice a great change in him. He +seemed to 'ave got quite cheerful and 'appy. He answered 'em back +pleasant when they spoke to 'im, and one night he lay in 'is bed +whistling comic songs until Ginger and Peter Russet 'ad to get out o' +bed to him. When he bought a new necktie and a smart cap and washed +'imself twice in one day they fust began to ask each other wot was up, +and then they asked him. + +“Up?” ses Sam; “nothing.” + +“He's in love,” ses Peter Russet. + +“You're a liar,” ses Sam, without turning round. + +“He'll 'ave it bad at 'is age,” ses Ginger. + +Sam didn't say nothing, but he kept fidgeting about as though 'e'd got +something on his mind. Fust he looked out o' the winder, then he 'ummed +a tune, and at last, looking at 'em very fierce, he took a tooth-brush +wrapped in paper out of 'is pocket and began to clean 'is teeth. + +“He is in love,” ses Ginger, as soon as he could speak. + +“Or else 'e's gorn mad,” ses Peter, watching 'im. “Which is it, Sam?” + +Sam made believe that he couldn't answer 'im because o' the tooth-brush, +and arter he'd finished he 'ad such a raging toothache that 'e sat in a +corner holding 'is face and looking the pictur' o' misery. They couldn't +get a word out of him till they asked 'im to go out with them, and then +he said 'e was going to bed. Twenty minutes arterwards, when Ginger Dick +stepped back for 'is pipe, he found he 'ad gorn. + +He tried the same game next night, but the other two wouldn't 'ave it, +and they stayed in so long that at last 'e lost 'is temper, and, arter +wondering wot Ginger's father and mother could ha' been a-thinking +about, and saying that he believed Peter Russet 'ad been changed at +birth for a sea-sick monkey, he put on 'is cap and went out. Both of 'em +follered 'im sharp, but when he led 'em to a mission-hall, and actually +went inside, they left 'im and went off on their own. + +They talked it over that night between themselves, and next evening they +went out fust and hid themselves round the corner. Ten minutes +arterwards old Sam came out, walking as though 'e was going to catch a +train; and smiling to think 'ow he 'ad shaken them off. At the corner of +Commercial Road he stopped and bought 'imself a button-hole for 'is +coat, and Ginger was so surprised that 'e pinched Peter Russet to make +sure that he wasn't dreaming. + +Old Sam walked straight on whistling, and every now and then looking +down at 'is button-hole, until by-and-by he turned down a street on the +right and went into a little shop. Ginger Dick and Peter waited for 'im +at the corner, but he was inside for so long that at last they got tired +o' waiting and crept up and peeped through the winder. + +It was a little tobacconist's shop, with newspapers and penny toys and +such-like; but, as far as Ginger could see through two rows o' pipes and +the Police News, it was empty. They stood there with their noses pressed +against the glass for some time, wondering wot had 'appened to Sam, but +by-and-by a little boy went in and then they began to 'ave an idea wot +Sam's little game was. + +As the shop-bell went the door of a little parlour at the back of the +shop opened, and a stout and uncommon good-looking woman of about forty +came out. Her 'ead pushed the Police News out o' the way and her 'and +came groping into the winder arter a toy. + +Ginger 'ad a good look at 'er out o' the corner of one eye, while he +pretended to be looking at a tobacco-jar with the other. As the little +boy came out 'im and Peter Russet went in. + +“I want a pipe, please,” he ses, smiling at 'er; “a clay pipe—one o' +your best.” The woman handed 'im down a box to choose from, and just +then Peter, wot 'ad been staring in at the arf-open door at a boot wot +wanted lacing up, gave a big start and ses, “Why! Halloa!” + +“Wot's the matter?” ses the woman, looking at 'im. + +“I'd know that foot anywhere,” ses Peter, still staring at it; and the +words was hardly out of 'is mouth afore the foot 'ad moved itself away +and tucked itself under its chair. “Why, that's my dear old friend Sam +Small, ain't it?” + +“Do you know the captin?” ses the woman, smiling at 'im. + +“Cap——?” ses Peter. “Cap——? Oh, yes; why, he's the biggest friend I've +got.” “'Ow strange!” ses the woman. + +“We've been wanting to see 'im for some time,” ses Ginger. “He was kind +enough to lend me arf a crown the other day, and I've been wanting to +pay 'im.” + +“Captin Small,” ses the woman, pushing open the door, “here's some old +friends o' yours.” + +Old Sam turned 'is face round and looked at 'em, and if looks could ha' +killed, as the saying is, they'd ha' been dead men there and then. + +“Oh, yes,” he ses, in a choking voice; “'ow are you?” + +“Pretty well, thank you, captin,” ses Ginger, grinning at 'im; “and +'ow's yourself arter all this long time?” + +He held out 'is hand and Sam shook it, and then shook 'ands with Peter +Russet, who was grinning so 'ard that he couldn't speak. + +“These are two old friends o' mine, Mrs. Finch,” ses old Sam, giving 'em +a warning look; “Captin Dick and Captin Russet, two o' the oldest and +best friends a man ever 'ad.” + +“Captin Dick 'as got arf a crown for you,” ses Peter Russet, still +grinning. + +“There now,” ses Ginger, looking vexed, “if I ain't been and forgot it; +I've on'y got arf a sovereign.” + +“I can give you change, sir,” ses Mrs. Finch. “P'r'aps you'd like to sit +down for five minutes?” + +Ginger thanked 'er, and 'im and Peter Russet took a chair apiece in +front o' the fire and began asking old Sam about 'is 'ealth, and wot +he'd been doing since they saw 'im last. + +“Fancy your reckernizing his foot,” ses Mrs. Finch, coming in with the +change. + +“I'd know it anywhere,” ses Peter, who was watching Ginger pretending to +give Sam Small the 'arf-dollar, and Sam pretending in a most lifelike +manner to take it. + +Ginger Dick looked round the room. It was a comfortable little place, +with pictures on the walls and antimacassars on all the chairs, and a +row of pink vases on the mantelpiece. Then 'e looked at Mrs. Finch, and +thought wot a nice-looking woman she was. + +“This is nicer than being aboard ship with a crew o' nasty, troublesome +sailormen to look arter, Captin Small,” he ses. + +“It's wonderful the way he manages 'em,” ses Peter Russet to Mrs. Finch. +“Like a lion he is.” + +“A roaring lion,” ses Ginger, looking at Sam. “He don't know wot fear +is.” + +Sam began to smile, and Mrs. Finch looked at 'im so pleased that Peter +Russet, who 'ad been looking at 'er and the room, and thinking much the +same way as Ginger, began to think that they was on the wrong tack. + +“Afore 'e got stout and old,” he ses, shaking his 'ead, “there wasn't a +smarter skipper afloat.” + +“We all 'ave our day,” ses Ginger, shaking his 'ead too. + +“I dessay he's good for another year or two afloat, yet,” ses Peter +Russet, considering. “With care,” ses Ginger. + +Old Sam was going to say something, but 'e stopped himself just in time. +“They will 'ave their joke,” he ses, turning to Mrs. Finch and trying to +smile. “I feel as young as ever I did.” + +Mrs. Finch said that anybody with arf an eye could see that, and then +she looked at a kettle that was singing on the 'ob. + +“I s'pose you gentlemen wouldn't care for a cup o' cocoa?” she ses, +turning to them. + +Ginger Dick and Peter both said that they liked it better than anything +else, and, arter she 'ad got out the cups and saucers and a tin o' +cocoa, Ginger held the kettle and poured the water in the cups while she +stirred them, and old Sam sat looking on 'elpless. + +“It does seem funny to see you drinking cocoa, captin,” ses Ginger, as +old Sam took his cup. + +“Ho!” ses Sam, firing up; “and why, if I might make so bold as to ask?” + +“'Cos I've generally seen you drinking something out of a bottle,” ses +Ginger. + +“Now, look 'ere,” ses Sam, starting up and spilling some of the hot +cocoa over 'is lap. + +“A ginger-beer bottle,” ses Peter Russet, making faces at Ginger to keep +quiet. + +“Yes, o' course, that's wot I meant,” ses Ginger. + +Old Sam wiped the cocoa off 'is knees without saying a word, but his +weskit kept going up and down till Peter Russet felt quite sorry for +'im. + +“There's nothing like it,” he ses to Mrs. Finch. “It was by sticking to +ginger-beer and milk and such-like that Captain Small 'ad command of a +ship afore 'e was twenty-five.” + +“Lor'!” ses Mrs. Finch. + +She smiled at old Sam till Peter got uneasy agin, and began to think +p'r'aps 'e'd been praising 'im too much. + +“Of course, I'm speaking of long ago now,” he ses. + +“Years and years afore you was born, ma'am,” ses Ginger. + +Old Sam was going to say something, but Mrs. Finch looked so pleased +that 'e thought better of it. Some o' the cocoa 'e was drinking went the +wrong way, and then Ginger patted 'im on the back and told 'im to be +careful not to bring on 'is brownchitis agin. Wot with temper and being +afraid to speak for fear they should let Mrs. Finch know that 'e wasn't +a captin, he could 'ardly bear 'imself, but he very near broke out when +Peter Russet advised 'im to 'ave his weskit lined with red flannel. They +all stayed on till closing time, and by the time they left they 'ad made +theirselves so pleasant that Mrs. Finch said she'd be pleased to see +them any time they liked to look in. + +Sam Small waited till they 'ad turned the corner, and then he broke out +so alarming that they could 'ardly do anything with 'im. Twice policemen +spoke to 'im and advised 'im to go home afore they altered their minds; +and he 'ad to hold 'imself in and keep quiet while Ginger and Peter +Russet took 'is arms and said they were seeing him 'ome. + +He started the row agin when they got in-doors, and sat up in 'is bed +smacking 'is lips over the things he'd like to 'ave done to them if he +could. And then, arter saying 'ow he'd like to see Ginger boiled alive +like a lobster, he said he knew that 'e was a noble-'arted feller who +wouldn't try and cut an old pal out, and that it was a case of love at +first sight on top of a tram-car. + +“She's too young for you,” ses Ginger; “and too good-looking besides.” + +“It's the nice little bisness he's fallen in love with, Ginger,” ses +Peter Russet. “I'll toss you who 'as it.” + +Ginger, who was siting on the foot o' Sam's bed, said “no” at fust, but +arter a time he pulled out arf a dollar and spun it in the air. + +That was the last 'e see of it, although he 'ad Sam out o' bed and all +the clothes stripped off of it twice. He spent over arf an hour on his +'ands and knees looking for it, and Sam said when he was tired of +playing bears p'r'aps he'd go to bed and get to sleep like a Christian. + +They 'ad it all over agin next morning, and at last, as nobody would +agree to keep quiet and let the others 'ave a fair chance, they made up +their minds to let the best man win. Ginger Dick bought a necktie that +took all the colour out o' Sam's, and Peter Russet went in for a collar +so big that 'e was lost in it. + +They all strolled into the widow's shop separate that night. Ginger Dick +'ad smashed his pipe and wanted another; Peter Russet wanted some +tobacco; and old Sam Small walked in smiling, with a little silver +brooch for 'er, that he said 'e had picked up. + +It was a very nice brooch, and Mrs. Finch was so pleased with it that +Ginger and Peter sat there as mad as they could be because they 'adn't +thought of the same thing. + +“Captain Small is very lucky at finding things,” ses Ginger, at last. + +“He's got the name for it,” ses Peter Russet. + +“It's a handy 'abit,” ses Ginger; “it saves spending money. Who did you +give that gold bracelet to you picked up the other night, captin?” he +ses, turning to Sam. + +“Gold bracelet?” ses Sam. “I didn't pick up no gold bracelet. Wot are +you talking about?” + +“All right, captin; no offence,” ses Ginger, holding up his 'and. “I +dreamt I saw one on your mantelpiece, I s'pose. P'r'aps I oughtn't to +ha' said anything about it.” + +Old Sam looked as though he'd like to eat 'im, especially as he noticed +Mrs. Finch listening and pretending not to. “Oh! that one,” he ses, +arter a bit o' hard thinking. “Oh! I found out who it belonged to. You +wouldn't believe 'ow pleased they was at getting it back agin.” + +Ginger Dick coughed and began to think as 'ow old Sam was sharper than +he 'ad given 'im credit for, but afore he could think of anything else +to say Mrs. Finch looked at old Sam and began to talk about 'is ship, +and to say 'ow much she should like to see over it. + +“I wish I could take you,” ses Sam, looking at the other two out o' the +corner of his eye, “but my ship's over at Dunkirk, in France. I've just +run over to London for a week or two to look round.” + +“And mine's there too,” ses Peter Russet, speaking a'most afore old Sam +'ad finished; “side by side they lay in the harbour.” + +“Oh, dear,” ses Mrs. Finch, folding her 'ands and shaking her 'cad. “I +should like to go over a ship one arternoon. I'd quite made up my mind +to it, knowing three captins.” + +She smiled and looked at Ginger; and Sam and Peter looked at 'im too, +wondering whether he was going to berth his ship at Dunkirk alongside o' +theirs. + +“Ah, I wish I 'ad met you a fortnight ago,” ses Ginger, very sad. “I +gave up my ship, the High flyer, then, and I'm waiting for one my owners +are 'aving built for me at New-castle. They said the High flyer wasn't +big enough for me. She was a nice little ship, though. I believe I've +got 'er picture somewhere about me!” + +He felt in 'is pocket and pulled out a little, crumpled-up photograph of +a ship he'd been fireman aboard of some years afore, and showed it to +'er. + +“That's me standing on the bridge,” he ses, pointing out a little dot +with the stem of 'is pipe. + +“It's your figger,” ses Mrs. Finch, straining her eyes. “I should know +it anywhere.” + +“You've got wonderful eyes, ma'am,” ses old Sam, choking with 'is pipe. + +“Anybody can see that,” ses Ginger. “They're the largest and the bluest +I've ever seen.” + +Mrs. Finch told 'im not to talk nonsense, but both Sam and Peter Russet +could see 'ow pleased she was. + +“Truth is truth,” ses Ginger. “I'm a plain man, and I speak my mind.” + +“Blue is my fav'rit' colour,” ses old Sam, in a tender voice. “True +blue.” + +Peter Russet began to feel out of it. “I thought brown was,” he ses. + +“Ho!” ses Sam, turning on 'im; “and why?” + +“I 'ad my reasons,” ses Peter, nodding, and shutting 'is mouth very +firm. + +“I thought brown was 'is fav'rit colour too,” ses Ginger. “I don't know +why. It's no use asking me; because if you did I couldn't tell you.” + +“Brown's a very nice colour,” ses Mrs. Finch, wondering wot was the +matter with old Sam. + +“Blue,” ses Ginger; “big blue eyes—they're the ones for me. Other people +may 'ave their blacks and their browns,” he ses, looking at Sam and +Peter Russet, “but give me blue.” + +They went on like that all the evening, and every time the shop-bell +went and the widow 'ad to go out to serve a customer they said in +w'ispers wot they thought of each other; and once when she came back +rather sudden Ginger 'ad to explain to 'er that 'e was showing Peter +Russet a scratch on his knuckle. + +Ginger Dick was the fust there next night, and took 'er a little chiney +teapot he 'ad picked up dirt cheap because it was cracked right acrost +the middle; but, as he explained that he 'ad dropped it in hurrying to +see 'er, she was just as pleased. She stuck it up on the mantelpiece, +and the things she said about Ginger's kindness and generosity made +Peter Russet spend good money that he wanted for 'imself on a painted +flower-pot next evening. + +With three men all courting 'er at the same time Mrs. Finch had 'er +hands full, but she took to it wonderful considering. She was so nice +and kind to 'em all that even arter a week's 'ard work none of 'em was +really certain which she liked best. + +They took to going in at odd times o' the day for tobacco and such-like. +They used to go alone then, but they all met and did the polite to each +other there of an evening, and then quarrelled all the way 'ome. + +Then all of a sudden, without any warning, Ginger Dick and Peter Russet +left off going there. The fust evening Sam sat expecting them every +minute, and was so surprised that he couldn't take any advantage of it; +but on the second, beginning by squeezing Mrs. Finch's 'and at ha'-past +seven, he 'ad got best part of his arm round 'er waist by a quarter to +ten. He didn't do more that night because she told him to be'ave +'imself, and threatened to scream if he didn't leave off. + +He was arf-way home afore 'e thought of the reason for Ginger Dick and +Peter Russet giving up, and then he went along smiling to 'imself to +such an extent that people thought 'e was mad. He went off to sleep with +the smile still on 'is lips, and when Peter and Ginger came in soon +arter closing time and 'e woke up and asked them where they'd been, 'e +was still smiling. + +“I didn't 'ave the pleasure o' seeing you at Mrs. Finch's to-night,” he +ses. + +“No,” ses Ginger, very short. “We got tired of it.” + +“So un'ealthy sitting in that stuffy little room every evening,” ses +Peter. + +Old Sam put his 'ead under the bedclothes and laughed till the bed +shook; and every now and then he'd put his 'ead out and look at Peter +and Ginger and laugh agin till he choked. + +“I see 'ow it is,” he ses, sitting up and wiping his eyes on the sheet. +“Well, we cant all win.” + +“Wot d'ye mean?” ses Ginger, very disagreeable. + +“She wouldn't 'ave you, Sam, thats wot I mean. And I don't wonder at it. +I wouldn't 'ave you if I was a gal.” + +“You're dreaming, ses Peter Russet, sneering at 'im. + +“That flower-pot o' yours'll come in handy,” ses Sam, thinking 'ow he +'ad put 'is arm round the widow's waist; “and I thank you kindly for the +teapot, Ginger. + +“You don't mean to say as you've asked 'er to marry you?” ses Ginger, +looking at Peter Russet. + +“Not quite; but I'm going to,” ses Sam, “and I'll bet you even +arf-crowns she ses 'yes.'” + +Ginger wouldn't take 'im, and no more would Peter, not even when he +raised it to five shillings; and the vain way old Sam lay there boasting +and talking about 'is way with the gals made 'em both feel ill. + +“I wouldn't 'ave her if she asked me on 'er bended knees,” ses Ginger, +holding up his 'ead. + +“Nor me,” ses Peter. “You're welcome to 'er, Sam. When I think of the +evenings I've wasted over a fat old woman I feel——” + +“That'll do,” ses old Sam, very sharp; “that ain't the way to speak of a +lady, even if she 'as said 'no.'” + +“All right, Sam,” ses Ginger. “You go in and win if you think you're so +precious clever.” + +Old Sam said that that was wot 'e was going to do, and he spent so much +time next morning making 'imself look pretty that the other two could +'ardly be civil to him. + +He went off a'most direckly arter breakfast, and they didn't see 'im +agin till twelve o'clock that night. He 'ad brought a bottle o' whisky +in with 'im, and he was so 'appy that they see plain wot had 'appened. + +“She said 'yes' at two o'clock in the arternoon,” ses old Sam, smiling, +arter they had 'ad a glass apiece. “I'd nearly done the trick at one +o'clock, and then the shop-bell went, and I 'ad to begin all over agin. +Still, it wasn't unpleasant.” + +“Do you mean to tell us you've asked 'er to marry you?” ses Ginger, +'olding out 'is glass to be filled agin. + +“I do,” ses Sam; “but I 'ope there's no ill-feeling. You never 'ad a +chance, neither of you; she told me so.” + +Ginger Dick and Peter Russet stared at each other. + +“She said she 'ad been in love with me all along,” ses Sam, filling +their glasses agin to cheer 'em up. “We went out arter tea and bought +the engagement-ring, and then she got somebody to mind the shop and we +went to the Pagoda music-'all.” + +“I 'ope you didn't pay much for the ring, Sam,” ses Ginger, who always +got very kind-'arted arter two or three glasses o' whisky. “If I'd known +you was going to be in such a hurry I might ha' told you before.” + +“We ought to ha' done,” ses Peter, shaking his 'ead. + +“Told me?” ses Sam, staring at 'em. “Told me wot?” + +“Why me and Peter gave it up,” ses Ginger; “but, o' course, p'r'aps you +don't mind.” + +“Mind wot?” ses Sam. + +“It's wonderful 'ow quiet she kept it,” ses Peter. + +Old Sam stared at 'em agin, and then he asked 'em to speak in plain +English wot they'd got to say, and not to go taking away the character +of a woman wot wasn't there to speak up for herself. + +“It's nothing agin 'er character,” ses Ginger. “It's a credit to her, +looked at properly,” ses Peter Russet. + +“And Sam'll 'ave the pleasure of bringing of 'em up,” ses Ginger. + +“Bringing of 'em up?” ses Sam, in a trembling voice and turning pale; +“bringing who up?” + +“Why, 'er children,” ses Ginger. “Didn't she tell you? She's got nine of +'em.” + +Sam pretended not to believe 'em at fust, and said they was jealous; but +next day he crept down to the greengrocer's shop in the same street, +where Ginger had 'appened to buy some oranges one day, and found that it +was only too true. Nine children, the eldest of 'em only fifteen, was +staying with diff'rent relations owing to scarlet-fever next door. + +Old Sam crept back 'ome like a man in a dream, with a bag of oranges he +didn't want, and, arter making a present of the engagement-ring to +Ginger—if 'e could get it—he took the fust train to Tilbury and signed +on for a v'y'ge to China. + + + + +THE BOATSWAIN'S MATE + + + + +Mr. George Benn, retired boat-swain, sighed noisily, and with a +despondent gesture, turned to the door and stood with the handle in his +hand; Mrs. Waters, sitting behind the tiny bar in a tall Windsor-chair, +eyed him with some heat. + +“My feelings'll never change,” said the boatswain. + +“Nor mine either,” said the landlady, sharply. “It's a strange thing, +Mr. Benn, but you always ask me to marry you after the third mug.” + +“It's only to get my courage up,” pleaded the boatswain. “Next time I'll +do it afore I 'ave a drop; that'll prove to you I'm in earnest.” + +He stepped outside and closed the door before the landlady could make a +selection from the many retorts that crowded to her lips. + +After the cool bar, with its smell of damp saw-dust, the road seemed hot +and dusty; but the boatswain, a prey to gloom natural to a man whose +hand has been refused five times in a fortnight, walked on unheeding. +His steps lagged, but his brain was active. + +He walked for two miles deep in thought, and then coming to a shady bank +took a seat upon an inviting piece of turf and lit his pipe. The heat +and the drowsy hum of bees made him nod; his pipe hung from the corner +of his mouth, and his eyes closed. + +He opened them at the sound of approaching footsteps, and, feeling in +his pocket for matches, gazed lazily at the intruder. He saw a tall man +carrying a small bundle over his shoulder, and in the erect carriage, +the keen eyes, and bronzed face had little difficulty in detecting the +old soldier. + +The stranger stopped as he reached the seated boatswain and eyed him +pleasantly. + +“Got a pipe o' baccy, mate?” he inquired. + +The boatswain handed him the small metal box in which he kept that +luxury. + +“Lobster, ain't you?” he said, affably. + +The tall man nodded. “Was,” he replied. “Now I'm my own +commander-in-chief.” + +“Padding it?” suggested the boatswain, taking the box from him and +refilling his pipe. + +The other nodded, and with the air of one disposed to conversation +dropped his bundle in the ditch and took a seat beside him. “I've got +plenty of time,” he remarked. + +Mr. Benn nodded, and for a while smoked on in silence. A dim idea which +had been in his mind for some time began to clarify. He stole a glance +at his companion—a man of about thirty-eight, clear eyes, with humorous +wrinkles at the corners, a heavy moustache, and a cheerful expression +more than tinged with recklessness. + +“Ain't over and above fond o' work?” suggested the boatswain, when he +had finished his inspection. + +“I love it,” said the other, blowing a cloud of smoke in the air, “but +we can't have all we want in this world; it wouldn't be good for us.” + +The boatswain thought of Mrs. Waters, and sighed. Then he rattled his +pocket. + +“Would arf a quid be any good to you?” he inquired. + +“Look here,” began the soldier; “just because I asked you for a pipe o' +baccy—” + +“No offence,” said the other, quickly. “I mean if you earned it?” + +The soldier nodded and took his pipe from his mouth. “Gardening and +windows?” he hazarded, with a shrug of his shoulders. + +The boatswain shook his head. + +“Scrubbing, p'r'aps?” said the soldier, with a sigh of resignation. +“Last house I scrubbed out I did it so thoroughly they accused me of +pouching the soap. Hang 'em!” + +“And you didn't?” queried the boatswain, eyeing him keenly. + +The soldier rose and, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, gazed at him +darkly. “I can't give it back to you,” he said, slowly, “because I've +smoked some of it, and I can't pay you for it because I've only got +twopence, and that I want for myself. So long, matey, and next time a +poor wretch asks you for a pipe, be civil.” + +“I never see such a man for taking offence in all my born days,” +expostulated the boat-swain. “I 'ad my reasons for that remark, mate. +Good reasons they was.” + +The soldier grunted and, stooping, picked up his bundle. + +“I spoke of arf a sovereign just now,” continued the boatswain, +impressively, “and when I tell you that I offer it to you to do a bit o' +burgling, you'll see 'ow necessary it is for me to be certain of your +honesty.” + +“Burgling?” gasped the astonished soldier. “Honesty? 'Struth; are you +drunk or am I?” + +“Meaning,” said the boatswain, waving the imputation away with his hand, +“for you to pretend to be a burglar.” + +“We're both drunk, that's what it is,” said the other, resignedly. + +The boatswain fidgeted. “If you don't agree, mum's the word and no 'arm +done,” he said, holding out his hand. + +“Mum's the word,” said the soldier, taking it. “My name's Ned Travers, +and, barring cells for a spree now and again, there's nothing against +it. Mind that.” + +“Might 'appen to anybody,” said Mr. Benn, soothingly. “You fill your +pipe and don't go chucking good tobacco away agin.” + +Mr. Travers took the offered box and, with economy born of adversity, +stooped and filled up first with the plug he had thrown away. Then he +resumed his seat and, leaning back luxuriously, bade the other “fire +away.” + +“I ain't got it all ship-shape and proper yet,” said Mr. Benn, slowly, +“but it's in my mind's eye. It's been there off and on like for some +time.” + +He lit his pipe again and gazed fixedly at the opposite hedge. “Two +miles from here, where I live,” he said, after several vigorous puffs, +“there's a little public-'ouse called the Beehive, kept by a lady wot +I've got my eye on.” + +The soldier sat up. + +“She won't 'ave me,” said the boatswain, with an air of mild surprise. + +The soldier leaned back again. + +“She's a lone widder,” continued Mr. Benn, shaking his head, “and the +Beehive is in a lonely place. It's right through the village, and the +nearest house is arf a mile off.” + +“Silly place for a pub,” commented Mr. Travers. + +“I've been telling her 'ow unsafe it is,” said the boatswain. “I've been +telling her that she wants a man to protect her, and she only laughs at +me. She don't believe it; d'ye see? Likewise I'm a small man—small, but +stiff. She likes tall men.” + +“Most women do,” said Mr. Travers, sitting upright and instinctively +twisting his moustache. “When I was in the ranks—” + +“My idea is,” continued the boatswain, slightly raising his voice, “to +kill two birds with one stone—prove to her that she does want being +protected, and that I'm the man to protect her. D'ye take my meaning, +mate?” + +The soldier reached out a hand and felt the other's biceps. “Like a lump +o' wood,” he said, approvingly. + +“My opinion is,” said the boatswain, with a faint smirk, “that she loves +me without knowing it.” + +“They often do,” said Mr. Travers, with a grave shake of his head. + +“Consequently I don't want 'er to be disappointed,” said the other. + +“It does you credit,” remarked Mr. Travers. + +“I've got a good head,” said Mr. Benn, “else I shouldn't 'ave got my +rating as boatswain as soon as I did; and I've been turning it over in +my mind, over and over agin, till my brain-pan fair aches with it. Now, +if you do what I want you to to-night and it comes off all right, damme +I'll make it a quid.” + +“Go on, Vanderbilt,” said Mr. Travers; “I'm listening.” + +The boatswain gazed at him fixedly. “You meet me 'ere in this spot at +eleven o'clock to-night,” he said, solemnly; “and I'll take you to her +'ouse and put you through a little winder I know of. You goes upstairs +and alarms her, and she screams for help. I'm watching the house, +faithful-like, and hear 'er scream. I dashes in at the winder, knocks +you down, and rescues her. D'ye see?” + +“I hear,” corrected Mr. Travers, coldly. + +“She clings to me,” continued the boat-swain, with a rapt expression of +face, “in her gratitood, and, proud of my strength and pluck, she +marries me.” + +“An' I get a five years' honeymoon,” said the soldier. + +The boatswain shook his head and patted the other's shoulder. “In the +excitement of the moment you spring up and escape,” he said, with a +kindly smile. “I've thought it all out. You can run much faster than I +can; any-ways, you will. The nearest 'ouse is arf a mile off, as I said, +and her servant is staying till to-morrow at 'er mother's, ten miles +away.” + +Mr. Travers rose to his feet and stretched himself. “Time I was +toddling,” he said, with a yawn. “Thanks for amusing me, mate.” + +“You won't do it?” said the boatswain, eyeing him with much concern. + +“I'm hanged if I do,” said the soldier, emphatically. “Accidents will +happen, and then where should I be?” + +“If they did,” said the boatswain, “I'd own up and clear you.” + +“You might,” said Mr. Travers, “and then again you mightn't. So long, +mate.” + +“I—I'll make it two quid,” said the boat-swain, trembling with +eagerness. “I've took a fancy to you; you're just the man for the job.” + +The soldier, adjusting his bundle, glanced at him over his shoulder. +“Thankee,” he said, with mock gratitude. + +“Look 'ere,” said the boatswain, springing up and catching him by the +sleeve; “I'll give it to you in writing. Come, you ain't faint-hearted? +Why, a bluejacket 'ud do it for the fun o' the thing. If I give it to +you in writing, and there should be an accident, it's worse for me than +it is for you, ain't it?” + +Mr. Travers hesitated and, pushing his cap back, scratched his head. + +“I gives you the two quid afore you go into the house,” continued the +boatswain, hastily following up the impression he had made. “I'd give +'em to you now if I'd got 'em with me. That's my confidence in you; I +likes the look of you. Soldier or sailor, when there is a man's work to +be done, give 'em to me afore anybody.” + +The soldier seated himself again and let his bundle fall to the ground. +“Go on,” he said, slowly. “Write it out fair and square and sign it, and +I'm your man.” + +The boatswain clapped him on the shoulder and produced a bundle of +papers from his pocket. “There's letters there with my name and address +on 'em,” he said. “It's all fair, square, and above-board. When you've +cast your eyes over them I'll give you the writing.” + +Mr. Travers took them and, re-lighting his pipe, smoked in silence, with +various side glances at his companion as that enthusiast sucked his +pencil and sat twisting in the agonies of composition. The document +finished—after several failures had been retrieved and burnt by the +careful Mr. Travers—the boat-swain heaved a sigh of relief, and handing +it over to him, leaned back with a complacent air while he read it. + +“Seems all right,” said the soldier, folding it up and putting it in his +waistcoat-pocket. “I'll be here at eleven to-night.” + +“Eleven it is,” said the boatswain, briskly, “and, between pals—here's +arf a dollar to go on with.” + +He patted him on the shoulder again, and with a caution to keep out of +sight as much as possible till night walked slowly home. His step was +light, but he carried a face in which care and exultation were strangely +mingled. + +By ten o'clock that night care was in the ascendant, and by eleven, when +he discerned the red glow of Mr. Travers's pipe set as a beacon against +a dark background of hedge, the boatswain was ready to curse his +inventive powers. Mr. Travers greeted him cheerily and, honestly +attributing the fact to good food and a couple of pints of beer he had +had since the boatswain left him, said that he was ready for anything. + +Mr. Benn grunted and led the way in silence. There was no moon, but the +night was clear, and Mr. Travers, after one or two light-hearted +attempts at conversation, abandoned the effort and fell to whistling +softly instead. + +Except for one lighted window the village slept in darkness, but the +boatswain, who had been walking with the stealth of a Red Indian on the +war-path, breathed more freely after they had left it behind. A renewal +of his antics a little farther on apprised Mr. Travers that they were +approaching their destination, and a minute or two later they came to a +small inn standing just off the road. “All shut up and Mrs. Waters abed, +bless her,” whispered the boatswain, after walking care-fully round the +house. “How do you feel?” + +“I'm all right,” said Mr. Travers. “I feel as if I'd been burgling all +my life. How do you feel?” + +“Narvous,” said Mr. Benn, pausing under a small window at the rear of +the house. “This is the one.” + +Mr. Travers stepped back a few paces and gazed up at the house. All was +still. For a few moments he stood listening and then re-joined the +boatswain. + +“Good-bye, mate,” he said, hoisting himself on to the sill. “Death or +victory.” + +The boatswain whispered and thrust a couple of sovereigns into his hand. +“Take your time; there's no hurry,” he muttered. “I want to pull myself +together. Frighten 'er enough, but not too much. When she screams I'll +come in.” + +Mr. Travers slipped inside and then thrust his head out of the window. +“Won't she think it funny you should be so handy?” he inquired. + +“No; it's my faithful 'art,” said the boat-swain, “keeping watch over +her every night, that's the ticket. She won't know no better.” + +Mr. Travers grinned, and removing his boots passed them out to the +other. “We don't want her to hear me till I'm upstairs,” he whispered. +“Put 'em outside, handy for me to pick up.” + +The boatswain obeyed, and Mr. Travers—who was by no means a good hand at +darning socks—shivered as he trod lightly over a stone floor. Then, +following the instructions of Mr. Benn, he made his way to the stairs +and mounted noiselessly. + +But for a slight stumble half-way up his progress was very creditable +for an amateur. He paused and listened and, all being silent, made his +way to the landing and stopped out-side a door. Despite himself his +heart was beating faster than usual. + +He pushed the door open slowly and started as it creaked. Nothing +happening he pushed again, and standing just inside saw, by a small ewer +silhouetted against the casement, that he was in a bedroom. He listened +for the sound of breathing, but in vain. + +“Quiet sleeper,” he reflected; “or perhaps it is an empty room. Now, I +wonder whether—” + +The sound of an opening door made him start violently, and he stood +still, scarcely breathing, with his ears on the alert. A light shone on +the landing, and peeping round the door he saw a woman coming along the +corridor—a younger and better-looking woman than he had expected to see. +In one hand she held aloft a candle, in the other she bore a +double-barrelled gun. Mr. Travers withdrew into the room and, as the +light came nearer, slipped into a big cupboard by the side of the +fireplace and, standing bolt upright, waited. The light came into the +room. + +“Must have been my fancy,” said a pleasant voice. + +“Bless her,” smiled Mr. Travers. + +His trained ear recognized the sound of cocking triggers. The next +moment a heavy body bumped against the door of the cupboard and the key +turned in the lock. + +“Got you!” said the voice, triumphantly. “Keep still; if you try and +break out I shall shoot you.” + +“All right,” said Mr. Travers, hastily; “I won't move.” + +“Better not,” said the voice. “Mind, I've got a gun pointing straight at +you.” + +“Point it downwards, there's a good girl,” said Mr. Travers, earnestly; +“and take your finger off the trigger. If anything happened to me you'd +never forgive yourself.” + +“It's all right so long as you don't move,” said the voice; “and I'm not +a girl,” it added, sternly. + +“Yes, you are,” said the prisoner. “I saw you. I thought it was an angel +at first. I saw your little bare feet and—” + +A faint scream interrupted him. + +“You'll catch cold,” urged Mr. Travers. + +“Don't you trouble about me,” said the voice, tartly. + +“I won't give any trouble,” said Mr. Travers, who began to think it was +time for the boatswain to appear on the scene. “Why don't you call for +help? I'll go like a lamb.” + +“I don't want your advice,” was the reply. “I know what to do. Now, +don't you try and break out. I'm going to fire one barrel out of the +window, but I've got the other one for you if you move.” + +“My dear girl,” protested the horrified Mr. Travers, “you'll alarm the +neighbourhood.” + +“Just what I want to do,” said the voice. “Keep still, mind.” + +Mr. Travers hesitated. The game was up, and it was clear that in any +case the stratagem of the ingenious Mr. Benn would have to be disclosed. + +“Stop!” he said, earnestly. “Don't do anything rash. I'm not a burglar; +I'm doing this for a friend of yours—Mr. Benn.” + +“What?” said an amazed voice. + +“True as I stand here,” asseverated Mr. Travers. “Here, here's my +instructions. I'll put 'em under the door, and if you go to the back +window you'll see him in the garden waiting.” + +He rustled the paper under the door, and it was at once snatched from +his fingers. He regained an upright position and stood listening to the +startled and indignant exclamations of his gaoler as she read the +boatswain's permit: + + “This is to give notice that I, George Benn, being of + sound mind and body, have told Ned Travers to pretend to + be a burglar at Mrs. Waters's. He ain't a burglar, and + I shall be outside all the time. It's all above-board + and ship-shape. + + “(Signed) George Benn” + + “Sound mind—above-board—ship-shape,” repeated a dazed voice. + “Where is he?” + +“Out at the back,” replied Mr. Travers. “If you go to the window you can +see him. Now, do put something round your shoulders, there's a good +girl.” + +There was no reply, but a board creaked. He waited for what seemed a +long time, and then the board creaked again. + +“Did you see him?” he inquired. + +“I did,” was the sharp reply. “You both ought to be ashamed of +yourselves. You ought to be punished.” + +“There is a clothes-peg sticking into the back of my head,” remarked Mr. +Travers. “What are you going to do?” + +There was no reply. + +“What are you going to do?” repeated Mr. Travers, somewhat uneasily. +“You look too nice to do anything hard; leastways, so far as I can judge +through this crack.” + +There was a smothered exclamation, and then sounds of somebody moving +hastily about the room and the swish of clothing hastily donned. + +“You ought to have done it before,” commented the thoughtful Mr. +Travers. “It's enough to give you your death of cold.” + +“Mind your business,” said the voice, sharply. “Now, if I let you out, +will you promise to do exactly as I tell you?” + +“Honour bright,” said Mr. Travers, fervently. + +“I'm going to give Mr. Benn a lesson he won't forget,” proceeded the +other, grimly. “I'm going to fire off this gun, and then run down and +tell him I've killed you.” + +“Eh?” said the amazed Mr. Travers. “Oh, Lord!” + +“H'sh! Stop that laughing,” commanded the voice. “He'll hear you. Be +quiet!” + +The key turned in the lock, and Mr. Travers, stepping forth, clapped his +hand over his mouth and endeavoured to obey. Mrs. Waters, stepping back +with the gun ready, scrutinized him closely. + +“Come on to the landing,” said Mr. Travers, eagerly. “We don't want +anybody else to hear. Fire into this.” + +He snatched a patchwork rug from the floor and stuck it up against the +balusters. “You stay here,” said Mrs. Waters. He nodded. + +She pointed the gun at the hearth-rug, the walls shook with the +explosion, and, with a shriek that set Mr. Travers's teeth on edge, she +rushed downstairs and, drawing back the bolts of the back door, tottered +outside and into the arms of the agitated boatswain. + +“Oh! oh! oh!” she cried. + +“What—what's the matter?” gasped the boatswain. + +The widow struggled in his arms. “A burglar,” she said, in a tense +whisper. “But it's all right; I've killed him.” + +“Kill—” stuttered the other. “Kill——Killed him?” + +Mrs. Waters nodded and released herself, “First shot,” she said, with a +satisfied air. + +The boatswain wrung his hands. “Good heavens!” he said, moving slowly +towards the door. “Poor fellow!” + +“Come back,” said the widow, tugging at his coat. + +“I was—was going to see—whether I could do anything for 'im,” quavered +the boatswain. “Poor fellow!” + +“You stay where you are,” commanded Mrs. Waters. “I don't want any +witnesses. I don't want this house to have a bad name. I'm going to keep +it quiet.” + +“Quiet?” said the shaking boatswain. “How?” + +“First thing to do,” said the widow, thoughtfully, “is to get rid of the +body. I'll bury him in the garden, I think. There's a very good bit of +ground behind those potatoes. You'll find the spade in the tool-house.” + +The horrified Mr. Benn stood stock-still regarding her. + +“While you're digging the grave,” continued Mrs. 'Waters, calmly, “I'll +go in and clean up the mess.” + +The boatswain reeled and then fumbled with trembling fingers at his +collar. + +Like a man in a dream he stood watching as she ran to the tool-house and +returned with a spade and pick; like a man in a dream he followed her on +to the garden. + +“Be careful,” she said, sharply; “you're treading down my potatoes.” + +The boatswain stopped dead and stared at her. Apparently unconscious of +his gaze, she began to pace out the measurements and then, placing the +tools in his hands, urged him to lose no time. + +“I'll bring him down when you're gone,” she said, looking towards the +house. + +The boatswain wiped his damp brow with the back of his hand. “How are +you going to get it downstairs?” he breathed. + +“Drag it,” said Mrs. Waters, briefly. + +“Suppose he isn't dead?” said the boat-swain, with a gleam of hope. + +“Fiddlesticks!” said Mrs. Waters. “Do you think I don't know? Now, don't +waste time talking; and mind you dig it deep. I'll put a few cabbages on +top afterwards—I've got more than I want.” + +She re-entered the house and ran lightly upstairs. The candle was still +alight and the gun was leaning against the bed-post; but the visitor had +disappeared. Conscious of an odd feeling of disappointment, she looked +round the empty room. + +“Come and look at him,” entreated a voice, and she turned and beheld the +amused countenance of her late prisoner at the door. + +“I've been watching from the back window,” he said, nodding. “You're a +wonder; that's what you are. Come and look at him.” + +Mrs. Waters followed, and leaning out of the window watched with simple +pleasure the efforts of the amateur sexton. Mr. Benn was digging like +one possessed, only pausing at intervals to straighten his back and to +cast a fearsome glance around him. The only thing that marred her +pleasure was the behaviour of Mr. Travers, who was struggling for a +place with all the fervour of a citizen at the Lord Mayor's show. + +“Get back,” she said, in a fierce whisper. “He'll see you.” + +Mr. Travers with obvious reluctance obeyed, just as the victim looked +up. + +“Is that you, Mrs. Waters?” inquired the boatswain, fearfully. + +“Yes, of course it is,” snapped the widow. “Who else should it be, do +you think? Go on! What are you stopping for?” + +Mr. Benn's breathing as he bent to his task again was distinctly +audible. The head of Mr. Travers ranged itself once more alongside the +widow's. For a long time they watched in silence. + +“Won't you come down here, Mrs. Waters?” called the boatswain, looking +up so suddenly that Mr. Travers's head bumped painfully against the side +of the window. “It's a bit creepy, all alone.” + +“I'm all right,” said Mrs. Waters. + +“I keep fancying there's something dodging behind them currant bushes,” +pursued the unfortunate Mr. Benn, hoarsely. “How you can stay there +alone I can't think. I thought I saw something looking over your +shoulder just now. Fancy if it came creeping up behind and caught hold +of you! The widow gave a sudden faint scream. + +“If you do that again!” she said, turning fiercely on Mr. Travers. + +“He put it into my head,” said the culprit, humbly; “I should never have +thought of such a thing by myself. I'm one of the quietest and +best-behaved——” + +“Make haste, Mr. Benn,” said the widow, turning to the window again; +“I've got a lot to do when you've finished.” + +The boatswain groaned and fell to digging again, and Mrs. Waters, after +watching a little while longer, gave Mr. Travers some pointed +instructions about the window and went down to the garden again. + +“That will do, I think,” she said, stepping into the hole and regarding +it critically. “Now you'd better go straight off home, and, mind, not a +word to a soul about this.” + +She put her hand on his shoulder, and noticing with pleasure that he +shuddered at her touch led the way to the gate. The boat-swain paused +for a moment, as though about to speak, and then, apparently thinking +better of it, bade her good-bye in a hoarse voice and walked feebly up +the road. Mrs. Waters stood watching until his steps died away in the +distance, and then, returning to the garden, took up the spade and stood +regarding with some dismay the mountainous result of his industry. Mr. +Travers, who was standing just inside the back door, joined her. + +“Let me,” he said, gallantly. + +The day was breaking as he finished his task. The clean, sweet air and +the exercise had given him an appetite to which the smell of cooking +bacon and hot coffee that proceeded from the house had set a sharper +edge. He took his coat from a bush and put it on. Mrs. Waters appeared +at the door. + +“You had better come in and have some breakfast before you go,” she +said, brusquely; “there's no more sleep for me now.” + +Mr. Travers obeyed with alacrity, and after a satisfying wash in the +scullery came into the big kitchen with his face shining and took a seat +at the table. The cloth was neatly laid, and Mrs. Waters, fresh and +cool, with a smile upon her pleasant face, sat behind the tray. She +looked at her guest curiously, Mr. Travers's spirits being somewhat +higher than the state of his wardrobe appeared to justify. + +“Why don't you get some settled work?” she inquired, with gentle +severity, as he imparted snatches of his history between bites. + +“Easier said than done,” said Mr. Travers, serenely. “But don't you run +away with the idea that I'm a beggar, because I'm not. I pay my way, +such as it is. And, by-the-bye, I s'pose I haven't earned that two +pounds Benn gave me?” + +His face lengthened, and he felt uneasily in his pocket. + +“I'll give them to him when I'm tired of the joke,” said the widow, +holding out her hand and watching him closely. + +Mr. Travers passed the coins over to her. “Soft hand you've got,” he +said, musingly. “I don't wonder Benn was desperate. I dare say I should +have done the same in his place.” + +Mrs. Waters bit her lip and looked out at the window; Mr. Travers +resumed his breakfast. + +“There's only one job that I'm really fit for, now that I'm too old for +the Army,” he said, confidentially, as, breakfast finished, he stood at +the door ready to depart. + +“Playing at burglars?” hazarded Mrs. Waters. + +“Landlord of a little country public-house,” said Mr. Travers, simply. + +Mrs. Waters fell back and regarded him with open-eyed amazement. + +“Good morning,” she said, as soon as she could trust her voice. + +“Good-bye,” said Mr. Travers, reluctantly. “I should like to hear how +old Benn takes this joke, though.” + +Mrs. Waters retreated into the house and stood regarding him. “If you're +passing this way again and like to look in—I'll tell you,” she said, +after a long pause. “Good-bye.” + +“I'll look in in a week's time,” said Mr. Travers. + +He took the proffered hand and shook it warmly. “It would be the best +joke of all,” he said, turning away. + +“What would?” + +The soldier confronted her again. + +“For old Benn to come round here one evening and find me landlord. Think +it over.” + +Mrs. Waters met his gaze soberly. “I'll think it over when you have +gone,” she said, softly. “Now go.” + + + + +THE NEST EGG + + + + +Artfulness,” said the night-watch-man, smoking placidly, “is a gift; but +it don't pay always. I've met some artful ones in my time—plenty of 'em; +but I can't truthfully say as 'ow any of them was the better for meeting +me.” + +He rose slowly from the packing-case on which he had been sitting and, +stamping down the point of a rusty nail with his heel, resumed his seat, +remarking that he had endured it for some time under the impression that +it was only a splinter. + +“I've surprised more than one in my time,” he continued, slowly. “When I +met one of these 'ere artful ones I used fust of all to pretend to be +more stupid than wot I really am.” + +He stopped and stared fixedly. + +“More stupid than I looked,” he said. He stopped again. + +“More stupid than wot they thought I looked,” he said, speaking with +marked deliberation. And I'd let 'em go on and on until I thought I had +'ad about enough, and then turn round on 'em. Nobody ever got the better +o' me except my wife, and that was only before we was married. Two +nights arterwards she found a fish-hook in my trouser-pocket, and arter +that I could ha' left untold gold there—if I'd ha' had it. It spoilt wot +some people call the honey-moon, but it paid in the long run. + +One o' the worst things a man can do is to take up artfulness all of a +sudden. I never knew it to answer yet, and I can tell you of a case +that'll prove my words true. + +It's some years ago now, and the chap it 'appened to was a young man, a +shipmate o' mine, named Charlie Tagg. Very steady young chap he was, too +steady for most of 'em. That's 'ow it was me and 'im got to be such +pals. + +He'd been saving up for years to get married, and all the advice we +could give 'im didn't 'ave any effect. He saved up nearly every penny of +'is money and gave it to his gal to keep for 'im, and the time I'm +speaking of she'd got seventy-two pounds of 'is and seventeen-and-six of +'er own to set up house-keeping with. + +Then a thing happened that I've known to 'appen to sailormen afore. At +Sydney 'e got silly on another gal, and started walking out with her, +and afore he knew wot he was about he'd promised to marry 'er too. + +Sydney and London being a long way from each other was in 'is favour, +but the thing that troubled 'im was 'ow to get that seventy-two pounds +out of Emma Cook, 'is London gal, so as he could marry the other with +it. It worried 'im all the way home, and by the time we got into the +London river 'is head was all in a maze with it. Emma Cook 'ad got it +all saved up in the bank, to take a little shop with when they got +spliced, and 'ow to get it he could not think. + +He went straight off to Poplar, where she lived, as soon as the ship was +berthed. He walked all the way so as to 'ave more time for thinking, but +wot with bumping into two old gentlemen with bad tempers, and being +nearly run over by a cabman with a white 'orse and red whiskers, he got +to the house without 'aving thought of anything. + +They was just finishing their tea as 'e got there, and they all seemed +so pleased to see 'im that it made it worse than ever for 'im. Mrs. +Cook, who 'ad pretty near finished, gave 'im her own cup to drink out +of, and said that she 'ad dreamt of 'im the night afore last, and old +Cook said that he 'ad got so good-looking 'e shouldn't 'ave known him. + +“I should 'ave passed 'im in the street,” he ses. “I never see such an +alteration.” + +“They'll be a nice-looking couple,” ses his wife, looking at a young +chap, named George Smith, that 'ad been sitting next to Emma. + +Charlie Tagg filled 'is mouth with bread and butter, and wondered 'ow he +was to begin. He squeezed Emma's 'and just for the sake of keeping up +appearances, and all the time 'e was thinking of the other gal waiting +for 'im thousands o' miles away. + +“You've come 'ome just in the nick o' time,” ses old Cook; “if you'd +done it o' purpose you couldn't 'ave arranged it better.” + +“Somebody's birthday?” ses Charlie, trying to smile. + +Old Cook shook his 'ead. “Though mine is next Wednesday,” he ses, “and +thank you for thinking of it. No; you're just in time for the biggest +bargain in the chandlery line that anybody ever 'ad a chance of. If you +'adn't ha' come back we should have 'ad to ha' done it without you.” + +“Eighty pounds,” ses Mrs. Cook, smiling at Charlie. “With the money +Emma's got saved and your wages this trip you'll 'ave plenty. You must +come round arter tea and 'ave a look at it.” + +“Little place not arf a mile from 'ere,” ses old Cook. “Properly worked +up, the way Emma'll do it, it'll be a little fortune. I wish I'd had a +chance like it in my young time.” + +He sat shaking his 'ead to think wot he'd lost, and Charlie Tagg sat +staring at 'im and wondering wot he was to do. + +“My idea is for Charlie to go for a few more v'y'ges arter they're +married while Emma works up the business,” ses Mrs. Cook; “she'll be all +right with young Bill and Sarah Ann to 'elp her and keep 'er company +while he's away.” + +“We'll see as she ain't lonely,” ses George Smith, turning to Charlie. + +Charlie Tagg gave a bit of a cough and said it wanted considering. He +said it was no good doing things in a 'urry and then repenting of 'em +all the rest of your life. And 'e said he'd been given to understand +that chandlery wasn't wot it 'ad been, and some of the cleverest people +'e knew thought that it would be worse before it was better. By the time +he'd finished they was all looking at 'im as though they couldn't +believe their ears. + +“You just step round and 'ave a look at the place,” ses old Cook; “if +that don't make you alter your tune, call me a sinner.” + +Charlie Tagg felt as though 'e could ha' called 'im a lot o' worse +things than that, but he took up 'is hat and Mrs. Cook and Emma got +their bonnets on and they went round. + +“I don't think much of it for eighty pounds,” ses Charlie, beginning his +artfulness as they came near a big shop, with plate-glass and a double +front. + +“Eh?” ses old Cook, staring at 'im. “Why, that ain't the place. Why, you +wouldn't get that for eight 'undred.” + +“Well, I don't think much of it,” ses Charlie; “if it's worse than that +I can't look at it—I can't, indeed.” + +“You ain't been drinking, Charlie?” ses old Cook, in a puzzled voice. + +“Certainly not,” ses Charlie. + +He was pleased to see 'ow anxious they all looked, and when they did +come to the shop 'e set up a laugh that old Cook said chilled the marrer +in 'is bones. He stood looking in a 'elpless sort o' way at his wife and +Emma, and then at last he ses, “There it is; and a fair bargain at the +price.” + +“I s'pose you ain't been drinking?” ses Charlie. + +“Wot's the matter with it?” ses Mrs. Cook flaring up. + +“Come inside and look at it,” ses Emma, taking 'old of his arm. + +“Not me,” ses Charlie, hanging back. “Why, I wouldn't take it at a +gift.” + +He stood there on the kerbstone, and all they could do 'e wouldn't +budge. He said it was a bad road and a little shop, and 'ad got a look +about it he didn't like. They walked back 'ome like a funeral +procession, and Emma 'ad to keep saying “H's!” in w'ispers to 'er mother +all the way. + +“I don't know wot Charlie does want, I'm sure,” ses Mrs. Cook, taking +off 'er bonnet as soon as she got indoors and pitching it on the chair +he was just going to set down on. + +“It's so awk'ard,” ses old Cook, rubbing his 'cad. “Fact is, Charlie, we +pretty near gave 'em to understand as we'd buy it.” + +“It's as good as settled,” ses Mrs. Cook, trembling all over with +temper. + +“They won't settle till they get the money,” ses Charlie. “You may make +your mind easy about that.” + +“Emma's drawn it all out of the bank ready,” ses old Cook, eager like. + +Charlie felt 'ot and cold all over. “I'd better take care of it,” he +ses, in a trembling voice. “You might be robbed.” + +“So might you be,” ses Mrs. Cook. “Don't you worry; it's in a safe +place.” + +“Sailormen are always being robbed,” ses George Smith, who 'ad been +helping young Bill with 'is sums while they 'ad gone to look at the +shop. “There's more sailormen robbed than all the rest put together.” + +“They won't rob Charlie,” ses Mrs. Cook, pressing 'er lips together. +“I'll take care o' that.” + +Charlie tried to laugh, but 'e made such a queer noise that young Bill +made a large blot on 'is exercise-book, and old Cook, wot was lighting +his pipe, burnt 'is fingers through not looking wot 'e was doing. + +“You see,” ses Charlie, “if I was robbed, which ain't at all likely, it +'ud only be me losing my own money; but if you was robbed of it you'd +never forgive yourselves.” + +“I dessay I should get over it,” ses Mrs. Cook, sniffing. “I'd 'ave a +try, at all events.” + +Charlie started to laugh agin, and old Cook, who had struck another +match, blew it out and waited till he'd finished. + +“The whole truth is,” ses Charlie, looking round, “I've got something +better to do with the money. I've got a chance offered me that'll make +me able to double it afore you know where you are.” + +“Not afore I know where I am,” ses Mrs. Cook, with a laugh that was +worse than Charlie's. + +“The chance of a lifetime,” ses Charlie, trying to keep 'is temper. “I +can't tell you wot it is, because I've promised to keep it secret for a +time. You'll be surprised when I do tell you.” + +“If I wait till then till I'm surprised,” ses Mrs. Cook, “I shall 'ave +to wait a long time. My advice to you is to take that shop and ha' done +with it.” + +Charlie sat there arguing all the evening, but it was no good, and the +idea o' them people sitting there and refusing to let 'im have his own +money pretty near sent 'im crazy. It was all 'e could do to kiss Emma +good-night, and 'e couldn't have 'elped slamming the front door if he'd +been paid for it. The only comfort he 'ad got left was the Sydney gal's +photygraph, and he took that out and looked at it under nearly every +lamp-post he passed. + +He went round the next night and 'ad an-other try to get 'is money, but +it was no use; and all the good he done was to make Mrs. Cook in such a +temper that she 'ad to go to bed before he 'ad arf finished. It was no +good talking to old Cook and Emma, because they daren't do anything +without 'er, and it was no good calling things up the stairs to her +because she didn't answer. Three nights running Mrs. Cook went off to +bed afore eight o'clock, for fear she should say something to 'im as +she'd be sorry for arterwards; and for three nights Charlie made 'imself +so disagreeable that Emma told 'im plain the sooner 'e went back to sea +agin the better she should like it. The only one who seemed to enjoy it +was George Smith, and 'e used to bring bits out o' newspapers and read +to 'em, showing 'ow silly people was done out of their money. + +On the fourth night Charlie dropped it and made 'imself so amiable that +Mrs. Cook stayed up and made 'im a Welsh rare-bit for 'is supper, and +made 'im drink two glasses o' beer instead o' one, while old Cook sat +and drank three glasses o' water just out of temper, and to show that 'e +didn't mind. When she started on the chandler's shop agin Charlie said +he'd think it over, and when 'e went away Mrs. Cook called 'im her +sailor-boy and wished 'im pleasant dreams. + +But Charlie Tagg 'ad got better things to do than to dream, and 'e sat +up in bed arf the night thinking out a new plan he'd thought of to get +that money. When 'e did fall asleep at last 'e dreamt of taking a little +farm in Australia and riding about on 'orseback with the Sydney gal +watching his men at work. + +In the morning he went and hunted up a shipmate of 'is, a young feller +named Jack Bates. Jack was one o' these 'ere chaps, nobody's enemy but +their own, as the saying is; a good-'arted, free-'anded chap as you +could wish to see. Everybody liked 'im, and the ship's cat loved 'im. +He'd ha' sold the shirt off 'is back to oblige a pal, and three times in +one week he got 'is face scratched for trying to prevent 'usbands +knocking their wives about. + +Charlie Tagg went to 'im because he was the only man 'e could trust, and +for over arf an hour he was telling Jack Bates all 'is troubles, and at +last, as a great favour, he let 'im see the Sydney gal's photygraph, and +told him that all that pore gal's future 'appiness depended upon 'im. + +“I'll step round to-night and rob 'em of that seventy-two pounds,” ses +Jack; “it's your money, and you've a right to it.” + +Charlie shook his 'ead. “That wouldn't do,” he ses; “besides, I don't +know where they keep it. No; I've got a better plan than that. Come +round to the Crooked Billet, so as we can talk it over in peace and +quiet.” + +He stood Jack three or four arf-pints afore 'e told 'im his plan, and +Jack was so pleased with it that he wanted to start at once, but Charlie +persuaded 'im to wait. + +“And don't you spare me, mind, out o' friendship,” ses Charlie, “because +the blacker you paint me the better I shall like it.” + +“You trust me, mate,” ses Jack Bates; “if I don't get that seventy-two +pounds for you, you may call me a Dutchman. Why, it's fair robbery, I +call it, sticking to your money like that.” + +They spent the rest o' the day together, and when evening came Charlie +went off to the Cooks'. Emma 'ad arf expected they was going to a +theayter that night, but Charlie said he wasn't feeling the thing, and +he sat there so quiet and miserable they didn't know wot to make of 'im. + +“'Ave you got any trouble on your mind, Charlie,” ses Mrs. Cook, “or is +it the tooth-ache?” + +“It ain't the toothache,” ses Charlie. + +He sat there pulling a long face and staring at the floor, but all Mrs. +Cook and Emma could do 'e wouldn't tell them wot was the matter with +'im. He said 'e didn't want to worry other people with 'is troubles; let +everybody bear their own, that was 'is motto. Even when George Smith +offered to go to the theayter with Emma instead of 'im he didn't fire +up, and, if it 'adn't ha' been for Mrs. Cook, George wouldn't ha' been +sorry that 'e spoke. + +“Theayters ain't for me,” ses Charlie, with a groan. “I'm more likely to +go to gaol, so far as I can see, than a theayter.” + +Mrs. Cook and Emma both screamed and Sarah Ann did 'er first +highstericks, and very well, too, considering that she 'ad only just +turned fifteen. + +“Gaol!” ses old Cook, as soon as they 'ad quieted Sarah Ann with a bowl +o' cold water that young Bill 'ad the presence o' mind to go and fetch. +“Gaol! What for?” + +“You wouldn't believe if I was to tell you.” ses Charlie, getting up to +go, “and besides, I don't want any of you to think as 'ow I am worse +than wot I am.” + +He shook his 'cad at them sorrowful-like, and afore they could stop 'im +he 'ad gone. Old Cook shouted arter 'im, but it was no use, and the +others was running into the scullery to fill the bowl agin for Emma. + +Mrs. Cook went round to 'is lodgings next morning, but found that 'e was +out. They began to fancy all sorts o' things then, but Charlie turned up +agin that evening more miserable than ever. + +“I went round to see you this morning,” ses Mrs. Cook, “but you wasn't +at 'ome.” + +“I never am, 'ardly,” ses Charlie. “I can't be—it ain't safe.” + +“Why not?” ses Mrs. Cook, fidgeting. + +“If I was to tell you, you'd lose your good opinion of me,” ses Charlie. + +“It wouldn't be much to lose,” ses Mrs. Cook, firing up. + +Charlie didn't answer 'er. When he did speak he spoke to the old man, +and he was so down-'arted that 'e gave 'im the chills a'most, He 'ardly +took any notice of Emma, and, when Mrs. Cook spoke about the shop agin, +said that chandlers' shops was for happy people, not for 'im. + +By the time they sat down to supper they was nearly all as miserable as +Charlie 'imself. From words he let drop they all seemed to 'ave the idea +that the police was arter 'im, and Mrs. Cook was just asking 'im for wot +she called the third and last time, but wot was more likely the hundred +and third, wot he'd done, when there was a knock at the front door, so +loud and so sudden that old Cook and young Bill both cut their mouths at +the same time. + +“Anybody 'ere o' the name of Emma Cook?” ses a man's voice, when young +Bill opened the door. + +“She's inside,” ses the boy, and the next moment Jack Bates followed 'im +into the room, and then fell back with a start as 'e saw Charlie Tagg. + +“Ho, 'ere you are, are you?” he ses, looking at 'im very black. “Wot's +the matter?” ses Mrs. Cook, very sharp. + +“I didn't expect to 'ave the pleasure o' seeing you 'ere, my lad,” ses +Jack, still staring at Charlie, and twisting 'is face up into awful +scowls. “Which is Emma Cook?” + +“Miss Cook is my name,” ses Emma, very sharp. “Wot d'ye want?” + +“Very good,” ses Jack Bates, looking at Charlie agin; “then p'r'aps +you'll do me the kindness of telling that lie o' yours agin afore this +young lady.” + +“It's the truth,” ses Charlie, looking down at 'is plate. + +“If somebody don't tell me wot all this is about in two minutes, I shall +do something desprit,” ses Mrs. Cook, getting up. + +“This 'ere—er—man,” ses Jack Bates, pointing at Charlie, “owes me +seventy-five pounds and won't pay. When I ask 'im for it he ses a party +he's keeping company with, by the name of Emma Cook, 'as got it, and he +can't get it.” + +“So she has,” ses Charlie, without looking up. + +“Wot does 'e owe you the money for?” ses Mrs. Cook. + +“'Cos I lent it to 'im,” ses Jack. + +“Lent it? What for?” ses Mrs. Cook. + +“'Cos I was a fool, I s'pose,” ses jack Bates; “a good-natured fool. +Anyway, I'm sick and tired of asking for it, and if I don't get it +to-night I'm going to see the police about it.” + +He sat down on a chair with 'is hat cocked over one eye, and they all +sat staring at 'im as though they didn't know wot to say next. + +“So this is wot you meant when you said you'd got the chance of a +lifetime, is it?” ses Mrs. Cook to Charlie. “This is wot you wanted it +for, is it? Wot did you borrow all that money for?” + +“Spend,” ses Charlie, in a sulky voice. + +“Spend!” ses Mrs. Cook, with a scream; “wot in?” + +“Drink and cards mostly,” ses Jack Bates, remembering wot Charlie 'ad +told 'im about blackening 'is character. + +You might ha' heard a pin drop a'most, and Charlie sat there without +saying a word. + +“Charlie's been led away,” ses Mrs. Cook, looking 'ard at Jack Bates. “I +s'pose you lent 'im the money to win it back from 'im at cards, didn't +you?” + +“And gave 'im too much licker fust,” ses old Cook. “I've 'eard of your +kind. If Charlie takes my advice 'e won't pay you a farthing. I should +let you do your worst if I was 'im; that's wot I should do. You've got a +low face; a nasty, ugly, low face.” + +“One o' the worst I ever see,” ses Mrs. Cook. “It looks as though it +might ha' been cut out o' the Police News.” + +“'Owever could you ha' trusted a man with a face like that, Charlie?” +ses old Cook. “Come away from 'im, Bill; I don't like such a chap in the +room.” + +Jack Bates began to feel very awk'ard. They was all glaring at 'im as +though they could eat 'im, and he wasn't used to such treatment. And, as +a matter o' fact, he'd got a very good-'arted face. + +“You go out o' that door,” ses old Cook, pointing to it. “Go and do your +worst. You won't get any money 'ere.” + +“Stop a minute,” ses Emma, and afore they could stop 'er she ran +upstairs. Mrs. Cook went arter 'er and 'igh words was heard up in the +bedroom, but by-and-by Emma came down holding her head very 'igh and +looking at Jack Bates as though he was dirt. + +“How am I to know Charlie owes you this money?” she ses. + +Jack Bates turned very red, and arter fumbling in 'is pockets took out +about a dozen dirty bits o' paper, which Charlie 'ad given 'im for I O +U's. Emma read 'em all, and then she threw a little parcel on the table. + +“There's your money,” she ses; “take it and go.” + +Mrs. Cook and 'er father began to call out, but it was no good. + +“There's seventy-two pounds there,” ses Emma, who was very pale; “and +'ere's a ring you can have to 'elp make up the rest.” And she drew +Charlie's ring off and throwed it on the table. “I've done with 'im for +good,” she ses, with a look at 'er mother. + +Jack Bates took up the money and the ring and stood there looking at 'er +and trying to think wot to say. He'd always been uncommon partial to the +sex, and it did seem 'ard to stand there and take all that on account of +Charlie Tagg. + +“I only wanted my own,” he ses, at last, shuffling about the floor. + +“Well, you've got it,” ses Mrs. Cook, “and now you can go.” + +“You're pi'soning the air of my front parlour,” ses old Cook, opening +the winder a little at the top. + +“P'r'aps I ain't so bad as you think I am,” ses Jack Bates, still +looking at Emma, and with that 'e walked over to Charlie and dumped down +the money on the table in front of 'im. “Take it,” he ses, “and don't +borrow any more. I make you a free gift of it. P'r'aps my 'art ain't as +black as my face,” he ses, turning to Mrs. Cook. + +They was all so surprised at fust that they couldn't speak, but old Cook +smiled at 'im and put the winder up agin. And Charlie Tagg sat there arf +mad with temper, locking as though 'e could eat Jack Bates without any +salt, as the saying is. + +“I—I can't take it,” he ses at last, with a stammer. + +“Can't take it? Why not?” ses old Cook, staring. “This gentleman 'as +given it to you.” “A free gift,” ses Mrs. Cook, smiling at Jack very +sweet. + +“I can't take it,” ses Charlie, winking at Jack to take the money up and +give it to 'im quiet, as arranged. “I 'ave my pride.” + +“So 'ave I,” ses Jack. “Are you going to take it?” + +Charlie gave another look. “No,” he ses, “I cant take a favour. I +borrowed the money and I'll pay it back. + +“Very good,” ses Jack, taking it up. “It's my money, ain't it?” + +“Yes,” ses Charlie, taking no notice of Mrs. Cook and 'er husband, wot +was both talking to 'im at once, and trying to persuade 'im to alter his +mind. + +“Then I give it to Miss Emma Cook,” ses Jack Bates, putting it into her +hands. “Good-night everybody and good luck.” + +He slammed the front door behind 'im and they 'eard 'im go off down the +road as if 'e was going for fire-engines. Charlie sat there for a moment +struck all of a heap, and then 'e jumped up and dashed arter 'im. He +just saw 'im disappearing round a corner, and he didn't see 'im agin for +a couple o' year arterwards, by which time the Sydney gal had 'ad three +or four young men arter 'im, and Emma, who 'ad changed her name to +Smith, was doing one o' the best businesses in the chandlery line in +Poplar. + + + + +THE CONSTABLE'S MOVE + + + + +Mr. Bob Grummit sat in the kitchen with his corduroy-clad legs stretched +on the fender. His wife's half-eaten dinner was getting cold on the +table; Mr. Grummit, who was badly in need of cheering up, emptied her +half-empty glass of beer and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. + +“Come away, I tell you,” he called. “D'ye hear? Come away. You'll be +locked up if you don't.” + +He gave a little laugh at the sarcasm, and sticking his short pipe in +his mouth lurched slowly to the front-room door and scowled at his wife +as she lurked at the back of the window watching intently the furniture +which was being carried in next door. + +“Come away or else you'll be locked up,” repeated Mr. Grummit. “You +mustn't look at policemen's furniture; it's agin the law.” + +Mrs. Grummit made no reply, but, throwing appearances to the winds, +stepped to the window until her nose touched, as a walnut sideboard with +bevelled glass back was tenderly borne inside under the personal +supervision of Police-Constable Evans. + +“They'll be 'aving a pianner next,” said the indignant Mr. Grummit, +peering from the depths of the room. + +“They've got one,” responded his wife; “there's the end if it stickin' +up in the van.” + +Mr. Grummit advanced and regarded the end fixedly. “Did you throw all +them tin cans and things into their yard wot I told you to?” he +demanded. + +“He picked up three of 'em while I was upstairs,” replied his wife. “I +'eard 'im tell her that they'd come in handy for paint and things.” + +“That's 'ow coppers get on and buy pianners,” said the incensed Mr. +Grummit, “sneaking other people's property. I didn't tell you to throw +good 'uns over, did I? Wot d'ye mean by it?” + +Mrs. Grummit made no reply, but watched with bated breath the triumphal +entrance of the piano. The carman set it tenderly on the narrow +footpath, while P. C. Evans, stooping low, examined it at all points, +and Mrs. Evans, raising the lid, struck a few careless chords. + +“Showing off,” explained Mrs. Grummit, with a half turn; “and she's got +fingers like carrots.” + +“It's a disgrace to Mulberry Gardens to 'ave a copper come and live in +it,” said the indignant Grummit; “and to come and live next to me!— +that's what I can't get over. To come and live next door to a man wot +has been fined twice, and both times wrong. Why, for two pins I'd go in +and smash 'is pianner first and 'im after it. He won't live 'ere long, +you take my word for it.” + +“Why not?” inquired his wife. + +“Why?” repeated Mr. Grummit. “Why? Why, becos I'll make the place too +'ot to hold him. Ain't there enough houses in Tunwich without 'im +a-coming and living next door to me?” + +For a whole week the brain concealed in Mr. Grummit's bullet-shaped head +worked in vain, and his temper got correspondingly bad. The day after +the Evans' arrival he had found his yard littered with tins which he +recognized as old acquaintances, and since that time they had travelled +backwards and forwards with monotonous regularity. They sometimes made +as many as three journeys a day, and on one occasion the heavens opened +to drop a battered tin bucket on the back of Mr. Grummit as he was tying +his bootlace. Five minutes later he spoke of the outrage to Mr. Evans, +who had come out to admire the sunset. + +“I heard something fall,” said the constable, eyeing the pail curiously. + +“You threw it,” said Mr. Grummit, breathing furiously. + +“Me? Nonsense,” said the other, easily. “I was having tea in the parlour +with my wife and my mother-in-law, and my brother Joe and his young +lady.” + +“Any more of 'em?” demanded the hapless Mr. Grummit, aghast at this list +of witnesses for an alibi. + +“It ain't a bad pail, if you look at it properly,” said the constable. +“I should keep it if I was you; unless the owner offers a reward for it. +It'll hold enough water for your wants.” + +Mr. Grummit flung indoors and, after wasting some time concocting +impossible measures of retaliation with his sympathetic partner, went +off to discuss affairs with his intimates at the Bricklayers' Arms. The +company, although unanimously agreeing that Mr. Evans ought to be +boiled, were miserably deficient in ideas as to the means by which such +a desirable end was to be attained. + +“Make 'im a laughing-stock, that's the best thing,” said an elderly +labourer. “The police don't like being laughed at.” + +“'Ow?” demanded Mr. Grummit, with some asperity. + +“There's plenty o' ways,” said the old man. + +“I should find 'em out fast enough if I 'ad a bucket dropped on my back, +I know.” + +Mr. Grummit made a retort the feebleness of which was somewhat balanced +by its ferocity, and subsided into glum silence. His back still ached, +but, despite that aid to intellectual effort, the only ways he could +imagine of making the constable look foolish contained an almost certain +risk of hard labour for himself. + +He pondered the question for a week, and meanwhile the tins—to the +secret disappointment of Mr. Evans—remained untouched in his yard. For +the whole of the time he went about looking, as Mrs. Grummit expressed +it, as though his dinner had disagreed with him. + +“I've been talking to old Bill Smith,” he said, suddenly, as he came in +one night. + +Mrs. Grummit looked up, and noticed with wifely pleasure that he was +looking almost cheerful. + +“He's given me a tip,” said Mr. Grummit, with a faint smile; “a copper +mustn't come into a free-born Englishman's 'ouse unless he's invited.” + +“Wot of it?” inquired his wife. “You wasn't think of asking him in, was +you?” + +Mr. Grummit regarded her almost play-fully. “If a copper comes in +without being told to,” he continued, “he gets into trouble for it. Now +d'ye see?” + +“But he won't come,” said the puzzled Mrs. Grummit. + +Mr. Grummit winked. “Yes 'e will if you scream loud enough,” he +retorted. “Where's the copper-stick?” + +“Have you gone mad?” demanded his wife, “or do you think I 'ave?” + +“You go up into the bedroom,” said Mr. Grummit, emphasizing his remarks +with his forefinger. “I come up and beat the bed black and blue with the +copper-stick; you scream for mercy and call out 'Help!' 'Murder!' and +things like that. Don't call out 'Police!' cos Bill ain't sure about +that part. Evans comes bursting in to save your life—I'll leave the door +on the latch—and there you are. He's sure to get into trouble for it. +Bill said so. He's made a study o' that sort o' thing.” + +Mrs. Grummit pondered this simple plan so long that her husband began to +lose patience. At last, against her better sense, she rose and fetched +the weapon in question. + +“And you be careful what you're hitting,” she said, as they went +upstairs to bed. “We'd better have 'igh words first, I s'pose?” + +“You pitch into me with your tongue,” said Mr. Grummit, amiably. + +Mrs. Grummit, first listening to make sure that the constable and his +wife were in the bedroom the other side of the flimsy wall, complied, +and in a voice that rose gradually to a piercing falsetto told Mr. +Grummit things that had been rankling in her mind for some months. She +raked up misdemeanours that he had long since forgotten, and, not +content with that, had a fling at the entire Grummit family, beginning +with her mother-in-law and ending with Mr. Grummit's youngest sister. +The hand that held the copper-stick itched. + +“Any more to say?” demanded Mr. Grummit advancing upon her. + +Mrs. Grummit emitted a genuine shriek, and Mr. Grummit, suddenly +remembering himself, stopped short and attacked the bed with +extraordinary fury. The room resounded with the blows, and the efforts +of Mrs. Grummit were a revelation even to her husband. + +“I can hear 'im moving,” whispered Mr. Grummit, pausing to take breath. + +“Mur—der!” wailed his wife. “Help! Help!” + +Mr. Grummit, changing the stick into his left hand, renewed the attack; +Mrs. Grummit, whose voice was becoming exhausted, sought a temporary +relief in moans. + +“Is—he——deaf?” panted the wife-beater, “or wot?” + +He knocked over a chair, and Mrs. Grummit contrived another frenzied +scream. A loud knocking sounded on the wall. + +“Hel—lp!” moaned Mrs. Grummit. + +“Halloa, there!” came the voice of the constable. “Why don't you keep +that baby quiet? We can't get a wink of sleep.” + +Mr. Grummit dropped the stick on the bed and turned a dazed face to his +wife. + +“He—he's afraid—to come in,” he gasped. “Keep it up, old gal.” + +He took up the stick again and Mrs. Grummit did her best, but the heart +had gone out of the thing, and he was about to give up the task as +hopeless when the door below was heard to open with a bang. + +“Here he is,” cried the jubilant Grummit. “Now!” + +His wife responded, and at the same moment the bedroom door was flung +open, and her brother, who had been hastily fetched by the neighbours on +the other side, burst into the room and with one hearty blow sent Mr. +Grummit sprawling. + +“Hit my sister, will you?” he roared, as the astounded Mr. Grummit rose. +“Take that!” + +Mr. Grummit took it, and several other favours, while his wife, tugging +at her brother, endeavoured to explain. It was not, however, until Mr. +Grummit claimed the usual sanctuary of the defeated by refusing to rise +that she could make herself heard. + +“Joke?” repeated her brother, incredulously. “Joke?” + +Mrs. Grummit in a husky voice explained. + +Her brother passed from incredulity to amazement and from amazement to +mirth. He sat down gurgling, and the indignant face of the injured +Grummit only added to his distress. + +“Best joke I ever heard in my life,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Don't +look at me like that, Bob; I can't bear it.” + +“Get off 'ome,” responded Mr. Grummit, glowering at him. + +“There's a crowd outside, and half the doors in the place open,” said +the other. “Well, it's a good job there's no harm done. So long.” + +He passed, beaming, down the stairs, and Mr. Grummit, drawing near the +window, heard him explaining in a broken voice to the neighbours +outside. Strong men patted him on the back and urged him gruffly to say +what he had to say and laugh afterwards. Mr. Grummit turned from the +window, and in a slow and stately fashion prepared to retire for the +night. Even the sudden and startling disappearance of Mrs. Grummit as +she got into bed failed to move him. + +“The bed's broke, Bob,” she said faintly. + +“Beds won't last for ever,” he said, shortly; “sleep on the floor.” + +Mrs. Grummit clambered out, and after some trouble secured the +bedclothes and made up a bed in a corner of the room. In a short time +she was fast asleep; but her husband, broad awake, spent the night in +devising further impracticable schemes for the discomfiture of the foe +next door. + +He saw Mr. Evans next morning as he passed on his way to work. The +constable was at the door smoking in his shirt-sleeves, and Mr. Grummit +felt instinctively that he was waiting there to see him pass. + +“I heard you last night,” said the constable, playfully. “My word! Good +gracious!” + +“Wot's the matter with you?” demanded Mr. Grummit, stopping short. + +The constable stared at him. “She has been knocking you about,” he +gasped. “Why, it must ha' been you screaming, then! I thought it sounded +loud. Why don't you go and get a summons and have her locked up? I +should be pleased to take her.” + +Mr. Grummit faced him, quivering with passion. “Wot would it cost if I +set about you?” he demanded, huskily. + +“Two months,” said Mr. Evans, smiling serenely; “p'r'aps three.” + +Mr. Grummit hesitated and his fists clenched nervously. The constable, +lounging against his door-post, surveyed him with a dispassionate smile. +“That would be besides what you'd get from me,” he said, softly. + +“Come out in the road,” said Mr. Grummit, with sudden violence. + +“It's agin the rules,” said Mr. Evans; “sorry I can't. Why not go and +ask your wife's brother to oblige you?” + +He went in laughing and closed the door, and Mr. Grummit, after a +frenzied outburst, proceeded on his way, returning the smiles of such +acquaintances as he passed with an icy stare or a strongly-worded offer +to make them laugh the other side of their face. The rest of the day he +spent in working so hard that he had no time to reply to the anxious +inquiries of his fellow-workmen. + +He came home at night glum and silent, the hardship of not being able to +give Mr. Evans his deserts without incurring hard labour having weighed +on his spirits all day. To avoid the annoyance of the piano next door, +which was slowly and reluctantly yielding up “The Last Rose of Summer” +note by note, he went out at the back, and the first thing he saw was +Mr. Evans mending his path with tins and other bric-a-brac. + +“Nothing like it,” said the constable, looking up. “Your missus gave 'em +to us this morning. A little gravel on top, and there you are.” + +He turned whistling to his work again, and the other, after endeavouring +in vain to frame a suitable reply, took a seat on an inverted wash-tub +and lit his pipe. His one hope was that Constable Evans was going to try +and cultivate a garden. + +The hope was realized a few days later, and Mr. Grummit at the back +window sat gloating over a dozen fine geraniums, some lobelias and +calceolarias, which decorated the constable's plot of ground. He could +not sleep for thinking of them. + +He rose early the next morning, and, after remarking to Mrs. Grummit +that Mr. Evans's flowers looked as though they wanted rain, went off to +his work. The cloud which had been on his spirits for some time had +lifted, and he whistled as he walked. The sight of flowers in front +windows added to his good humour. + +He was still in good spirits when he left off work that afternoon, but +some slight hesitation about returning home sent him to the +Brick-layers' firms instead. He stayed there until closing time, and +then, being still disinclined for home, paid a visit to Bill Smith, who +lived the other side of Tunwich. By the time he started for home it was +nearly midnight. + +The outskirts of the town were deserted and the houses in darkness. The +clock of Tunwich church struck twelve, and the last stroke was just +dying away as he turned a corner and ran almost into the arms of the man +he had been trying to avoid. + +“Halloa!” said Constable Evans, sharply. “Here, I want a word with you.” + +Mr. Grummit quailed. “With me, sir?” he said, with involuntary respect. + +“What have you been doing to my flowers?” demanded the other, hotly. + +“Flowers?” repeated Mr. Grummit, as though the word were new to him. +“Flowers? What flowers?” + +“You know well enough,” retorted the constable. “You got over my fence +last night and smashed all my flowers down.” + +“You be careful wot you're saying,” urged Mr. Grummit. “Why, I love +flowers. You don't mean to tell me that all them beautiful flowers wot +you put in so careful 'as been spoiled?” + +“You know all about it,” said the constable, choking. “I shall take out +a summons against you for it.” + +“Ho!” said Mr. Grummit. “And wot time do you say it was when I done it?” + +“Never you mind the time,” said the other. + +“Cos it's important,” said Mr. Grummit. + +“My wife's brother—the one you're so fond of—slept in my 'ouse last +night. He was ill arf the night, pore chap; but, come to think of it, +it'll make 'im a good witness for my innocence.” + +“If I wasn't a policeman,” said Mr. Evans, speaking with great +deliberation, “I'd take hold o' you, Bob Grummit, and I'd give you the +biggest hiding you've ever had in your life.” + +“If you wasn't a policeman,” said Mr. Grummit, yearningly, “I'd arf +murder you.” + +The two men eyed each other wistfully, loth to part. + +“If I gave you what you deserve I should get into trouble,” said the +constable. + +“If I gave you a quarter of wot you ought to 'ave I should go to quod,” +sighed Mr. Grummit. + +“I wouldn't put you there,” said the constable, earnestly; “I swear I +wouldn't.” + +“Everything's beautiful and quiet,” said Mr. Grummit, trembling with +eagerness, “and I wouldn't say a word to a soul. I'll take my solemn +davit I wouldn't.” + +“When I think o' my garden—” began the constable. With a sudden movement +he knocked off Mr. Grummit's cap, and then, seizing him by the coat, +began to hustle him along the road. In the twinkling of an eye they had +closed. + +Tunwich church chimed the half-hour as they finished, and Mr. Grummit, +forgetting his own injuries, stood smiling at the wreck before him. The +constable's helmet had been smashed and trodden on; his uniform was torn +and covered with blood and dirt, and his good looks marred for a +fortnight at least. He stooped with a groan, and, recovering his helmet, +tried mechanically to punch it into shape. He stuck the battered relic +on his head, and Mr. Grummit fell back—awed, despite himself. + +“It was a fair fight,” he stammered. + +The constable waved him away. “Get out o' my sight before I change my +mind,” he said, fiercely; “and mind, if you say a word about this it'll +be the worse for you.” + +“Do you think I've gone mad?” said the other. He took another look at +his victim and, turning away, danced fantastically along the road home. +The constable, making his way to a gas-lamp, began to inspect damages. + +They were worse even than he had thought, and, leaning against the +lamp-post, he sought in vain for an explanation that, in the absence of +a prisoner, would satisfy the inspector. A button which was hanging by a +thread fell tinkling on to the footpath, and he had just picked it up +and placed it in his pocket when a faint distant outcry broke upon his +ear. + +He turned and walked as rapidly as his condition would permit in the +direction of the noise. It became louder and more imperative, and cries +of “Police!” became distinctly audible. He quickened into a run, and +turning a corner beheld a little knot of people standing at the gate of +a large house. Other people only partially clad were hastening to-wards +them. The constable arrived out of breath. + +“Better late than never,” said the owner of the house, sarcastically. + +Mr. Evans, breathing painfully, supported himself with his hand on the +fence. + +“They went that way, but I suppose you didn't see them,” continued the +householder. “Halloa!” he added, as somebody opened the hall door and +the constable's damaged condition became visible in the gas-light. “Are +you hurt?” + +“Yes,” said Mr. Evans, who was trying hard to think clearly. To gain +time he blew a loud call on his whistle. + +“The rascals!” continued the other. “I think I should know the big chap +with a beard again, but the others were too quick for me.” + +Mr. Evans blew his whistle again—thoughtfully. The opportunity seemed +too good to lose. + +“Did they get anything?” he inquired. + +“Not a thing,” said the owner, triumphantly. “I was disturbed just in +time.” + +The constable gave a slight gulp. “I saw the three running by the side +of the road,” he said, slowly. “Their behaviour seemed suspicious, so I +collared the big one, but they set on me like wild cats. They had me +down three times; the last time I laid my head open against the kerb, +and when I came to my senses again they had gone.” + +He took off his battered helmet with a flourish and, amid a murmur of +sympathy, displayed a nasty cut on his head. A sergeant and a constable, +both running, appeared round the corner and made towards' them. + +“Get back to the station and make your report,” said the former, as +Constable Evans, in a somewhat defiant voice, repeated his story. +“You've done your best; I can see that.” + +Mr. Evans, enacting to perfection the part of a wounded hero, limped +painfully off, praying devoutly as he went that the criminals might make +good their escape. If not, he reflected that the word of a policeman was +at least equal to that of three burglars. + +He repeated his story at the station, and, after having his head +dressed, was sent home and advised to keep himself quiet for a day or +two. He was off duty for four days, and, the Tunwich Gazette having +devoted a column to the affair, headed “A Gallant Constable,” modestly +secluded himself from the public gaze for the whole of that time. + +To Mr. Grummit, who had read the article in question until he could have +repeated it backwards, this modesty was particularly trying. The +constable's yard was deserted and the front door ever closed. Once Mr. +Grummit even went so far as to tap with his nails on the front parlour +window, and the only response was the sudden lowering of the blind. It +was not until a week afterwards that his eyes were gladdened by a sight +of the constable sitting in his yard; and fearing that even then he +might escape him, he ran out on tip-toe and put his face over the fence +before the latter was aware of his presence. + +“Wot about that 'ere burglary?” he demanded in truculent tones. + +“Good evening, Grummit,” said the constable, with a patronizing air. + +“Wot about that burglary?” repeated Mr. Grummit, with a scowl. “I don't +believe you ever saw a burglar.” + +Mr. Evans rose and stretched himself gracefully. “You'd better run +indoors, my good man,” he said, slowly. + +“Telling all them lies about burglars,” continued the indignant Mr. +Grummit, producing his newspaper and waving it. “Why, I gave you that +black eye, I smashed your 'elmet, I cut your silly 'ead open, I——” + +“You've been drinking,” said the other, severely. + +“You mean to say I didn't?” demanded Mr. Grummit, ferociously. + +Mr. Evans came closer and eyed him steadily. “I don't know what you're +talking about,” he said, calmly. + +Mr. Grummit, about to speak, stopped appalled at such hardihood. + +“Of course, if you mean to say that you were one o' them burglars,” +continued the constable, “why, say it and I'll take you with pleasure. +Come to think of it, I did seem to remember one o' their voices.” + +Mr. Grummit, with his eyes fixed on the other's, backed a couple of +yards and breathed heavily. + +“About your height, too, he was,” mused the constable. “I hope for your +sake you haven't been saying to anybody else what you said to me just +now.” + +Mr. Grummit shook his head. “Not a word,” he faltered. + +“That's all right, then,” said Mr. Evans. “I shouldn't like to be hard +on a neighbour; not that we shall be neighbours much longer.” + +Mr. Grummit, feeling that a reply was expected of him, gave utterance to +a feeble “Oh!” + +“No,” said Mr. Evans, looking round disparagingly. “It ain't good enough +for us now; I was promoted to sergeant this morning. A sergeant can't +live in a common place like this.” + +Mr. Grummit, a prey to a sickening fear, drew near the fence again. “A— +a sergeant?” he stammered. + +Mr. Evans smiled and gazed carefully at a distant cloud. “For my bravery +with them burglars the other night, Grummit,” he said, modestly. “I +might have waited years if it hadn't been for them.” + +He nodded to the frantic Grummit and turned away; Mr. Grummit, without +any adieu at all, turned and crept back to the house. + + + + +BOB'S REDEMPTION + + + + +GRATITOODE!” said the night-watchman, with a hard laugh. “Hmf! Don't +talk to me about gratitoode; I've seen too much of it. If people wot +I've helped in my time 'ad only done arf their dooty—arf, mind you—I +should be riding in my carriage.” + +Forgetful of the limitations of soap-boxes he attempted to illustrate +his remark by lolling, and nearly went over backwards. Recovering +himself by an effort he gazed sternly across the river and smoked +fiercely. It was evident that he was brooding over an ill-used past. + +'Arry Thomson was one of them, he said, at last. For over six months I +wrote all 'is love-letters for him, 'e being an iggernerant sort of man +and only being able to do the kisses at the end, which he always +insisted on doing 'imself: being jealous. Only three weeks arter he was +married 'e come up to where I was standing one day and set about me +without saying a word. I was a single man at the time and I didn't +understand it. My idea was that he 'ad gone mad, and, being pretty +artful and always 'aving a horror of mad people, I let 'im chase me into +a police-station. Leastways, I would ha' let 'im, but he didn't come, +and I all but got fourteen days for being drunk and disorderly. + +Then there was Bill Clark. He 'ad been keeping comp'ny with a gal and +got tired of it, and to oblige 'im I went to her and told 'er he was a +married man with five children. Bill was as pleased as Punch at fust, +but as soon as she took up with another chap he came round to see me and +said as I'd ruined his life. We 'ad words about it—naturally—and I did +ruin it then to the extent of a couple o' ribs. I went to see 'im in the +horsepittle—place I've always been fond of—and the langwidge he used to +me was so bad that they sent for the Sister to 'ear it. + +That's on'y two out of dozens I could name. Arf the unpleasantnesses in +my life 'ave come out of doing kindnesses to people, and all the +gratitoode I've 'ad for it I could put in a pint-pot with a pint o' beer +already in it. + +The only case o' real gratitoode I ever heard of 'appened to a shipmate +o' mine—a young chap named Bob Evans. Coming home from Auckland in a +barque called the Dragon Fly he fell overboard, and another chap named +George Crofts, one o' the best swimmers I ever knew, went overboard +arter 'im and saved his life. + +We was hardly moving at the time, and the sea was like a duck pond, but +to 'ear Bob Evans talk you'd ha' thought that George Crofts was the +bravest-'arted chap that ever lived. He 'adn't liked him afore, same as +the rest of us, George being a sly, mean sort o' chap; but arter George +'ad saved his life 'e couldn't praise 'im enough. He said that so long +as he 'ad a crust George should share it, and wotever George asked 'im +he should have. + +The unfortnit part of it was that George took 'im at his word, and all +the rest of the v'y'ge he acted as though Bob belonged to 'im, and by +the time we got into the London river Bob couldn't call his soul 'is +own. He used to take a room when he was ashore and live very steady, as +'e was saving up to get married, and as soon as he found that out George +invited 'imself to stay with him. + +“It won't cost you a bit more,” he ses, “not if you work it properly.” + +Bob didn't work it properly, but George having saved his life, and never +letting 'im forget it, he didn't like to tell him so. He thought he'd +let 'im see gradual that he'd got to be careful because of 'is gal, and +the fust evening they was ashore 'e took 'im along with 'im there to +tea. + +Gerty Mitchell—that was the gal's name—'adn't heard of Bob's accident, +and when she did she gave a little scream, and putting 'er arms round +his neck, began to kiss 'im right in front of George and her mother. + +“You ought to give him one too,” ses Mrs. Mitchell, pointing to George. + +George wiped 'is mouth on the back of his 'and, but Gerty pretended not +to 'ear. + +“Fancy if you'd been drownded!” she ses, hugging Bob agin. + +“He was pretty near,” ses George, shaking his 'ead. “I'm a pore swimmer, +but I made up my mind either to save 'im or else go down to a watery +grave myself.” + +He wiped his mouth on the back of his 'and agin, but all the notice +Gerty took of it was to send her young brother Ted out for some beer. +Then they all 'ad supper together, and Mrs. Mitchell drank good luck to +George in a glass o' beer, and said she 'oped that 'er own boy would +grow up like him. “Let 'im grow up a good and brave man, that's all I +ask,” she ses. “I don't care about 'is looks.” + +“He might have both,” ses George, sharp-like. “Why not?” + +Mrs. Mitchell said she supposed he might, and then she cuffed young +Ted's ears for making a noise while 'e was eating, and then cuffed 'im +agin for saying that he'd finished 'is supper five minutes ago. + +George and Bob walked 'ome together, and all the way there George said +wot a pretty gal Gerty was and 'ow lucky it was for Bob that he 'adn't +been drownded. He went round to tea with 'im the next day to Mrs. +Mitchell's, and arter tea, when Bob and Gerty said they was going out to +spend the evening together, got 'imself asked too. + +They took a tram-car and went to a music-hall, and Bob paid for the +three of 'em. George never seemed to think of putting his 'and in his +pocket, and even arter the music-hall, when they all went into a shop +and 'ad stewed eels, he let Bob pay. + +As I said afore, Bob Evans was chock-full of gratefulness, and it seemed +only fair that he shouldn't grumble at spending a little over the man +wot 'ad risked 'is life to save his; but wot with keeping George at his +room, and paying for 'im every time they went out, he was spending a lot +more money than 'e could afford. + +“You're on'y young once, Bob,” George said to him when 'e made a remark +one arternoon as to the fast way his money was going, “and if it hadn't +ha' been for me you'd never 'ave lived to grow old.” + +Wot with spending the money and always 'aving George with them when they +went out, it wasn't long afore Bob and Gerty 'ad a quarrel. “I don't +like a pore-spirited man,” she ses. “Two's company and three's none, +and, besides, why can't he pay for 'imself? He's big enough. Why should +you spend your money on 'im? He never pays a farthing.” + +Bob explained that he couldn't say anything because 'e owed his life to +George, but 'e might as well 'ave talked to a lamp-post. The more he +argued the more angry Gerty got, and at last she ses, “Two's company and +three's none, and if you and me can't go out without George Crofts, then +me and 'im 'll go out with-out you.” + +She was as good as her word, too, and the next night, while Bob 'ad gone +out to get some 'bacca, she went off alone with George. It was ten +o'clock afore they came back agin, and Gerty's eyes were all shining and +'er cheeks as pink as roses. She shut 'er mother up like a concertina +the moment she began to find fault with 'er, and at supper she sat next +to George and laughed at everything 'e said. + +George and Bob walked all the way 'ome arter supper without saying a +word, but arter they got to their room George took a side-look at Bob, +and then he ses, suddenlike, “Look 'ere! I saved your life, didn't I?” + +“You did,” ses Bob, “and I thank you for it.” + +“I saved your life,” ses George agin, very solemn. “If it hadn't ha' +been for me you couldn't ha' married anybody.” + +“That's true,” ses Bob. + +“Me and Gerty 'ave been having a talk,” ses George, bending down to undo +his boots. “We've been getting on very well together; you can't 'elp +your feelings, and the long and the short of it is, the pore gal has +fallen in love with me.” + +Bob didn't say a word. + +“If you look at it this way it's fair enough,” ses George. “I gave you +your life and you give me your gal. We're quits now. You don't owe me +anything and I don't owe you anything. That's the way Gerty puts it, and +she told me to tell you so.” + +“If—if she don't want me I'm agreeable,” ses Bob, in a choking voice. +“We'll call it quits, and next time I tumble overboard I 'ope you won't +be handy.” + +He took Gerty's photygraph out of 'is box and handed it to George. +“You've got more right to it now than wot I 'ave,” he ses. “I shan't go +round there any more; I shall look out for a ship to-morrow.” + +George Crofts said that perhaps it was the best thing he could do, and +'e asked 'im in a offhand sort o' way 'ow long the room was paid up for. + +Mrs. Mitchell 'ad a few words to say about it next day, but Gerty told +'er to save 'er breath for walking upstairs. The on'y thing that George +didn't like when they went out was that young Ted was with them, but +Gerty said she preferred it till she knew 'im better; and she 'ad so +much to say about his noble behaviour in saving life that George gave +way. They went out looking at the shops, George thinking that that was +the cheapest way of spending an evening, and they were as happy as +possible till Gerty saw a brooch she liked so much in a window that he +couldn't get 'er away. + +“It is a beauty,” she ses. “I don't know when I've seen a brooch I liked +better. Look here! Let's all guess the price and then go in and see +who's right.” + +They 'ad their guesses, and then they went in and asked, and as soon as +Gerty found that it was only three-and-sixpence she began to feel in her +pocket for 'er purse, just like your wife does when you go out with 'er, +knowing all the time that it's on the mantelpiece with twopence-ha'penny +and a cough lozenge in it. + +“I must ha' left it at 'ome,” she ses, looking at George. + +“Just wot I've done,” ses George, arter patting 'is pockets. + +Gerty bit 'er lips and, for a minute or two, be civil to George she +could not. Then she gave a little smile and took 'is arm agin, and they +walked on talking and laughing till she turned round of a sudden and +asked a big chap as was passing wot 'e was shoving 'er for. + +“Shoving you?” ses he. “Wot do you think I want to shove you for?” + +“Don't you talk to me,” ses Gerty, firing up. “George, make 'im beg my +pardon.” + +“You ought to be more careful,” ses George, in a gentle sort o' way. + +“Make 'im beg my pardon,” ses Gerty, stamping 'er foot; “if he don't, +knock 'im down.” + +“Yes, knock 'im down,” ses the big man, taking hold o' George's cap and +rumpling his 'air. + +Pore George, who was never much good with his fists, hit 'im in the +chest, and the next moment he was on 'is back in the middle o' the road +wondering wot had 'appened to 'im. By the time 'e got up the other man +was arf a mile away; and young Ted stepped up and wiped 'im down with a +pocket-'andkerchief while Gerty explained to 'im 'ow she saw 'im slip on +a piece o' banana peel. + +“It's 'ard lines,” she ses; “but never mind, you frightened 'im away, +and I don't wonder at it. You do look terrible when you're angry, +George; I didn't know you.” + +She praised 'im all the way 'ome, and if it 'adn't been for his mouth +and nose George would 'ave enjoyed it more than 'e did. She told 'er +mother how 'e had flown at a big man wot 'ad insulted her, and Mrs. +Mitchell shook her 'ead at 'im and said his bold spirit would lead 'im +into trouble afore he 'ad done. + +They didn't seem to be able to make enough of 'im, and next day when he +went round Gerty was so upset at the sight of 'is bruises that he +thought she was going to cry. When he had 'ad his tea she gave 'im a +cigar she had bought for 'im herself, and when he 'ad finished smoking +it she smiled at him, and said that she was going to take 'im out for a +pleasant evening to try and make up to 'im for wot he 'ad suffered for +'er. + +“We're all going to stand treat to each other,” she ses. “Bob always +would insist on paying for everything, but I like to feel a bit +independent. Give and take—that's the way I like to do things.” + +“There's nothing like being independent,” ses George. “Bob ought to ha' +known that.” + +“I'm sure it's the best plan,” ses Gerty. “Now, get your 'at on. We're +going to a theayter, and Ted shall pay the 'bus fares.” + +George wanted to ask about the theayter, but 'e didn't like to, and +arter Gerty was dressed they went out and Ted paid the 'bus fares like a +man. + +“Here you are,” ses Gerty, as the 'bus stopped outside the theayter. +“Hurry up and get the tickets, George; ask for three upper circles.” + +She bustled George up to the pay place, and as soon as she 'ad picked +out the seats she grabbed 'old of the tickets and told George to make +haste. + +“Twelve shillings it is,” ses the man, as George put down arf a crown. + +“Twelve?” ses George, beginning to stammer. “Twelve? Twelve? Twel—?” + +“Twelve shillings,” ses the man; “three upper circles you've 'ad.” + +George was going to fetch Gerty back and 'ave cheaper seats, but she 'ad +gone inside with young Ted, and at last, arter making an awful fuss, he +paid the rest o' the money and rushed in arter her, arf crazy at the +idea o' spending so much money. + +“Make 'aste,” ses Gerty, afore he could say anything; “the band 'as just +begun.” + +She started running upstairs, and she was so excited that, when they got +their seats and George started complaining about the price, she didn't +pay any attention to wot he was saying, but kept pointing out ladies' +dresses to 'im in w'ispers and wondering wot they 'ad paid for them. +George gave it up at last, and then he sat wondering whether he 'ad done +right arter all in taking Bob's gal away from him. + +Gerty enjoyed it very much, but when the curtain came down after the +first act she leaned back in her chair and looked up at George and said +she felt faint and thought she'd like to 'ave an ice-cream. “And you +'ave one too, dear,” she ses, when young Ted 'ad got up and beckoned to +the gal, “and Ted 'ud like one too, I'm sure.” + +She put her 'ead on George's shoulder and looked up at 'im. Then she put +her 'and on his and stroked it, and George, reckoning that arter all +ice-creams were on'y a ha'penny or at the most a penny each, altered 'is +mind about not spending any more money and ordered three. + +The way he carried on when the gal said they was three shillings was +alarming. At fust 'e thought she was 'aving a joke with 'im, and it took +another gal and the fireman and an old gentleman wot was sitting behind +'im to persuade 'im different. He was so upset that 'e couldn't eat his +arter paying for it, and Ted and Gerty had to finish it for 'im. + +“They're expensive, but they're worth the money,” ses Gerty. “You are +good to me, George. I could go on eating 'em all night, but you mustn't +fling your money away like this always.” + +“I'll see to that,” ses George, very bitter. + +“I thought we was going to stand treat to each other? That was the idea, +I understood.” + +“So we are,” ses Gerty. “Ted stood the 'bus fares, didn't he?” + +“He did,” ses George, “wot there was of 'em; but wot about you?” + +“Me?” ses Gerty, drawing her 'ead back and staring at 'im. “Why, 'ave +you forgot that cigar already, George?” + +George opened 'is mouth, but 'e couldn't speak a word. He sat looking at +'er and making a gasping noise in 'is throat, and fortunately just as 'e +got 'is voice back the curtain went up agin, and everybody said, “H'sh!” + +He couldn't enjoy the play at all, 'e was so upset, and he began to see +more than ever 'ow wrong he 'ad been in taking Bob's gal away from 'im. +He walked downstairs into the street like a man in a dream, with Gerty +sticking to 'is arm and young Ted treading on 'is heels behind. + +“Now, you mustn't waste any more money, George,” ses Gerty, when they +got outside. “We'll walk 'ome.” + +George 'ad got arf a mind to say something about a 'bus, but he +remembered in time that very likely young Ted hadn't got any more money. +Then Gerty said she knew a short cut, and she took them, walking along +little, dark, narrow streets and places, until at last, just as George +thought they must be pretty near 'ome, she began to dab her eyes with +'er pocket-'andkerchief and say she'd lost 'er way. + +“You two go 'ome and leave me,” she ses, arf crying. “I can't walk +another step.” + +“Where are we?” ses George, looking round. + +“I don't know,” ses Gerty. “I couldn't tell you if you paid me. I must +'ave taken a wrong turning. Oh, hurrah! Here's a cab!” + +Afore George could stop 'er she held up 'er umbrella, and a 'ansom cab, +with bells on its horse, crossed the road and pulled up in front of 'em. +Ted nipped in first and Gerty followed 'im. + +“Tell 'im the address, dear, and make 'aste and get in,” ses Gerty. + +George told the cabman, and then he got in and sat on Ted's knee, partly +on Gerty's umbrella, and mostly on nothing. + +“You are good to me, George,” ses Gerty, touching the back of 'is neck +with the brim of her hat. “It ain't often I get a ride in a cab. All the +time I was keeping company with Bob we never 'ad one once. I only wish +I'd got the money to pay for it.” + +George, who was going to ask a question, stopped 'imself, and then he +kept striking matches and trying to read all about cab fares on a bill +in front of 'im. + +“'Ow are we to know 'ow many miles it is?” he ses, at last. + +“I don't know,” ses Gerty; “leave it to the cabman. It's his bisness, +ain't it? And if 'e don't know he must suffer for it.” + +There was hardly a soul in Gerty's road when they got there, but afore +George 'ad settled with the cabman there was a policeman moving the +crowd on and arf the winders in the road up. By the time George had paid +'im and the cabman 'ad told him wot 'e looked like, Gerty and Ted 'ad +disappeared indoors, all the lights was out, and, in a state o' mind +that won't bear thinking of, George walked 'ome to his lodging. + +Bob was asleep when he got there, but 'e woke 'im up and told 'im about +it, and then arter a time he said that he thought Bob ought to pay arf +because he 'ad saved 'is life. + +“Cert'nly not,” ses Bob. “We're quits now; that was the arrangement. I +only wish it was me spending the money on her; I shouldn't grumble.” + +George didn't get a wink o' sleep all night for thinking of the money he +'ad spent, and next day when he went round he 'ad almost made up 'is +mind to tell Bob that if 'e liked to pay up the money he could 'ave +Gerty back; but she looked so pretty, and praised 'im up so much for 'is +generosity, that he began to think better of it. One thing 'e was +determined on, and that was never to spend money like that agin for +fifty Gertys. + +There was a very sensible man there that evening that George liked very +much. His name was Uncle Joe, and when Gerty was praising George to 'is +face for the money he 'ad been spending, Uncle Joe, instead o' looking +pleased, shook his 'ead over it. + +“Young people will be young people, I know,” he ses, “but still I don't +approve of extravagance. Bob Evans would never 'ave spent all that money +over you.” + +“Bob Evans ain't everybody,” ses Mrs. Mitchell, standing up for Gerty. + +“He was steady, anyway,” ses Uncle Joe. “Besides, Gerty ought not to ha' +let Mr. Crofts spend his money like that. She could ha' prevented it if +she'd ha' put 'er foot down and insisted on it.” + +He was so solemn about it that everybody began to feel a bit upset, and +Gerty borrowed Ted's pocket-'andkerchief, and then wiped 'er eyes on the +cuff of her dress instead. + +“Well, well,” ses Uncle Joe; “I didn't mean to be 'ard, but don't do it +no more. You are young people, and can't afford it.” + +“We must 'ave a little pleasure sometimes,” ses Gerty. + +“Yes, I know,” ses Uncle Joe; “but there's moderation in everything. +Look 'ere, it's time somebody paid for Mr. Crofts. To-morrow's Saturday, +and, if you like, I'll take you all to the Crystal Palace.” + +Gerty jumped up off of 'er chair and kissed 'im, while Mrs. Mitchell +said she knew 'is bark was worse than 'is bite, and asked 'im who was +wasting his money now? + +“You meet me at London Bridge Station at two o'clock,” ses Uncle Joe, +getting up to go. “It ain't extravagance for a man as can afford it.” + +He shook 'ands with George Crofts and went, and, arter George 'ad stayed +long enough to hear a lot o' things about Uncle Joe which made 'im think +they'd get on very well together, he went off too. + +They all turned up very early the next arternoon, and Gerty was dressed +so nice that George couldn't take his eyes off of her. Besides her there +was Mrs. Mitchell and Ted and a friend of 'is named Charlie Smith. + +They waited some time, but Uncle Joe didn't turn up, and they all got +looking at the clock and talking about it, and 'oping he wouldn't make +'em miss the train. + +“Here he comes!” ses Ted, at last. + +Uncle Joe came rushing in, puffing and blowing as though he'd bust. +“Take 'em on by this train, will you?” he ses, catching 'old o' George +by the arm. “I've just been stopped by a bit o' business I must do, and +I'll come on by the next, or as soon arter as I can.” + +He rushed off again, puffing and blowing his 'ardest, in such a hurry +that he forgot to give George the money for the tickets. However, George +borrowed a pencil of Mrs. Mitchell in the train, and put down on paper +'ow much they cost, and Mrs. Mitchell said if George didn't like to +remind 'im she would. + +They left young Ted and Charlie to stay near the station when they got +to the Palace, Uncle Joe 'aving forgotten to say where he'd meet 'em, +but train arter train came in without 'im, and at last the two boys gave +it up. + +“We're sure to run across 'im sooner or later,” ses Gerty. “Let's 'ave +something to eat; I'm so hungry.” + +George said something about buns and milk, but Gerty took 'im up sharp. +“Buns and milk?” she ses. “Why, uncle would never forgive us if we +spoilt his treat like that.” + +She walked into a refreshment place and they 'ad cold meat and bread and +pickles and beer and tarts and cheese, till even young Ted said he'd 'ad +enough, but still they couldn't see any signs of Uncle Joe. They went on +to the roundabouts to look for 'im, and then into all sorts o' shows at +sixpence a head, but still there was no signs of 'im, and George had 'ad +to start on a fresh bit o' paper to put down wot he'd spent. + +“I suppose he must ha' been detained on important business,” ses Gerty, +at last. + +“Unless it's one of 'is jokes,” ses Mrs. Mitchell, shaking her 'ead. +“You know wot your uncle is, Gerty.” + +“There now, I never thought o' that,” ses Gerty, with a start; “p'r'aps +it is.” + +“Joke?” ses George, choking and staring from one to the other. + +“I was wondering where he'd get the money from,” ses Mrs. Mitchell to +Gerty. “I see it all now; I never see such a man for a bit o' fun in all +my born days. And the solemn way he went on last night, too. Why, he +must ha' been laughing in 'is sleeve all the time. It's as good as a +play.” + +“Look here!” ses George, 'ardly able to speak; “do you mean to tell me +he never meant to come?” + +“I'm afraid not,” ses Mrs. Mitchell, “knowing wot he is. But don't you +worry; I'll give him a bit o' my mind when I see 'im.” + +George Crofts felt as though he'd burst, and then 'e got his breath, and +the things 'e said about Uncle Joe was so awful that Mrs. Mitchell told +the boys to go away. + +“How dare you talk of my uncle like that?” ses Gerty, firing up. + +“You forget yourself, George,” ses Mrs. Mitchell. “You'll like 'im when +you get to know 'im better.” + +“Don't you call me George,” ses George Crofts, turning on 'er. “I've +been done, that's wot I've been. I 'ad fourteen pounds when I was paid +off, and it's melting like butter.” + +“Well, we've enjoyed ourselves,” ses Gerty, “and that's what money was +given us for. I'm sure those two boys 'ave had a splendid time, thanks +to you. Don't go and spoil all by a little bit o' temper.” + +“Temper!” ses George, turning on her. “I've done with you, I wouldn't +marry you if you was the on'y gal in the world. I wouldn't marry you if +you paid me.” + +“Oh, indeed!” ses Gerty; “but if you think you can get out of it like +that you're mistaken. I've lost my young man through you, and I'm not +going to lose you too. I'll send my two big cousins round to see you +to-morrow.” + +“They won't put up with no nonsense, I can tell you,” ses Mrs. Mitchell. + +She called the boys to her, and then she and Gerty, arter holding their +'eads very high and staring at George, went off and left 'im alone. He +went straight off 'ome, counting 'is money all the way and trying to +make it more, and, arter telling Bob 'ow he'd been treated, and trying +hard to get 'im to go shares in his losses, packed up his things and +cleared out, all boiling over with temper. + +Bob was so dazed he couldn't make head or tail out of it, but 'e went +round to see Gerty the first thing next morning, and she explained +things to him. + +“I don't know when I've enjoyed myself so much,” she ses, wiping her +eyes, “but I've had enough gadding about for once, and if you come round +this evening we'll have a nice quiet time together looking at the +furniture shops.” + + + + +OVER THE SIDE + + + + +Of all classes of men, those who follow the sea are probably the most +prone to superstition. Afloat upon the black waste of waters, at the +mercy of wind and sea, with vast depths and strange creatures below +them, a belief in the supernatural is easier than ashore, under the +cheerful gas-lamps. Strange stories of the sea are plentiful, and an +incident which happened within my own experience has made me somewhat +chary of dubbing a man fool or coward because he has encountered +something he cannot explain. There are stories of the supernatural with +prosaic sequels; there are others to which the sequel has never been +published. + +I was fifteen years old at the time, and as my father, who had a strong +objection to the sea, would not apprentice me to it, I shipped before +the mast on a sturdy little brig called the Endeavour, bound for Riga. +She was a small craft, but the skipper was as fine a seaman as one could +wish for, and, in fair weather, an easy man to sail under. Most boys +have a rough time of it when they first go to sea, but, with a strong +sense of what was good for me, I had attached myself to a brawny, +good-natured infant, named Bill Smith, and it was soon understood that +whoever hit me struck Bill by proxy. Not that the crew were particularly +brutal, but a sound cuffing occasionally is held by most seamen to be +beneficial to a lad's health and morals. The only really spiteful fellow +among them was a man named Jem Dadd. He was a morose, sallow-looking +man, of about forty, with a strong taste for the supernatural, and a +stronger taste still for frightening his fellows with it. I have seen +Bill almost afraid to go on deck of a night for his trick at the wheel, +after a few of his reminiscences. Rats were a favourite topic with him, +and he would never allow one to be killed if he could help it, for he +claimed for them that they were the souls of drowned sailors, hence +their love of ships and their habit of leaving them when they became +unseaworthy. He was a firm believer in the transmigration of souls, some +idea of which he had, no doubt, picked up in Eastern ports, and gave his +shivering auditors to understand that his arrangements for his own +immediate future were already perfected. + +We were six or seven days out when a strange thing happened. Dadd had +the second watch one night, and Bill was to relieve him. They were not +very strict aboard the brig in fair weather, and when a man's time was +up he just made the wheel fast, and, running for'ard, shouted down the +fo'c's'le. On this night I happened to awake suddenly, in time to see +Bill slip out of his bunk and stand by me, rubbing his red eyelids with +his knuckles. + +“Dadd's giving me a long time,” he whispered, seeing that I was awake; +“it's a whole hour after his time.” + +He pattered up on deck, and I was just turning over, thankful that I was +too young to have a watch to keep, when he came softly down again, and, +taking me by the shoulders, shook me roughly. + +“Jack,” he whispered. “Jack.” + +I raised myself on my elbows, and, in the light of the smoking lamp, saw +that he was shaking all over. + +“Come on deck,” he said, thickly. + +I put on my clothes, and followed him quietly to the sweet, cool air +above. It was a beautiful clear night, but, from his manner, I looked +nervously around for some cause of alarm. I saw nothing. The deck was +deserted, except for the solitary figure at the wheel. + +“Look at him,” whispered Bill, bending a contorted face to mine. + +I walked aft a few steps, and Bill followed slowly. Then I saw that Jem +Dadd was leaning forward clumsily on the wheel, with his hands clenched +on the spokes. + +“He's asleep,” said I, stopping short. + +Bill breathed hard. “He's in a queer sleep,” said he; “kind o' trance +more like. Go closer.” + +I took fast hold of Bill's sleeve, and we both went. The light of the +stars was sufficient to show that Dadd's face was very white, and that +his dim, black eyes were wide open, and staring in a very strange and +dreadful manner straight before him. + +“Dadd,” said I, softly, “Dadd!” + +There was no reply, and, with a view of arousing him, I tapped one +sinewy hand as it gripped the wheel, and even tried to loosen it. + +He remained immovable, and, suddenly with a great cry, my courage +deserted me, and Bill and I fairly bolted down into the cabin and woke +the skipper. + +Then we saw how it was with Jem, and two strong seamen forcibly loosened +the grip of those rigid fingers, and, laying him on the deck, covered +him with a piece of canvas. The rest of the night two men stayed at the +wheel, and, gazing fearfully at the outline of the canvas, longed for +dawn. + +It came at last, and, breakfast over, the body was sewn up in canvas, +and the skipper held a short service compiled from a Bible which +belonged to the mate, and what he remembered of the Burial Service +proper. Then the corpse went overboard with a splash, and the men, after +standing awkwardly together for a few minutes, slowly dispersed to their +duties. + +For the rest of that day we were all very quiet and restrained; pity for +the dead man being mingled with a dread of taking the wheel when night +came. + +“The wheel's haunted,” said the cook, solemnly; “mark my words, there's +more of you will be took the same way Dadd was.” + +The cook, like myself, had no watch to keep. + +The men bore up pretty well until night came on again, and then they +unanimously resolved to have a double watch. The cook, sorely against +his will, was impressed into the service, and I, glad to oblige my +patron, agreed to stay up with Bill. + +Some of the pleasure had vanished by the time night came, and I seemed +only just to have closed my eyes when Bill came, and, with a rough shake +or two, informed me that the time had come. Any hope that I might have +had of escaping the ordeal was at once dispelled by his expectant +demeanour, and the helpful way in which he assisted me with my clothes, +and, yawning terribly, I followed him on deck. + +The night was not so clear as the preceding one, and the air was chilly, +with a little moisture in it. I buttoned up my jacket, and thrust my +hands in my pockets. + +“Everything quiet?” asked Bill as he stepped up and took the wheel. + +“Ay, ay,” said Roberts, “quiet as the grave,” and, followed by his +willing mate, he went below. + +I sat on the deck by Bill's side as, with a light touch on the wheel, he +kept the brig to her course. It was weary work sitting there, doing +nothing, and thinking of the warm berth below, and I believe that I +should have fallen asleep, but that my watchful companion stirred me +with his foot whenever he saw me nodding. + +I suppose I must have sat there, shivering and yawning, for about an +hour, when, tired of inactivity, I got up and went and leaned over the +side of the vessel. The sound of the water gurgling and lapping by was +so soothing that I began to doze. + +I was recalled to my senses by a smothered cry from Bill, and, running +to him, I found him staring to port in an intense and uncomfortable +fashion. At my approach, he took one hand from the wheel, and gripped my +arm so tightly that I was like to have screamed with the pain of it. + +“Jack,” said he, in a shaky voice, “while you was away something popped +its head up, and looked over the ship's side.” + +“You've been dreaming,” said I, in a voice which was a very fair +imitation of Bill's own. + +“Dreaming,” repeated Bill, “dreaming! Ah, look there!” + +He pointed with outstretched finger, and my heart seemed to stop beating +as I saw a man's head appear above the side. For a brief space it peered +at us in silence, and then a dark figure sprang like a cat on to the +deck, and stood crouching a short distance away. + +A mist came before my eyes, and my tongue failed me, but Bill let off a +roar, such as I have never heard before or since. It was answered from +below, both aft and for'ard, and the men came running up on deck just as +they left their beds. + +“What's up?” shouted the skipper, glancing aloft. + +For answer, Bill pointed to the intruder, and the men, who had just +caught sight of him, came up and formed a compact knot by the wheel. + +“Come over the side, it did,” panted Bill, “come over like a ghost out +of the sea.” + +The skipper took one of the small lamps from the binnacle, and, holding +it aloft, walked boldly up to the cause of alarm. In the little patch of +light we saw a ghastly black-bearded man, dripping with water, regarding +us with unwinking eyes, which glowed red in the light of the lamp. + +“Where did you come from?” asked the skipper. + +The figure shook its head. + +“Where did you come from?” he repeated, walking up, and laying his hand +on the other's shoulder. + +Then the intruder spoke, but in a strange fashion and in strange words. +We leaned forward to listen, but, even when he repeated them, we could +make nothing of them. + +“He's a furriner,” said Roberts. + +“Blest if I've ever 'eard the lingo afore,” said Bill. “Does anybody +rekernize it?” + +Nobody did, and the skipper, after another attempt, gave it up, and, +falling back upon the universal language of signs, pointed first to the +man and then to the sea. The other understood him, and, in a heavy, +slovenly fashion, portrayed a man drifting in an open boat, and +clutching and clambering up the side of a passing ship. As his meaning +dawned upon us, we rushed to the stern, and, leaning over, peered into +the gloom, but the night was dark, and we saw nothing. + +“Well,” said the skipper, turning to Bill, with a mighty yawn, “take him +below, and give him some grub, and the next time a gentleman calls on +you, don't make such a confounded row about it.” + +He went below, followed by the mate, and after some slight hesitation, +Roberts stepped up to the intruder, and signed to him to follow. He came +stolidly enough, leaving a trail of water on the deck, and, after +changing into the dry things we gave him, fell to, but without much +appearance of hunger, upon some salt beef and biscuits, regarding us +between bites with black, lack-lustre eyes. + +“He seems as though he's a-walking in his sleep,” said the cook. + +“He ain't very hungry,” said one of the men; “he seems to mumble his +food.” + +“Hungry!” repeated Bill, who had just left the wheel. “Course he ain't +famished. He had his tea last night.” + +The men stared at him in bewilderment. + +“Don't you see?” said Bill, still in a hoarse whisper; “ain't you ever +seen them eyes afore? Don't you know what he used to say about dying? +It's Jem Dadd come back to us. Jem Dadd got another man's body, as he +always said he would.” + +“Rot!” said Roberts, trying to speak bravely, but he got up, and, with +the others, huddled together at the end of the fo'c's'le, and stared in +a bewildered fashion at the sodden face and short, squat figure of our +visitor. For his part, having finished his meal, he pushed his plate +from him, and, leaning back on the locker, looked at the empty bunks. + +Roberts caught his eye, and, with a nod and a wave of his hand, +indicated the bunks. The fellow rose from the locker, and, amid a +breathless silence, climbed into one of them—Jem Dadd's! + +He slept in the dead sailor's bed that night, the only man in the +fo'c's'le who did sleep properly, and turned out heavily and lumpishly +in the morning for breakfast. + +The skipper had him on deck after the meal, but could make nothing of +him. To all his questions he replied in the strange tongue of the night +before, and, though our fellows had been to many ports, and knew a word +or two of several languages, none of them recognized it. The skipper +gave it up at last, and, left to himself, he stared about him for some +time, regardless of our interest in his movements, and then, leaning +heavily against the side of the ship, stayed there so long that we +thought he must have fallen asleep. + +“He's half-dead now!” whispered Roberts. + +“Hush!” said Bill, “mebbe he's been in the water a week or two, and +can't quite make it out. See how he's looking at it now.” + +He stayed on deck all day in the sun, but, as night came on, returned to +the warmth of the fo'c's'le. The food we gave him remained untouched, +and he took little or no notice of us, though I fancied that he saw the +fear we had of him. He slept again in the dead man's bunk, and when +morning came still lay there. + +Until dinner-time, nobody interfered with him, and then Roberts, pushed +forward by the others, approached him with some food. He motioned, it +away with a dirty, bloated hand, and, making signs for water, drank it +eagerly. + +For two days he stayed there quietly, the black eyes always open, the +stubby fingers always on the move. On the third morning Bill, who had +conquered his fear sufficiently to give him water occasionally, called +softly to us. + +“Come and look at him,” said he. “What's the matter with him?” + +“He's dying!” said the cook, with a shudder. + +“He can't be going to die yet!” said Bill, blankly. + +As he spoke the man's eyes seemed to get softer and more life-like, and +he looked at us piteously and helplessly. From face to face he gazed in +mute inquiry, and then, striking his chest feebly with his fist, uttered +two words. + +We looked at each other blankly, and he repeated them eagerly, and again +touched his chest. + +“It's his name,” said the cook, and we all repeated them. + +He smiled in an exhausted fashion, and then, rallying his energies, held +up a forefinger; as we stared at this new riddle, he lowered it, and +held up all four fingers, doubled. + +“Come away,” quavered the cook; “he's putting a spell on us.” + +We drew back at that, and back farther still, as he repeated the +motions. Then Bill's face cleared suddenly, and he stepped towards him. + +“He means his wife and younkers!” he shouted eagerly. “This ain't no Jem +Dadd!” + +It was good then to see how our fellows drew round the dying sailor, and +strove to cheer him. Bill, to show he understood the finger business, +nodded cheerily, and held his hand at four different heights from the +floor. The last was very low, so low that the man set his lips together, +and strove to turn his heavy head from us. + +“Poor devil!” said Bill, “he wants us to tell his wife and children +what's become of him. He must ha' been dying when he come aboard. What +was his name, again?” + +But the name was not easy to English lips, and we had already forgotten +it. + +“Ask him again,” said the cook, “and write it down. Who's got a pen?” + +He went to look for one as Bill turned to the sailor to get him to +repeat it. Then he turned round again, and eyed us blankly, for, by this +time, the owner had himself forgotten it. + + + + +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. + +“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. + + + + +THE TEMPTATION OF SAMUEL BURGE + + + + +Mr. Higgs, jeweller, sat in the small parlour behind his shop, gazing +hungrily at a supper-table which had been laid some time before. It was +a quarter to ten by the small town clock on the mantelpiece, and the +jeweller rubbing his hands over the fire tried in vain to remember what +etiquette had to say about starting a meal before the arrival of an +expected guest. + +“He must be coming by the last train after all, sir,” said the +housekeeper entering the room and glancing at the clock. “I suppose +these London gentlemen keep such late hours they don't understand us +country folk wanting to get to bed in decent time. You must be wanting +your supper, sir.” + +Mr. Higgs sighed. “I shall be glad of my supper,” he said slowly, “but I +dare say our friend is hungrier still. Travelling is hungry work.” + +“Perhaps he is thinking over his words for the seventh day,” said the +housekeeper solemnly. “Forgetting hunger and thirst and all our poor +earthly feelings in the blessedness of his work.” + +“Perhaps so,” assented the other, whose own earthly feelings were +particularly strong just at that moment. + +“Brother Simpson used to forget all about meal-times when he stayed +here,” said the housekeeper, clasping her hands. “He used to sit by the +window with his eyes half-closed and shake his head at the smell from +the kitchen and call it flesh-pots of Egypt. He said that if it wasn't +for keeping up his strength for the work, luscious bread and fair water +was all he wanted. I expect Brother Burge will be a similar sort of +man.” + +“Brother Clark wrote and told me that he only lives for the work,” said +the jeweller, with another glance at the clock. “The chapel at +Clerkenwell is crowded to hear him. It's a blessed favour and privilege +to have such a selected instrument staying in the house. I'm curious to +see him; from what Brother Clark said I rather fancy that he was a +little bit wild in his younger days.” + +“Hallelujah!” exclaimed the housekeeper with fervour. “I mean to think +as he's seen the error of his ways,” she added sharply, as her master +looked up. + +“There he is,” said the latter, as the bell rang. + +The housekeeper went to the side-door, and drawing back the bolt +admitted the gentleman whose preaching had done so much for the small +but select sect known as the Seventh Day Primitive Apostles. She came +back into the room followed by a tall stout man, whose upper lip and +short stubby beard streaked with grey seemed a poor match for the beady +eyes which lurked behind a pair of clumsy spectacles. + +“Brother Samuel Burge?” inquired the jeweller, rising. + +The visitor nodded, and regarding him with a smile charged with +fraternal love, took his hand in a huge grip and shook it fervently. + +“I am glad to see you, Brother Higgs,” he said, regarding him fondly. +“Oh, 'ow my eyes have yearned to be set upon you! Oh, 'ow my ears 'ave +longed to hearken unto the words of your voice!” + +He breathed thickly, and taking a seat sat with his hands upon his +knees, looking at a fine piece of cold beef which the housekeeper had +just placed upon the table. + +“Is Brother Clark well?” inquired the jeweller, placing a chair for him +at the table and taking up his carving-knife. + +“Dear Brother Clark is in excellent 'ealth, I thank you,” said the +other, taking the proffered chair. “Oh! what a man he is; what a +instrument for good. Always stretching out them blessed hands of 'is to +make one of the fallen a Seventh Day Primitive.” + +“And success attends his efforts?” said the jeweller. + +“Success, Brother!” repeated Mr. Burge, eating rapidly and gesticulating +with his knife. “Success ain't no name for it. Why, since this day last +week he has saved three pick-pockets, two Salvationists, one bigamist +and a Roman Catholic.” + +Brother Higgs murmured his admiration. “You are also a power for good,” +he said wistfully. “Brother Clark tells me in his letter that your +exhortations have been abundantly blessed.” + +Mr. Burge shook his head. “A lot of it falls by the wayside,” he said +modestly, “but some of it is an eye-opener to them as don't entirely +shut their ears. Only the day before yesterday I 'ad two jemmies and a +dark lantern sent me with a letter saying as 'ow the owner had no +further use for 'em.” + +The jeweller's eyes glistened with admiration not quite untinged with +envy. “Have you expounded the Word for long?” he inquired. + +“Six months,” replied the other. “It come to me quite natural—I was on +the penitent bench on the Saturday, and the Wednesday afterwards I +preached as good a sermon as ever I've preached in my life. Brother +Clark said it took 'is breath away.” + +“And he's a judge too,” said the admiring jeweller. + +“Now,” continued Brother Burge, helping himself plentifully to pickled +walnuts. “Now there ain't standing room in our Bethel when I'm +expounding. People come to hear me from all parts—old and young—rich and +poor—and the Apostles that don't come early 'ave to stand outside and +catch the crumbs I throw 'em through the winders.” + +“It is enough,” sighed Brother Higgs, whose own audience was frequently +content to be on the wrong side of the window, “it is enough to make a +man vain.” + +“I struggle against it, Brother,” said Mr. Burge, passing his cup up for +some more tea. “I fight against it hard, but once the Evil One was +almost too much for me; and in spite of myself, and knowing besides that +it was a plot of 'is, I nearly felt uplifted.” + +Brother Higgs, passing him some more beef, pressed for details. + +“He sent me two policemen,” replied the other, scowling darkly at the +meanness of the trick. “One I might 'ave stood, but two come to being +pretty near too much for me. They sat under me while I gave 'em the Word +'ot and strong, and the feeling I had standing up there and telling +policemen what they ought to do I shall never forget.” + +“But why should policemen make you proud?” asked his puzzled listener. + +Mr. Burge looked puzzled in his turn. “Why, hasn't Brother Clark told +you about me?” he inquired. + +Mr. Higgs shook his head. “He sort of—suggested that—that you had been a +little bit wild before you came to us,” he murmured apologetically. + +“A—little—bit—wild?” repeated Brother Burge, in horrified accents. “ME? +a little bit wild?” + +“No doubt he exaggerated a little,” said the jeweller hurriedly. “Being +such a good man himself, no doubt things would seem wild to him that +wouldn't to us—to me, I mean.” + +“A little bit wild,” said his visitor again. “Sam Burge, the Converted +Burglar, a little bit wild. Well, well!” + +“Converted what?” shouted the jeweller, half-rising from his chair. + +“Burglar,” said the other shortly. “Why, I should think I know more +about the inside o' gaols than anybody in England; I've pretty near +killed three policemen, besides breaking a gent's leg and throwing a +footman out of window, and then Brother Clark goes and says I've been a +little bit wild. I wonder what he would 'ave?” + +“But you—you've quite reformed now?” said the jeweller, resuming his +seat and making a great effort to hide his consternation. + +“I 'ope so,” said Mr. Burge, with alarming humility; “but it's an +uncertain world, and far be it from me to boast. That's why I've come +here.” + +Mr. Higgs, only half-comprehending, sat back gasping. + +“If I can stand this,” pursued Brother Burge, gesticulating wildly in +the direction of the shop, “if I can stand being here with all these +'ere pretty little things to be 'ad for the trouble of picking of 'em +up, I can stand anything. Tempt me, I says to Brother Clark. Put me in +the way o' temptation, I says. Let me see whether the Evil One or me is +the strongest; let me 'ave a good old up and down with the Powers o' +Darkness, and see who wins.” + +Mr. Higgs, gripping the edge of the table with both hands, gazed at this +new Michael in speechless consternation. + +“I think I see his face now,” said Brother Burge, with tender +enthusiasm. “All in a glow it was, and he patted me on the shoulder and +says, 'I'll send you on a week's mission to Duncombe,' he says, and 'you +shall stop with Brother Higgs who 'as a shop full o' cunning wrought +vanities in silver and gold.'” + +“But suppose,” said the jeweller, finding his voice by a great effort, +“suppose victory is not given unto you.” + +“It won't make any difference,” replied his visitor. “Brother Clark +promised that it shouldn't. 'If you fall, Brother,' he says, 'we'll help +you up again. When you are tired of sin come back to us—there's always a +welcome.'” + +“But—” began the dismayed jeweller. + +“We can only do our best,” said Brother Burge, “the rest we must leave. +I 'ave girded my loins for the fray, and taken much spiritual sustenance +on the way down from this little hymn-book.” + +Mr. Higgs paid no heed. He sat marvelling over the fatuousness of +Brother Clark and trying to think of ways and means out of the dilemma +into which that gentleman's perverted enthusiasm had placed him. He +wondered whether it would be possible to induce Brother Burge to sleep +elsewhere by offering to bear his hotel expenses, and at last, after +some hesitation, broached the subject. + +“What!” exclaimed the other, pushing his plate from him and regarding +him with great severity. “Go and sleep at a hotel? After Brother Clark +has been and took all this trouble? Why, I wouldn't think of doing such +a thing.” + +“Brother Clark has no right to expose you to such a trial,” said Mr. +Higgs with great warmth. + +“I wonder what he'd say if he 'eard you,” remarked Mr. Burge sternly. +“After his going and making all these arrangements, for you to try and +go and upset 'em. To ask me to shun the fight like a coward; to ask me +to go and hide in the rear-ranks in a hotel with everything locked up, +or a Coffer Pallis with nothing to steal.” + +“I should sleep far more comfortably if I knew that you were not +undergoing this tremendous strain,” said the unhappy Mr. Higgs, “and +besides that, if you did give way, it would be a serious business for me +—that's what I want you to look at. I am afraid that if—if unhappily you +did fall, I couldn't prevent you.” + +“I'm sure you couldn't,” said the other cordially. “That's the beauty of +it; that's when the Evil One's whispers get louder and louder. Why, I +could choke you between my finger and thumb. If unfortunately my fallen +nature should be too strong for me, don't interfere whatever you do. I +mightn't be myself.” + +Mr. Higgs rose and faced him gasping. + +“Not even—call for—the police—I suppose,” he jerked out. + +“That would be interfering,” said Brother Burge coldly. + +The jeweller tried to think. It was past eleven. The housekeeper had +gone to spend the night with an ailing sister, and a furtive glance at +Brother Burge's small shifty eyes and fat unwholesome face was +sufficient to deter him from leaving him alone with his property, while +he went to ask the police to give an eye to his house for the night. +Besides, it was more than probable that Mr. Burge would decline to allow +such a proceeding. With a growing sense of his peril he resolved to try +flattery. + +“It was a great thing for the Brethren to secure a man like you,” he +said. + +“I never thought they'd ha' done it,” said Mr. Burge frankly. “I've 'ad +all sorts trying to convert me; crying over me and praying over me. I +remember the first dear good man that called me a lorst lamb. He didn't +say anything else for a month.” + +“So upset,” hazarded the jeweller. + +“I broke his jor, pore feller,” said Brother Burge, a sad but withal +indulgent smile lighting up his face at the vagaries of his former +career. “What time do you go to bed, Brother?” + +“Any time,” said the other reluctantly. “I suppose you are tired with +your journey?” + +Mr. Burge assented, and rising from his chair yawned loudly and +stretched himself. In the small room with his huge arms raised he looked +colossal. + +“I suppose,” said the jeweller, still seeking to re-assure himself, “I +suppose dear Brother Clark felt pretty certain of you, else he wouldn't +have sent you here?” + +“Brother Clark said 'What is a jeweller's shop compared with a 'uman +soul, a priceless 'uman soul?'” replied Mr. Burge. “What is a few +gew-gaws to decorate them that perish, and make them vain, when you come +to consider the opportunity of such a trial, and the good it'll do and +the draw it'll be—if I do win—and testify to the congregation to that +effect? Why, there's sermons for a lifetime in it.” + +“So there is,” said the jeweller, trying to look cheerful. “You've got a +good face, Brother Burge, and you'll do a lot of good by your preaching. +There is honesty written in every feature.” + +Mr. Burge turned and surveyed himself in the small pier-glass. “Yes,” he +said, somewhat discontentedly, “I don't look enough like a burglar to +suit some of 'em.” + +“Some people are hard to please,” said the other warmly. + +Mr. Burge started and eyed him thoughtfully, and then as Mr. Higgs after +some hesitation walked into the shop to turn the gas out, stood in the +doorway watching him. A smothered sigh as he glanced round the shop bore +witness to the state of his feelings. + +The jeweller hesitated again in the parlour, and then handing Brother +Burge his candle turned out the gas, and led the way slowly upstairs to +the room which had been prepared for the honoured visitor. He shook +hands at the door and bade him an effusive good-night, his voice +trembling despite himself as he expressed a hope that Mr. Burge would +sleep well. He added casually that he himself was a very light sleeper. + +To-night sleep of any kind was impossible. He had given up the front +room to his guest, and his own window looked out on an over-grown +garden. He sat trying to read, with his ears alert for the slightest +sound. Brother Burge seemed to be a long time undressing. For half an +hour after he had retired he could hear him moving restlessly about his +room. + +Twelve o'clock struck from the tower of the parish church, and was +followed almost directly by the tall clock standing in the hall +down-stairs. Scarcely had the sounds died away than a low moaning from +the next room caused the affrighted jeweller to start from his chair and +place his ear against the wall. Two or three hollow groans came through +the plaster, followed by ejaculations which showed clearly that Brother +Burge was at that moment engaged in a terrified combat with the Powers +of Darkness to decide whether he should, or should not, rifle his host's +shop. His hands clenched and his ear pressed close to the wall, the +jeweller listened to a monologue which increased in interest with every +word. + +“I tell you I won't,” said the voice in the next room with a groan, “I +won't. Get thee behind me—Get thee—No, and don't shove me over to the +door; if you can't get behind me without doing that, stay where you are. +Yes, I know it's a fortune as well as what you do; but it ain't mine.” + +The listener caught his breath painfully. + +“Diamond rings,” continued Brother Burge in a suffocating voice. “Stop +it, I tell you. No, I won't just go and look at 'em.” + +A series of groans which the jeweller noticed to his horror got weaker +and weaker testified to the greatness of the temptation. He heard +Brother Burge rise, and then a succession of panting snarls seemed to +indicate a fierce bodily encounter. + +“I don't—want to look at 'em,” said Brother Burge in an exhausted voice. +“What's—the good of—looking at 'em? It's like you, you know diamonds are +my weakness. What does it matter if he is asleep? What's my knife got to +do with you?” + +Brother Higgs reeled back and a mist passed before his eyes. He came to +himself at the sound of a door opening, and impelled with a vague idea +of defending his property, snatched up his candle and looked out on to +the landing. + +The light fell on Brother Burge, fully dressed and holding his boots in +his hand. For a moment they gazed at each other in silence; then the +jeweller found his voice. + +“I thought you were ill, Brother,” he faltered. + +An ugly scowl lit up the other's features. “Don't you tell me any of +your lies,” he said fiercely. “You're watching me; that's what you're +doing. Spying on me.” + +“I thought that you were being tempted,” confessed the trembling Mr. +Higgs. + +An expression of satisfaction which he strove to suppress appeared on +Mr. Burge's face. + +“So I was,” he said sternly. “So I was; but that's my business. I don't +want your assistance; I can fight my own battles. You go to bed—I'm +going to tell the congregation I won the fight single-'anded.” + +“So you have, Brother,” said the other eagerly; “but it's doing me good +to see it. It's a lesson to me; a lesson to all of us the way you +wrestled.” + +“I thought you was asleep,” growled Brother Burge, turning back to his +room and speaking over his shoulder. “You get back to bed; the fight +ain't half over yet. Get back to bed and keep quiet.” + +The door closed behind him, and Mr. Higgs, still trembling, regained his +room and looked in agony at the clock. It was only half-past twelve and +the sun did not rise until six. He sat and shivered until a second +instalment of groans in the next room brought him in desperation to his +feet. + +Brother Burge was in the toils again, and the jeweller despite his fears +could not help realizing what a sensation the story of his temptation +would create. Brother Burge was now going round and round his room like +an animal in a cage, and sounds as of a soul wrought almost beyond +endurance smote upon the listener's quivering ear. Then there was a long +silence more alarming even than the noise of the conflict. Had Brother +Burge won, and was he now sleeping the sleep of the righteous, or—— Mr. +Higgs shivered and put his other ear to the wall. Then he heard his +guest move stealthily across the floor; the boards creaked and the +handle of the door turned. + +Mr. Higgs started, and with a sudden flash of courage born of anger and +desperation seized a small brass poker from the fire-place, and taking +the candle in his other hand went out on to the landing again. Brother +Burge was closing his door softly, and his face when he turned it upon +the jeweller was terrible in its wrath. His small eyes snapped with +fury, and his huge hands opened and shut convulsively. + +“What, agin!” he said in a low growl. “After all I told you!” + +Mr. Higgs backed slowly as he advanced. + +“No noise,” said Mr. Burge in a dreadful whisper. “One scream and I'll— +What were you going to do with that poker?” + +He took a stealthy step forward. + +“I—I,” began the jeweller. His voice failed him. “Burglars,” he mouthed, +“downstairs.” + +“What?” said the other, pausing. + +Mr. Higgs threw truth to the winds. “I heard them in the shop,” he said, +recovering, “that's why I took up the poker. Can't you hear them?” + +Mr. Burge listened for the fraction of a second. “Nonsense,” he said +huskily. + +“I heard them talking,” said the other recklessly. “Let's go down and +call the police.” + +“Call 'em from the winder,” said Brother Burge, backing with some haste, +“they might 'ave pistols or something, and they're ugly customers when +they're disturbed.” + +He stood with strained face listening. + +“Here they come,” whispered the jeweller with a sudden movement of +alarm. + +Brother Burge turned, and bolting into his room clapped the door to and +locked it. The jeweller stood dumbfounded on the landing; then he heard +the window go up and the voice of Brother Burge, much strengthened by +the religious exercises of the past six months, bellowing lustily for +the police. + +For a few seconds Mr. Higgs stood listening and wondering what +explanation he should give. Still thinking, he ran downstairs, and, +throwing open the pantry window, unlocked the door leading into the shop +and scattered a few of his cherished possessions about the floor. By the +time he had done this, people were already beating upon the street-door +and exchanging hurried remarks with Mr. Burge at the window above. The +jeweller shot back the bolts, and half-a-dozen neighbours, headed by the +butcher opposite, clad in his nightgown and armed with a cleaver, burst +into the passage. A constable came running up just as the pallid face of +Brother Burge peered over the balusters. The constable went upstairs +three at a time, and twisting his hand in the ex-burglar's neck-cloth +bore him backwards. + +“I've got one,” he shouted. “Come up and hold him while I look round.” + +The butcher was beside him in a moment; Brother Burge struggling wildly, +called loudly upon the name of Brother Higgs. + +“That's all right, constable,” said the latter, “that's a friend of +mine.” + +“Friend o' yours, sir?” said the disappointed officer, still holding +him. + +The jeweller nodded. “Mr. Samuel Burge the Converted Burglar,” he said +mechanically. + +“Conver——” gasped the astonished constable. “Converted burglar? Here!” + +“He is a preacher now,” added Mr. Higgs. + +“Preacher?” retorted the constable. “Why it's as plain as a pikestaff. +Confederates: his part was to go down and let 'em in.” + +Mr. Burge raised a piteous outcry. “I hope you may be forgiven for them +words,” he cried piously. + +“What time did you go up to bed?” pursued the constable. + +“About half-past eleven,” replied Mr. Higgs. + +The other grunted with satisfaction. “And he's fully dressed, with his +boots off,” he remarked. “Did you hear him go out of his room at all?” + +“He did go out,” said the jeweller truth-fully, “but——” + +“I thought so,” said the constable, turning to his prisoner with +affectionate solicitude. “Now you come along o' me. Come quietly, +because it'll be the best for you in the end.” + +“You won't get your skull split open then,” added the butcher, toying +with his cleaver. + +The jeweller hesitated. He had no desire to be left alone with Mr. Burge +again; and a sense of humour, which many years' association with the +Primitive Apostles had not quite eradicated, strove for hearing. + +“Think of the sermon it'll make,” he said encouragingly to the frantic +Mr. Burge, “think of the congregation!” + +Brother Burge replied in language which he had not used in public since +he had joined the Apostles. The butcher and another man stood guard over +him while the constable searched the premises and made all secure again. +Then with a final appeal to Mr. Higgs who was keeping in the background, +he was pitched to the police-station by the energetic constable and five +zealous assistants. + +A diffidence, natural in the circumstances, prevented him from narrating +the story of his temptation to the magistrates next morning, and Mr. +Higgs was equally reticent. He was put back while the police +communicated with London, and in the meantime Brother Clark and a band +of Apostles flanked down to his support. + +On his second appearance before the magistrates he was confronted with +his past; and his past to the great astonishment of the Brethren being +free from all blemish with the solitary exception of fourteen days for +stealing milk-cans, he was discharged with a caution. The disillusioned +Primitive Apostles also gave him his freedom. + + + + +THE MADNESS OF MR. LISTER + + + + +Old Jem Lister, of the Susannah, was possessed of two devils—the love of +strong drink and avarice—and the only thing the twain had in common was +to get a drink without paying for it. When Mr. Lister paid for a drink, +the demon of avarice masquerading as conscience preached a teetotal +lecture, and when he showed signs of profiting by it, the demon of drink +would send him hanging round public-house doors cadging for drinks in a +way which his shipmates regarded as a slur upon the entire ship's +company. Many a healthy thirst reared on salt beef and tickled with +strong tobacco had been spoiled by the sight of Mr. Lister standing by +the entrance, with a propitiatory smile, waiting to be invited in to +share it, and on one occasion they had even seen him (him, Jem Lister, +A.B.) holding a horse's head, with ulterior motives. + +It was pointed out to Mr. Lister at last that his conduct was reflecting +discredit upon men who were fully able to look after themselves in that +direction, without having any additional burden thrust upon them. Bill +Henshaw was the spokesman, and on the score of violence (miscalled +firmness) his remarks left little to be desired. On the score of +profanity, Bill might recall with pride that in the opinion of his +fellows he had left nothing unsaid. + +“You ought to ha' been a member o' Parliament, Bill,” said Harry Lea, +when he had finished. + +“It wants money,” said Henshaw, shaking his head. + +Mr. Lister laughed, a senile laugh, but not lacking in venom. + +“That's what we've got to say,” said Henshaw, turning upon him suddenly. +“If there's anything I hate in this world, it's a drinking miser. You +know our opinion, and the best thing you can do is to turn over a new +leaf now.” + +“Take us all in to the Goat and Compasses,” urged Lea; “bring out some +o' those sovrins you've been hoarding.” + +Mr. Lister gazed at him with frigid scorn, and finding that the +conversation still seemed to centre round his unworthy person, went up +on deck and sat glowering over the insults which had been heaped upon +him. His futile wrath when Bill dogged his footsteps ashore next day and +revealed his character to a bibulous individual whom he had almost +persuaded to be a Christian—from his point of view—bordered upon the +maudlin, and he wandered back to the ship, wild-eyed and dry of throat. + +For the next two months it was safe to say that every drink he had he +paid for. His eyes got brighter and his complexion clearer, nor was he +as pleased as one of the other sex might have been when the +self-satisfied Henshaw pointed out these improvements to his companions, +and claimed entire responsibility for them. It is probable that Mr. +Lister, under these circumstances, might in time have lived down his +taste for strong drink, but that at just that time they shipped a new +cook. + +He was a big, cadaverous young fellow, who looked too closely after his +own interests to be much of a favourite with the other men forward. On +the score of thrift, it was soon discovered that he and Mr. Lister had +much in common, and the latter, pleased to find a congenial spirit, was +disposed to make the most of him, and spent, despite the heat, much of +his spare time in the galley. + +“You keep to it,” said the greybeard impressively; “money was made to be +took care of; if you don't spend your money you've always got it. I've +always been a saving man—what's the result?” + +The cook, waiting some time in patience to be told, gently inquired what +it was. + +“'Ere am I,” said Mr. Lister, good-naturedly helping him to cut a +cabbage, “at the age of sixty-two with a bank-book down below in my +chest, with one hundered an' ninety pounds odd in it.” + +“One 'undered and ninety pounds!” repeated the cook, with awe. + +“To say nothing of other things,” continued Mr. Lister, with joyful +appreciation of the effect he was producing. “Altogether I've got a +little over four 'undered pounds.” + +The cook gasped, and with gentle firmness took the cabbage from him as +being unfit work for a man of such wealth. + +“It's very nice,” he said, slowly. “It's very nice. You'll be able to +live on it in your old age.” + +Mr. Lister shook his head mournfully, and his eyes became humid. + +“There's no old age for me,” he said, sadly; “but you needn't tell +them,” and he jerked his thumb towards the forecastle. + +“No, no,” said the cook. + +“I've never been one to talk over my affairs,” said Mr. Lister, in a low +voice. “I've never yet took fancy enough to anybody so to do. No, my +lad, I'm saving up for somebody else.” + +“What are you going to live on when you're past work then?” demanded the +other. + +Mr. Lister took him gently by the sleeve, and his voice sank with the +solemnity of his subject: “I'm not going to have no old age,” he said, +resignedly. + +“Not going to live!” repeated the cook, gazing uneasily at a knife by +his side. “How do you know?” + +“I went to a orsepittle in London,” said Mr. Lister. “I've been to two +or three altogether, while the money I've spent on doctors is more than +I like to think of, and they're all surprised to think that I've lived +so long. I'm so chock-full o' complaints, that they tell me I can't live +more than two years, and I might go off at any moment.” + +“Well, you've got money,” said the cook, “why don't you knock off work +now and spend the evenin' of your life ashore? Why should you save up +for your relatives?” + +“I've got no relatives,” said Mr. Lister; “I'm all alone. I 'spose I +shall leave my money to some nice young feller, and I hope it'll do 'im +good.” + +With the dazzling thoughts which flashed through the cook's brain the +cabbage dropped violently into the saucepan, and a shower of cooling +drops fell on both men. + +“I 'spose you take medicine?” he said, at length. + +“A little rum,” said Mr. Lister, faintly; “the doctors tell me that it +is the only thing that keeps me up—o' course, the chaps down there “—he +indicated the forecastle again with a jerk of his head—“accuse me o' +taking too much.” + +“What do ye take any notice of 'em for?” inquired the other, +indignantly. + +“I 'spose it is foolish,” admitted Mr. Lister; “but I don't like being +misunderstood. I keep my troubles to myself as a rule, cook. I don't +know what's made me talk to you like this. I 'eard the other day you was +keeping company with a young woman.” + +“Well, I won't say as I ain't,” replied the other, busying himself over +the fire. + +“An' the best thing, too, my lad,” said the old man, warmly. “It keeps +you stiddy, keeps you out of public-'ouses; not as they ain't good in +moderation—I 'ope you'll be 'appy.” + +A friendship sprang up between the two men which puzzled the remainder +of the crew not a little. + +The cook thanked him, and noticed that Mr. Lister was fidgeting with a +piece of paper. + +“A little something I wrote the other day,” said the old man, catching +his eye. “If I let you see it, will you promise not to tell a soul about +it, and not to give me no thanks?” + +The wondering cook promised, and, the old man being somewhat emphatic on +the subject, backed his promise with a home made affidavit of singular +power and profanity. + +“Here it is, then,” said Mr. Lister. + +The cook took the paper, and as he read the letters danced before him. +He blinked his eyes and started again, slowly. In plain black and white +and nondescript-coloured finger-marks, Mr. Lister, after a general +statement as to his bodily and mental health, left the whole of his +estate to the cook. The will was properly dated and witnessed, and the +cook's voice shook with excitement and emotion as he offered to hand it +back. + +“I don't know what I've done for you to do this,” he said. + +Mr. Lister waved it away again. “Keep it,” he said, simply; “while +you've got it on you, you'll know it's safe.” + +From this moment a friendship sprang up between the two men which +puzzled the remainder of the crew not a little. The attitude of the cook +was as that of a son to a father: the benignancy of Mr. Lister beautiful +to behold. It was noticed, too, that he had abandoned the reprehensible +practice of hanging round tavern doors in favour of going inside and +drinking the cook's health. + +For about six months the cook, although always in somewhat straitened +circumstances, was well content with the tacit bargain, and then, bit by +bit, the character of Mr. Lister was revealed to him. It was not a nice +character, but subtle; and when he made the startling discovery that a +will could be rendered invalid by the simple process of making another +one the next day, he became as a man possessed. When he ascertained that +Mr. Lister when at home had free quarters at the house of a married +niece, he used to sit about alone, and try and think of ways and means +of securing capital sunk in a concern which seemed to show no signs of +being wound-up. + +“I've got a touch of the 'art again, lad,” said the elderly invalid, as +they sat alone in the forecastle one night at Seacole. + +“You move about too much,” said the cook. “Why not turn in and rest?” + +Mr. Lister, who had not expected this, fidgeted. “I think I'll go ashore +a bit and try the air,” he said, suggestively. “I'll just go as far as +the Black Horse and back. You won't have me long now, my lad.” + +“No, I know,” said the cook; “that's what's worrying me a bit.” “Don't +worry about me,” said the old man, pausing with his hand on the other's +shoulder; “I'm not worth it. Don't look so glum, lad.” + +“I've got something on my mind, Jem,” said the cook, staring straight in +front of him. + +“What is it?” inquired Mr. Lister. + +“You know what you told me about those pains in your inside?” said the +cook, without looking at him. + +Jem groaned and felt his side. + +“And what you said about its being a relief to die,” continued the +other, “only you was afraid to commit suicide?” + +“Well?” said Mr. Lister. + +“It used to worry me,” continued the cook, earnestly. “I used to say to +myself, 'Poor old Jem,' I ses, 'why should 'e suffer like this when he +wants to die? It seemed 'ard.'” + +“It is 'ard,” said Mr. Lister, “but what about it?” + +The other made no reply, but looking at him for the first time, surveyed +him with a troubled expression. + +“What about it?” repeated Mr. Lister, with some emphasis. + +“You did say you wanted to die, didn't you?” said the cook. “Now suppose +suppose——” + +“Suppose what?” inquired the old man, sharply. “Why don't you say what +you're agoing to say?” + +“Suppose,” said the cook, “some one what liked you, Jem—what liked you, +mind—'eard you say this over and over again, an' see you sufferin' and +'eard you groanin' and not able to do nothin' for you except lend you a +few shillings here and there for medicine, or stand you a few glasses o' +rum; suppose they knew a chap in a chemist's shop?” + +“Suppose they did?” said the other, turning pale. + +“A chap what knows all about p'isons,” continued the cook, “p'isons what +a man can take without knowing it in 'is grub. Would it be wrong, do you +think, if that friend I was speaking about put it in your food to put +you out of your misery?” + +“Wrong,” said Mr. Lister, with glassy eyes. “Wrong. Look 'ere, cook—” + +“I don't mean anything to give him pain,” said the other, waving his +hand; “you ain't felt no pain lately, 'ave you, Jem?” + +“Do you mean to say!” shouted Mr. Lister. + +“I don't mean to say anything,” said the cook. “Answer my question. You +ain't felt no pain lately, 'ave you?” + +“Have—you—been—putting—p'ison—in—my—wittles?” demanded Mr. Lister, in +trembling accents. + +“If I 'ad, Jem, supposin' that I 'ad,” said the cook, in accents of +reproachful surprise, “do you mean to say that you'd mind?” + +“MIND,” said Mr. Lister, with fervour. “I'd 'ave you 'ung!” + +“But you said you wanted to die,” said the surprised cook. + +Mr. Lister swore at him with startling vigour. “I'll 'ave you 'ung,” he +repeated, wildly. + +“Me,” said the cook, artlessly. “What for?” + +“For giving me p'ison,” said Mr. Lister, frantically. “Do you think you +can deceive me by your roundabouts? Do you think I can't see through +you?” + +The other with a sphinx-like smile sat unmoved. “Prove it,” he said, +darkly. “But supposin' if anybody 'ad been givin' you p'ison, would you +like to take something to prevent its acting?” + +“I'd take gallons of it,” said Mr. Lister, feverishly. + +The other sat pondering, while the old man watched him anxiously. “It's +a pity you don't know your own mind, Jem,” he said, at length; “still, +you know your own business best. But it's very expensive stuff.” + +“How much?” inquired the other. + +“Well, they won't sell more than two shillings-worth at a time,” said +the cook, trying to speak carelessly, “but if you like to let me 'ave +the money, I'll go ashore to the chemist's and get the first lot now.” + +Mr. Lister's face was a study in emotions, which the other tried in vain +to decipher. + +Then he slowly extracted the amount from his trousers-pocket, and handed +it over with-out a word. + +“I'll go at once,” said the cook, with a little feeling, “and I'll never +take a man at his word again, Jem.” + +He ran blithely up on deck, and stepping ashore, spat on the coins for +luck and dropped them in his pocket. Down below, Mr. Lister, with his +chin in his hand, sat in a state of mind pretty evenly divided between +rage and fear. + +The cook, who was in no mood for company, missed the rest of the crew by +two public-houses, and having purchased a baby's teething powder and +removed the label, had a congratulatory drink or two before going on +board again. A chatter of voices from the forecastle warned him that the +crew had returned, but the tongues ceased abruptly as he descended, and +three pairs of eyes surveyed him in grim silence. + +“What's up?” he demanded. + +“Wot 'ave you been doin' to poor old Jem?” demanded Henshaw, sternly. + +“Nothin',” said the other, shortly. + +“You ain't been p'isoning 'im?” demanded Henshaw. + +“Certainly not,” said the cook, emphatically. + +“He ses you told 'im you p'isoned 'im,” said Henshaw, solemnly, “and 'e +give you two shillings to get something to cure 'im. It's too late now.” + +“What?” stammered the bewildered cook. He looked round anxiously at the +men. + +They were all very grave, and the silence became oppressive. “Where is +he?” he demanded. + +Henshaw and the others exchanged glances. “He's gone mad,” said he, +slowly. + +“Mad?” repeated the horrified cook, and, seeing the aversion of the +crew, in a broken voice he narrated the way in which he had been +victimized. + +“Well, you've done it now,” said Henshaw, when he had finished. “He's +gone right orf 'is 'ed.” + +“Where is he?” inquired the cook. + +“Where you can't follow him,” said the other, slowly. + +“Heaven?” hazarded the unfortunate cook. “No; skipper's bunk,” said Lea. + +“Oh, can't I foller 'im?” said the cook, starting up. “I'll soon 'ave +'im out o' that.” + +“Better leave 'im alone,” said Henshaw. “He was that wild we couldn't do +nothing with 'im, singing an' larfin' and crying all together—I +certainly thought he was p'isoned.” + +“I'll swear I ain't touched him,” said the cook. + +“Well, you've upset his reason,” said Henshaw; “there'll be an awful row +when the skipper comes aboard and finds 'im in 'is bed. + +“'Well, come an' 'elp me to get 'im out,” said the cook. + +“I ain't going to be mixed up in it,” said Henshaw, shaking his head. + +“Don't you, Bill,” said the other two. + +“Wot the skipper'll say I don't know,” said Henshaw; “anyway, it'll be +said to you, not——” + +“I'll go and get 'im out if 'e was five madmen,” said the cook, +compressing his lips. + +“You'll harve to carry 'im out, then,” said Henshaw. “I don't wish you +no 'arm, cook, and perhaps it would be as well to get 'im out afore the +skipper or mate comes aboard. If it was me, I know what I should do.” + +“What?” inquired the cook, breathlessly. + +“Draw a sack over his head,” said Henshaw, impressively; “he'll scream +like blazes as soon as you touch him, and rouse the folks ashore if you +don't. Besides that, if you draw it well down it'll keep his arms fast.” + +The cook thanked him fervently, and routing out a sack, rushed hastily +on deck, his departure being the signal for Mr. Henshaw and his friends +to make preparations for retiring for the night so hastily as almost to +savour of panic. + +The cook, after a hasty glance ashore, went softly below with the sack +over his arm and felt his way in the darkness to the skipper's bunk. The +sound of deep and regular breathing reassured him, and without undue +haste he opened the mouth of the sack and gently raised the sleeper's +head. + +“Eh? Wha——” began a sleepy voice. + +The next moment the cook had bagged him, and gripping him tightly round +the middle, turned a deaf ear to the smothered cries of his victim as he +strove to lift him out of the bunk. In the exciting time which followed, +he had more than one reason for thinking that he had caught a centipede. + +“Now, you keep still,” he cried, breathlessly. “I'm not going to hurt +you.” + +He got his burden out of bed at last, and staggered to the foot of the +companion-ladder with it. Then there was a halt, two legs sticking +obstinately across the narrow way and refusing to be moved, while a +furious humming proceeded from the other end of the sack. + +Four times did the exhausted cook get his shoulder under his burden and +try and push it up the ladder, and four times did it wriggle and fight +its way down again. Half crazy with fear and rage, he essayed it for the +fifth time, and had got it half-way up when there was a sudden +exclamation of surprise from above, and the voice of the mate sharply +demanding an explanation. + +“What the blazes are you up to?” he cried. + +“It's all right, sir,” said the panting cook; “old Jem's had a drop too +much and got down aft, and I'm getting 'im for'ard again.” + +“Jem?” said the astonished mate. “Why, he's sitting up here on the +fore-hatch. He came aboard with me.” + +“Sitting,” began the horrified cook; “sit—oh, lor!” + +He stood with his writhing burden wedged between his body and the +ladder, and looked up despairingly at the mate. + +“I'm afraid I've made a mistake,” he said in a trembling voice. + +The mate struck a match and looked down. + +“Take that sack off,” he demanded, sternly. + +The cook placed his burden upon its feet, and running up the ladder +stood by the mate shivering. The latter struck another match, and the +twain watched in breathless silence the writhings of the strange +creature below as the covering worked slowly upwards. In the fourth +match it got free, and revealed the empurpled visage of the master of +the Susannah. For the fraction of a second the cook gazed at him in +speechless horror, and then, with a hopeless cry, sprang ashore and ran +for it, hotly pursued by his enraged victim. At the time of sailing he +was still absent, and the skipper, loth to part two such friends, sent +Mr. James Lister, at the urgent request of the anxious crew, to look for +him. + + + + +THE WHITE CAT + + + + +The traveller stood looking from the tap-room window of the Cauliflower +at the falling rain. The village street below was empty, and everything +was quiet with the exception of the garrulous old man smoking with much +enjoyment on the settle behind him. + +“It'll do a power o' good,” said the ancient, craning his neck round the +edge of the settle and turning a bleared eye on the window. “I ain't +like some folk; I never did mind a drop o' rain.” + +The traveller grunted and, returning to the settle opposite the old man, +fell to lazily stroking a cat which had strolled in attracted by the +warmth of the small fire which smouldered in the grate. + +“He's a good mouser,” said the old man, “but I expect that Smith the +landlord would sell 'im to anybody for arf a crown; but we 'ad a cat in +Claybury once that you couldn't ha' bought for a hundred golden +sovereigns.” + +The traveller continued to caress the cat. + +“A white cat, with one yaller eye and one blue one,” continued the old +man. “It sounds queer, but it's as true as I sit 'ere wishing that I 'ad +another mug o' ale as good as the last you gave me.” + +The traveller, with a start that upset the cat's nerves, finished his +own mug, and then ordered both to be refilled. He stirred the fire into +a blaze, and, lighting his pipe and putting one foot on to the hob, +prepared to listen. + +It used to belong to old man Clark, young Joe Clark's uncle, said the +ancient, smacking his lips delicately over the ale and extending a +tremulous claw to the tobacco-pouch pushed towards him; and he was never +tired of showing it off to people. He used to call it 'is blue-eyed +darling, and the fuss 'e made o' that cat was sinful. + +Young Joe Clark couldn't bear it, but being down in 'is uncle's will for +five cottages and a bit o' land bringing in about forty pounds a year, +he 'ad to 'ide his feelings and pretend as he loved it. He used to take +it little drops o' cream and tit-bits o' meat, and old Clark was so +pleased that 'e promised 'im that he should 'ave the cat along with all +the other property when 'e was dead. + +Young Joe said he couldn't thank 'im enough, and the old man, who 'ad +been ailing a long time, made 'im come up every day to teach 'im 'ow to +take care of it arter he was gone. He taught Joe 'ow to cook its meat +and then chop it up fine; 'ow it liked a clean saucer every time for its +milk; and 'ow he wasn't to make a noise when it was asleep. + +“Take care your children don't worry it, Joe,” he ses one day, very +sharp. “One o' your boys was pulling its tail this morning, and I want +you to clump his 'ead for 'im.” + +“Which one was it?” ses Joe. + +“The slobbery-nosed one,” ses old Clark. + +“I'll give 'im a clout as soon as I get 'ome,” ses Joe, who was very +fond of 'is children. + +“Go and fetch 'im and do it 'ere,” ses the old man; “that'll teach 'im +to love animals.” + +Joe went off 'ome to fetch the boy, and arter his mother 'ad washed his +face, and wiped his nose, an' put a clean pinneyfore on 'im, he took 'im +to 'is uncle's and clouted his 'ead for 'im. Arter that Joe and 'is wife +'ad words all night long, and next morning old Clark, coming in from the +garden, was just in time to see 'im kick the cat right acrost the +kitchen. + +He could 'ardly speak for a minute, and when 'e could Joe see plain wot +a fool he'd been. Fust of all 'e called Joe every name he could think +of— which took 'im a long time—and then he ordered 'im out of 'is house. + +“You shall 'ave my money wen your betters have done with it,” he ses, +“and not afore. That's all you've done for yourself.” + +Joe Clark didn't know wot he meant at the time, but when old Clark died +three months arterwards 'e found out. His uncle 'ad made a new will and +left everything to old George Barstow for as long as the cat lived, +providing that he took care of it. When the cat was dead the property +was to go to Joe. + +The cat was only two years old at the time, and George Barstow, who was +arf crazy with joy, said it shouldn't be 'is fault if it didn't live +another twenty years. + +The funny thing was the quiet way Joe Clark took it. He didn't seem to +be at all cut up about it, and when Henery Walker said it was a shame, +'e said he didn't mind, and that George Barstow was a old man, and he +was quite welcome to 'ave the property as long as the cat lived. + +“It must come to me by the time I'm an old man,” he ses, “ard that's all +I care about.” + +Henery Walker went off, and as 'e passed the cottage where old Clark +used to live, and which George Barstow 'ad moved into, 'e spoke to the +old man over the palings and told 'im wot Joe Clark 'ad said. George +Barstow only grunted and went on stooping and prying over 'is front +garden. + +“Bin and lost something?” ses Henery Walker, watching 'im. + +“No; I'm finding,” ses George Barstow, very fierce, and picking up +something. “That's the fifth bit o' powdered liver I've found in my +garden this morning.” + +Henery Walker went off whistling, and the opinion he'd 'ad o' Joe Clark +began to improve. He spoke to Joe about it that arternoon, and Joe said +that if 'e ever accused 'im o' such a thing again he'd knock 'is 'ead +off. He said that he 'oped the cat 'ud live to be a hundred, and that +'e'd no more think of giving it poisoned meat than Henery Walker would +of paying for 'is drink so long as 'e could get anybody else to do it +for 'im. + +They 'ad bets up at this 'ere Cauliflower public-'ouse that evening as +to 'ow long that cat 'ud live. Nobody gave it more than a month, and +Bill Chambers sat and thought o' so many ways o' killing it on the sly +that it was wunnerful to hear 'im. + +George Barstow took fright when he 'eard of them, and the care 'e took +o' that cat was wunnerful to behold. Arf its time it was shut up in the +back bedroom, and the other arf George Barstow was fussing arter it till +that cat got to hate 'im like pison. Instead o' giving up work as he'd +thought to do, 'e told Henery Walker that 'e'd never worked so 'ard in +his life. + +“Wot about fresh air and exercise for it?” ses Henery. + +“Wot about Joe Clark?” ses George Bar-stow. “I'm tied 'and and foot. I +dursent leave the house for a moment. I ain't been to the Cauliflower +since I've 'ad it, and three times I got out o' bed last night to see if +it was safe.” + +“Mark my words,” ses Henery Walker; “if that cat don't 'ave exercise, +you'll lose it. + +“I shall lose it if it does 'ave exercise,” ses George Barstow, “that I +know.” + +He sat down thinking arter Henery Walker 'ad gone, and then he 'ad a +little collar and chain made for it, and took it out for a walk. Pretty +nearly every dog in Claybury went with 'em, and the cat was in such a +state o' mind afore they got 'ome he couldn't do anything with it. It +'ad a fit as soon as they got indoors, and George Barstow, who 'ad read +about children's fits in the almanac, gave it a warm bath. It brought it +round immediate, and then it began to tear round the room and up and +downstairs till George Barstow was afraid to go near it. + +It was so bad that evening, sneezing, that George Barstow sent for Bill +Chambers, who'd got a good name for doctoring animals, and asked 'im to +give it something. Bill said he'd got some powders at 'ome that would +cure it at once, and he went and fetched 'em and mixed one up with a bit +o' butter. + +“That's the way to give a cat medicine,” he ses; “smear it with the +butter and then it'll lick it off, powder and all.” + +He was just going to rub it on the cat when George Barstow caught 'old +of 'is arm and stopped 'im. + +“How do I know it ain't pison?” he ses. “You're a friend o' Joe Clark's, +and for all I know he may ha' paid you to pison it.” + +“I wouldn't do such a thing,” ses Bill. “You ought to know me better +than that.” + +“All right,” ses George Barstow; “you eat it then, and I'll give you two +shillings in stead o' one. You can easy mix some more.” + +“Not me,” ses Bill Chambers, making a face. + +“Well, three shillings, then,” ses George Barstow, getting more and more +suspicious like; “four shillings—five shillings.” + +Bill Chambers shook his 'ead, and George Barstow, more and more certain +that he 'ad caught 'im trying to kill 'is cat and that 'e wouldn't eat +the stuff, rose 'im up to ten shillings. + +Bill looked at the butter and then 'e looked at the ten shillings on the +table, and at last he shut 'is eyes and gulped it down and put the money +in 'is pocket. + +“You see, I 'ave to be careful, Bill,” ses George Barstow, rather upset. + +Bill Chambers didn't answer 'im. He sat there as white as a sheet, and +making such extraordinary faces that George was arf afraid of 'im. + +“Anything wrong, Bill?” he ses at last. + +Bill sat staring at 'im, and then all of a sudden he clapped 'is +'andkerchief to 'is mouth and, getting up from his chair, opened the +door and rushed out. George Barstow thought at fust that he 'ad eaten +pison for the sake o' the ten shillings, but when 'e remembered that +Bill Chambers 'ad got the most delikit stummick in Claybury he altered +'is mind. + +The cat was better next morning, but George Barstow had 'ad such a +fright about it 'e wouldn't let it go out of 'is sight, and Joe Clark +began to think that 'e would 'ave to wait longer for that property than +'e had thought, arter all. To 'ear 'im talk anybody'd ha' thought that +'e loved that cat. We didn't pay much attention to it up at the +Cauliflower 'ere, except maybe to wink at 'im—a thing he couldn't a +bear—but at 'ome, o' course, his young 'uns thought as everything he +said was Gospel; and one day, coming 'ome from work, as he was passing +George Barstow's he was paid out for his deceitfulness. + +“I've wronged you, Joe Clark,” ses George Barstow, coming to the door, +“and I'm sorry for it.” + +“Oh!” ses Joe, staring. + +“Give that to your little Jimmy,” ses George Barstow, giving 'im a +shilling. “I've give 'im one, but I thought arterwards it wasn't +enough.” + +“What for?” ses Joe, staring at 'im agin. + +“For bringing my cat 'ome,” ses George Barstow. “'Ow it got out I can't +think, but I lost it for three hours, and I'd about given it up when +your little Jimmy brought it to me in 'is arms. He's a fine little chap +and 'e does you credit.” + +Joe Clark tried to speak, but he couldn't get a word out, and Henery +Walker, wot 'ad just come up and 'eard wot passed, took hold of 'is arm +and helped 'im home. He walked like a man in a dream, but arf-way he +stopped and cut a stick from the hedge to take 'ome to little Jimmy. He +said the boy 'ad been asking him for a stick for some time, but up till +then 'e'd always forgotten it. + +At the end o' the fust year that cat was still alive, to everybody's +surprise; but George Barstow took such care of it 'e never let it out of +'is sight. Every time 'e went out he took it with 'im in a hamper, and, +to prevent its being pisoned, he paid Isaac Sawyer, who 'ad the biggest +family in Claybury, sixpence a week to let one of 'is boys taste its +milk before it had it. + +The second year it was ill twice, but the horse-doctor that George +Barstow got for it said that it was as 'ard as nails, and with care it +might live to be twenty. He said that it wanted more fresh air and +exercise; but when he 'eard 'ow George Barstow come by it he said that +p'r'aps it would live longer indoors arter all. + +At last one day, when George Barstow 'ad been living on the fat o' the +land for nearly three years, that cat got out agin. George 'ad raised +the front-room winder two or three inches to throw something outside, +and, afore he knew wot was 'appening, the cat was out-side and going up +the road about twenty miles an hour. + +George Barstow went arter it, but he might as well ha' tried to catch +the wind. The cat was arf wild with joy at getting out agin, and he +couldn't get within arf a mile of it. + +He stayed out all day without food or drink, follering it about until it +came on dark, and then, o' course, he lost sight of it, and, hoping +against 'ope that it would come home for its food, he went 'ome and +waited for it. He sat up all night dozing in a chair in the front room +with the door left open, but it was all no use; and arter thinking for a +long time wot was best to do, he went out and told some o' the folks it +was lost and offered a reward of five pounds for it. + +You never saw such a hunt then in all your life. Nearly every man, +woman, and child in Claybury left their work or school and went to try +and earn that five pounds. By the arternoon George Barstow made it ten +pounds provided the cat was brought 'ome safe and sound, and people as +was too old to walk stood at their cottage doors to snap it up as it +came by. + +Joe Clark was hunting for it 'igh and low, and so was 'is wife and the +boys. In fact, I b'lieve that everybody in Claybury excepting the parson +and Bob Pretty was trying to get that ten pounds. + +O' course, we could understand the parson—'is pride wouldn't let 'im; +but a low, poaching, thieving rascal like Bob Pretty turning up 'is nose +at ten pounds was more than we could make out. Even on the second day, +when George Barstow made it ten pounds down and a shilling a week for a +year besides, he didn't offer to stir; all he did was to try and make +fun o' them as was looking for it. + +“Have you looked everywhere you can think of for it, Bill?” he ses to +Bill Chambers. “Yes, I 'ave,” ses Bill. + +“Well, then, you want to look everywhere else,” ses Bob Pretty. “I know +where I should look if I wanted to find it.” + +“Why don't you find it, then?” ses Bill. + +“'Cos I don't want to make mischief,” ses Bob Pretty. “I don't want to +be unneighbourly to Joe Clark by interfering at all.” + +“Not for all that money?” ses Bill. + +“Not for fifty pounds,” ses Bob Pretty; “you ought to know me better +than that, Bill Chambers.” + +“It's my belief that you know more about where that cat is than you +ought to,” ses Joe Gubbins. + +“You go on looking for it, Joe,” ses Bob Pretty, grinning; “it's good +exercise for you, and you've only lost two days' work.” + +“I'll give you arf a crown if you let me search your 'ouse, Bob,” ses +Bill Chambers, looking at 'im very 'ard. + +“I couldn't do it at the price, Bill,” ses Bob Pretty, shaking his 'ead. +“I'm a pore man, but I'm very partikler who I 'ave come into my 'ouse.” + +O' course, everybody left off looking at once when they heard about Bob— +not that they believed that he'd be such a fool as to keep the cat in +his 'ouse; and that evening, as soon as it was dark, Joe Clark went +round to see 'im. + +“Don't tell me as that cat's found, Joe,” ses Bob Pretty, as Joe opened +the door. + +“Not as I've 'eard of,” said Joe, stepping inside. “I wanted to speak to +you about it; the sooner it's found the better I shall be pleased.” + +“It does you credit, Joe Clark,” ses Bob Pretty. + +“It's my belief that it's dead,” ses Joe, looking at 'im very 'ard; “but +I want to make sure afore taking over the property.” + +Bob Pretty looked at 'im and then he gave a little cough. “Oh, you want +it to be found dead,” he ses. “Now, I wonder whether that cat's worth +most dead or alive?” + +Joe Clark coughed then. “Dead, I should think,” he ses at last. “George +Barstow's just 'ad bills printed offering fifteen pounds for it,” ses +Bob Pretty. + +“I'll give that or more when I come into the property,” ses Joe Clark. + +“There's nothing like ready-money, though, is there?” ses Bob. + +“I'll promise it to you in writing, Bob,” ses Joe, trembling. + +“There's some things that don't look well in writing, Joe,” says Bob +Pretty, considering; “besides, why should you promise it to me?” + +“O' course, I meant if you found it,” ses Joe. + +“Well, I'll do my best, Joe,” ses Bob Pretty; “and none of us can do no +more than that, can they?” + +They sat talking and argufying over it for over an hour, and twice Bob +Pretty got up and said 'e was going to see whether George Barstow +wouldn't offer more. By the time they parted they was as thick as +thieves, and next morning Bob Pretty was wearing Joe Clark's watch and +chain, and Mrs. Pretty was up at Joe's 'ouse to see whether there was +any of 'is furniture as she 'ad a fancy for. + +She didn't seem to be able to make up 'er mind at fust between a chest +o' drawers that 'ad belonged to Joe's mother and a grand-father clock. +She walked from one to the other for about ten minutes, and then Bob, +who 'ad come in to 'elp her, told 'er to 'ave both. + +“You're quite welcome,” he ses; “ain't she, Joe?” + +Joe Clark said “Yes,” and arter he 'ad helped them carry 'em 'ome the +Prettys went back and took the best bedstead to pieces, cos Bob said as +it was easier to carry that way. Mrs. Clark 'ad to go and sit down at +the bottom o' the garden with the neck of 'er dress undone to give +herself air, but when she saw the little Prettys each walking 'ome with +one of 'er best chairs on their 'eads she got and walked up and down +like a mad thing. + +“I'm sure I don't know where we are to put it all,” ses Bob Pretty to +Joe Gubbins, wot was looking on with other folks, “but Joe Clark is that +generous he won't 'ear of our leaving anything.” + +“Has 'e gorn mad?” ses Bill Chambers, staring at 'im. + +“Not as I knows on,” ses Bob Pretty. “It's 'is good-'artedness, that's +all. He feels sure that that cat's dead, and that he'll 'ave George +Barstow's cottage and furniture. I told 'im he'd better wait till he'd +made sure, but 'e wouldn't.” + +Before they'd finished the Prettys 'ad picked that 'ouse as clean as a +bone, and Joe Clark 'ad to go and get clean straw for his wife and +children to sleep on; not that Mrs. Clark 'ad any sleep that night, nor +Joe neither. + +Henery Walker was the fust to see what it really meant, and he went +rushing off as fast as 'e could run to tell George Barstow. George +couldn't believe 'im at fust, but when 'e did he swore that if a 'air of +that cat's head was harmed 'e'd 'ave the law o' Bob Pretty, and arter +Henery Walker 'ad gone 'e walked round to tell 'im so. + +“You're not yourself, George Barstow, else you wouldn't try and take +away my character like that,” ses Bob Pretty. + +“Wot did Joe Clark give you all them things for?” ses George, pointing +to the furniture. + +“Took a fancy to me, I s'pose,” ses Bob. “People do sometimes. There's +something about me at times that makes 'em like me.” + +“He gave 'em to you to kill my cat,” ses George Barstow. “It's plain +enough for any-body to see.” + +Bob Pretty smiled. “I expect it'll turn up safe and sound one o' these +days,” he ses, “and then you'll come round and beg my pardon. P'r'aps—” + +“P'r'aps wot?” ses George Barstow, arter waiting a bit. + +“P'r'aps somebody 'as got it and is keeping it till you've drawed the +fifteen pounds out o' the bank,” ses Bob, looking at 'im very hard. + +“I've taken it out o' the bank,” ses George, starting; “if that cat's +alive, Bob, and you've got it, there's the fifteen pounds the moment you +'and it over.” + +“Wot d'ye mean—me got it?” ses Bob Pretty. “You be careful o' my +character.” + +“I mean if you know where it is,” ses George Barstow trembling all over. + +“I don't say I couldn't find it, if that's wot you mean,” ses Bob. “I +can gin'rally find things when I want to.” + +“You find me that cat, alive and well, and the money's yours, Bob,” ses +George, 'ardly able to speak, now that 'e fancied the cat was still +alive. + +Bob Pretty shook his 'ead. “No; that won't do,” he ses. “S'pose I did +'ave the luck to find that pore animal, you'd say I'd had it all the +time and refuse to pay.” + +“I swear I wouldn't, Bob,” ses George Barstow, jumping up. + +“Best thing you can do if you want me to try and find that cat,” says +Bob Pretty, “is to give me the fifteen pounds now, and I'll go and look +for it at once. I can't trust you, George Barstow.” + +“And I can't trust you,” ses George Barstow. + +“Very good,” ses Bob, getting up; “there's no 'arm done. P'r'aps Joe +Clark 'll find the cat is dead and p'r'aps you'll find it's alive. It's +all one to me.” + +George Barstow walked off 'ome, but he was in such a state o' mind 'e +didn't know wot to do. Bob Pretty turning up 'is nose at fifteen pounds +like that made 'im think that Joe Clark 'ad promised to pay 'im more if +the cat was dead; and at last, arter worrying about it for a couple o' +hours, 'e came up to this 'ere Cauliflower and offered Bob the fifteen +pounds. + +“Wot's this for?” ses Bob. + +“For finding my cat,” ses George. + +“Look here,” ses Bob, handing it back, “I've 'ad enough o' your insults; +I don't know where your cat is.” + +“I mean for trying to find it, Bob,” ses George Barstow. + +“Oh, well, I don't mind that,” ses Bob, taking it. “I'm a 'ard-working +man, and I've got to be paid for my time; it's on'y fair to my wife and +children. I'll start now.” + +He finished up 'is beer, and while the other chaps was telling George +Barstow wot a fool he was Joe Clark slipped out arter Bob Pretty and +began to call 'im all the names he could think of. + +“Don't you worry,” ses Bob; “the cat ain't found yet.” + +“Is it dead?” ses Joe Clark, 'ardly able to speak. + +“'Ow should I know?” ses Bob; “that's wot I've got to try and find out. +That's wot you gave me your furniture for, and wot George Barstow gave +me the fifteen pounds for, ain't it? Now, don't you stop me now, 'cos +I'm goin' to begin looking.” + +He started looking there and then, and for the next two or three days +George Barstow and Joe Clark see 'im walking up and down with his 'ands +in 'is pockets looking over garden fences and calling “Puss.” He asked +everybody 'e see whether they 'ad seen a white cat with one blue eye and +one yaller one, and every time 'e came into the Cauliflower he put his +'ead over the bar and called “Puss,” 'cos, as 'e said, it was as likely +to be there as anywhere else. + +It was about a week after the cat 'ad disappeared that George Barstow +was standing at 'is door talking to Joe Clark, who was saying the cat +must be dead and 'e wanted 'is property, when he sees a man coming up +the road carrying a basket stop and speak to Bill Chambers. Just as 'e +got near them an awful “miaow” come from the basket and George Barstow +and Joe Clark started as if they'd been shot. + +“He's found it?” shouts Bill Chambers, pointing to the man. + +“It's been living with me over at Ling for a week pretty nearly,” ses +the man. “I tried to drive it away several times, not knowing that there +was fifteen pounds offered for it.” + +George Barstow tried to take 'old of the basket. + +“I want that fifteen pounds fust,” ses the man. + +“That's on'y right and fair, George,” ses Bob Pretty, who 'ad just come +up. “You've got all the luck, mate. We've been hunting 'igh and low for +that cat for a week.” + +Then George Barstow tried to explain to the man and call Bob Pretty +names at the same time; but it was all no good. The man said it 'ad +nothing to do with 'im wot he 'ad paid to Bob Pretty; and at last they +fetched Policeman White over from Cudford, and George Barstow signed a +paper to pay five shillings a week till the reward was paid. + +George Barstow 'ad the cat for five years arter that, but he never let +it get away agin. They got to like each other in time and died within a +fortnight of each other, so that Joe Clark got 'is property arter all. + + ―――― + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11191 *** diff --git a/11191-h/11191-h.htm b/11191-h/11191-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a2d90e1 --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/11191-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7216 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Captains All, by W.W. 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W. JACOBS</span> + </div> + <div class="center line"> + + </div> + <div class="center line"> + + </div> + <div class="center line"> + <span>1911</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="container margin transition"> + <p class="center pfirst"> + <span>????</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="id1"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <span>CONTENTS</span> + </h2> + <div class="container contents"> + <ul class="compact simple toc-list"> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#illustrations" id="id13">ILLUSTRATIONS</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id2" id="id14">CAPTAINS ALL</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#the-boatswains-mate" + id="id15">THE BOATSWAIN'S MATE</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#the-nest-egg" id="id16">THE + NEST EGG</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#the-constables-move" + id="id17">THE CONSTABLE'S MOVE</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#bobs-redemption" id="id18">BOB'S + REDEMPTION</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#over-the-side" id="id19">OVER + THE SIDE</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#the-four-pigeons" id="id20">THE + FOUR PIGEONS</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" + href="#the-temptation-of-samuel-burge" id="id21">THE TEMPTATION + OF SAMUEL BURGE</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#the-madness-of-mr-lister" + id="id22">THE MADNESS OF MR. LISTER</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#the-white-cat" id="id23">THE + WHITE CAT</a> + </p> + </li> + </ul> + </div> + </div> + <div class="container margin transition"> + <p class="center pfirst"> + <span>????</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled block figure" style="width: 68%"> + <img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" + alt=" " src="images/cover.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled block figure" style="width: 68%"> + <img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" + alt=" " src="images/frontispiece.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="container margin transition"> + <p class="center pfirst"> + <span>????</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="illustrations"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id13"><span>ILLUSTRATIONS</span></a> + </h2> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id3">“Captains All.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id4">“The Boatswain's + Mate.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" + href="#i-gives-you-the-two-quid-afore-you-go-into-the-house-continued-the-boatswain">“'I + Gives You the Two Quid Afore You Go Into The House,' Continued + the Boatswain.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id5">“The Nest Egg.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" + href="#he-said-it-was-a-bad-road-and-a-little-shop-and-ad-got-a-look-about-it-he-didnt-like">“He + Said It Was a Bad Road and A Little Shop, And 'ad Got A Look + About It he Didn't Like.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id6">“The Constable's + Move.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" + href="#mr-grummit-suddenly-remembering-himself-stopped-short-and-attacked-the-bed-with-extraordinary-fury">“Mr. + Grummit, Suddenly Remembering Himself, Stopped Short And + Attacked the Bed With Extraordinary Fury.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id7">“Bob's Redemption.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" + href="#afore-george-had-settled-with-the-cabman-there-was-a-policeman-moving-the-crowd-on">“Afore + George Had Settled With the Cabman, There Was A Policeman Moving + the Crowd On.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id8">“Over the Side.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id9">“The Four Pigeons.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" + href="#the-fust-bob-pretty-eard-of-it-was-up-at-the-cauliflower-at-eight-oclock-that-evening">“The + Fust Bob Pretty 'eard of It Was up at The cauliflower at Eight + O'clock That Evening.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id10">“The Temptation of + Samuel Burge.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id11">“The Madness of Mr. + Lister.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" + href="#a-friendship-sprang-up-between-the-two-men-which-puzzled-the-remainder-of-the-crew-not-a-little">“A + Friendship Sprang up Between the Two Men Which Puzzled The + Remainder of the Crew Not a Little.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id12">“The White Cat.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" + href="#he-ad-a-little-collar-and-chain-made-for-it-and-took-it-out-for-a-walk">“He + 'ad a Little Collar and Chain Made for It, And Took It Out for a + Walk.”</a> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="id2"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id14"><span>CAPTAINS ALL</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 68%" id="figure-171"> + <span id="id3"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/001.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">E</span><span + class="dropspan">very sailorman grumbles</span><span> about the sea, + said the night-watchman, thoughtfully. It's human nature to grumble, + and I s'pose they keep on grumbling and sticking to it because there + ain't much else they can do. There's not many shore-going berths that + a sailorman is fit for, and those that they are—such as a + night-watchman's, for instance—wants such a good character that + there's few as are to equal it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Sometimes they get things to do ashore. I knew one man that took + up butchering, and 'e did very well at it till the police took him up. + Another man I knew gave up the sea to marry a washerwoman, and they + hadn't been married six months afore she died, and back he 'ad to go + to sea agin, pore chap.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>A man who used to grumble awful about the sea was old Sam + Small—a man I've spoke of to you before. To hear 'im go on about the + sea, arter he 'ad spent four or five months' money in a fortnight, was + 'artbreaking. He used to ask us wot was going to happen to 'im in his + old age, and when we pointed out that he wouldn't be likely to 'ave + any old age if he wasn't more careful of 'imself he used to fly into a + temper and call us everything 'e could lay his tongue to.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>One time when 'e was ashore with Peter Russet and Ginger Dick he + seemed to 'ave got it on the brain. He started being careful of 'is + money instead o' spending it, and three mornings running he bought a + newspaper and read the advertisements, to see whether there was any + comfortable berth for a strong, good-'arted man wot didn't like work.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He actually went arter one situation, and, if it hadn't ha' been + for seventy-nine other men, he said he believed he'd ha' had a good + chance of getting it. As it was, all 'e got was a black eye for + shoving another man, and for a day or two he was so down-'arted that + 'e was no company at all for the other two.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>For three or four days 'e went out by 'imself, and then, all of + a sudden, Ginger Dick and Peter began to notice a great change in him. + He seemed to 'ave got quite cheerful and 'appy. He answered 'em back + pleasant when they spoke to 'im, and one night he lay in 'is bed + whistling comic songs until Ginger and Peter Russet 'ad to get out o' + bed to him. When he bought a new necktie and a smart cap and washed + 'imself twice in one day they fust began to ask each other wot was up, + and then they asked him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Up?” ses Sam; “nothing.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's in love,” ses Peter Russet.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You're a liar,” ses Sam, without turning round.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He'll 'ave it bad at 'is age,” ses Ginger.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Sam didn't say nothing, but he kept fidgeting about as though + 'e'd got something on his mind. Fust he looked out o' the winder, then + he 'ummed a tune, and at last, looking at 'em very fierce, he took a + tooth-brush wrapped in paper out of 'is pocket and began to clean 'is + teeth.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He is in love,” ses Ginger, as soon as he could speak.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Or else 'e's gorn mad,” ses Peter, watching 'im. “Which is it, + Sam?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Sam made believe that he couldn't answer 'im because o' the + tooth-brush, and arter he'd finished he 'ad such a raging toothache + that 'e sat in a corner holding 'is face and looking the pictur' o' + misery. They couldn't get a word out of him till they asked 'im to go + out with them, and then he said 'e was going to bed. Twenty minutes + arterwards, when Ginger Dick stepped back for 'is pipe, he found he + 'ad gorn.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He tried the same game next night, but the other two wouldn't + 'ave it, and they stayed in so long that at last 'e lost 'is temper, + and, arter wondering wot Ginger's father and mother could ha' been + a-thinking about, and saying that he believed Peter Russet 'ad been + changed at birth for a sea-sick monkey, he put on 'is cap and went + out. Both of 'em follered 'im sharp, but when he led 'em to a + mission-hall, and actually went inside, they left 'im and went off on + their own.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They talked it over that night between themselves, and next + evening they went out fust and hid themselves round the corner. Ten + minutes arterwards old Sam came out, walking as though 'e was going to + catch a train; and smiling to think 'ow he 'ad shaken them off. At the + corner of Commercial Road he stopped and bought 'imself a button-hole + for 'is coat, and Ginger was so surprised that 'e pinched Peter Russet + to make sure that he wasn't dreaming.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam walked straight on whistling, and every now and then + looking down at 'is button-hole, until by-and-by he turned down a + street on the right and went into a little shop. Ginger Dick and Peter + waited for 'im at the corner, but he was inside for so long that at + last they got tired o' waiting and crept up and peeped through the + winder.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It was a little tobacconist's shop, with newspapers and penny + toys and such-like; but, as far as Ginger could see through two rows + o' pipes and the Police News, it was empty. They stood there with + their noses pressed against the glass for some time, wondering wot had + 'appened to Sam, but by-and-by a little boy went in and then they + began to 'ave an idea wot Sam's little game was.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>As the shop-bell went the door of a little parlour at the back + of the shop opened, and a stout and uncommon good-looking woman of + about forty came out. Her 'ead pushed the Police News out o' the way + and her 'and came groping into the winder arter a toy.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger 'ad a good look at 'er out o' the corner of one eye, + while he pretended to be looking at a tobacco-jar with the other. As + the little boy came out 'im and Peter Russet went in.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I want a pipe, please,” he ses, smiling at 'er; “a clay + pipe—one o' your best.” The woman handed 'im down a box to choose + from, and just then Peter, wot 'ad been staring in at the arf-open + door at a boot wot wanted lacing up, gave a big start and ses, “Why! + Halloa!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot's the matter?” ses the woman, looking at 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'd know that foot anywhere,” ses Peter, still staring at it; + and the words was hardly out of 'is mouth afore the foot 'ad moved + itself away and tucked itself under its chair. “Why, that's my dear + old friend Sam Small, ain't it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Do you know the captin?” ses the woman, smiling at 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Cap——?” ses Peter. “Cap——? Oh, yes; why, he's the biggest + friend I've got.” “'Ow strange!” ses the woman.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We've been wanting to see 'im for some time,” ses Ginger. “He + was kind enough to lend me arf a crown the other day, and I've been + wanting to pay 'im.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Captin Small,” ses the woman, pushing open the door, “here's + some old friends o' yours.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam turned 'is face round and looked at 'em, and if looks + could ha' killed, as the saying is, they'd ha' been dead men there and + then.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Oh, yes,” he ses, in a choking voice; “'ow are you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Pretty well, thank you, captin,” ses Ginger, grinning at 'im; + “and 'ow's yourself arter all this long time?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He held out 'is hand and Sam shook it, and then shook 'ands with + Peter Russet, who was grinning so 'ard that he couldn't speak.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“These are two old friends o' mine, Mrs. Finch,” ses old Sam, + giving 'em a warning look; “Captin Dick and Captin Russet, two o' the + oldest and best friends a man ever 'ad.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Captin Dick 'as got arf a crown for you,” ses Peter Russet, + still grinning.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There now,” ses Ginger, looking vexed, “if I ain't been and + forgot it; I've on'y got arf a sovereign.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I can give you change, sir,” ses Mrs. Finch. “P'r'aps you'd + like to sit down for five minutes?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger thanked 'er, and 'im and Peter Russet took a chair apiece + in front o' the fire and began asking old Sam about 'is 'ealth, and + wot he'd been doing since they saw 'im last.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Fancy your reckernizing his foot,” ses Mrs. Finch, coming in + with the change.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'd know it anywhere,” ses Peter, who was watching Ginger + pretending to give Sam Small the 'arf-dollar, and Sam pretending in a + most lifelike manner to take it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger Dick looked round the room. It was a comfortable little + place, with pictures on the walls and antimacassars on all the chairs, + and a row of pink vases on the mantelpiece. Then 'e looked at Mrs. + Finch, and thought wot a nice-looking woman she was.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“This is nicer than being aboard ship with a crew o' nasty, + troublesome sailormen to look arter, Captin Small,” he ses.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's wonderful the way he manages 'em,” ses Peter Russet to + Mrs. Finch. “Like a lion he is.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A roaring lion,” ses Ginger, looking at Sam. “He don't know wot + fear is.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Sam began to smile, and Mrs. Finch looked at 'im so pleased that + Peter Russet, who 'ad been looking at 'er and the room, and thinking + much the same way as Ginger, began to think that they was on the wrong + tack.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Afore 'e got stout and old,” he ses, shaking his 'ead, “there + wasn't a smarter skipper afloat.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We all 'ave our day,” ses Ginger, shaking his 'ead too.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I dessay he's good for another year or two afloat, yet,” ses + Peter Russet, considering. “With care,” ses Ginger.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam was going to say something, but 'e stopped himself just + in time. “They will 'ave their joke,” he ses, turning to Mrs. Finch + and trying to smile. “I feel as young as ever I did.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Finch said that anybody with arf an eye could see that, and + then she looked at a kettle that was singing on the 'ob.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I s'pose you gentlemen wouldn't care for a cup o' cocoa?” she + ses, turning to them.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger Dick and Peter both said that they liked it better than + anything else, and, arter she 'ad got out the cups and saucers and a + tin o' cocoa, Ginger held the kettle and poured the water in the cups + while she stirred them, and old Sam sat looking on 'elpless.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It does seem funny to see you drinking cocoa, captin,” ses + Ginger, as old Sam took his cup.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Ho!” ses Sam, firing up; “and why, if I might make so bold as + to ask?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Cos I've generally seen you drinking something out of a + bottle,” ses Ginger.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Now, look 'ere,” ses Sam, starting up and spilling some of the + hot cocoa over 'is lap.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A ginger-beer bottle,” ses Peter Russet, making faces at Ginger + to keep quiet.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Yes, o' course, that's wot I meant,” ses Ginger.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam wiped the cocoa off 'is knees without saying a word, but + his weskit kept going up and down till Peter Russet felt quite sorry + for 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's nothing like it,” he ses to Mrs. Finch. “It was by + sticking to ginger-beer and milk and such-like that Captain Small 'ad + command of a ship afore 'e was twenty-five.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Lor'!” ses Mrs. Finch.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She smiled at old Sam till Peter got uneasy agin, and began to + think p'r'aps 'e'd been praising 'im too much.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Of course, I'm speaking of long ago now,” he ses.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Years and years afore you was born, ma'am,” ses Ginger.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam was going to say something, but Mrs. Finch looked so + pleased that 'e thought better of it. Some o' the cocoa 'e was + drinking went the wrong way, and then Ginger patted 'im on the back + and told 'im to be careful not to bring on 'is brownchitis agin. Wot + with temper and being afraid to speak for fear they should let Mrs. + Finch know that 'e wasn't a captin, he could 'ardly bear 'imself, but + he very near broke out when Peter Russet advised 'im to 'ave his + weskit lined with red flannel. They all stayed on till closing time, + and by the time they left they 'ad made theirselves so pleasant that + Mrs. Finch said she'd be pleased to see them any time they liked to + look in.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Sam Small waited till they 'ad turned the corner, and then he + broke out so alarming that they could 'ardly do anything with 'im. + Twice policemen spoke to 'im and advised 'im to go home afore they + altered their minds; and he 'ad to hold 'imself in and keep quiet + while Ginger and Peter Russet took 'is arms and said they were seeing + him 'ome.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He started the row agin when they got in-doors, and sat up in + 'is bed smacking 'is lips over the things he'd like to 'ave done to + them if he could. And then, arter saying 'ow he'd like to see Ginger + boiled alive like a lobster, he said he knew that 'e was a + noble-'arted feller who wouldn't try and cut an old pal out, and that + it was a case of love at first sight on top of a tram-car.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“She's too young for you,” ses Ginger; “and too good-looking + besides.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's the nice little bisness he's fallen in love with, Ginger,” + ses Peter Russet. “I'll toss you who 'as it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger, who was siting on the foot o' Sam's bed, said “no” at + fust, but arter a time he pulled out arf a dollar and spun it in the + air.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>That was the last 'e see of it, although he 'ad Sam out o' bed + and all the clothes stripped off of it twice. He spent over arf an + hour on his 'ands and knees looking for it, and Sam said when he was + tired of playing bears p'r'aps he'd go to bed and get to sleep like a + Christian.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They 'ad it all over agin next morning, and at last, as nobody + would agree to keep quiet and let the others 'ave a fair chance, they + made up their minds to let the best man win. Ginger Dick bought a + necktie that took all the colour out o' Sam's, and Peter Russet went + in for a collar so big that 'e was lost in it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They all strolled into the widow's shop separate that night. + Ginger Dick 'ad smashed his pipe and wanted another; Peter Russet + wanted some tobacco; and old Sam Small walked in smiling, with a + little silver brooch for 'er, that he said 'e had picked up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It was a very nice brooch, and Mrs. Finch was so pleased with it + that Ginger and Peter sat there as mad as they could be because they + 'adn't thought of the same thing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Captain Small is very lucky at finding things,” ses Ginger, at + last.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's got the name for it,” ses Peter Russet.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's a handy 'abit,” ses Ginger; “it saves spending money. Who + did you give that gold bracelet to you picked up the other night, + captin?” he ses, turning to Sam.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Gold bracelet?” ses Sam. “I didn't pick up no gold bracelet. + Wot are you talking about?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“All right, captin; no offence,” ses Ginger, holding up his + 'and. “I dreamt I saw one on your mantelpiece, I s'pose. P'r'aps I + oughtn't to ha' said anything about it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam looked as though he'd like to eat 'im, especially as he + noticed Mrs. Finch listening and pretending not to. “Oh! that one,” he + ses, arter a bit o' hard thinking. “Oh! I found out who it belonged + to. You wouldn't believe 'ow pleased they was at getting it back + agin.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger Dick coughed and began to think as 'ow old Sam was + sharper than he 'ad given 'im credit for, but afore he could think of + anything else to say Mrs. Finch looked at old Sam and began to talk + about 'is ship, and to say 'ow much she should like to see over it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I wish I could take you,” ses Sam, looking at the other two out + o' the corner of his eye, “but my ship's over at Dunkirk, in France. + I've just run over to London for a week or two to look round.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And mine's there too,” ses Peter Russet, speaking a'most afore + old Sam 'ad finished; “side by side they lay in the harbour.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Oh, dear,” ses Mrs. Finch, folding her 'ands and shaking her + 'cad. “I should like to go over a ship one arternoon. I'd quite made + up my mind to it, knowing three captins.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She smiled and looked at Ginger; and Sam and Peter looked at 'im + too, wondering whether he was going to berth his ship at Dunkirk + alongside o' theirs.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Ah, I wish I 'ad met you a fortnight ago,” ses Ginger, very + sad. “I gave up my ship, the High flyer, then, and I'm waiting for one + my owners are 'aving built for me at New-castle. They said the High + flyer wasn't big enough for me. She was a nice little ship, though. I + believe I've got 'er picture somewhere about me!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He felt in 'is pocket and pulled out a little, crumpled-up + photograph of a ship he'd been fireman aboard of some years afore, and + showed it to 'er.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That's me standing on the bridge,” he ses, pointing out a + little dot with the stem of 'is pipe.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's your figger,” ses Mrs. Finch, straining her eyes. “I + should know it anywhere.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You've got wonderful eyes, ma'am,” ses old Sam, choking with + 'is pipe.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Anybody can see that,” ses Ginger. “They're the largest and the + bluest I've ever seen.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Finch told 'im not to talk nonsense, but both Sam and Peter + Russet could see 'ow pleased she was.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Truth is truth,” ses Ginger. “I'm a plain man, and I speak my + mind.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Blue is my fav'rit' colour,” ses old Sam, in a tender voice. + “True blue.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Peter Russet began to feel out of it. “I thought brown was,” he + ses.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Ho!” ses Sam, turning on 'im; “and why?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I 'ad my reasons,” ses Peter, nodding, and shutting 'is mouth + very firm.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I thought brown was 'is fav'rit colour too,” ses Ginger. “I + don't know why. It's no use asking me; because if you did I couldn't + tell you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Brown's a very nice colour,” ses Mrs. Finch, wondering wot was + the matter with old Sam.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Blue,” ses Ginger; “big blue eyes—they're the ones for me. + Other people may 'ave their blacks and their browns,” he ses, looking + at Sam and Peter Russet, “but give me blue.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They went on like that all the evening, and every time the + shop-bell went and the widow 'ad to go out to serve a customer they + said in w'ispers wot they thought of each other; and once when she + came back rather sudden Ginger 'ad to explain to 'er that 'e was + showing Peter Russet a scratch on his knuckle.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger Dick was the fust there next night, and took 'er a little + chiney teapot he 'ad picked up dirt cheap because it was cracked right + acrost the middle; but, as he explained that he 'ad dropped it in + hurrying to see 'er, she was just as pleased. She stuck it up on the + mantelpiece, and the things she said about Ginger's kindness and + generosity made Peter Russet spend good money that he wanted for + 'imself on a painted flower-pot next evening.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>With three men all courting 'er at the same time Mrs. Finch had + 'er hands full, but she took to it wonderful considering. She was so + nice and kind to 'em all that even arter a week's 'ard work none of + 'em was really certain which she liked best.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They took to going in at odd times o' the day for tobacco and + such-like. They used to go alone then, but they all met and did the + polite to each other there of an evening, and then quarrelled all the + way 'ome.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Then all of a sudden, without any warning, Ginger Dick and Peter + Russet left off going there. The fust evening Sam sat expecting them + every minute, and was so surprised that he couldn't take any advantage + of it; but on the second, beginning by squeezing Mrs. Finch's 'and at + ha'-past seven, he 'ad got best part of his arm round 'er waist by a + quarter to ten. He didn't do more that night because she told him to + be'ave 'imself, and threatened to scream if he didn't leave off.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He was arf-way home afore 'e thought of the reason for Ginger + Dick and Peter Russet giving up, and then he went along smiling to + 'imself to such an extent that people thought 'e was mad. He went off + to sleep with the smile still on 'is lips, and when Peter and Ginger + came in soon arter closing time and 'e woke up and asked them where + they'd been, 'e was still smiling.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I didn't 'ave the pleasure o' seeing you at Mrs. Finch's + to-night,” he ses.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No,” ses Ginger, very short. “We got tired of it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So un'ealthy sitting in that stuffy little room every evening,” + ses Peter.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam put his 'ead under the bedclothes and laughed till the + bed shook; and every now and then he'd put his 'ead out and look at + Peter and Ginger and laugh agin till he choked.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I see 'ow it is,” he ses, sitting up and wiping his eyes on the + sheet. “Well, we cant all win.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot d'ye mean?” ses Ginger, very disagreeable.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“She wouldn't 'ave you, Sam, thats wot I mean. And I don't + wonder at it. I wouldn't 'ave you if I was a gal.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You're dreaming, ses Peter Russet, sneering at 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That flower-pot o' yours'll come in handy,” ses Sam, thinking + 'ow he 'ad put 'is arm round the widow's waist; “and I thank you + kindly for the teapot, Ginger.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You don't mean to say as you've asked 'er to marry you?” ses + Ginger, looking at Peter Russet.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not quite; but I'm going to,” ses Sam, “and I'll bet you even + arf-crowns she ses 'yes.'”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger wouldn't take 'im, and no more would Peter, not even when + he raised it to five shillings; and the vain way old Sam lay there + boasting and talking about 'is way with the gals made 'em both feel + ill.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I wouldn't 'ave her if she asked me on 'er bended knees,” ses + Ginger, holding up his 'ead.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Nor me,” ses Peter. “You're welcome to 'er, Sam. When I think + of the evenings I've wasted over a fat old woman I feel——”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That'll do,” ses old Sam, very sharp; “that ain't the way to + speak of a lady, even if she 'as said 'no.'”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“All right, Sam,” ses Ginger. “You go in and win if you think + you're so precious clever.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam said that that was wot 'e was going to do, and he spent + so much time next morning making 'imself look pretty that the other + two could 'ardly be civil to him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He went off a'most direckly arter breakfast, and they didn't see + 'im agin till twelve o'clock that night. He 'ad brought a bottle o' + whisky in with 'im, and he was so 'appy that they see plain wot had + 'appened.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“She said 'yes' at two o'clock in the arternoon,” ses old Sam, + smiling, arter they had 'ad a glass apiece. “I'd nearly done the trick + at one o'clock, and then the shop-bell went, and I 'ad to begin all + over agin. Still, it wasn't unpleasant.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Do you mean to tell us you've asked 'er to marry you?” ses + Ginger, 'olding out 'is glass to be filled agin.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I do,” ses Sam; “but I 'ope there's no ill-feeling. You never + 'ad a chance, neither of you; she told me so.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger Dick and Peter Russet stared at each other.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“She said she 'ad been in love with me all along,” ses Sam, + filling their glasses agin to cheer 'em up. “We went out arter tea and + bought the engagement-ring, and then she got somebody to mind the shop + and we went to the Pagoda music-'all.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I 'ope you didn't pay much for the ring, Sam,” ses Ginger, who + always got very kind-'arted arter two or three glasses o' whisky. “If + I'd known you was going to be in such a hurry I might ha' told you + before.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We ought to ha' done,” ses Peter, shaking his 'ead.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Told me?” ses Sam, staring at 'em. “Told me wot?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Why me and Peter gave it up,” ses Ginger; “but, o' course, + p'r'aps you don't mind.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Mind wot?” ses Sam.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's wonderful 'ow quiet she kept it,” ses Peter.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam stared at 'em agin, and then he asked 'em to speak in + plain English wot they'd got to say, and not to go taking away the + character of a woman wot wasn't there to speak up for herself.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's nothing agin 'er character,” ses Ginger. “It's a credit to + her, looked at properly,” ses Peter Russet.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And Sam'll 'ave the pleasure of bringing of 'em up,” ses + Ginger.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Bringing of 'em up?” ses Sam, in a trembling voice and turning + pale; “bringing who up?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Why, 'er children,” ses Ginger. “Didn't she tell you? She's got + nine of 'em.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Sam pretended not to believe 'em at fust, and said they was + jealous; but next day he crept down to the greengrocer's shop in the + same street, where Ginger had 'appened to buy some oranges one day, + and found that it was only too true. Nine children, the eldest of 'em + only fifteen, was staying with diff'rent relations owing to + scarlet-fever next door.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam crept back 'ome like a man in a dream, with a bag of + oranges he didn't want, and, arter making a present of the + engagement-ring to Ginger—if 'e could get it—he took the fust train to + Tilbury and signed on for a v'y'ge to China.</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="the-boatswains-mate"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id15"><span>THE BOATSWAIN'S MATE</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 68%" id="figure-172"> + <span id="id4"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/002.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">M</span><span + class="dropspan">r. George Benn, retired</span><span> boat-swain, + sighed noisily, and with a despondent gesture, turned to the door and + stood with the handle in his hand; Mrs. Waters, sitting behind the + tiny bar in a tall Windsor-chair, eyed him with some heat.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“My feelings'll never change,” said the boatswain.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Nor mine either,” said the landlady, sharply. “It's a strange + thing, Mr. Benn, but you always ask me to marry you after the third + mug.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's only to get my courage up,” pleaded the boatswain. “Next + time I'll do it afore I 'ave a drop; that'll prove to you I'm in + earnest.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He stepped outside and closed the door before the landlady could + make a selection from the many retorts that crowded to her lips.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>After the cool bar, with its smell of damp saw-dust, the road + seemed hot and dusty; but the boatswain, a prey to gloom natural to a + man whose hand has been refused five times in a fortnight, walked on + unheeding. His steps lagged, but his brain was active.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He walked for two miles deep in thought, and then coming to a + shady bank took a seat upon an inviting piece of turf and lit his + pipe. The heat and the drowsy hum of bees made him nod; his pipe hung + from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes closed.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He opened them at the sound of approaching footsteps, and, + feeling in his pocket for matches, gazed lazily at the intruder. He + saw a tall man carrying a small bundle over his shoulder, and in the + erect carriage, the keen eyes, and bronzed face had little difficulty + in detecting the old soldier.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The stranger stopped as he reached the seated boatswain and eyed + him pleasantly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Got a pipe o' baccy, mate?” he inquired.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain handed him the small metal box in which he kept + that luxury.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Lobster, ain't you?” he said, affably.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The tall man nodded. “Was,” he replied. “Now I'm my own + commander-in-chief.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Padding it?” suggested the boatswain, taking the box from him + and refilling his pipe.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The other nodded, and with the air of one disposed to + conversation dropped his bundle in the ditch and took a seat beside + him. “I've got plenty of time,” he remarked.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Benn nodded, and for a while smoked on in silence. A dim + idea which had been in his mind for some time began to clarify. He + stole a glance at his companion—a man of about thirty-eight, clear + eyes, with humorous wrinkles at the corners, a heavy moustache, and a + cheerful expression more than tinged with recklessness.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Ain't over and above fond o' work?” suggested the boatswain, + when he had finished his inspection.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I love it,” said the other, blowing a cloud of smoke in the + air, “but we can't have all we want in this world; it wouldn't be good + for us.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain thought of Mrs. Waters, and sighed. Then he + rattled his pocket.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Would arf a quid be any good to you?” he inquired.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Look here,” began the soldier; “just because I asked you for a + pipe o' baccy—”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No offence,” said the other, quickly. “I mean if you earned + it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier nodded and took his pipe from his mouth. “Gardening + and windows?” he hazarded, with a shrug of his shoulders.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain shook his head.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Scrubbing, p'r'aps?” said the soldier, with a sigh of + resignation. “Last house I scrubbed out I did it so thoroughly they + accused me of pouching the soap. Hang 'em!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And you didn't?” queried the boatswain, eyeing him keenly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier rose and, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, gazed + at him darkly. “I can't give it back to you,” he said, slowly, + “because I've smoked some of it, and I can't pay you for it because + I've only got twopence, and that I want for myself. So long, matey, + and next time a poor wretch asks you for a pipe, be civil.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I never see such a man for taking offence in all my born days,” + expostulated the boat-swain. “I 'ad my reasons for that remark, mate. + Good reasons they was.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier grunted and, stooping, picked up his bundle.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I spoke of arf a sovereign just now,” continued the boatswain, + impressively, “and when I tell you that I offer it to you to do a bit + o' burgling, you'll see 'ow necessary it is for me to be certain of + your honesty.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Burgling?” gasped the astonished soldier. “Honesty? 'Struth; + are you drunk or am I?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Meaning,” said the boatswain, waving the imputation away with + his hand, “for you to pretend to be a burglar.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We're both drunk, that's what it is,” said the other, + resignedly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain fidgeted. “If you don't agree, mum's the word and + no 'arm done,” he said, holding out his hand.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Mum's the word,” said the soldier, taking it. “My name's Ned + Travers, and, barring cells for a spree now and again, there's nothing + against it. Mind that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Might 'appen to anybody,” said Mr. Benn, soothingly. “You fill + your pipe and don't go chucking good tobacco away agin.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers took the offered box and, with economy born of + adversity, stooped and filled up first with the plug he had thrown + away. Then he resumed his seat and, leaning back luxuriously, bade the + other “fire away.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I ain't got it all ship-shape and proper yet,” said Mr. Benn, + slowly, “but it's in my mind's eye. It's been there off and on like + for some time.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He lit his pipe again and gazed fixedly at the opposite hedge. + “Two miles from here, where I live,” he said, after several vigorous + puffs, “there's a little public-'ouse called the Beehive, kept by a + lady wot I've got my eye on.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier sat up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“She won't 'ave me,” said the boatswain, with an air of mild + surprise.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier leaned back again.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“She's a lone widder,” continued Mr. Benn, shaking his head, + “and the Beehive is in a lonely place. It's right through the village, + and the nearest house is arf a mile off.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Silly place for a pub,” commented Mr. Travers.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've been telling her 'ow unsafe it is,” said the boatswain. + “I've been telling her that she wants a man to protect her, and she + only laughs at me. She don't believe it; d'ye see? Likewise I'm a + small man—small, but stiff. She likes tall men.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Most women do,” said Mr. Travers, sitting upright and + instinctively twisting his moustache. “When I was in the ranks—”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“My idea is,” continued the boatswain, slightly raising his + voice, “to kill two birds with one stone—prove to her that she does + want being protected, and that I'm the man to protect her. D'ye take + my meaning, mate?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier reached out a hand and felt the other's biceps. + “Like a lump o' wood,” he said, approvingly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“My opinion is,” said the boatswain, with a faint smirk, “that + she loves me without knowing it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They often do,” said Mr. Travers, with a grave shake of his + head.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Consequently I don't want 'er to be disappointed,” said the + other.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It does you credit,” remarked Mr. Travers.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've got a good head,” said Mr. Benn, “else I shouldn't 'ave + got my rating as boatswain as soon as I did; and I've been turning it + over in my mind, over and over agin, till my brain-pan fair aches with + it. Now, if you do what I want you to to-night and it comes off all + right, damme I'll make it a quid.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Go on, Vanderbilt,” said Mr. Travers; “I'm listening.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain gazed at him fixedly. “You meet me 'ere in this + spot at eleven o'clock to-night,” he said, solemnly; “and I'll take + you to her 'ouse and put you through a little winder I know of. You + goes upstairs and alarms her, and she screams for help. I'm watching + the house, faithful-like, and hear 'er scream. I dashes in at the + winder, knocks you down, and rescues her. D'ye see?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I hear,” corrected Mr. Travers, coldly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“She clings to me,” continued the boat-swain, with a rapt + expression of face, “in her gratitood, and, proud of my strength and + pluck, she marries me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“An' I get a five years' honeymoon,” said the soldier.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain shook his head and patted the other's shoulder. + “In the excitement of the moment you spring up and escape,” he said, + with a kindly smile. “I've thought it all out. You can run much faster + than I can; any-ways, you will. The nearest 'ouse is arf a mile off, + as I said, and her servant is staying till to-morrow at 'er mother's, + ten miles away.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers rose to his feet and stretched himself. “Time I was + toddling,” he said, with a yawn. “Thanks for amusing me, mate.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You won't do it?” said the boatswain, eyeing him with much + concern.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm hanged if I do,” said the soldier, emphatically. “Accidents + will happen, and then where should I be?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If they did,” said the boatswain, “I'd own up and clear you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You might,” said Mr. Travers, “and then again you mightn't. So + long, mate.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I—I'll make it two quid,” said the boat-swain, trembling with + eagerness. “I've took a fancy to you; you're just the man for the + job.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier, adjusting his bundle, glanced at him over his + shoulder. “Thankee,” he said, with mock gratitude.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Look 'ere,” said the boatswain, springing up and catching him + by the sleeve; “I'll give it to you in writing. Come, you ain't + faint-hearted? Why, a bluejacket 'ud do it for the fun o' the thing. + If I give it to you in writing, and there should be an accident, it's + worse for me than it is for you, ain't it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers hesitated and, pushing his cap back, scratched his + head.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I gives you the two quid afore you go into the house,” + continued the boatswain, hastily following up the impression he had + made. “I'd give 'em to you now if I'd got 'em with me. That's my + confidence in you; I likes the look of you. Soldier or sailor, when + there is a man's work to be done, give 'em to me afore anybody.”</span> + </p> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 69%" id="figure-173"> + <span + id="i-gives-you-the-two-quid-afore-you-go-into-the-house-continued-the-boatswain"></span><img + class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " + src="images/003.jpg" /> + </div> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier seated himself again and let his bundle fall to the + ground. “Go on,” he said, slowly. “Write it out fair and square and + sign it, and I'm your man.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain clapped him on the shoulder and produced a bundle + of papers from his pocket. “There's letters there with my name and + address on 'em,” he said. “It's all fair, square, and above-board. + When you've cast your eyes over them I'll give you the writing.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers took them and, re-lighting his pipe, smoked in + silence, with various side glances at his companion as that enthusiast + sucked his pencil and sat twisting in the agonies of composition. The + document finished—after several failures had been retrieved and burnt + by the careful Mr. Travers—the boat-swain heaved a sigh of relief, and + handing it over to him, leaned back with a complacent air while he + read it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Seems all right,” said the soldier, folding it up and putting + it in his waistcoat-pocket. “I'll be here at eleven to-night.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Eleven it is,” said the boatswain, briskly, “and, between + pals—here's arf a dollar to go on with.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He patted him on the shoulder again, and with a caution to keep + out of sight as much as possible till night walked slowly home. His + step was light, but he carried a face in which care and exultation + were strangely mingled.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>By ten o'clock that night care was in the ascendant, and by + eleven, when he discerned the red glow of Mr. Travers's pipe set as a + beacon against a dark background of hedge, the boatswain was ready to + curse his inventive powers. Mr. Travers greeted him cheerily and, + honestly attributing the fact to good food and a couple of pints of + beer he had had since the boatswain left him, said that he was ready + for anything.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Benn grunted and led the way in silence. There was no moon, + but the night was clear, and Mr. Travers, after one or two + light-hearted attempts at conversation, abandoned the effort and fell + to whistling softly instead.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Except for one lighted window the village slept in darkness, but + the boatswain, who had been walking with the stealth of a Red Indian + on the war-path, breathed more freely after they had left it behind. A + renewal of his antics a little farther on apprised Mr. Travers that + they were approaching their destination, and a minute or two later + they came to a small inn standing just off the road. “All shut up and + Mrs. Waters abed, bless her,” whispered the boatswain, after walking + care-fully round the house. “How do you feel?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm all right,” said Mr. Travers. “I feel as if I'd been + burgling all my life. How do you feel?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Narvous,” said Mr. Benn, pausing under a small window at the + rear of the house. “This is the one.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers stepped back a few paces and gazed up at the house. + All was still. For a few moments he stood listening and then re-joined + the boatswain.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Good-bye, mate,” he said, hoisting himself on to the sill. + “Death or victory.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain whispered and thrust a couple of sovereigns into + his hand. “Take your time; there's no hurry,” he muttered. “I want to + pull myself together. Frighten 'er enough, but not too much. When she + screams I'll come in.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers slipped inside and then thrust his head out of the + window. “Won't she think it funny you should be so handy?” he + inquired.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No; it's my faithful 'art,” said the boat-swain, “keeping watch + over her every night, that's the ticket. She won't know no better.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers grinned, and removing his boots passed them out to + the other. “We don't want her to hear me till I'm upstairs,” he + whispered. “Put 'em outside, handy for me to pick up.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain obeyed, and Mr. Travers—who was by no means a good + hand at darning socks—shivered as he trod lightly over a stone floor. + Then, following the instructions of Mr. Benn, he made his way to the + stairs and mounted noiselessly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>But for a slight stumble half-way up his progress was very + creditable for an amateur. He paused and listened and, all being + silent, made his way to the landing and stopped out-side a door. + Despite himself his heart was beating faster than usual.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He pushed the door open slowly and started as it creaked. + Nothing happening he pushed again, and standing just inside saw, by a + small ewer silhouetted against the casement, that he was in a bedroom. + He listened for the sound of breathing, but in vain.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Quiet sleeper,” he reflected; “or perhaps it is an empty room. + Now, I wonder whether—”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The sound of an opening door made him start violently, and he + stood still, scarcely breathing, with his ears on the alert. A light + shone on the landing, and peeping round the door he saw a woman coming + along the corridor—a younger and better-looking woman than he had + expected to see. In one hand she held aloft a candle, in the other she + bore a double-barrelled gun. Mr. Travers withdrew into the room and, + as the light came nearer, slipped into a big cupboard by the side of + the fireplace and, standing bolt upright, waited. The light came into + the room.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Must have been my fancy,” said a pleasant voice.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Bless her,” smiled Mr. Travers.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>His trained ear recognized the sound of cocking triggers. The + next moment a heavy body bumped against the door of the cupboard and + the key turned in the lock.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Got you!” said the voice, triumphantly. “Keep still; if you try + and break out I shall shoot you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“All right,” said Mr. Travers, hastily; “I won't move.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Better not,” said the voice. “Mind, I've got a gun pointing + straight at you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Point it downwards, there's a good girl,” said Mr. Travers, + earnestly; “and take your finger off the trigger. If anything happened + to me you'd never forgive yourself.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's all right so long as you don't move,” said the voice; “and + I'm not a girl,” it added, sternly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Yes, you are,” said the prisoner. “I saw you. I thought it was + an angel at first. I saw your little bare feet and—”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>A faint scream interrupted him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You'll catch cold,” urged Mr. Travers.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't you trouble about me,” said the voice, tartly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I won't give any trouble,” said Mr. Travers, who began to think + it was time for the boatswain to appear on the scene. “Why don't you + call for help? I'll go like a lamb.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't want your advice,” was the reply. “I know what to do. + Now, don't you try and break out. I'm going to fire one barrel out of + the window, but I've got the other one for you if you move.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“My dear girl,” protested the horrified Mr. Travers, “you'll + alarm the neighbourhood.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Just what I want to do,” said the voice. “Keep still, mind.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers hesitated. The game was up, and it was clear that in + any case the stratagem of the ingenious Mr. Benn would have to be + disclosed.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Stop!” he said, earnestly. “Don't do anything rash. I'm not a + burglar; I'm doing this for a friend of yours—Mr. Benn.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What?” said an amazed voice.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“True as I stand here,” asseverated Mr. Travers. “Here, here's + my instructions. I'll put 'em under the door, and if you go to the + back window you'll see him in the garden waiting.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He rustled the paper under the door, and it was at once snatched + from his fingers. He regained an upright position and stood listening + to the startled and indignant exclamations of his gaoler as she read + the boatswain's permit:</span> + </p> + <blockquote> + <div> + <blockquote> + <div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span>“This is to give notice that I, George Benn, being of + sound mind and body, have told Ned Travers to pretend to be a + burglar at Mrs. Waters's. He ain't a burglar, and I shall be + outside all the time. It's all above-board and ship-shape.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“(Signed) George Benn”</span> + </p> + </div> + </blockquote> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span>“Sound mind—above-board—ship-shape,” repeated a dazed voice. + “Where is he?”</span> + </p> + </div> + </blockquote> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span>“Out at the back,” replied Mr. Travers. “If you go to the window + you can see him. Now, do put something round your shoulders, there's a + good girl.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>There was no reply, but a board creaked. He waited for what + seemed a long time, and then the board creaked again.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Did you see him?” he inquired.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I did,” was the sharp reply. “You both ought to be ashamed of + yourselves. You ought to be punished.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There is a clothes-peg sticking into the back of my head,” + remarked Mr. Travers. “What are you going to do?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>There was no reply.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What are you going to do?” repeated Mr. Travers, somewhat + uneasily. “You look too nice to do anything hard; leastways, so far as + I can judge through this crack.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>There was a smothered exclamation, and then sounds of somebody + moving hastily about the room and the swish of clothing hastily + donned.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You ought to have done it before,” commented the thoughtful Mr. + Travers. “It's enough to give you your death of cold.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Mind your business,” said the voice, sharply. “Now, if I let + you out, will you promise to do exactly as I tell you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Honour bright,” said Mr. Travers, fervently.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm going to give Mr. Benn a lesson he won't forget,” proceeded + the other, grimly. “I'm going to fire off this gun, and then run down + and tell him I've killed you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Eh?” said the amazed Mr. Travers. “Oh, Lord!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“H'sh! Stop that laughing,” commanded the voice. “He'll hear + you. Be quiet!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The key turned in the lock, and Mr. Travers, stepping forth, + clapped his hand over his mouth and endeavoured to obey. Mrs. Waters, + stepping back with the gun ready, scrutinized him closely.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come on to the landing,” said Mr. Travers, eagerly. “We don't + want anybody else to hear. Fire into this.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He snatched a patchwork rug from the floor and stuck it up + against the balusters. “You stay here,” said Mrs. Waters. He nodded.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She pointed the gun at the hearth-rug, the walls shook with the + explosion, and, with a shriek that set Mr. Travers's teeth on edge, + she rushed downstairs and, drawing back the bolts of the back door, + tottered outside and into the arms of the agitated boatswain.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Oh! oh! oh!” she cried.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What—what's the matter?” gasped the boatswain.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The widow struggled in his arms. “A burglar,” she said, in a + tense whisper. “But it's all right; I've killed him.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Kill—” stuttered the other. “Kill——Killed him?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Waters nodded and released herself, “First shot,” she said, + with a satisfied air.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain wrung his hands. “Good heavens!” he said, moving + slowly towards the door. “Poor fellow!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come back,” said the widow, tugging at his coat.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I was—was going to see—whether I could do anything for 'im,” + quavered the boatswain. “Poor fellow!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You stay where you are,” commanded Mrs. Waters. “I don't want + any witnesses. I don't want this house to have a bad name. I'm going + to keep it quiet.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Quiet?” said the shaking boatswain. “How?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“First thing to do,” said the widow, thoughtfully, “is to get + rid of the body. I'll bury him in the garden, I think. There's a very + good bit of ground behind those potatoes. You'll find the spade in the + tool-house.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The horrified Mr. Benn stood stock-still regarding her.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“While you're digging the grave,” continued Mrs. 'Waters, + calmly, “I'll go in and clean up the mess.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain reeled and then fumbled with trembling fingers at + his collar.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Like a man in a dream he stood watching as she ran to the + tool-house and returned with a spade and pick; like a man in a dream + he followed her on to the garden.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Be careful,” she said, sharply; “you're treading down my + potatoes.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain stopped dead and stared at her. Apparently + unconscious of his gaze, she began to pace out the measurements and + then, placing the tools in his hands, urged him to lose no time.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll bring him down when you're gone,” she said, looking + towards the house.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain wiped his damp brow with the back of his hand. + “How are you going to get it downstairs?” he breathed.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Drag it,” said Mrs. Waters, briefly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Suppose he isn't dead?” said the boat-swain, with a gleam of + hope.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Fiddlesticks!” said Mrs. Waters. “Do you think I don't know? + Now, don't waste time talking; and mind you dig it deep. I'll put a + few cabbages on top afterwards—I've got more than I want.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She re-entered the house and ran lightly upstairs. The candle + was still alight and the gun was leaning against the bed-post; but the + visitor had disappeared. Conscious of an odd feeling of + disappointment, she looked round the empty room.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come and look at him,” entreated a voice, and she turned and + beheld the amused countenance of her late prisoner at the door.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've been watching from the back window,” he said, nodding. + “You're a wonder; that's what you are. Come and look at him.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Waters followed, and leaning out of the window watched with + simple pleasure the efforts of the amateur sexton. Mr. Benn was + digging like one possessed, only pausing at intervals to straighten + his back and to cast a fearsome glance around him. The only thing that + marred her pleasure was the behaviour of Mr. Travers, who was + struggling for a place with all the fervour of a citizen at the Lord + Mayor's show.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Get back,” she said, in a fierce whisper. “He'll see you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers with obvious reluctance obeyed, just as the victim + looked up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Is that you, Mrs. Waters?” inquired the boatswain, fearfully.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Yes, of course it is,” snapped the widow. “Who else should it + be, do you think? Go on! What are you stopping for?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Benn's breathing as he bent to his task again was distinctly + audible. The head of Mr. Travers ranged itself once more alongside the + widow's. For a long time they watched in silence.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Won't you come down here, Mrs. Waters?” called the boatswain, + looking up so suddenly that Mr. Travers's head bumped painfully + against the side of the window. “It's a bit creepy, all alone.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm all right,” said Mrs. Waters.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I keep fancying there's something dodging behind them currant + bushes,” pursued the unfortunate Mr. Benn, hoarsely. “How you can stay + there alone I can't think. I thought I saw something looking over your + shoulder just now. Fancy if it came creeping up behind and caught hold + of you! The widow gave a sudden faint scream.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If you do that again!” she said, turning fiercely on Mr. + Travers.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He put it into my head,” said the culprit, humbly; “I should + never have thought of such a thing by myself. I'm one of the quietest + and best-behaved——”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Make haste, Mr. Benn,” said the widow, turning to the window + again; “I've got a lot to do when you've finished.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain groaned and fell to digging again, and Mrs. + Waters, after watching a little while longer, gave Mr. Travers some + pointed instructions about the window and went down to the garden + again.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That will do, I think,” she said, stepping into the hole and + regarding it critically. “Now you'd better go straight off home, and, + mind, not a word to a soul about this.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She put her hand on his shoulder, and noticing with pleasure + that he shuddered at her touch led the way to the gate. The boat-swain + paused for a moment, as though about to speak, and then, apparently + thinking better of it, bade her good-bye in a hoarse voice and walked + feebly up the road. Mrs. Waters stood watching until his steps died + away in the distance, and then, returning to the garden, took up the + spade and stood regarding with some dismay the mountainous result of + his industry. Mr. Travers, who was standing just inside the back door, + joined her.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Let me,” he said, gallantly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The day was breaking as he finished his task. The clean, sweet + air and the exercise had given him an appetite to which the smell of + cooking bacon and hot coffee that proceeded from the house had set a + sharper edge. He took his coat from a bush and put it on. Mrs. Waters + appeared at the door.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You had better come in and have some breakfast before you go,” + she said, brusquely; “there's no more sleep for me now.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers obeyed with alacrity, and after a satisfying wash in + the scullery came into the big kitchen with his face shining and took + a seat at the table. The cloth was neatly laid, and Mrs. Waters, fresh + and cool, with a smile upon her pleasant face, sat behind the tray. + She looked at her guest curiously, Mr. Travers's spirits being + somewhat higher than the state of his wardrobe appeared to justify.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Why don't you get some settled work?” she inquired, with gentle + severity, as he imparted snatches of his history between bites.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Easier said than done,” said Mr. Travers, serenely. “But don't + you run away with the idea that I'm a beggar, because I'm not. I pay + my way, such as it is. And, by-the-bye, I s'pose I haven't earned that + two pounds Benn gave me?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>His face lengthened, and he felt uneasily in his pocket.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll give them to him when I'm tired of the joke,” said the + widow, holding out her hand and watching him closely.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers passed the coins over to her. “Soft hand you've + got,” he said, musingly. “I don't wonder Benn was desperate. I dare + say I should have done the same in his place.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Waters bit her lip and looked out at the window; Mr. + Travers resumed his breakfast.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's only one job that I'm really fit for, now that I'm too + old for the Army,” he said, confidentially, as, breakfast finished, he + stood at the door ready to depart.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Playing at burglars?” hazarded Mrs. Waters.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Landlord of a little country public-house,” said Mr. Travers, + simply.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Waters fell back and regarded him with open-eyed amazement.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Good morning,” she said, as soon as she could trust her voice.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Good-bye,” said Mr. Travers, reluctantly. “I should like to + hear how old Benn takes this joke, though.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Waters retreated into the house and stood regarding him. + “If you're passing this way again and like to look in—I'll tell you,” + she said, after a long pause. “Good-bye.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll look in in a week's time,” said Mr. Travers.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He took the proffered hand and shook it warmly. “It would be the + best joke of all,” he said, turning away.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What would?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier confronted her again.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“For old Benn to come round here one evening and find me + landlord. Think it over.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Waters met his gaze soberly. “I'll think it over when you + have gone,” she said, softly. “Now go.”</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="the-nest-egg"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id16"><span>THE NEST EGG</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 46%" id="figure-174"> + <span id="id5"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/004.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">A</span><span + class="dropspan">rtfulness,” said the</span><span> night-watch-man, + smoking placidly, “is a gift; but it don't pay always. I've met some + artful ones in my time—plenty of 'em; but I can't truthfully say as + 'ow any of them was the better for meeting me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He rose slowly from the packing-case on which he had been + sitting and, stamping down the point of a rusty nail with his heel, + resumed his seat, remarking that he had endured it for some time under + the impression that it was only a splinter.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've surprised more than one in my time,” he continued, slowly. + “When I met one of these 'ere artful ones I used fust of all to + pretend to be more stupid than wot I really am.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He stopped and stared fixedly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“More stupid than I looked,” he said. He stopped again.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“More stupid than wot they thought I looked,” he said, speaking + with marked deliberation. And I'd let 'em go on and on until I thought + I had 'ad about enough, and then turn round on 'em. Nobody ever got + the better o' me except my wife, and that was only before we was + married. Two nights arterwards she found a fish-hook in my + trouser-pocket, and arter that I could ha' left untold gold there—if + I'd ha' had it. It spoilt wot some people call the honey-moon, but it + paid in the long run.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>One o' the worst things a man can do is to take up artfulness + all of a sudden. I never knew it to answer yet, and I can tell you of + a case that'll prove my words true.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It's some years ago now, and the chap it 'appened to was a young + man, a shipmate o' mine, named Charlie Tagg. Very steady young chap he + was, too steady for most of 'em. That's 'ow it was me and 'im got to + be such pals.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He'd been saving up for years to get married, and all the advice + we could give 'im didn't 'ave any effect. He saved up nearly every + penny of 'is money and gave it to his gal to keep for 'im, and the + time I'm speaking of she'd got seventy-two pounds of 'is and + seventeen-and-six of 'er own to set up house-keeping with.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Then a thing happened that I've known to 'appen to sailormen + afore. At Sydney 'e got silly on another gal, and started walking out + with her, and afore he knew wot he was about he'd promised to marry + 'er too.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Sydney and London being a long way from each other was in 'is + favour, but the thing that troubled 'im was 'ow to get that + seventy-two pounds out of Emma Cook, 'is London gal, so as he could + marry the other with it. It worried 'im all the way home, and by the + time we got into the London river 'is head was all in a maze with it. + Emma Cook 'ad got it all saved up in the bank, to take a little shop + with when they got spliced, and 'ow to get it he could not think.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He went straight off to Poplar, where she lived, as soon as the + ship was berthed. He walked all the way so as to 'ave more time for + thinking, but wot with bumping into two old gentlemen with bad + tempers, and being nearly run over by a cabman with a white 'orse and + red whiskers, he got to the house without 'aving thought of anything.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They was just finishing their tea as 'e got there, and they all + seemed so pleased to see 'im that it made it worse than ever for 'im. + Mrs. Cook, who 'ad pretty near finished, gave 'im her own cup to drink + out of, and said that she 'ad dreamt of 'im the night afore last, and + old Cook said that he 'ad got so good-looking 'e shouldn't 'ave known + him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I should 'ave passed 'im in the street,” he ses. “I never see + such an alteration.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They'll be a nice-looking couple,” ses his wife, looking at a + young chap, named George Smith, that 'ad been sitting next to Emma.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie Tagg filled 'is mouth with bread and butter, and + wondered 'ow he was to begin. He squeezed Emma's 'and just for the + sake of keeping up appearances, and all the time 'e was thinking of + the other gal waiting for 'im thousands o' miles away.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You've come 'ome just in the nick o' time,” ses old Cook; “if + you'd done it o' purpose you couldn't 'ave arranged it better.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Somebody's birthday?” ses Charlie, trying to smile.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Cook shook his 'ead. “Though mine is next Wednesday,” he + ses, “and thank you for thinking of it. No; you're just in time for + the biggest bargain in the chandlery line that anybody ever 'ad a + chance of. If you 'adn't ha' come back we should have 'ad to ha' done + it without you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Eighty pounds,” ses Mrs. Cook, smiling at Charlie. “With the + money Emma's got saved and your wages this trip you'll 'ave plenty. + You must come round arter tea and 'ave a look at it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Little place not arf a mile from 'ere,” ses old Cook. “Properly + worked up, the way Emma'll do it, it'll be a little fortune. I wish + I'd had a chance like it in my young time.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He sat shaking his 'ead to think wot he'd lost, and Charlie Tagg + sat staring at 'im and wondering wot he was to do.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“My idea is for Charlie to go for a few more v'y'ges arter + they're married while Emma works up the business,” ses Mrs. Cook; + “she'll be all right with young Bill and Sarah Ann to 'elp her and + keep 'er company while he's away.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We'll see as she ain't lonely,” ses George Smith, turning to + Charlie.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie Tagg gave a bit of a cough and said it wanted + considering. He said it was no good doing things in a 'urry and then + repenting of 'em all the rest of your life. And 'e said he'd been + given to understand that chandlery wasn't wot it 'ad been, and some of + the cleverest people 'e knew thought that it would be worse before it + was better. By the time he'd finished they was all looking at 'im as + though they couldn't believe their ears.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You just step round and 'ave a look at the place,” ses old + Cook; “if that don't make you alter your tune, call me a sinner.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie Tagg felt as though 'e could ha' called 'im a lot o' + worse things than that, but he took up 'is hat and Mrs. Cook and Emma + got their bonnets on and they went round.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't think much of it for eighty pounds,” ses Charlie, + beginning his artfulness as they came near a big shop, with + plate-glass and a double front.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Eh?” ses old Cook, staring at 'im. “Why, that ain't the place. + Why, you wouldn't get that for eight 'undred.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, I don't think much of it,” ses Charlie; “if it's worse + than that I can't look at it—I can't, indeed.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You ain't been drinking, Charlie?” ses old Cook, in a puzzled + voice.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Certainly not,” ses Charlie.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He was pleased to see 'ow anxious they all looked, and when they + did come to the shop 'e set up a laugh that old Cook said chilled the + marrer in 'is bones. He stood looking in a 'elpless sort o' way at his + wife and Emma, and then at last he ses, “There it is; and a fair + bargain at the price.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I s'pose you ain't been drinking?” ses Charlie.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot's the matter with it?” ses Mrs. Cook flaring up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come inside and look at it,” ses Emma, taking 'old of his arm.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not me,” ses Charlie, hanging back. “Why, I wouldn't take it at + a gift.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He stood there on the kerbstone, and all they could do 'e + wouldn't budge. He said it was a bad road and a little shop, and 'ad + got a look about it he didn't like. They walked back 'ome like a + funeral procession, and Emma 'ad to keep saying “H's!” in w'ispers to + 'er mother all the way.</span> + </p> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 67%" id="figure-175"> + <span + id="he-said-it-was-a-bad-road-and-a-little-shop-and-ad-got-a-look-about-it-he-didnt-like"></span><img + class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " + src="images/005.jpg" /> + </div> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't know wot Charlie does want, I'm sure,” ses Mrs. Cook, + taking off 'er bonnet as soon as she got indoors and pitching it on + the chair he was just going to set down on.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's so awk'ard,” ses old Cook, rubbing his 'cad. “Fact is, + Charlie, we pretty near gave 'em to understand as we'd buy it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's as good as settled,” ses Mrs. Cook, trembling all over + with temper.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They won't settle till they get the money,” ses Charlie. “You + may make your mind easy about that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Emma's drawn it all out of the bank ready,” ses old Cook, eager + like.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie felt 'ot and cold all over. “I'd better take care of + it,” he ses, in a trembling voice. “You might be robbed.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So might you be,” ses Mrs. Cook. “Don't you worry; it's in a + safe place.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Sailormen are always being robbed,” ses George Smith, who 'ad + been helping young Bill with 'is sums while they 'ad gone to look at + the shop. “There's more sailormen robbed than all the rest put + together.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They won't rob Charlie,” ses Mrs. Cook, pressing 'er lips + together. “I'll take care o' that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie tried to laugh, but 'e made such a queer noise that + young Bill made a large blot on 'is exercise-book, and old Cook, wot + was lighting his pipe, burnt 'is fingers through not looking wot 'e + was doing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You see,” ses Charlie, “if I was robbed, which ain't at all + likely, it 'ud only be me losing my own money; but if you was robbed + of it you'd never forgive yourselves.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I dessay I should get over it,” ses Mrs. Cook, sniffing. “I'd + 'ave a try, at all events.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie started to laugh agin, and old Cook, who had struck + another match, blew it out and waited till he'd finished.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“The whole truth is,” ses Charlie, looking round, “I've got + something better to do with the money. I've got a chance offered me + that'll make me able to double it afore you know where you are.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not afore I know where I am,” ses Mrs. Cook, with a laugh that + was worse than Charlie's.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“The chance of a lifetime,” ses Charlie, trying to keep 'is + temper. “I can't tell you wot it is, because I've promised to keep it + secret for a time. You'll be surprised when I do tell you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If I wait till then till I'm surprised,” ses Mrs. Cook, “I + shall 'ave to wait a long time. My advice to you is to take that shop + and ha' done with it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie sat there arguing all the evening, but it was no good, + and the idea o' them people sitting there and refusing to let 'im have + his own money pretty near sent 'im crazy. It was all 'e could do to + kiss Emma good-night, and 'e couldn't have 'elped slamming the front + door if he'd been paid for it. The only comfort he 'ad got left was + the Sydney gal's photygraph, and he took that out and looked at it + under nearly every lamp-post he passed.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He went round the next night and 'ad an-other try to get 'is + money, but it was no use; and all the good he done was to make Mrs. + Cook in such a temper that she 'ad to go to bed before he 'ad arf + finished. It was no good talking to old Cook and Emma, because they + daren't do anything without 'er, and it was no good calling things up + the stairs to her because she didn't answer. Three nights running Mrs. + Cook went off to bed afore eight o'clock, for fear she should say + something to 'im as she'd be sorry for arterwards; and for three + nights Charlie made 'imself so disagreeable that Emma told 'im plain + the sooner 'e went back to sea agin the better she should like it. The + only one who seemed to enjoy it was George Smith, and 'e used to bring + bits out o' newspapers and read to 'em, showing 'ow silly people was + done out of their money.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>On the fourth night Charlie dropped it and made 'imself so + amiable that Mrs. Cook stayed up and made 'im a Welsh rare-bit for 'is + supper, and made 'im drink two glasses o' beer instead o' one, while + old Cook sat and drank three glasses o' water just out of temper, and + to show that 'e didn't mind. When she started on the chandler's shop + agin Charlie said he'd think it over, and when 'e went away Mrs. Cook + called 'im her sailor-boy and wished 'im pleasant dreams.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>But Charlie Tagg 'ad got better things to do than to dream, and + 'e sat up in bed arf the night thinking out a new plan he'd thought of + to get that money. When 'e did fall asleep at last 'e dreamt of taking + a little farm in Australia and riding about on 'orseback with the + Sydney gal watching his men at work.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>In the morning he went and hunted up a shipmate of 'is, a young + feller named Jack Bates. Jack was one o' these 'ere chaps, nobody's + enemy but their own, as the saying is; a good-'arted, free-'anded chap + as you could wish to see. Everybody liked 'im, and the ship's cat + loved 'im. He'd ha' sold the shirt off 'is back to oblige a pal, and + three times in one week he got 'is face scratched for trying to + prevent 'usbands knocking their wives about.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie Tagg went to 'im because he was the only man 'e could + trust, and for over arf an hour he was telling Jack Bates all 'is + troubles, and at last, as a great favour, he let 'im see the Sydney + gal's photygraph, and told him that all that pore gal's future + 'appiness depended upon 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll step round to-night and rob 'em of that seventy-two + pounds,” ses Jack; “it's your money, and you've a right to it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie shook his 'ead. “That wouldn't do,” he ses; “besides, I + don't know where they keep it. No; I've got a better plan than that. + Come round to the Crooked Billet, so as we can talk it over in peace + and quiet.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He stood Jack three or four arf-pints afore 'e told 'im his + plan, and Jack was so pleased with it that he wanted to start at once, + but Charlie persuaded 'im to wait.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And don't you spare me, mind, out o' friendship,” ses Charlie, + “because the blacker you paint me the better I shall like it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You trust me, mate,” ses Jack Bates; “if I don't get that + seventy-two pounds for you, you may call me a Dutchman. Why, it's fair + robbery, I call it, sticking to your money like that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They spent the rest o' the day together, and when evening came + Charlie went off to the Cooks'. Emma 'ad arf expected they was going + to a theayter that night, but Charlie said he wasn't feeling the + thing, and he sat there so quiet and miserable they didn't know wot to + make of 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Ave you got any trouble on your mind, Charlie,” ses Mrs. Cook, + “or is it the tooth-ache?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It ain't the toothache,” ses Charlie.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He sat there pulling a long face and staring at the floor, but + all Mrs. Cook and Emma could do 'e wouldn't tell them wot was the + matter with 'im. He said 'e didn't want to worry other people with 'is + troubles; let everybody bear their own, that was 'is motto. Even when + George Smith offered to go to the theayter with Emma instead of 'im he + didn't fire up, and, if it 'adn't ha' been for Mrs. Cook, George + wouldn't ha' been sorry that 'e spoke.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Theayters ain't for me,” ses Charlie, with a groan. “I'm more + likely to go to gaol, so far as I can see, than a theayter.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Cook and Emma both screamed and Sarah Ann did 'er first + highstericks, and very well, too, considering that she 'ad only just + turned fifteen.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Gaol!” ses old Cook, as soon as they 'ad quieted Sarah Ann with + a bowl o' cold water that young Bill 'ad the presence o' mind to go + and fetch. “Gaol! What for?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You wouldn't believe if I was to tell you.” ses Charlie, + getting up to go, “and besides, I don't want any of you to think as + 'ow I am worse than wot I am.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He shook his 'cad at them sorrowful-like, and afore they could + stop 'im he 'ad gone. Old Cook shouted arter 'im, but it was no use, + and the others was running into the scullery to fill the bowl agin for + Emma.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Cook went round to 'is lodgings next morning, but found + that 'e was out. They began to fancy all sorts o' things then, but + Charlie turned up agin that evening more miserable than ever.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I went round to see you this morning,” ses Mrs. Cook, “but you + wasn't at 'ome.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I never am, 'ardly,” ses Charlie. “I can't be—it ain't safe.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Why not?” ses Mrs. Cook, fidgeting.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If I was to tell you, you'd lose your good opinion of me,” ses + Charlie.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It wouldn't be much to lose,” ses Mrs. Cook, firing up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie didn't answer 'er. When he did speak he spoke to the old + man, and he was so down-'arted that 'e gave 'im the chills a'most, He + 'ardly took any notice of Emma, and, when Mrs. Cook spoke about the + shop agin, said that chandlers' shops was for happy people, not for + 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>By the time they sat down to supper they was nearly all as + miserable as Charlie 'imself. From words he let drop they all seemed + to 'ave the idea that the police was arter 'im, and Mrs. Cook was just + asking 'im for wot she called the third and last time, but wot was + more likely the hundred and third, wot he'd done, when there was a + knock at the front door, so loud and so sudden that old Cook and young + Bill both cut their mouths at the same time.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Anybody 'ere o' the name of Emma Cook?” ses a man's voice, when + young Bill opened the door.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“She's inside,” ses the boy, and the next moment Jack Bates + followed 'im into the room, and then fell back with a start as 'e saw + Charlie Tagg.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Ho, 'ere you are, are you?” he ses, looking at 'im very black. + “Wot's the matter?” ses Mrs. Cook, very sharp.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I didn't expect to 'ave the pleasure o' seeing you 'ere, my + lad,” ses Jack, still staring at Charlie, and twisting 'is face up + into awful scowls. “Which is Emma Cook?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Miss Cook is my name,” ses Emma, very sharp. “Wot d'ye want?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Very good,” ses Jack Bates, looking at Charlie agin; “then + p'r'aps you'll do me the kindness of telling that lie o' yours agin + afore this young lady.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's the truth,” ses Charlie, looking down at 'is plate.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If somebody don't tell me wot all this is about in two minutes, + I shall do something desprit,” ses Mrs. Cook, getting up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“This 'ere—er—man,” ses Jack Bates, pointing at Charlie, “owes + me seventy-five pounds and won't pay. When I ask 'im for it he ses a + party he's keeping company with, by the name of Emma Cook, 'as got it, + and he can't get it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So she has,” ses Charlie, without looking up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot does 'e owe you the money for?” ses Mrs. Cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Cos I lent it to 'im,” ses Jack.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Lent it? What for?” ses Mrs. Cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Cos I was a fool, I s'pose,” ses jack Bates; “a good-natured + fool. Anyway, I'm sick and tired of asking for it, and if I don't get + it to-night I'm going to see the police about it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He sat down on a chair with 'is hat cocked over one eye, and + they all sat staring at 'im as though they didn't know wot to say + next.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So this is wot you meant when you said you'd got the chance of + a lifetime, is it?” ses Mrs. Cook to Charlie. “This is wot you wanted + it for, is it? Wot did you borrow all that money for?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Spend,” ses Charlie, in a sulky voice.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Spend!” ses Mrs. Cook, with a scream; “wot in?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Drink and cards mostly,” ses Jack Bates, remembering wot + Charlie 'ad told 'im about blackening 'is character.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>You might ha' heard a pin drop a'most, and Charlie sat there + without saying a word.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Charlie's been led away,” ses Mrs. Cook, looking 'ard at Jack + Bates. “I s'pose you lent 'im the money to win it back from 'im at + cards, didn't you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And gave 'im too much licker fust,” ses old Cook. “I've 'eard + of your kind. If Charlie takes my advice 'e won't pay you a farthing. + I should let you do your worst if I was 'im; that's wot I should do. + You've got a low face; a nasty, ugly, low face.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“One o' the worst I ever see,” ses Mrs. Cook. “It looks as + though it might ha' been cut out o' the Police News.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Owever could you ha' trusted a man with a face like that, + Charlie?” ses old Cook. “Come away from 'im, Bill; I don't like such a + chap in the room.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Jack Bates began to feel very awk'ard. They was all glaring at + 'im as though they could eat 'im, and he wasn't used to such + treatment. And, as a matter o' fact, he'd got a very good-'arted face.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You go out o' that door,” ses old Cook, pointing to it. “Go and + do your worst. You won't get any money 'ere.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Stop a minute,” ses Emma, and afore they could stop 'er she ran + upstairs. Mrs. Cook went arter 'er and 'igh words was heard up in the + bedroom, but by-and-by Emma came down holding her head very 'igh and + looking at Jack Bates as though he was dirt.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“How am I to know Charlie owes you this money?” she ses.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Jack Bates turned very red, and arter fumbling in 'is pockets + took out about a dozen dirty bits o' paper, which Charlie 'ad given + 'im for I O U's. Emma read 'em all, and then she threw a little parcel + on the table.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's your money,” she ses; “take it and go.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Cook and 'er father began to call out, but it was no good.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's seventy-two pounds there,” ses Emma, who was very pale; + “and 'ere's a ring you can have to 'elp make up the rest.” And she + drew Charlie's ring off and throwed it on the table. “I've done with + 'im for good,” she ses, with a look at 'er mother.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Jack Bates took up the money and the ring and stood there + looking at 'er and trying to think wot to say. He'd always been + uncommon partial to the sex, and it did seem 'ard to stand there and + take all that on account of Charlie Tagg.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I only wanted my own,” he ses, at last, shuffling about the + floor.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, you've got it,” ses Mrs. Cook, “and now you can go.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You're pi'soning the air of my front parlour,” ses old Cook, + opening the winder a little at the top.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“P'r'aps I ain't so bad as you think I am,” ses Jack Bates, + still looking at Emma, and with that 'e walked over to Charlie and + dumped down the money on the table in front of 'im. “Take it,” he ses, + “and don't borrow any more. I make you a free gift of it. P'r'aps my + 'art ain't as black as my face,” he ses, turning to Mrs. Cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They was all so surprised at fust that they couldn't speak, but + old Cook smiled at 'im and put the winder up agin. And Charlie Tagg + sat there arf mad with temper, locking as though 'e could eat Jack + Bates without any salt, as the saying is.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I—I can't take it,” he ses at last, with a stammer.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Can't take it? Why not?” ses old Cook, staring. “This gentleman + 'as given it to you.” “A free gift,” ses Mrs. Cook, smiling at Jack + very sweet.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I can't take it,” ses Charlie, winking at Jack to take the + money up and give it to 'im quiet, as arranged. “I 'ave my pride.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So 'ave I,” ses Jack. “Are you going to take it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie gave another look. “No,” he ses, “I cant take a favour. + I borrowed the money and I'll pay it back.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Very good,” ses Jack, taking it up. “It's my money, ain't it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Yes,” ses Charlie, taking no notice of Mrs. Cook and 'er + husband, wot was both talking to 'im at once, and trying to persuade + 'im to alter his mind.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Then I give it to Miss Emma Cook,” ses Jack Bates, putting it + into her hands. “Good-night everybody and good luck.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He slammed the front door behind 'im and they 'eard 'im go off + down the road as if 'e was going for fire-engines. Charlie sat there + for a moment struck all of a heap, and then 'e jumped up and dashed + arter 'im. He just saw 'im disappearing round a corner, and he didn't + see 'im agin for a couple o' year arterwards, by which time the Sydney + gal had 'ad three or four young men arter 'im, and Emma, who 'ad + changed her name to Smith, was doing one o' the best businesses in the + chandlery line in Poplar.</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="the-constables-move"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id17"><span>THE CONSTABLE'S MOVE</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 69%" id="figure-176"> + <span id="id6"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/006.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">M</span><span + class="dropspan">r. Bob Grummit sat in the</span><span> kitchen with + his corduroy-clad legs stretched on the fender. His wife's half-eaten + dinner was getting cold on the table; Mr. Grummit, who was badly in + need of cheering up, emptied her half-empty glass of beer and wiped + his lips with the back of his hand.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come away, I tell you,” he called. “D'ye hear? Come away. + You'll be locked up if you don't.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He gave a little laugh at the sarcasm, and sticking his short + pipe in his mouth lurched slowly to the front-room door and scowled at + his wife as she lurked at the back of the window watching intently the + furniture which was being carried in next door.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come away or else you'll be locked up,” repeated Mr. Grummit. + “You mustn't look at policemen's furniture; it's agin the law.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Grummit made no reply, but, throwing appearances to the + winds, stepped to the window until her nose touched, as a walnut + sideboard with bevelled glass back was tenderly borne inside under the + personal supervision of Police-Constable Evans.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They'll be 'aving a pianner next,” said the indignant Mr. + Grummit, peering from the depths of the room.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They've got one,” responded his wife; “there's the end if it + stickin' up in the van.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit advanced and regarded the end fixedly. “Did you + throw all them tin cans and things into their yard wot I told you to?” + he demanded.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He picked up three of 'em while I was upstairs,” replied his + wife. “I 'eard 'im tell her that they'd come in handy for paint and + things.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That's 'ow coppers get on and buy pianners,” said the incensed + Mr. Grummit, “sneaking other people's property. I didn't tell you to + throw good 'uns over, did I? Wot d'ye mean by it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Grummit made no reply, but watched with bated breath the + triumphal entrance of the piano. The carman set it tenderly on the + narrow footpath, while P. C. Evans, stooping low, examined it at all + points, and Mrs. Evans, raising the lid, struck a few careless chords.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Showing off,” explained Mrs. Grummit, with a half turn; “and + she's got fingers like carrots.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's a disgrace to Mulberry Gardens to 'ave a copper come and + live in it,” said the indignant Grummit; “and to come and live next to + me!— that's what I can't get over. To come and live next door to a man + wot has been fined twice, and both times wrong. Why, for two pins I'd + go in and smash 'is pianner first and 'im after it. He won't live 'ere + long, you take my word for it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Why not?” inquired his wife.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Why?” repeated Mr. Grummit. “Why? Why, becos I'll make the + place too 'ot to hold him. Ain't there enough houses in Tunwich + without 'im a-coming and living next door to me?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>For a whole week the brain concealed in Mr. Grummit's + bullet-shaped head worked in vain, and his temper got correspondingly + bad. The day after the Evans' arrival he had found his yard littered + with tins which he recognized as old acquaintances, and since that + time they had travelled backwards and forwards with monotonous + regularity. They sometimes made as many as three journeys a day, and + on one occasion the heavens opened to drop a battered tin bucket on + the back of Mr. Grummit as he was tying his bootlace. Five minutes + later he spoke of the outrage to Mr. Evans, who had come out to admire + the sunset.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I heard something fall,” said the constable, eyeing the pail + curiously.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You threw it,” said Mr. Grummit, breathing furiously.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Me? Nonsense,” said the other, easily. “I was having tea in the + parlour with my wife and my mother-in-law, and my brother Joe and his + young lady.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Any more of 'em?” demanded the hapless Mr. Grummit, aghast at + this list of witnesses for an alibi.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It ain't a bad pail, if you look at it properly,” said the + constable. “I should keep it if I was you; unless the owner offers a + reward for it. It'll hold enough water for your wants.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit flung indoors and, after wasting some time + concocting impossible measures of retaliation with his sympathetic + partner, went off to discuss affairs with his intimates at the + Bricklayers' Arms. The company, although unanimously agreeing that Mr. + Evans ought to be boiled, were miserably deficient in ideas as to the + means by which such a desirable end was to be attained.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Make 'im a laughing-stock, that's the best thing,” said an + elderly labourer. “The police don't like being laughed at.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Ow?” demanded Mr. Grummit, with some asperity.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's plenty o' ways,” said the old man.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I should find 'em out fast enough if I 'ad a bucket dropped on + my back, I know.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit made a retort the feebleness of which was somewhat + balanced by its ferocity, and subsided into glum silence. His back + still ached, but, despite that aid to intellectual effort, the only + ways he could imagine of making the constable look foolish contained + an almost certain risk of hard labour for himself.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He pondered the question for a week, and meanwhile the tins—to + the secret disappointment of Mr. Evans—remained untouched in his yard. + For the whole of the time he went about looking, as Mrs. Grummit + expressed it, as though his dinner had disagreed with him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've been talking to old Bill Smith,” he said, suddenly, as he + came in one night.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Grummit looked up, and noticed with wifely pleasure that he + was looking almost cheerful.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's given me a tip,” said Mr. Grummit, with a faint smile; “a + copper mustn't come into a free-born Englishman's 'ouse unless he's + invited.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot of it?” inquired his wife. “You wasn't think of asking him + in, was you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit regarded her almost play-fully. “If a copper comes + in without being told to,” he continued, “he gets into trouble for it. + Now d'ye see?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“But he won't come,” said the puzzled Mrs. Grummit.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit winked. “Yes 'e will if you scream loud enough,” he + retorted. “Where's the copper-stick?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Have you gone mad?” demanded his wife, “or do you think I + 'ave?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You go up into the bedroom,” said Mr. Grummit, emphasizing his + remarks with his forefinger. “I come up and beat the bed black and + blue with the copper-stick; you scream for mercy and call out 'Help!' + 'Murder!' and things like that. Don't call out 'Police!' cos Bill + ain't sure about that part. Evans comes bursting in to save your + life—I'll leave the door on the latch—and there you are. He's sure to + get into trouble for it. Bill said so. He's made a study o' that sort + o' thing.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Grummit pondered this simple plan so long that her husband + began to lose patience. At last, against her better sense, she rose + and fetched the weapon in question.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And you be careful what you're hitting,” she said, as they went + upstairs to bed. “We'd better have 'igh words first, I s'pose?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You pitch into me with your tongue,” said Mr. Grummit, amiably.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Grummit, first listening to make sure that the constable + and his wife were in the bedroom the other side of the flimsy wall, + complied, and in a voice that rose gradually to a piercing falsetto + told Mr. Grummit things that had been rankling in her mind for some + months. She raked up misdemeanours that he had long since forgotten, + and, not content with that, had a fling at the entire Grummit family, + beginning with her mother-in-law and ending with Mr. Grummit's + youngest sister. The hand that held the copper-stick itched.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Any more to say?” demanded Mr. Grummit advancing upon her.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Grummit emitted a genuine shriek, and Mr. Grummit, suddenly + remembering himself, stopped short and attacked the bed with + extraordinary fury. The room resounded with the blows, and the efforts + of Mrs. Grummit were a revelation even to her husband.</span> + </p> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 68%" id="figure-177"> + <span + id="mr-grummit-suddenly-remembering-himself-stopped-short-and-attacked-the-bed-with-extraordinary-fury"></span><img + class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " + src="images/007.jpg" /> + </div> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I can hear 'im moving,” whispered Mr. Grummit, pausing to take + breath.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Mur—der!” wailed his wife. “Help! Help!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit, changing the stick into his left hand, renewed the + attack; Mrs. Grummit, whose voice was becoming exhausted, sought a + temporary relief in moans.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Is—he——deaf?” panted the wife-beater, “or wot?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He knocked over a chair, and Mrs. Grummit contrived another + frenzied scream. A loud knocking sounded on the wall.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Hel—lp!” moaned Mrs. Grummit.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Halloa, there!” came the voice of the constable. “Why don't you + keep that baby quiet? We can't get a wink of sleep.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit dropped the stick on the bed and turned a dazed face + to his wife.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He—he's afraid—to come in,” he gasped. “Keep it up, old gal.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He took up the stick again and Mrs. Grummit did her best, but + the heart had gone out of the thing, and he was about to give up the + task as hopeless when the door below was heard to open with a bang.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Here he is,” cried the jubilant Grummit. “Now!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>His wife responded, and at the same moment the bedroom door was + flung open, and her brother, who had been hastily fetched by the + neighbours on the other side, burst into the room and with one hearty + blow sent Mr. Grummit sprawling.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Hit my sister, will you?” he roared, as the astounded Mr. + Grummit rose. “Take that!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit took it, and several other favours, while his wife, + tugging at her brother, endeavoured to explain. It was not, however, + until Mr. Grummit claimed the usual sanctuary of the defeated by + refusing to rise that she could make herself heard.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Joke?” repeated her brother, incredulously. “Joke?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Grummit in a husky voice explained.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Her brother passed from incredulity to amazement and from + amazement to mirth. He sat down gurgling, and the indignant face of + the injured Grummit only added to his distress.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Best joke I ever heard in my life,” he said, wiping his eyes. + “Don't look at me like that, Bob; I can't bear it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Get off 'ome,” responded Mr. Grummit, glowering at him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's a crowd outside, and half the doors in the place open,” + said the other. “Well, it's a good job there's no harm done. So long.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He passed, beaming, down the stairs, and Mr. Grummit, drawing + near the window, heard him explaining in a broken voice to the + neighbours outside. Strong men patted him on the back and urged him + gruffly to say what he had to say and laugh afterwards. Mr. Grummit + turned from the window, and in a slow and stately fashion prepared to + retire for the night. Even the sudden and startling disappearance of + Mrs. Grummit as she got into bed failed to move him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“The bed's broke, Bob,” she said faintly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Beds won't last for ever,” he said, shortly; “sleep on the + floor.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Grummit clambered out, and after some trouble secured the + bedclothes and made up a bed in a corner of the room. In a short time + she was fast asleep; but her husband, broad awake, spent the night in + devising further impracticable schemes for the discomfiture of the foe + next door.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He saw Mr. Evans next morning as he passed on his way to work. + The constable was at the door smoking in his shirt-sleeves, and Mr. + Grummit felt instinctively that he was waiting there to see him pass.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I heard you last night,” said the constable, playfully. “My + word! Good gracious!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot's the matter with you?” demanded Mr. Grummit, stopping + short.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The constable stared at him. “She has been knocking you about,” + he gasped. “Why, it must ha' been you screaming, then! I thought it + sounded loud. Why don't you go and get a summons and have her locked + up? I should be pleased to take her.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit faced him, quivering with passion. “Wot would it + cost if I set about you?” he demanded, huskily.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Two months,” said Mr. Evans, smiling serenely; “p'r'aps three.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit hesitated and his fists clenched nervously. The + constable, lounging against his door-post, surveyed him with a + dispassionate smile. “That would be besides what you'd get from me,” + he said, softly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come out in the road,” said Mr. Grummit, with sudden violence.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's agin the rules,” said Mr. Evans; “sorry I can't. Why not + go and ask your wife's brother to oblige you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He went in laughing and closed the door, and Mr. Grummit, after + a frenzied outburst, proceeded on his way, returning the smiles of + such acquaintances as he passed with an icy stare or a strongly-worded + offer to make them laugh the other side of their face. The rest of the + day he spent in working so hard that he had no time to reply to the + anxious inquiries of his fellow-workmen.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He came home at night glum and silent, the hardship of not being + able to give Mr. Evans his deserts without incurring hard labour + having weighed on his spirits all day. To avoid the annoyance of the + piano next door, which was slowly and reluctantly yielding up “The + Last Rose of Summer” note by note, he went out at the back, and the + first thing he saw was Mr. Evans mending his path with tins and other + bric-a-brac.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Nothing like it,” said the constable, looking up. “Your missus + gave 'em to us this morning. A little gravel on top, and there you + are.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He turned whistling to his work again, and the other, after + endeavouring in vain to frame a suitable reply, took a seat on an + inverted wash-tub and lit his pipe. His one hope was that Constable + Evans was going to try and cultivate a garden.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The hope was realized a few days later, and Mr. Grummit at the + back window sat gloating over a dozen fine geraniums, some lobelias + and calceolarias, which decorated the constable's plot of ground. He + could not sleep for thinking of them.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He rose early the next morning, and, after remarking to Mrs. + Grummit that Mr. Evans's flowers looked as though they wanted rain, + went off to his work. The cloud which had been on his spirits for some + time had lifted, and he whistled as he walked. The sight of flowers in + front windows added to his good humour.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He was still in good spirits when he left off work that + afternoon, but some slight hesitation about returning home sent him to + the Brick-layers' firms instead. He stayed there until closing time, + and then, being still disinclined for home, paid a visit to Bill + Smith, who lived the other side of Tunwich. By the time he started for + home it was nearly midnight.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The outskirts of the town were deserted and the houses in + darkness. The clock of Tunwich church struck twelve, and the last + stroke was just dying away as he turned a corner and ran almost into + the arms of the man he had been trying to avoid.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Halloa!” said Constable Evans, sharply. “Here, I want a word + with you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit quailed. “With me, sir?” he said, with involuntary + respect.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What have you been doing to my flowers?” demanded the other, + hotly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Flowers?” repeated Mr. Grummit, as though the word were new to + him. “Flowers? What flowers?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You know well enough,” retorted the constable. “You got over my + fence last night and smashed all my flowers down.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You be careful wot you're saying,” urged Mr. Grummit. “Why, I + love flowers. You don't mean to tell me that all them beautiful + flowers wot you put in so careful 'as been spoiled?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You know all about it,” said the constable, choking. “I shall + take out a summons against you for it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Ho!” said Mr. Grummit. “And wot time do you say it was when I + done it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Never you mind the time,” said the other.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Cos it's important,” said Mr. Grummit.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“My wife's brother—the one you're so fond of—slept in my 'ouse + last night. He was ill arf the night, pore chap; but, come to think of + it, it'll make 'im a good witness for my innocence.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If I wasn't a policeman,” said Mr. Evans, speaking with great + deliberation, “I'd take hold o' you, Bob Grummit, and I'd give you the + biggest hiding you've ever had in your life.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If you wasn't a policeman,” said Mr. Grummit, yearningly, “I'd + arf murder you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The two men eyed each other wistfully, loth to part.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If I gave you what you deserve I should get into trouble,” said + the constable.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If I gave you a quarter of wot you ought to 'ave I should go to + quod,” sighed Mr. Grummit.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I wouldn't put you there,” said the constable, earnestly; “I + swear I wouldn't.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Everything's beautiful and quiet,” said Mr. Grummit, trembling + with eagerness, “and I wouldn't say a word to a soul. I'll take my + solemn davit I wouldn't.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“When I think o' my garden—” began the constable. With a sudden + movement he knocked off Mr. Grummit's cap, and then, seizing him by + the coat, began to hustle him along the road. In the twinkling of an + eye they had closed.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Tunwich church chimed the half-hour as they finished, and Mr. + Grummit, forgetting his own injuries, stood smiling at the wreck + before him. The constable's helmet had been smashed and trodden on; + his uniform was torn and covered with blood and dirt, and his good + looks marred for a fortnight at least. He stooped with a groan, and, + recovering his helmet, tried mechanically to punch it into shape. He + stuck the battered relic on his head, and Mr. Grummit fell back—awed, + despite himself.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It was a fair fight,” he stammered.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The constable waved him away. “Get out o' my sight before I + change my mind,” he said, fiercely; “and mind, if you say a word about + this it'll be the worse for you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Do you think I've gone mad?” said the other. He took another + look at his victim and, turning away, danced fantastically along the + road home. The constable, making his way to a gas-lamp, began to + inspect damages.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They were worse even than he had thought, and, leaning against + the lamp-post, he sought in vain for an explanation that, in the + absence of a prisoner, would satisfy the inspector. A button which was + hanging by a thread fell tinkling on to the footpath, and he had just + picked it up and placed it in his pocket when a faint distant outcry + broke upon his ear.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He turned and walked as rapidly as his condition would permit in + the direction of the noise. It became louder and more imperative, and + cries of “Police!” became distinctly audible. He quickened into a run, + and turning a corner beheld a little knot of people standing at the + gate of a large house. Other people only partially clad were hastening + to-wards them. The constable arrived out of breath.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Better late than never,” said the owner of the house, + sarcastically.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Evans, breathing painfully, supported himself with his hand + on the fence.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They went that way, but I suppose you didn't see them,” + continued the householder. “Halloa!” he added, as somebody opened the + hall door and the constable's damaged condition became visible in the + gas-light. “Are you hurt?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Yes,” said Mr. Evans, who was trying hard to think clearly. To + gain time he blew a loud call on his whistle.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“The rascals!” continued the other. “I think I should know the + big chap with a beard again, but the others were too quick for me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Evans blew his whistle again—thoughtfully. The opportunity + seemed too good to lose.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Did they get anything?” he inquired.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not a thing,” said the owner, triumphantly. “I was disturbed + just in time.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The constable gave a slight gulp. “I saw the three running by + the side of the road,” he said, slowly. “Their behaviour seemed + suspicious, so I collared the big one, but they set on me like wild + cats. They had me down three times; the last time I laid my head open + against the kerb, and when I came to my senses again they had gone.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He took off his battered helmet with a flourish and, amid a + murmur of sympathy, displayed a nasty cut on his head. A sergeant and + a constable, both running, appeared round the corner and made towards' + them.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Get back to the station and make your report,” said the former, + as Constable Evans, in a somewhat defiant voice, repeated his story. + “You've done your best; I can see that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Evans, enacting to perfection the part of a wounded hero, + limped painfully off, praying devoutly as he went that the criminals + might make good their escape. If not, he reflected that the word of a + policeman was at least equal to that of three burglars.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He repeated his story at the station, and, after having his head + dressed, was sent home and advised to keep himself quiet for a day or + two. He was off duty for four days, and, the Tunwich Gazette having + devoted a column to the affair, headed “A Gallant Constable,” modestly + secluded himself from the public gaze for the whole of that time.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>To Mr. Grummit, who had read the article in question until he + could have repeated it backwards, this modesty was particularly + trying. The constable's yard was deserted and the front door ever + closed. Once Mr. Grummit even went so far as to tap with his nails on + the front parlour window, and the only response was the sudden + lowering of the blind. It was not until a week afterwards that his + eyes were gladdened by a sight of the constable sitting in his yard; + and fearing that even then he might escape him, he ran out on tip-toe + and put his face over the fence before the latter was aware of his + presence.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot about that 'ere burglary?” he demanded in truculent tones.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Good evening, Grummit,” said the constable, with a patronizing + air.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot about that burglary?” repeated Mr. Grummit, with a scowl. + “I don't believe you ever saw a burglar.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Evans rose and stretched himself gracefully. “You'd better + run indoors, my good man,” he said, slowly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Telling all them lies about burglars,” continued the indignant + Mr. Grummit, producing his newspaper and waving it. “Why, I gave you + that black eye, I smashed your 'elmet, I cut your silly 'ead open, + I——”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You've been drinking,” said the other, severely.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You mean to say I didn't?” demanded Mr. Grummit, ferociously.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Evans came closer and eyed him steadily. “I don't know what + you're talking about,” he said, calmly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit, about to speak, stopped appalled at such hardihood.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Of course, if you mean to say that you were one o' them + burglars,” continued the constable, “why, say it and I'll take you + with pleasure. Come to think of it, I did seem to remember one o' + their voices.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit, with his eyes fixed on the other's, backed a couple + of yards and breathed heavily.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“About your height, too, he was,” mused the constable. “I hope + for your sake you haven't been saying to anybody else what you said to + me just now.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit shook his head. “Not a word,” he faltered.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That's all right, then,” said Mr. Evans. “I shouldn't like to + be hard on a neighbour; not that we shall be neighbours much longer.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit, feeling that a reply was expected of him, gave + utterance to a feeble “Oh!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No,” said Mr. Evans, looking round disparagingly. “It ain't + good enough for us now; I was promoted to sergeant this morning. A + sergeant can't live in a common place like this.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit, a prey to a sickening fear, drew near the fence + again. “A— a sergeant?” he stammered.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Evans smiled and gazed carefully at a distant cloud. “For my + bravery with them burglars the other night, Grummit,” he said, + modestly. “I might have waited years if it hadn't been for them.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He nodded to the frantic Grummit and turned away; Mr. Grummit, + without any adieu at all, turned and crept back to the house.</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="bobs-redemption"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id18"><span>BOB'S REDEMPTION</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 48%" id="figure-178"> + <span id="id7"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/008.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">G</span><span + class="dropspan">RATITOODE!” said the</span><span> night-watchman, + with a hard laugh. “Hmf! Don't talk to me about gratitoode; I've seen + too much of it. If people wot I've helped in my time 'ad only done arf + their dooty—arf, mind you—I should be riding in my carriage.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Forgetful of the limitations of soap-boxes he attempted to + illustrate his remark by lolling, and nearly went over backwards. + Recovering himself by an effort he gazed sternly across the river and + smoked fiercely. It was evident that he was brooding over an ill-used + past.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>'Arry Thomson was one of them, he said, at last. For over six + months I wrote all 'is love-letters for him, 'e being an iggernerant + sort of man and only being able to do the kisses at the end, which he + always insisted on doing 'imself: being jealous. Only three weeks + arter he was married 'e come up to where I was standing one day and + set about me without saying a word. I was a single man at the time and + I didn't understand it. My idea was that he 'ad gone mad, and, being + pretty artful and always 'aving a horror of mad people, I let 'im + chase me into a police-station. Leastways, I would ha' let 'im, but he + didn't come, and I all but got fourteen days for being drunk and + disorderly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Then there was Bill Clark. He 'ad been keeping comp'ny with a + gal and got tired of it, and to oblige 'im I went to her and told 'er + he was a married man with five children. Bill was as pleased as Punch + at fust, but as soon as she took up with another chap he came round to + see me and said as I'd ruined his life. We 'ad words about + it—naturally—and I did ruin it then to the extent of a couple o' ribs. + I went to see 'im in the horsepittle—place I've always been fond + of—and the langwidge he used to me was so bad that they sent for the + Sister to 'ear it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>That's on'y two out of dozens I could name. Arf the + unpleasantnesses in my life 'ave come out of doing kindnesses to + people, and all the gratitoode I've 'ad for it I could put in a + pint-pot with a pint o' beer already in it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The only case o' real gratitoode I ever heard of 'appened to a + shipmate o' mine—a young chap named Bob Evans. Coming home from + Auckland in a barque called the Dragon Fly he fell overboard, and + another chap named George Crofts, one o' the best swimmers I ever + knew, went overboard arter 'im and saved his life.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>We was hardly moving at the time, and the sea was like a duck + pond, but to 'ear Bob Evans talk you'd ha' thought that George Crofts + was the bravest-'arted chap that ever lived. He 'adn't liked him + afore, same as the rest of us, George being a sly, mean sort o' chap; + but arter George 'ad saved his life 'e couldn't praise 'im enough. He + said that so long as he 'ad a crust George should share it, and + wotever George asked 'im he should have.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The unfortnit part of it was that George took 'im at his word, + and all the rest of the v'y'ge he acted as though Bob belonged to 'im, + and by the time we got into the London river Bob couldn't call his + soul 'is own. He used to take a room when he was ashore and live very + steady, as 'e was saving up to get married, and as soon as he found + that out George invited 'imself to stay with him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It won't cost you a bit more,” he ses, “not if you work it + properly.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bob didn't work it properly, but George having saved his life, + and never letting 'im forget it, he didn't like to tell him so. He + thought he'd let 'im see gradual that he'd got to be careful because + of 'is gal, and the fust evening they was ashore 'e took 'im along + with 'im there to tea.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Gerty Mitchell—that was the gal's name—'adn't heard of Bob's + accident, and when she did she gave a little scream, and putting 'er + arms round his neck, began to kiss 'im right in front of George and + her mother.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You ought to give him one too,” ses Mrs. Mitchell, pointing to + George.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George wiped 'is mouth on the back of his 'and, but Gerty + pretended not to 'ear.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Fancy if you'd been drownded!” she ses, hugging Bob agin.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He was pretty near,” ses George, shaking his 'ead. “I'm a pore + swimmer, but I made up my mind either to save 'im or else go down to a + watery grave myself.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He wiped his mouth on the back of his 'and agin, but all the + notice Gerty took of it was to send her young brother Ted out for some + beer. Then they all 'ad supper together, and Mrs. Mitchell drank good + luck to George in a glass o' beer, and said she 'oped that 'er own boy + would grow up like him. “Let 'im grow up a good and brave man, that's + all I ask,” she ses. “I don't care about 'is looks.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He might have both,” ses George, sharp-like. “Why not?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Mitchell said she supposed he might, and then she cuffed + young Ted's ears for making a noise while 'e was eating, and then + cuffed 'im agin for saying that he'd finished 'is supper five minutes + ago.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George and Bob walked 'ome together, and all the way there + George said wot a pretty gal Gerty was and 'ow lucky it was for Bob + that he 'adn't been drownded. He went round to tea with 'im the next + day to Mrs. Mitchell's, and arter tea, when Bob and Gerty said they + was going out to spend the evening together, got 'imself asked too.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They took a tram-car and went to a music-hall, and Bob paid for + the three of 'em. George never seemed to think of putting his 'and in + his pocket, and even arter the music-hall, when they all went into a + shop and 'ad stewed eels, he let Bob pay.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>As I said afore, Bob Evans was chock-full of gratefulness, and + it seemed only fair that he shouldn't grumble at spending a little + over the man wot 'ad risked 'is life to save his; but wot with keeping + George at his room, and paying for 'im every time they went out, he + was spending a lot more money than 'e could afford.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You're on'y young once, Bob,” George said to him when 'e made a + remark one arternoon as to the fast way his money was going, “and if + it hadn't ha' been for me you'd never 'ave lived to grow old.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Wot with spending the money and always 'aving George with them + when they went out, it wasn't long afore Bob and Gerty 'ad a quarrel. + “I don't like a pore-spirited man,” she ses. “Two's company and + three's none, and, besides, why can't he pay for 'imself? He's big + enough. Why should you spend your money on 'im? He never pays a + farthing.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bob explained that he couldn't say anything because 'e owed his + life to George, but 'e might as well 'ave talked to a lamp-post. The + more he argued the more angry Gerty got, and at last she ses, “Two's + company and three's none, and if you and me can't go out without + George Crofts, then me and 'im 'll go out with-out you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She was as good as her word, too, and the next night, while Bob + 'ad gone out to get some 'bacca, she went off alone with George. It + was ten o'clock afore they came back agin, and Gerty's eyes were all + shining and 'er cheeks as pink as roses. She shut 'er mother up like a + concertina the moment she began to find fault with 'er, and at supper + she sat next to George and laughed at everything 'e said.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George and Bob walked all the way 'ome arter supper without + saying a word, but arter they got to their room George took a + side-look at Bob, and then he ses, suddenlike, “Look 'ere! I saved + your life, didn't I?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You did,” ses Bob, “and I thank you for it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I saved your life,” ses George agin, very solemn. “If it hadn't + ha' been for me you couldn't ha' married anybody.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That's true,” ses Bob.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Me and Gerty 'ave been having a talk,” ses George, bending down + to undo his boots. “We've been getting on very well together; you + can't 'elp your feelings, and the long and the short of it is, the + pore gal has fallen in love with me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bob didn't say a word.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If you look at it this way it's fair enough,” ses George. “I + gave you your life and you give me your gal. We're quits now. You + don't owe me anything and I don't owe you anything. That's the way + Gerty puts it, and she told me to tell you so.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If—if she don't want me I'm agreeable,” ses Bob, in a choking + voice. “We'll call it quits, and next time I tumble overboard I 'ope + you won't be handy.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He took Gerty's photygraph out of 'is box and handed it to + George. “You've got more right to it now than wot I 'ave,” he ses. “I + shan't go round there any more; I shall look out for a ship + to-morrow.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George Crofts said that perhaps it was the best thing he could + do, and 'e asked 'im in a offhand sort o' way 'ow long the room was + paid up for.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Mitchell 'ad a few words to say about it next day, but + Gerty told 'er to save 'er breath for walking upstairs. The on'y thing + that George didn't like when they went out was that young Ted was with + them, but Gerty said she preferred it till she knew 'im better; and + she 'ad so much to say about his noble behaviour in saving life that + George gave way. They went out looking at the shops, George thinking + that that was the cheapest way of spending an evening, and they were + as happy as possible till Gerty saw a brooch she liked so much in a + window that he couldn't get 'er away.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It is a beauty,” she ses. “I don't know when I've seen a brooch + I liked better. Look here! Let's all guess the price and then go in + and see who's right.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They 'ad their guesses, and then they went in and asked, and as + soon as Gerty found that it was only three-and-sixpence she began to + feel in her pocket for 'er purse, just like your wife does when you go + out with 'er, knowing all the time that it's on the mantelpiece with + twopence-ha'penny and a cough lozenge in it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I must ha' left it at 'ome,” she ses, looking at George.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Just wot I've done,” ses George, arter patting 'is pockets.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Gerty bit 'er lips and, for a minute or two, be civil to George + she could not. Then she gave a little smile and took 'is arm agin, and + they walked on talking and laughing till she turned round of a sudden + and asked a big chap as was passing wot 'e was shoving 'er for.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Shoving you?” ses he. “Wot do you think I want to shove you + for?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't you talk to me,” ses Gerty, firing up. “George, make 'im + beg my pardon.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You ought to be more careful,” ses George, in a gentle sort o' + way.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Make 'im beg my pardon,” ses Gerty, stamping 'er foot; “if he + don't, knock 'im down.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Yes, knock 'im down,” ses the big man, taking hold o' George's + cap and rumpling his 'air.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Pore George, who was never much good with his fists, hit 'im in + the chest, and the next moment he was on 'is back in the middle o' the + road wondering wot had 'appened to 'im. By the time 'e got up the + other man was arf a mile away; and young Ted stepped up and wiped 'im + down with a pocket-'andkerchief while Gerty explained to 'im 'ow she + saw 'im slip on a piece o' banana peel.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's 'ard lines,” she ses; “but never mind, you frightened 'im + away, and I don't wonder at it. You do look terrible when you're + angry, George; I didn't know you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She praised 'im all the way 'ome, and if it 'adn't been for his + mouth and nose George would 'ave enjoyed it more than 'e did. She told + 'er mother how 'e had flown at a big man wot 'ad insulted her, and + Mrs. Mitchell shook her 'ead at 'im and said his bold spirit would + lead 'im into trouble afore he 'ad done.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They didn't seem to be able to make enough of 'im, and next day + when he went round Gerty was so upset at the sight of 'is bruises that + he thought she was going to cry. When he had 'ad his tea she gave 'im + a cigar she had bought for 'im herself, and when he 'ad finished + smoking it she smiled at him, and said that she was going to take 'im + out for a pleasant evening to try and make up to 'im for wot he 'ad + suffered for 'er.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We're all going to stand treat to each other,” she ses. “Bob + always would insist on paying for everything, but I like to feel a bit + independent. Give and take—that's the way I like to do things.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's nothing like being independent,” ses George. “Bob ought + to ha' known that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm sure it's the best plan,” ses Gerty. “Now, get your 'at on. + We're going to a theayter, and Ted shall pay the 'bus fares.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George wanted to ask about the theayter, but 'e didn't like to, + and arter Gerty was dressed they went out and Ted paid the 'bus fares + like a man.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Here you are,” ses Gerty, as the 'bus stopped outside the + theayter. “Hurry up and get the tickets, George; ask for three upper + circles.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She bustled George up to the pay place, and as soon as she 'ad + picked out the seats she grabbed 'old of the tickets and told George + to make haste.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Twelve shillings it is,” ses the man, as George put down arf a + crown.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Twelve?” ses George, beginning to stammer. “Twelve? Twelve? + Twel—?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Twelve shillings,” ses the man; “three upper circles you've + 'ad.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George was going to fetch Gerty back and 'ave cheaper seats, but + she 'ad gone inside with young Ted, and at last, arter making an awful + fuss, he paid the rest o' the money and rushed in arter her, arf crazy + at the idea o' spending so much money.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Make 'aste,” ses Gerty, afore he could say anything; “the band + 'as just begun.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She started running upstairs, and she was so excited that, when + they got their seats and George started complaining about the price, + she didn't pay any attention to wot he was saying, but kept pointing + out ladies' dresses to 'im in w'ispers and wondering wot they 'ad paid + for them. George gave it up at last, and then he sat wondering whether + he 'ad done right arter all in taking Bob's gal away from him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Gerty enjoyed it very much, but when the curtain came down after + the first act she leaned back in her chair and looked up at George and + said she felt faint and thought she'd like to 'ave an ice-cream. “And + you 'ave one too, dear,” she ses, when young Ted 'ad got up and + beckoned to the gal, “and Ted 'ud like one too, I'm sure.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She put her 'ead on George's shoulder and looked up at 'im. Then + she put her 'and on his and stroked it, and George, reckoning that + arter all ice-creams were on'y a ha'penny or at the most a penny each, + altered 'is mind about not spending any more money and ordered three.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The way he carried on when the gal said they was three shillings + was alarming. At fust 'e thought she was 'aving a joke with 'im, and + it took another gal and the fireman and an old gentleman wot was + sitting behind 'im to persuade 'im different. He was so upset that 'e + couldn't eat his arter paying for it, and Ted and Gerty had to finish + it for 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They're expensive, but they're worth the money,” ses Gerty. + “You are good to me, George. I could go on eating 'em all night, but + you mustn't fling your money away like this always.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll see to that,” ses George, very bitter.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I thought we was going to stand treat to each other? That was + the idea, I understood.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So we are,” ses Gerty. “Ted stood the 'bus fares, didn't he?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He did,” ses George, “wot there was of 'em; but wot about you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Me?” ses Gerty, drawing her 'ead back and staring at 'im. “Why, + 'ave you forgot that cigar already, George?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George opened 'is mouth, but 'e couldn't speak a word. He sat + looking at 'er and making a gasping noise in 'is throat, and + fortunately just as 'e got 'is voice back the curtain went up agin, + and everybody said, “H'sh!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He couldn't enjoy the play at all, 'e was so upset, and he began + to see more than ever 'ow wrong he 'ad been in taking Bob's gal away + from 'im. He walked downstairs into the street like a man in a dream, + with Gerty sticking to 'is arm and young Ted treading on 'is heels + behind.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Now, you mustn't waste any more money, George,” ses Gerty, when + they got outside. “We'll walk 'ome.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George 'ad got arf a mind to say something about a 'bus, but he + remembered in time that very likely young Ted hadn't got any more + money. Then Gerty said she knew a short cut, and she took them, + walking along little, dark, narrow streets and places, until at last, + just as George thought they must be pretty near 'ome, she began to dab + her eyes with 'er pocket-'andkerchief and say she'd lost 'er way.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You two go 'ome and leave me,” she ses, arf crying. “I can't + walk another step.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Where are we?” ses George, looking round.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't know,” ses Gerty. “I couldn't tell you if you paid me. + I must 'ave taken a wrong turning. Oh, hurrah! Here's a cab!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Afore George could stop 'er she held up 'er umbrella, and a + 'ansom cab, with bells on its horse, crossed the road and pulled up in + front of 'em. Ted nipped in first and Gerty followed 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Tell 'im the address, dear, and make 'aste and get in,” ses + Gerty.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George told the cabman, and then he got in and sat on Ted's + knee, partly on Gerty's umbrella, and mostly on nothing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You are good to me, George,” ses Gerty, touching the back of + 'is neck with the brim of her hat. “It ain't often I get a ride in a + cab. All the time I was keeping company with Bob we never 'ad one + once. I only wish I'd got the money to pay for it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George, who was going to ask a question, stopped 'imself, and + then he kept striking matches and trying to read all about cab fares + on a bill in front of 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Ow are we to know 'ow many miles it is?” he ses, at last.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't know,” ses Gerty; “leave it to the cabman. It's his + bisness, ain't it? And if 'e don't know he must suffer for it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>There was hardly a soul in Gerty's road when they got there, but + afore George 'ad settled with the cabman there was a policeman moving + the crowd on and arf the winders in the road up. By the time George + had paid 'im and the cabman 'ad told him wot 'e looked like, Gerty and + Ted 'ad disappeared indoors, all the lights was out, and, in a state + o' mind that won't bear thinking of, George walked 'ome to his + lodging.</span> + </p> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 69%" id="figure-179"> + <span + id="afore-george-had-settled-with-the-cabman-there-was-a-policeman-moving-the-crowd-on"></span><img + class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " + src="images/009.jpg" /> + </div> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bob was asleep when he got there, but 'e woke 'im up and told + 'im about it, and then arter a time he said that he thought Bob ought + to pay arf because he 'ad saved 'is life.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Cert'nly not,” ses Bob. “We're quits now; that was the + arrangement. I only wish it was me spending the money on her; I + shouldn't grumble.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George didn't get a wink o' sleep all night for thinking of the + money he 'ad spent, and next day when he went round he 'ad almost made + up 'is mind to tell Bob that if 'e liked to pay up the money he could + 'ave Gerty back; but she looked so pretty, and praised 'im up so much + for 'is generosity, that he began to think better of it. One thing 'e + was determined on, and that was never to spend money like that agin + for fifty Gertys.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>There was a very sensible man there that evening that George + liked very much. His name was Uncle Joe, and when Gerty was praising + George to 'is face for the money he 'ad been spending, Uncle Joe, + instead o' looking pleased, shook his 'ead over it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Young people will be young people, I know,” he ses, “but still + I don't approve of extravagance. Bob Evans would never 'ave spent all + that money over you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Bob Evans ain't everybody,” ses Mrs. Mitchell, standing up for + Gerty.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He was steady, anyway,” ses Uncle Joe. “Besides, Gerty ought + not to ha' let Mr. Crofts spend his money like that. She could ha' + prevented it if she'd ha' put 'er foot down and insisted on it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He was so solemn about it that everybody began to feel a bit + upset, and Gerty borrowed Ted's pocket-'andkerchief, and then wiped + 'er eyes on the cuff of her dress instead.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, well,” ses Uncle Joe; “I didn't mean to be 'ard, but + don't do it no more. You are young people, and can't afford it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We must 'ave a little pleasure sometimes,” ses Gerty.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Yes, I know,” ses Uncle Joe; “but there's moderation in + everything. Look 'ere, it's time somebody paid for Mr. Crofts. + To-morrow's Saturday, and, if you like, I'll take you all to the + Crystal Palace.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Gerty jumped up off of 'er chair and kissed 'im, while Mrs. + Mitchell said she knew 'is bark was worse than 'is bite, and asked 'im + who was wasting his money now?</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You meet me at London Bridge Station at two o'clock,” ses Uncle + Joe, getting up to go. “It ain't extravagance for a man as can afford + it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He shook 'ands with George Crofts and went, and, arter George + 'ad stayed long enough to hear a lot o' things about Uncle Joe which + made 'im think they'd get on very well together, he went off too.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They all turned up very early the next arternoon, and Gerty was + dressed so nice that George couldn't take his eyes off of her. Besides + her there was Mrs. Mitchell and Ted and a friend of 'is named Charlie + Smith.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They waited some time, but Uncle Joe didn't turn up, and they + all got looking at the clock and talking about it, and 'oping he + wouldn't make 'em miss the train.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Here he comes!” ses Ted, at last.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Uncle Joe came rushing in, puffing and blowing as though he'd + bust. “Take 'em on by this train, will you?” he ses, catching 'old o' + George by the arm. “I've just been stopped by a bit o' business I must + do, and I'll come on by the next, or as soon arter as I can.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He rushed off again, puffing and blowing his 'ardest, in such a + hurry that he forgot to give George the money for the tickets. + However, George borrowed a pencil of Mrs. Mitchell in the train, and + put down on paper 'ow much they cost, and Mrs. Mitchell said if George + didn't like to remind 'im she would.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They left young Ted and Charlie to stay near the station when + they got to the Palace, Uncle Joe 'aving forgotten to say where he'd + meet 'em, but train arter train came in without 'im, and at last the + two boys gave it up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We're sure to run across 'im sooner or later,” ses Gerty. + “Let's 'ave something to eat; I'm so hungry.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George said something about buns and milk, but Gerty took 'im up + sharp. “Buns and milk?” she ses. “Why, uncle would never forgive us if + we spoilt his treat like that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She walked into a refreshment place and they 'ad cold meat and + bread and pickles and beer and tarts and cheese, till even young Ted + said he'd 'ad enough, but still they couldn't see any signs of Uncle + Joe. They went on to the roundabouts to look for 'im, and then into + all sorts o' shows at sixpence a head, but still there was no signs of + 'im, and George had 'ad to start on a fresh bit o' paper to put down + wot he'd spent.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I suppose he must ha' been detained on important business,” ses + Gerty, at last.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Unless it's one of 'is jokes,” ses Mrs. Mitchell, shaking her + 'ead. “You know wot your uncle is, Gerty.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There now, I never thought o' that,” ses Gerty, with a start; + “p'r'aps it is.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Joke?” ses George, choking and staring from one to the other.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I was wondering where he'd get the money from,” ses Mrs. + Mitchell to Gerty. “I see it all now; I never see such a man for a bit + o' fun in all my born days. And the solemn way he went on last night, + too. Why, he must ha' been laughing in 'is sleeve all the time. It's + as good as a play.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Look here!” ses George, 'ardly able to speak; “do you mean to + tell me he never meant to come?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm afraid not,” ses Mrs. Mitchell, “knowing wot he is. But + don't you worry; I'll give him a bit o' my mind when I see 'im.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George Crofts felt as though he'd burst, and then 'e got his + breath, and the things 'e said about Uncle Joe was so awful that Mrs. + Mitchell told the boys to go away.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“How dare you talk of my uncle like that?” ses Gerty, firing up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You forget yourself, George,” ses Mrs. Mitchell. “You'll like + 'im when you get to know 'im better.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't you call me George,” ses George Crofts, turning on 'er. + “I've been done, that's wot I've been. I 'ad fourteen pounds when I + was paid off, and it's melting like butter.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, we've enjoyed ourselves,” ses Gerty, “and that's what + money was given us for. I'm sure those two boys 'ave had a splendid + time, thanks to you. Don't go and spoil all by a little bit o' + temper.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Temper!” ses George, turning on her. “I've done with you, I + wouldn't marry you if you was the on'y gal in the world. I wouldn't + marry you if you paid me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Oh, indeed!” ses Gerty; “but if you think you can get out of it + like that you're mistaken. I've lost my young man through you, and I'm + not going to lose you too. I'll send my two big cousins round to see + you to-morrow.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They won't put up with no nonsense, I can tell you,” ses Mrs. + Mitchell.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She called the boys to her, and then she and Gerty, arter + holding their 'eads very high and staring at George, went off and left + 'im alone. He went straight off 'ome, counting 'is money all the way + and trying to make it more, and, arter telling Bob 'ow he'd been + treated, and trying hard to get 'im to go shares in his losses, packed + up his things and cleared out, all boiling over with temper.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bob was so dazed he couldn't make head or tail out of it, but 'e + went round to see Gerty the first thing next morning, and she + explained things to him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't know when I've enjoyed myself so much,” she ses, wiping + her eyes, “but I've had enough gadding about for once, and if you come + round this evening we'll have a nice quiet time together looking at + the furniture shops.”</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="over-the-side"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id19"><span>OVER THE SIDE</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 46%" id="figure-180"> + <span id="id8"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/010.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">O</span><span + class="dropspan">f all classes of men, those</span><span> who follow + the sea are probably the most prone to superstition. Afloat upon the + black waste of waters, at the mercy of wind and sea, with vast depths + and strange creatures below them, a belief in the supernatural is + easier than ashore, under the cheerful gas-lamps. Strange stories of + the sea are plentiful, and an incident which happened within my own + experience has made me somewhat chary of dubbing a man fool or coward + because he has encountered something he cannot explain. There are + stories of the supernatural with prosaic sequels; there are others to + which the sequel has never been published.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>I was fifteen years old at the time, and as my father, who had a + strong objection to the sea, would not apprentice me to it, I shipped + before the mast on a sturdy little brig called the Endeavour, bound + for Riga. She was a small craft, but the skipper was as fine a seaman + as one could wish for, and, in fair weather, an easy man to sail + under. Most boys have a rough time of it when they first go to sea, + but, with a strong sense of what was good for me, I had attached + myself to a brawny, good-natured infant, named Bill Smith, and it was + soon understood that whoever hit me struck Bill by proxy. Not that the + crew were particularly brutal, but a sound cuffing occasionally is + held by most seamen to be beneficial to a lad's health and morals. The + only really spiteful fellow among them was a man named Jem Dadd. He + was a morose, sallow-looking man, of about forty, with a strong taste + for the supernatural, and a stronger taste still for frightening his + fellows with it. I have seen Bill almost afraid to go on deck of a + night for his trick at the wheel, after a few of his reminiscences. + Rats were a favourite topic with him, and he would never allow one to + be killed if he could help it, for he claimed for them that they were + the souls of drowned sailors, hence their love of ships and their + habit of leaving them when they became unseaworthy. He was a firm + believer in the transmigration of souls, some idea of which he had, no + doubt, picked up in Eastern ports, and gave his shivering auditors to + understand that his arrangements for his own immediate future were + already perfected.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>We were six or seven days out when a strange thing happened. + Dadd had the second watch one night, and Bill was to relieve him. They + were not very strict aboard the brig in fair weather, and when a man's + time was up he just made the wheel fast, and, running for'ard, shouted + down the fo'c's'le. On this night I happened to awake suddenly, in + time to see Bill slip out of his bunk and stand by me, rubbing his red + eyelids with his knuckles.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Dadd's giving me a long time,” he whispered, seeing that I was + awake; “it's a whole hour after his time.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He pattered up on deck, and I was just turning over, thankful + that I was too young to have a watch to keep, when he came softly down + again, and, taking me by the shoulders, shook me roughly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Jack,” he whispered. “Jack.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>I raised myself on my elbows, and, in the light of the smoking + lamp, saw that he was shaking all over.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come on deck,” he said, thickly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>I put on my clothes, and followed him quietly to the sweet, cool + air above. It was a beautiful clear night, but, from his manner, I + looked nervously around for some cause of alarm. I saw nothing. The + deck was deserted, except for the solitary figure at the wheel.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Look at him,” whispered Bill, bending a contorted face to mine.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>I walked aft a few steps, and Bill followed slowly. Then I saw + that Jem Dadd was leaning forward clumsily on the wheel, with his + hands clenched on the spokes.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's asleep,” said I, stopping short.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bill breathed hard. “He's in a queer sleep,” said he; “kind o' + trance more like. Go closer.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>I took fast hold of Bill's sleeve, and we both went. The light + of the stars was sufficient to show that Dadd's face was very white, + and that his dim, black eyes were wide open, and staring in a very + strange and dreadful manner straight before him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Dadd,” said I, softly, “Dadd!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>There was no reply, and, with a view of arousing him, I tapped + one sinewy hand as it gripped the wheel, and even tried to loosen it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He remained immovable, and, suddenly with a great cry, my + courage deserted me, and Bill and I fairly bolted down into the cabin + and woke the skipper.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Then we saw how it was with Jem, and two strong seamen forcibly + loosened the grip of those rigid fingers, and, laying him on the deck, + covered him with a piece of canvas. The rest of the night two men + stayed at the wheel, and, gazing fearfully at the outline of the + canvas, longed for dawn.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It came at last, and, breakfast over, the body was sewn up in + canvas, and the skipper held a short service compiled from a Bible + which belonged to the mate, and what he remembered of the Burial + Service proper. Then the corpse went overboard with a splash, and the + men, after standing awkwardly together for a few minutes, slowly + dispersed to their duties.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>For the rest of that day we were all very quiet and restrained; + pity for the dead man being mingled with a dread of taking the wheel + when night came.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“The wheel's haunted,” said the cook, solemnly; “mark my words, + there's more of you will be took the same way Dadd was.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook, like myself, had no watch to keep.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The men bore up pretty well until night came on again, and then + they unanimously resolved to have a double watch. The cook, sorely + against his will, was impressed into the service, and I, glad to + oblige my patron, agreed to stay up with Bill.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Some of the pleasure had vanished by the time night came, and I + seemed only just to have closed my eyes when Bill came, and, with a + rough shake or two, informed me that the time had come. Any hope that + I might have had of escaping the ordeal was at once dispelled by his + expectant demeanour, and the helpful way in which he assisted me with + my clothes, and, yawning terribly, I followed him on deck.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The night was not so clear as the preceding one, and the air was + chilly, with a little moisture in it. I buttoned up my jacket, and + thrust my hands in my pockets.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Everything quiet?” asked Bill as he stepped up and took the + wheel.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Ay, ay,” said Roberts, “quiet as the grave,” and, followed by + his willing mate, he went below.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>I sat on the deck by Bill's side as, with a light touch on the + wheel, he kept the brig to her course. It was weary work sitting + there, doing nothing, and thinking of the warm berth below, and I + believe that I should have fallen asleep, but that my watchful + companion stirred me with his foot whenever he saw me nodding.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>I suppose I must have sat there, shivering and yawning, for + about an hour, when, tired of inactivity, I got up and went and leaned + over the side of the vessel. The sound of the water gurgling and + lapping by was so soothing that I began to doze.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>I was recalled to my senses by a smothered cry from Bill, and, + running to him, I found him staring to port in an intense and + uncomfortable fashion. At my approach, he took one hand from the + wheel, and gripped my arm so tightly that I was like to have screamed + with the pain of it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Jack,” said he, in a shaky voice, “while you was away something + popped its head up, and looked over the ship's side.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You've been dreaming,” said I, in a voice which was a very fair + imitation of Bill's own.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Dreaming,” repeated Bill, “dreaming! Ah, look there!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He pointed with outstretched finger, and my heart seemed to stop + beating as I saw a man's head appear above the side. For a brief space + it peered at us in silence, and then a dark figure sprang like a cat + on to the deck, and stood crouching a short distance away.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>A mist came before my eyes, and my tongue failed me, but Bill + let off a roar, such as I have never heard before or since. It was + answered from below, both aft and for'ard, and the men came running up + on deck just as they left their beds.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What's up?” shouted the skipper, glancing aloft.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>For answer, Bill pointed to the intruder, and the men, who had + just caught sight of him, came up and formed a compact knot by the + wheel.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come over the side, it did,” panted Bill, “come over like a + ghost out of the sea.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The skipper took one of the small lamps from the binnacle, and, + holding it aloft, walked boldly up to the cause of alarm. In the + little patch of light we saw a ghastly black-bearded man, dripping + with water, regarding us with unwinking eyes, which glowed red in the + light of the lamp.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Where did you come from?” asked the skipper.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The figure shook its head.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Where did you come from?” he repeated, walking up, and laying + his hand on the other's shoulder.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Then the intruder spoke, but in a strange fashion and in strange + words. We leaned forward to listen, but, even when he repeated them, + we could make nothing of them.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's a furriner,” said Roberts.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Blest if I've ever 'eard the lingo afore,” said Bill. “Does + anybody rekernize it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Nobody did, and the skipper, after another attempt, gave it up, + and, falling back upon the universal language of signs, pointed first + to the man and then to the sea. The other understood him, and, in a + heavy, slovenly fashion, portrayed a man drifting in an open boat, and + clutching and clambering up the side of a passing ship. As his meaning + dawned upon us, we rushed to the stern, and, leaning over, peered into + the gloom, but the night was dark, and we saw nothing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well,” said the skipper, turning to Bill, with a mighty yawn, + “take him below, and give him some grub, and the next time a gentleman + calls on you, don't make such a confounded row about it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He went below, followed by the mate, and after some slight + hesitation, Roberts stepped up to the intruder, and signed to him to + follow. He came stolidly enough, leaving a trail of water on the deck, + and, after changing into the dry things we gave him, fell to, but + without much appearance of hunger, upon some salt beef and biscuits, + regarding us between bites with black, lack-lustre eyes.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He seems as though he's a-walking in his sleep,” said the cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He ain't very hungry,” said one of the men; “he seems to mumble + his food.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Hungry!” repeated Bill, who had just left the wheel. “Course he + ain't famished. He had his tea last night.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The men stared at him in bewilderment.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't you see?” said Bill, still in a hoarse whisper; “ain't + you ever seen them eyes afore? Don't you know what he used to say + about dying? It's Jem Dadd come back to us. Jem Dadd got another man's + body, as he always said he would.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Rot!” said Roberts, trying to speak bravely, but he got up, + and, with the others, huddled together at the end of the fo'c's'le, + and stared in a bewildered fashion at the sodden face and short, squat + figure of our visitor. For his part, having finished his meal, he + pushed his plate from him, and, leaning back on the locker, looked at + the empty bunks.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Roberts caught his eye, and, with a nod and a wave of his hand, + indicated the bunks. The fellow rose from the locker, and, amid a + breathless silence, climbed into one of them—Jem Dadd's!</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He slept in the dead sailor's bed that night, the only man in + the fo'c's'le who did sleep properly, and turned out heavily and + lumpishly in the morning for breakfast.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The skipper had him on deck after the meal, but could make + nothing of him. To all his questions he replied in the strange tongue + of the night before, and, though our fellows had been to many ports, + and knew a word or two of several languages, none of them recognized + it. The skipper gave it up at last, and, left to himself, he stared + about him for some time, regardless of our interest in his movements, + and then, leaning heavily against the side of the ship, stayed there + so long that we thought he must have fallen asleep.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's half-dead now!” whispered Roberts.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Hush!” said Bill, “mebbe he's been in the water a week or two, + and can't quite make it out. See how he's looking at it now.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He stayed on deck all day in the sun, but, as night came on, + returned to the warmth of the fo'c's'le. The food we gave him remained + untouched, and he took little or no notice of us, though I fancied + that he saw the fear we had of him. He slept again in the dead man's + bunk, and when morning came still lay there.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Until dinner-time, nobody interfered with him, and then Roberts, + pushed forward by the others, approached him with some food. He + motioned, it away with a dirty, bloated hand, and, making signs for + water, drank it eagerly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>For two days he stayed there quietly, the black eyes always + open, the stubby fingers always on the move. On the third morning + Bill, who had conquered his fear sufficiently to give him water + occasionally, called softly to us.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come and look at him,” said he. “What's the matter with him?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's dying!” said the cook, with a shudder.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He can't be going to die yet!” said Bill, blankly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>As he spoke the man's eyes seemed to get softer and more + life-like, and he looked at us piteously and helplessly. From face to + face he gazed in mute inquiry, and then, striking his chest feebly + with his fist, uttered two words.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>We looked at each other blankly, and he repeated them eagerly, + and again touched his chest.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's his name,” said the cook, and we all repeated them.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He smiled in an exhausted fashion, and then, rallying his + energies, held up a forefinger; as we stared at this new riddle, he + lowered it, and held up all four fingers, doubled.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come away,” quavered the cook; “he's putting a spell on us.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>We drew back at that, and back farther still, as he repeated the + motions. Then Bill's face cleared suddenly, and he stepped towards + him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He means his wife and younkers!” he shouted eagerly. “This + ain't no Jem Dadd!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It was good then to see how our fellows drew round the dying + sailor, and strove to cheer him. Bill, to show he understood the + finger business, nodded cheerily, and held his hand at four different + heights from the floor. The last was very low, so low that the man set + his lips together, and strove to turn his heavy head from us.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Poor devil!” said Bill, “he wants us to tell his wife and + children what's become of him. He must ha' been dying when he come + aboard. What was his name, again?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>But the name was not easy to English lips, and we had already + forgotten it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Ask him again,” said the cook, “and write it down. Who's got a + pen?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He went to look for one as Bill turned to the sailor to get him + to repeat it. Then he turned round again, and eyed us blankly, for, by + this time, the owner had himself forgotten it.</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="the-four-pigeons"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id20"><span>THE FOUR PIGEONS</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 44%" id="figure-181"> + <span id="id9"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/011.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">T</span><span + class="dropspan">he old man took up his mug</span><span> 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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>One of the men nodded.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It puts life into me,” said the old man, raising it to his lips + and bowing. “It makes me talk.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's plenty more where that came from,” he ses, pulling out + a handful o' money.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Peter Gubbins looked at it, 'ardly able to speak. “It's worth + while being shot to 'ave all that money,” he ses, at last.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They're more careful now,” ses Dicky Weed, the tailor.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There won't be no more shot,” ses Sam Jones.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We're too careful,” ses Peter Gubbins.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Bob Pretty don't know everything,” ses Dicky Weed.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll bet you what you like there'll be some more of you shot,” + ses Bob Pretty, in a temper. “Now, then.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Will you give me sixpence a week, too?” ses Henery Walker, + jumping up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I will,” ses Bob; “and anybody else that likes. And wot's more, + I'll pay in advance. Fust sixpences now.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 68%" id="figure-182"> + <span + id="the-fust-bob-pretty-eard-of-it-was-up-at-the-cauliflower-at-eight-oclock-that-evening"></span><img + class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " + src="images/012.jpg" /> + </div> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's on'y me, old pal,” he ses, smiling at 'im as Henery woke + up and shouted at 'im to get up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I shall want all that money,” ses Henery in a weak voice. “I + might 'ave to have a wooden leg, Bob.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There seems to be wounded men calling out all over the place,” + he ses, in a temper.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I think there is another one over there, sir,” ses one o' the + keepers, pointing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot's the matter?” ses Mr. Sutton, shouting at 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“But there oughtn't to be anybody 'ere,” ses Mr. Sutton to one + of the keepers.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I believe he's done it 'imself,” says Mr. Sutton, stamping his + foot.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Henery Walker began it. “I s'pose you've 'eard the dreadful + news, Bob Pretty?” he ses, looking at 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's my luck, Henery,” ses Bob, “always was lucky from a + child.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And I s'pose you think you're going to 'ave arf of the money + they get?” ses Henery Walker.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't talk about money while them pore chaps is suffering,” ses + Bob. “I'm surprised at you, Henery.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't you believe it, Henery,” ses Bob, smiling at 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Speak for yourself, Henery,” ses John Biggs, who thought Henery + was looking at 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Poor Henery; he's gorn mad,” he ses, shaking his 'ead.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You're a murderer,” ses Ralph Thomson, shaking 'is fist at him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I shouldn't do that if I was you, Henery,” ses Bob.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I dessay,” ses Henery Walker; “but then you see I am.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Henery Walker, wot 'ad been standing up looking fierce at 'im, + sat down agin, struck all of a heap.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I wonder 'ow they heard about it,” ses Dicky Weed.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A friend o' yours?” ses John Biggs, staring at 'im. “What for?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Another?” ses Peter, who 'ad been tellin' everybody that 'e + wouldn't speak to 'im agin as long as he lived. “Wot about?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You dursn't do it, Bob,” ses Peter, all of a tremble.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="the-temptation-of-samuel-burge"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id21"><span>THE TEMPTATION OF SAMUEL + BURGE</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 50%" id="figure-183"> + <span id="id10"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/013.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">M</span><span + class="dropspan">r. Higgs, jeweller, sat</span><span> in the small + parlour behind his shop, gazing hungrily at a supper-table which had + been laid some time before. It was a quarter to ten by the small town + clock on the mantelpiece, and the jeweller rubbing his hands over the + fire tried in vain to remember what etiquette had to say about + starting a meal before the arrival of an expected guest.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He must be coming by the last train after all, sir,” said the + housekeeper entering the room and glancing at the clock. “I suppose + these London gentlemen keep such late hours they don't understand us + country folk wanting to get to bed in decent time. You must be wanting + your supper, sir.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs sighed. “I shall be glad of my supper,” he said + slowly, “but I dare say our friend is hungrier still. Travelling is + hungry work.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Perhaps he is thinking over his words for the seventh day,” + said the housekeeper solemnly. “Forgetting hunger and thirst and all + our poor earthly feelings in the blessedness of his work.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Perhaps so,” assented the other, whose own earthly feelings + were particularly strong just at that moment.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Brother Simpson used to forget all about meal-times when he + stayed here,” said the housekeeper, clasping her hands. “He used to + sit by the window with his eyes half-closed and shake his head at the + smell from the kitchen and call it flesh-pots of Egypt. He said that + if it wasn't for keeping up his strength for the work, luscious bread + and fair water was all he wanted. I expect Brother Burge will be a + similar sort of man.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Brother Clark wrote and told me that he only lives for the + work,” said the jeweller, with another glance at the clock. “The + chapel at Clerkenwell is crowded to hear him. It's a blessed favour + and privilege to have such a selected instrument staying in the house. + I'm curious to see him; from what Brother Clark said I rather fancy + that he was a little bit wild in his younger days.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Hallelujah!” exclaimed the housekeeper with fervour. “I mean to + think as he's seen the error of his ways,” she added sharply, as her + master looked up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There he is,” said the latter, as the bell rang.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The housekeeper went to the side-door, and drawing back the bolt + admitted the gentleman whose preaching had done so much for the small + but select sect known as the Seventh Day Primitive Apostles. She came + back into the room followed by a tall stout man, whose upper lip and + short stubby beard streaked with grey seemed a poor match for the + beady eyes which lurked behind a pair of clumsy spectacles.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Brother Samuel Burge?” inquired the jeweller, rising.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The visitor nodded, and regarding him with a smile charged with + fraternal love, took his hand in a huge grip and shook it fervently.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I am glad to see you, Brother Higgs,” he said, regarding him + fondly. “Oh, 'ow my eyes have yearned to be set upon you! Oh, 'ow my + ears 'ave longed to hearken unto the words of your voice!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He breathed thickly, and taking a seat sat with his hands upon + his knees, looking at a fine piece of cold beef which the housekeeper + had just placed upon the table.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Is Brother Clark well?” inquired the jeweller, placing a chair + for him at the table and taking up his carving-knife.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Dear Brother Clark is in excellent 'ealth, I thank you,” said + the other, taking the proffered chair. “Oh! what a man he is; what a + instrument for good. Always stretching out them blessed hands of 'is + to make one of the fallen a Seventh Day Primitive.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And success attends his efforts?” said the jeweller.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Success, Brother!” repeated Mr. Burge, eating rapidly and + gesticulating with his knife. “Success ain't no name for it. Why, + since this day last week he has saved three pick-pockets, two + Salvationists, one bigamist and a Roman Catholic.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Brother Higgs murmured his admiration. “You are also a power for + good,” he said wistfully. “Brother Clark tells me in his letter that + your exhortations have been abundantly blessed.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Burge shook his head. “A lot of it falls by the wayside,” he + said modestly, “but some of it is an eye-opener to them as don't + entirely shut their ears. Only the day before yesterday I 'ad two + jemmies and a dark lantern sent me with a letter saying as 'ow the + owner had no further use for 'em.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The jeweller's eyes glistened with admiration not quite untinged + with envy. “Have you expounded the Word for long?” he inquired.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Six months,” replied the other. “It come to me quite natural—I + was on the penitent bench on the Saturday, and the Wednesday + afterwards I preached as good a sermon as ever I've preached in my + life. Brother Clark said it took 'is breath away.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And he's a judge too,” said the admiring jeweller.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Now,” continued Brother Burge, helping himself plentifully to + pickled walnuts. “Now there ain't standing room in our Bethel when I'm + expounding. People come to hear me from all parts—old and young—rich + and poor—and the Apostles that don't come early 'ave to stand outside + and catch the crumbs I throw 'em through the winders.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It is enough,” sighed Brother Higgs, whose own audience was + frequently content to be on the wrong side of the window, “it is + enough to make a man vain.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I struggle against it, Brother,” said Mr. Burge, passing his + cup up for some more tea. “I fight against it hard, but once the Evil + One was almost too much for me; and in spite of myself, and knowing + besides that it was a plot of 'is, I nearly felt uplifted.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Brother Higgs, passing him some more beef, pressed for details.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He sent me two policemen,” replied the other, scowling darkly + at the meanness of the trick. “One I might 'ave stood, but two come to + being pretty near too much for me. They sat under me while I gave 'em + the Word 'ot and strong, and the feeling I had standing up there and + telling policemen what they ought to do I shall never forget.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“But why should policemen make you proud?” asked his puzzled + listener.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Burge looked puzzled in his turn. “Why, hasn't Brother Clark + told you about me?” he inquired.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs shook his head. “He sort of—suggested that—that you + had been a little bit wild before you came to us,” he murmured + apologetically.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A—little—bit—wild?” repeated Brother Burge, in horrified + accents. “ME? a little bit wild?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No doubt he exaggerated a little,” said the jeweller hurriedly. + “Being such a good man himself, no doubt things would seem wild to him + that wouldn't to us—to me, I mean.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A little bit wild,” said his visitor again. “Sam Burge, the + Converted Burglar, a little bit wild. Well, well!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Converted what?” shouted the jeweller, half-rising from his + chair.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Burglar,” said the other shortly. “Why, I should think I know + more about the inside o' gaols than anybody in England; I've pretty + near killed three policemen, besides breaking a gent's leg and + throwing a footman out of window, and then Brother Clark goes and says + I've been a little bit wild. I wonder what he would 'ave?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“But you—you've quite reformed now?” said the jeweller, resuming + his seat and making a great effort to hide his consternation.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I 'ope so,” said Mr. Burge, with alarming humility; “but it's + an uncertain world, and far be it from me to boast. That's why I've + come here.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs, only half-comprehending, sat back gasping.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If I can stand this,” pursued Brother Burge, gesticulating + wildly in the direction of the shop, “if I can stand being here with + all these 'ere pretty little things to be 'ad for the trouble of + picking of 'em up, I can stand anything. Tempt me, I says to Brother + Clark. Put me in the way o' temptation, I says. Let me see whether the + Evil One or me is the strongest; let me 'ave a good old up and down + with the Powers o' Darkness, and see who wins.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs, gripping the edge of the table with both hands, gazed + at this new Michael in speechless consternation.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I think I see his face now,” said Brother Burge, with tender + enthusiasm. “All in a glow it was, and he patted me on the shoulder + and says, 'I'll send you on a week's mission to Duncombe,' he says, + and 'you shall stop with Brother Higgs who 'as a shop full o' cunning + wrought vanities in silver and gold.'”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“But suppose,” said the jeweller, finding his voice by a great + effort, “suppose victory is not given unto you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It won't make any difference,” replied his visitor. “Brother + Clark promised that it shouldn't. 'If you fall, Brother,' he says, + 'we'll help you up again. When you are tired of sin come back to + us—there's always a welcome.'”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“But—” began the dismayed jeweller.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We can only do our best,” said Brother Burge, “the rest we must + leave. I 'ave girded my loins for the fray, and taken much spiritual + sustenance on the way down from this little hymn-book.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs paid no heed. He sat marvelling over the fatuousness + of Brother Clark and trying to think of ways and means out of the + dilemma into which that gentleman's perverted enthusiasm had placed + him. He wondered whether it would be possible to induce Brother Burge + to sleep elsewhere by offering to bear his hotel expenses, and at + last, after some hesitation, broached the subject.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What!” exclaimed the other, pushing his plate from him and + regarding him with great severity. “Go and sleep at a hotel? After + Brother Clark has been and took all this trouble? Why, I wouldn't + think of doing such a thing.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Brother Clark has no right to expose you to such a trial,” said + Mr. Higgs with great warmth.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I wonder what he'd say if he 'eard you,” remarked Mr. Burge + sternly. “After his going and making all these arrangements, for you + to try and go and upset 'em. To ask me to shun the fight like a + coward; to ask me to go and hide in the rear-ranks in a hotel with + everything locked up, or a Coffer Pallis with nothing to steal.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I should sleep far more comfortably if I knew that you were not + undergoing this tremendous strain,” said the unhappy Mr. Higgs, “and + besides that, if you did give way, it would be a serious business for + me —that's what I want you to look at. I am afraid that if—if + unhappily you did fall, I couldn't prevent you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm sure you couldn't,” said the other cordially. “That's the + beauty of it; that's when the Evil One's whispers get louder and + louder. Why, I could choke you between my finger and thumb. If + unfortunately my fallen nature should be too strong for me, don't + interfere whatever you do. I mightn't be myself.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs rose and faced him gasping.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not even—call for—the police—I suppose,” he jerked out.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That would be interfering,” said Brother Burge coldly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The jeweller tried to think. It was past eleven. The housekeeper + had gone to spend the night with an ailing sister, and a furtive + glance at Brother Burge's small shifty eyes and fat unwholesome face + was sufficient to deter him from leaving him alone with his property, + while he went to ask the police to give an eye to his house for the + night. Besides, it was more than probable that Mr. Burge would decline + to allow such a proceeding. With a growing sense of his peril he + resolved to try flattery.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It was a great thing for the Brethren to secure a man like + you,” he said.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I never thought they'd ha' done it,” said Mr. Burge frankly. + “I've 'ad all sorts trying to convert me; crying over me and praying + over me. I remember the first dear good man that called me a lorst + lamb. He didn't say anything else for a month.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So upset,” hazarded the jeweller.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I broke his jor, pore feller,” said Brother Burge, a sad but + withal indulgent smile lighting up his face at the vagaries of his + former career. “What time do you go to bed, Brother?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Any time,” said the other reluctantly. “I suppose you are tired + with your journey?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Burge assented, and rising from his chair yawned loudly and + stretched himself. In the small room with his huge arms raised he + looked colossal.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I suppose,” said the jeweller, still seeking to re-assure + himself, “I suppose dear Brother Clark felt pretty certain of you, + else he wouldn't have sent you here?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Brother Clark said 'What is a jeweller's shop compared with a + 'uman soul, a priceless 'uman soul?'” replied Mr. Burge. “What is a + few gew-gaws to decorate them that perish, and make them vain, when + you come to consider the opportunity of such a trial, and the good + it'll do and the draw it'll be—if I do win—and testify to the + congregation to that effect? Why, there's sermons for a lifetime in + it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So there is,” said the jeweller, trying to look cheerful. + “You've got a good face, Brother Burge, and you'll do a lot of good by + your preaching. There is honesty written in every feature.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Burge turned and surveyed himself in the small pier-glass. + “Yes,” he said, somewhat discontentedly, “I don't look enough like a + burglar to suit some of 'em.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Some people are hard to please,” said the other warmly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Burge started and eyed him thoughtfully, and then as Mr. + Higgs after some hesitation walked into the shop to turn the gas out, + stood in the doorway watching him. A smothered sigh as he glanced + round the shop bore witness to the state of his feelings.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The jeweller hesitated again in the parlour, and then handing + Brother Burge his candle turned out the gas, and led the way slowly + upstairs to the room which had been prepared for the honoured visitor. + He shook hands at the door and bade him an effusive good-night, his + voice trembling despite himself as he expressed a hope that Mr. Burge + would sleep well. He added casually that he himself was a very light + sleeper.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>To-night sleep of any kind was impossible. He had given up the + front room to his guest, and his own window looked out on an + over-grown garden. He sat trying to read, with his ears alert for the + slightest sound. Brother Burge seemed to be a long time undressing. + For half an hour after he had retired he could hear him moving + restlessly about his room.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Twelve o'clock struck from the tower of the parish church, and + was followed almost directly by the tall clock standing in the hall + down-stairs. Scarcely had the sounds died away than a low moaning from + the next room caused the affrighted jeweller to start from his chair + and place his ear against the wall. Two or three hollow groans came + through the plaster, followed by ejaculations which showed clearly + that Brother Burge was at that moment engaged in a terrified combat + with the Powers of Darkness to decide whether he should, or should + not, rifle his host's shop. His hands clenched and his ear pressed + close to the wall, the jeweller listened to a monologue which + increased in interest with every word.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I tell you I won't,” said the voice in the next room with a + groan, “I won't. Get thee behind me—Get thee—No, and don't shove me + over to the door; if you can't get behind me without doing that, stay + where you are. Yes, I know it's a fortune as well as what you do; but + it ain't mine.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The listener caught his breath painfully.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Diamond rings,” continued Brother Burge in a suffocating voice. + “Stop it, I tell you. No, I won't just go and look at 'em.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>A series of groans which the jeweller noticed to his horror got + weaker and weaker testified to the greatness of the temptation. He + heard Brother Burge rise, and then a succession of panting snarls + seemed to indicate a fierce bodily encounter.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't—want to look at 'em,” said Brother Burge in an + exhausted voice. “What's—the good of—looking at 'em? It's like you, + you know diamonds are my weakness. What does it matter if he is + asleep? What's my knife got to do with you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Brother Higgs reeled back and a mist passed before his eyes. He + came to himself at the sound of a door opening, and impelled with a + vague idea of defending his property, snatched up his candle and + looked out on to the landing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The light fell on Brother Burge, fully dressed and holding his + boots in his hand. For a moment they gazed at each other in silence; + then the jeweller found his voice.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I thought you were ill, Brother,” he faltered.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>An ugly scowl lit up the other's features. “Don't you tell me + any of your lies,” he said fiercely. “You're watching me; that's what + you're doing. Spying on me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I thought that you were being tempted,” confessed the trembling + Mr. Higgs.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>An expression of satisfaction which he strove to suppress + appeared on Mr. Burge's face.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So I was,” he said sternly. “So I was; but that's my business. + I don't want your assistance; I can fight my own battles. You go to + bed—I'm going to tell the congregation I won the fight single-'anded.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So you have, Brother,” said the other eagerly; “but it's doing + me good to see it. It's a lesson to me; a lesson to all of us the way + you wrestled.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I thought you was asleep,” growled Brother Burge, turning back + to his room and speaking over his shoulder. “You get back to bed; the + fight ain't half over yet. Get back to bed and keep quiet.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The door closed behind him, and Mr. Higgs, still trembling, + regained his room and looked in agony at the clock. It was only + half-past twelve and the sun did not rise until six. He sat and + shivered until a second instalment of groans in the next room brought + him in desperation to his feet.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Brother Burge was in the toils again, and the jeweller despite + his fears could not help realizing what a sensation the story of his + temptation would create. Brother Burge was now going round and round + his room like an animal in a cage, and sounds as of a soul wrought + almost beyond endurance smote upon the listener's quivering ear. Then + there was a long silence more alarming even than the noise of the + conflict. Had Brother Burge won, and was he now sleeping the sleep of + the righteous, or—— Mr. Higgs shivered and put his other ear to the + wall. Then he heard his guest move stealthily across the floor; the + boards creaked and the handle of the door turned.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs started, and with a sudden flash of courage born of + anger and desperation seized a small brass poker from the fire-place, + and taking the candle in his other hand went out on to the landing + again. Brother Burge was closing his door softly, and his face when he + turned it upon the jeweller was terrible in its wrath. His small eyes + snapped with fury, and his huge hands opened and shut convulsively.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What, agin!” he said in a low growl. “After all I told you!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs backed slowly as he advanced.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No noise,” said Mr. Burge in a dreadful whisper. “One scream + and I'll— What were you going to do with that poker?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He took a stealthy step forward.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I—I,” began the jeweller. His voice failed him. “Burglars,” he + mouthed, “downstairs.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What?” said the other, pausing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs threw truth to the winds. “I heard them in the shop,” + he said, recovering, “that's why I took up the poker. Can't you hear + them?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Burge listened for the fraction of a second. “Nonsense,” he + said huskily.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I heard them talking,” said the other recklessly. “Let's go + down and call the police.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Call 'em from the winder,” said Brother Burge, backing with + some haste, “they might 'ave pistols or something, and they're ugly + customers when they're disturbed.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He stood with strained face listening.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Here they come,” whispered the jeweller with a sudden movement + of alarm.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Brother Burge turned, and bolting into his room clapped the door + to and locked it. The jeweller stood dumbfounded on the landing; then + he heard the window go up and the voice of Brother Burge, much + strengthened by the religious exercises of the past six months, + bellowing lustily for the police.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>For a few seconds Mr. Higgs stood listening and wondering what + explanation he should give. Still thinking, he ran downstairs, and, + throwing open the pantry window, unlocked the door leading into the + shop and scattered a few of his cherished possessions about the floor. + By the time he had done this, people were already beating upon the + street-door and exchanging hurried remarks with Mr. Burge at the + window above. The jeweller shot back the bolts, and half-a-dozen + neighbours, headed by the butcher opposite, clad in his nightgown and + armed with a cleaver, burst into the passage. A constable came running + up just as the pallid face of Brother Burge peered over the balusters. + The constable went upstairs three at a time, and twisting his hand in + the ex-burglar's neck-cloth bore him backwards.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've got one,” he shouted. “Come up and hold him while I look + round.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The butcher was beside him in a moment; Brother Burge struggling + wildly, called loudly upon the name of Brother Higgs.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That's all right, constable,” said the latter, “that's a friend + of mine.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Friend o' yours, sir?” said the disappointed officer, still + holding him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The jeweller nodded. “Mr. Samuel Burge the Converted Burglar,” + he said mechanically.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Conver——” gasped the astonished constable. “Converted burglar? + Here!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He is a preacher now,” added Mr. Higgs.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Preacher?” retorted the constable. “Why it's as plain as a + pikestaff. Confederates: his part was to go down and let 'em in.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Burge raised a piteous outcry. “I hope you may be forgiven + for them words,” he cried piously.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What time did you go up to bed?” pursued the constable.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“About half-past eleven,” replied Mr. Higgs.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The other grunted with satisfaction. “And he's fully dressed, + with his boots off,” he remarked. “Did you hear him go out of his room + at all?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He did go out,” said the jeweller truth-fully, “but——”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I thought so,” said the constable, turning to his prisoner with + affectionate solicitude. “Now you come along o' me. Come quietly, + because it'll be the best for you in the end.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You won't get your skull split open then,” added the butcher, + toying with his cleaver.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The jeweller hesitated. He had no desire to be left alone with + Mr. Burge again; and a sense of humour, which many years' association + with the Primitive Apostles had not quite eradicated, strove for + hearing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Think of the sermon it'll make,” he said encouragingly to the + frantic Mr. Burge, “think of the congregation!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Brother Burge replied in language which he had not used in + public since he had joined the Apostles. The butcher and another man + stood guard over him while the constable searched the premises and + made all secure again. Then with a final appeal to Mr. Higgs who was + keeping in the background, he was pitched to the police-station by the + energetic constable and five zealous assistants.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>A diffidence, natural in the circumstances, prevented him from + narrating the story of his temptation to the magistrates next morning, + and Mr. Higgs was equally reticent. He was put back while the police + communicated with London, and in the meantime Brother Clark and a band + of Apostles flanked down to his support.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>On his second appearance before the magistrates he was + confronted with his past; and his past to the great astonishment of + the Brethren being free from all blemish with the solitary exception + of fourteen days for stealing milk-cans, he was discharged with a + caution. The disillusioned Primitive Apostles also gave him his + freedom.</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="the-madness-of-mr-lister"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id22"><span>THE MADNESS OF MR. LISTER</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 46%" id="figure-184"> + <span id="id11"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/014.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">O</span><span + class="dropspan">ld Jem Lister, of the</span><span> Susannah, was + possessed of two devils—the love of strong drink and avarice—and the + only thing the twain had in common was to get a drink without paying + for it. When Mr. Lister paid for a drink, the demon of avarice + masquerading as conscience preached a teetotal lecture, and when he + showed signs of profiting by it, the demon of drink would send him + hanging round public-house doors cadging for drinks in a way which his + shipmates regarded as a slur upon the entire ship's company. Many a + healthy thirst reared on salt beef and tickled with strong tobacco had + been spoiled by the sight of Mr. Lister standing by the entrance, with + a propitiatory smile, waiting to be invited in to share it, and on one + occasion they had even seen him (him, Jem Lister, A.B.) holding a + horse's head, with ulterior motives.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It was pointed out to Mr. Lister at last that his conduct was + reflecting discredit upon men who were fully able to look after + themselves in that direction, without having any additional burden + thrust upon them. Bill Henshaw was the spokesman, and on the score of + violence (miscalled firmness) his remarks left little to be desired. + On the score of profanity, Bill might recall with pride that in the + opinion of his fellows he had left nothing unsaid.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You ought to ha' been a member o' Parliament, Bill,” said Harry + Lea, when he had finished.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It wants money,” said Henshaw, shaking his head.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Lister laughed, a senile laugh, but not lacking in venom.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That's what we've got to say,” said Henshaw, turning upon him + suddenly. “If there's anything I hate in this world, it's a drinking + miser. You know our opinion, and the best thing you can do is to turn + over a new leaf now.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Take us all in to the Goat and Compasses,” urged Lea; “bring + out some o' those sovrins you've been hoarding.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Lister gazed at him with frigid scorn, and finding that the + conversation still seemed to centre round his unworthy person, went up + on deck and sat glowering over the insults which had been heaped upon + him. His futile wrath when Bill dogged his footsteps ashore next day + and revealed his character to a bibulous individual whom he had almost + persuaded to be a Christian—from his point of view—bordered upon the + maudlin, and he wandered back to the ship, wild-eyed and dry of + throat.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>For the next two months it was safe to say that every drink he + had he paid for. His eyes got brighter and his complexion clearer, nor + was he as pleased as one of the other sex might have been when the + self-satisfied Henshaw pointed out these improvements to his + companions, and claimed entire responsibility for them. It is probable + that Mr. Lister, under these circumstances, might in time have lived + down his taste for strong drink, but that at just that time they + shipped a new cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He was a big, cadaverous young fellow, who looked too closely + after his own interests to be much of a favourite with the other men + forward. On the score of thrift, it was soon discovered that he and + Mr. Lister had much in common, and the latter, pleased to find a + congenial spirit, was disposed to make the most of him, and spent, + despite the heat, much of his spare time in the galley.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You keep to it,” said the greybeard impressively; “money was + made to be took care of; if you don't spend your money you've always + got it. I've always been a saving man—what's the result?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook, waiting some time in patience to be told, gently + inquired what it was.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Ere am I,” said Mr. Lister, good-naturedly helping him to cut + a cabbage, “at the age of sixty-two with a bank-book down below in my + chest, with one hundered an' ninety pounds odd in it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“One 'undered and ninety pounds!” repeated the cook, with awe.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“To say nothing of other things,” continued Mr. Lister, with + joyful appreciation of the effect he was producing. “Altogether I've + got a little over four 'undered pounds.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook gasped, and with gentle firmness took the cabbage from + him as being unfit work for a man of such wealth.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's very nice,” he said, slowly. “It's very nice. You'll be + able to live on it in your old age.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Lister shook his head mournfully, and his eyes became humid.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's no old age for me,” he said, sadly; “but you needn't + tell them,” and he jerked his thumb towards the forecastle.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No, no,” said the cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've never been one to talk over my affairs,” said Mr. Lister, + in a low voice. “I've never yet took fancy enough to anybody so to do. + No, my lad, I'm saving up for somebody else.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What are you going to live on when you're past work then?” + demanded the other.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Lister took him gently by the sleeve, and his voice sank + with the solemnity of his subject: “I'm not going to have no old age,” + he said, resignedly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not going to live!” repeated the cook, gazing uneasily at a + knife by his side. “How do you know?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I went to a orsepittle in London,” said Mr. Lister. “I've been + to two or three altogether, while the money I've spent on doctors is + more than I like to think of, and they're all surprised to think that + I've lived so long. I'm so chock-full o' complaints, that they tell me + I can't live more than two years, and I might go off at any moment.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, you've got money,” said the cook, “why don't you knock + off work now and spend the evenin' of your life ashore? Why should you + save up for your relatives?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've got no relatives,” said Mr. Lister; “I'm all alone. I + 'spose I shall leave my money to some nice young feller, and I hope + it'll do 'im good.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>With the dazzling thoughts which flashed through the cook's + brain the cabbage dropped violently into the saucepan, and a shower of + cooling drops fell on both men.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I 'spose you take medicine?” he said, at length.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A little rum,” said Mr. Lister, faintly; “the doctors tell me + that it is the only thing that keeps me up—o' course, the chaps down + there “—he indicated the forecastle again with a jerk of his + head—“accuse me o' taking too much.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What do ye take any notice of 'em for?” inquired the other, + indignantly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I 'spose it is foolish,” admitted Mr. Lister; “but I don't like + being misunderstood. I keep my troubles to myself as a rule, cook. I + don't know what's made me talk to you like this. I 'eard the other day + you was keeping company with a young woman.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, I won't say as I ain't,” replied the other, busying + himself over the fire.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“An' the best thing, too, my lad,” said the old man, warmly. “It + keeps you stiddy, keeps you out of public-'ouses; not as they ain't + good in moderation—I 'ope you'll be 'appy.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>A friendship sprang up between the two men which puzzled the + remainder of the crew not a little.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook thanked him, and noticed that Mr. Lister was fidgeting + with a piece of paper.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A little something I wrote the other day,” said the old man, + catching his eye. “If I let you see it, will you promise not to tell a + soul about it, and not to give me no thanks?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The wondering cook promised, and, the old man being somewhat + emphatic on the subject, backed his promise with a home made affidavit + of singular power and profanity.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Here it is, then,” said Mr. Lister.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook took the paper, and as he read the letters danced + before him. He blinked his eyes and started again, slowly. In plain + black and white and nondescript-coloured finger-marks, Mr. Lister, + after a general statement as to his bodily and mental health, left the + whole of his estate to the cook. The will was properly dated and + witnessed, and the cook's voice shook with excitement and emotion as + he offered to hand it back.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't know what I've done for you to do this,” he said.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Lister waved it away again. “Keep it,” he said, simply; + “while you've got it on you, you'll know it's safe.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>From this moment a friendship sprang up between the two men + which puzzled the remainder of the crew not a little. The attitude of + the cook was as that of a son to a father: the benignancy of Mr. + Lister beautiful to behold. It was noticed, too, that he had abandoned + the reprehensible practice of hanging round tavern doors in favour of + going inside and drinking the cook's health.</span> + </p> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 67%" id="figure-185"> + <span + id="a-friendship-sprang-up-between-the-two-men-which-puzzled-the-remainder-of-the-crew-not-a-little"></span><img + class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " + src="images/015.jpg" /> + </div> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>For about six months the cook, although always in somewhat + straitened circumstances, was well content with the tacit bargain, and + then, bit by bit, the character of Mr. Lister was revealed to him. It + was not a nice character, but subtle; and when he made the startling + discovery that a will could be rendered invalid by the simple process + of making another one the next day, he became as a man possessed. When + he ascertained that Mr. Lister when at home had free quarters at the + house of a married niece, he used to sit about alone, and try and + think of ways and means of securing capital sunk in a concern which + seemed to show no signs of being wound-up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've got a touch of the 'art again, lad,” said the elderly + invalid, as they sat alone in the forecastle one night at Seacole.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You move about too much,” said the cook. “Why not turn in and + rest?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Lister, who had not expected this, fidgeted. “I think I'll + go ashore a bit and try the air,” he said, suggestively. “I'll just go + as far as the Black Horse and back. You won't have me long now, my + lad.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No, I know,” said the cook; “that's what's worrying me a bit.” + “Don't worry about me,” said the old man, pausing with his hand on the + other's shoulder; “I'm not worth it. Don't look so glum, lad.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've got something on my mind, Jem,” said the cook, staring + straight in front of him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What is it?” inquired Mr. Lister.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You know what you told me about those pains in your inside?” + said the cook, without looking at him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Jem groaned and felt his side.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And what you said about its being a relief to die,” continued + the other, “only you was afraid to commit suicide?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well?” said Mr. Lister.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It used to worry me,” continued the cook, earnestly. “I used to + say to myself, 'Poor old Jem,' I ses, 'why should 'e suffer like this + when he wants to die? It seemed 'ard.'”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It is 'ard,” said Mr. Lister, “but what about it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The other made no reply, but looking at him for the first time, + surveyed him with a troubled expression.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What about it?” repeated Mr. Lister, with some emphasis.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You did say you wanted to die, didn't you?” said the cook. “Now + suppose suppose——”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Suppose what?” inquired the old man, sharply. “Why don't you + say what you're agoing to say?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Suppose,” said the cook, “some one what liked you, Jem—what + liked you, mind—'eard you say this over and over again, an' see you + sufferin' and 'eard you groanin' and not able to do nothin' for you + except lend you a few shillings here and there for medicine, or stand + you a few glasses o' rum; suppose they knew a chap in a chemist's + shop?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Suppose they did?” said the other, turning pale.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A chap what knows all about p'isons,” continued the cook, + “p'isons what a man can take without knowing it in 'is grub. Would it + be wrong, do you think, if that friend I was speaking about put it in + your food to put you out of your misery?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wrong,” said Mr. Lister, with glassy eyes. “Wrong. Look 'ere, + cook—”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't mean anything to give him pain,” said the other, waving + his hand; “you ain't felt no pain lately, 'ave you, Jem?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Do you mean to say!” shouted Mr. Lister.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't mean to say anything,” said the cook. “Answer my + question. You ain't felt no pain lately, 'ave you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Have—you—been—putting—p'ison—in—my—wittles?” demanded Mr. + Lister, in trembling accents.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If I 'ad, Jem, supposin' that I 'ad,” said the cook, in accents + of reproachful surprise, “do you mean to say that you'd mind?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“MIND,” said Mr. Lister, with fervour. “I'd 'ave you 'ung!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“But you said you wanted to die,” said the surprised cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Lister swore at him with startling vigour. “I'll 'ave you + 'ung,” he repeated, wildly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Me,” said the cook, artlessly. “What for?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“For giving me p'ison,” said Mr. Lister, frantically. “Do you + think you can deceive me by your roundabouts? Do you think I can't see + through you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The other with a sphinx-like smile sat unmoved. “Prove it,” he + said, darkly. “But supposin' if anybody 'ad been givin' you p'ison, + would you like to take something to prevent its acting?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'd take gallons of it,” said Mr. Lister, feverishly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The other sat pondering, while the old man watched him + anxiously. “It's a pity you don't know your own mind, Jem,” he said, + at length; “still, you know your own business best. But it's very + expensive stuff.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“How much?” inquired the other.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, they won't sell more than two shillings-worth at a time,” + said the cook, trying to speak carelessly, “but if you like to let me + 'ave the money, I'll go ashore to the chemist's and get the first lot + now.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Lister's face was a study in emotions, which the other tried + in vain to decipher.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Then he slowly extracted the amount from his trousers-pocket, + and handed it over with-out a word.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll go at once,” said the cook, with a little feeling, “and + I'll never take a man at his word again, Jem.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He ran blithely up on deck, and stepping ashore, spat on the + coins for luck and dropped them in his pocket. Down below, Mr. Lister, + with his chin in his hand, sat in a state of mind pretty evenly + divided between rage and fear.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook, who was in no mood for company, missed the rest of the + crew by two public-houses, and having purchased a baby's teething + powder and removed the label, had a congratulatory drink or two before + going on board again. A chatter of voices from the forecastle warned + him that the crew had returned, but the tongues ceased abruptly as he + descended, and three pairs of eyes surveyed him in grim silence.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What's up?” he demanded.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot 'ave you been doin' to poor old Jem?” demanded Henshaw, + sternly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Nothin',” said the other, shortly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You ain't been p'isoning 'im?” demanded Henshaw.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Certainly not,” said the cook, emphatically.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He ses you told 'im you p'isoned 'im,” said Henshaw, solemnly, + “and 'e give you two shillings to get something to cure 'im. It's too + late now.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What?” stammered the bewildered cook. He looked round anxiously + at the men.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They were all very grave, and the silence became oppressive. + “Where is he?” he demanded.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Henshaw and the others exchanged glances. “He's gone mad,” said + he, slowly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Mad?” repeated the horrified cook, and, seeing the aversion of + the crew, in a broken voice he narrated the way in which he had been + victimized.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, you've done it now,” said Henshaw, when he had finished. + “He's gone right orf 'is 'ed.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Where is he?” inquired the cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Where you can't follow him,” said the other, slowly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Heaven?” hazarded the unfortunate cook. “No; skipper's bunk,” + said Lea.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Oh, can't I foller 'im?” said the cook, starting up. “I'll soon + 'ave 'im out o' that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Better leave 'im alone,” said Henshaw. “He was that wild we + couldn't do nothing with 'im, singing an' larfin' and crying all + together—I certainly thought he was p'isoned.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll swear I ain't touched him,” said the cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, you've upset his reason,” said Henshaw; “there'll be an + awful row when the skipper comes aboard and finds 'im in 'is bed.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Well, come an' 'elp me to get 'im out,” said the cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I ain't going to be mixed up in it,” said Henshaw, shaking his + head.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't you, Bill,” said the other two.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot the skipper'll say I don't know,” said Henshaw; “anyway, + it'll be said to you, not——”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll go and get 'im out if 'e was five madmen,” said the cook, + compressing his lips.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You'll harve to carry 'im out, then,” said Henshaw. “I don't + wish you no 'arm, cook, and perhaps it would be as well to get 'im out + afore the skipper or mate comes aboard. If it was me, I know what I + should do.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What?” inquired the cook, breathlessly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Draw a sack over his head,” said Henshaw, impressively; “he'll + scream like blazes as soon as you touch him, and rouse the folks + ashore if you don't. Besides that, if you draw it well down it'll keep + his arms fast.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook thanked him fervently, and routing out a sack, rushed + hastily on deck, his departure being the signal for Mr. Henshaw and + his friends to make preparations for retiring for the night so hastily + as almost to savour of panic.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook, after a hasty glance ashore, went softly below with + the sack over his arm and felt his way in the darkness to the + skipper's bunk. The sound of deep and regular breathing reassured him, + and without undue haste he opened the mouth of the sack and gently + raised the sleeper's head.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Eh? Wha——” began a sleepy voice.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The next moment the cook had bagged him, and gripping him + tightly round the middle, turned a deaf ear to the smothered cries of + his victim as he strove to lift him out of the bunk. In the exciting + time which followed, he had more than one reason for thinking that he + had caught a centipede.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Now, you keep still,” he cried, breathlessly. “I'm not going to + hurt you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He got his burden out of bed at last, and staggered to the foot + of the companion-ladder with it. Then there was a halt, two legs + sticking obstinately across the narrow way and refusing to be moved, + while a furious humming proceeded from the other end of the sack.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Four times did the exhausted cook get his shoulder under his + burden and try and push it up the ladder, and four times did it + wriggle and fight its way down again. Half crazy with fear and rage, + he essayed it for the fifth time, and had got it half-way up when + there was a sudden exclamation of surprise from above, and the voice + of the mate sharply demanding an explanation.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What the blazes are you up to?” he cried.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's all right, sir,” said the panting cook; “old Jem's had a + drop too much and got down aft, and I'm getting 'im for'ard again.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Jem?” said the astonished mate. “Why, he's sitting up here on + the fore-hatch. He came aboard with me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Sitting,” began the horrified cook; “sit—oh, lor!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He stood with his writhing burden wedged between his body and + the ladder, and looked up despairingly at the mate.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm afraid I've made a mistake,” he said in a trembling voice.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The mate struck a match and looked down.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Take that sack off,” he demanded, sternly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook placed his burden upon its feet, and running up the + ladder stood by the mate shivering. The latter struck another match, + and the twain watched in breathless silence the writhings of the + strange creature below as the covering worked slowly upwards. In the + fourth match it got free, and revealed the empurpled visage of the + master of the Susannah. For the fraction of a second the cook gazed at + him in speechless horror, and then, with a hopeless cry, sprang ashore + and ran for it, hotly pursued by his enraged victim. At the time of + sailing he was still absent, and the skipper, loth to part two such + friends, sent Mr. James Lister, at the urgent request of the anxious + crew, to look for him.</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="the-white-cat"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id23"><span>THE WHITE CAT</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 51%" id="figure-186"> + <span id="id12"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/016.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">T</span><span + class="dropspan">he traveller stood looking</span><span> from the + tap-room window of the Cauliflower at the falling rain. The village + street below was empty, and everything was quiet with the exception of + the garrulous old man smoking with much enjoyment on the settle behind + him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It'll do a power o' good,” said the ancient, craning his neck + round the edge of the settle and turning a bleared eye on the window. + “I ain't like some folk; I never did mind a drop o' rain.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The traveller grunted and, returning to the settle opposite the + old man, fell to lazily stroking a cat which had strolled in attracted + by the warmth of the small fire which smouldered in the grate.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's a good mouser,” said the old man, “but I expect that Smith + the landlord would sell 'im to anybody for arf a crown; but we 'ad a + cat in Claybury once that you couldn't ha' bought for a hundred golden + sovereigns.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The traveller continued to caress the cat.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A white cat, with one yaller eye and one blue one,” continued + the old man. “It sounds queer, but it's as true as I sit 'ere wishing + that I 'ad another mug o' ale as good as the last you gave me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The traveller, with a start that upset the cat's nerves, + finished his own mug, and then ordered both to be refilled. He stirred + the fire into a blaze, and, lighting his pipe and putting one foot on + to the hob, prepared to listen.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It used to belong to old man Clark, young Joe Clark's uncle, + said the ancient, smacking his lips delicately over the ale and + extending a tremulous claw to the tobacco-pouch pushed towards him; + and he was never tired of showing it off to people. He used to call it + 'is blue-eyed darling, and the fuss 'e made o' that cat was sinful.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Young Joe Clark couldn't bear it, but being down in 'is uncle's + will for five cottages and a bit o' land bringing in about forty + pounds a year, he 'ad to 'ide his feelings and pretend as he loved it. + He used to take it little drops o' cream and tit-bits o' meat, and old + Clark was so pleased that 'e promised 'im that he should 'ave the cat + along with all the other property when 'e was dead.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Young Joe said he couldn't thank 'im enough, and the old man, + who 'ad been ailing a long time, made 'im come up every day to teach + 'im 'ow to take care of it arter he was gone. He taught Joe 'ow to + cook its meat and then chop it up fine; 'ow it liked a clean saucer + every time for its milk; and 'ow he wasn't to make a noise when it was + asleep.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Take care your children don't worry it, Joe,” he ses one day, + very sharp. “One o' your boys was pulling its tail this morning, and I + want you to clump his 'ead for 'im.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Which one was it?” ses Joe.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“The slobbery-nosed one,” ses old Clark.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll give 'im a clout as soon as I get 'ome,” ses Joe, who was + very fond of 'is children.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Go and fetch 'im and do it 'ere,” ses the old man; “that'll + teach 'im to love animals.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Joe went off 'ome to fetch the boy, and arter his mother 'ad + washed his face, and wiped his nose, an' put a clean pinneyfore on + 'im, he took 'im to 'is uncle's and clouted his 'ead for 'im. Arter + that Joe and 'is wife 'ad words all night long, and next morning old + Clark, coming in from the garden, was just in time to see 'im kick the + cat right acrost the kitchen.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He could 'ardly speak for a minute, and when 'e could Joe see + plain wot a fool he'd been. Fust of all 'e called Joe every name he + could think of— which took 'im a long time—and then he ordered 'im out + of 'is house.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You shall 'ave my money wen your betters have done with it,” he + ses, “and not afore. That's all you've done for yourself.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Joe Clark didn't know wot he meant at the time, but when old + Clark died three months arterwards 'e found out. His uncle 'ad made a + new will and left everything to old George Barstow for as long as the + cat lived, providing that he took care of it. When the cat was dead + the property was to go to Joe.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cat was only two years old at the time, and George Barstow, + who was arf crazy with joy, said it shouldn't be 'is fault if it + didn't live another twenty years.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The funny thing was the quiet way Joe Clark took it. He didn't + seem to be at all cut up about it, and when Henery Walker said it was + a shame, 'e said he didn't mind, and that George Barstow was a old + man, and he was quite welcome to 'ave the property as long as the cat + lived.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It must come to me by the time I'm an old man,” he ses, “ard + that's all I care about.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Henery Walker went off, and as 'e passed the cottage where old + Clark used to live, and which George Barstow 'ad moved into, 'e spoke + to the old man over the palings and told 'im wot Joe Clark 'ad said. + George Barstow only grunted and went on stooping and prying over 'is + front garden.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Bin and lost something?” ses Henery Walker, watching 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No; I'm finding,” ses George Barstow, very fierce, and picking + up something. “That's the fifth bit o' powdered liver I've found in my + garden this morning.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Henery Walker went off whistling, and the opinion he'd 'ad o' + Joe Clark began to improve. He spoke to Joe about it that arternoon, + and Joe said that if 'e ever accused 'im o' such a thing again he'd + knock 'is 'ead off. He said that he 'oped the cat 'ud live to be a + hundred, and that 'e'd no more think of giving it poisoned meat than + Henery Walker would of paying for 'is drink so long as 'e could get + anybody else to do it for 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They 'ad bets up at this 'ere Cauliflower public-'ouse that + evening as to 'ow long that cat 'ud live. Nobody gave it more than a + month, and Bill Chambers sat and thought o' so many ways o' killing it + on the sly that it was wunnerful to hear 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George Barstow took fright when he 'eard of them, and the care + 'e took o' that cat was wunnerful to behold. Arf its time it was shut + up in the back bedroom, and the other arf George Barstow was fussing + arter it till that cat got to hate 'im like pison. Instead o' giving + up work as he'd thought to do, 'e told Henery Walker that 'e'd never + worked so 'ard in his life.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot about fresh air and exercise for it?” ses Henery.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot about Joe Clark?” ses George Bar-stow. “I'm tied 'and and + foot. I dursent leave the house for a moment. I ain't been to the + Cauliflower since I've 'ad it, and three times I got out o' bed last + night to see if it was safe.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Mark my words,” ses Henery Walker; “if that cat don't 'ave + exercise, you'll lose it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I shall lose it if it does 'ave exercise,” ses George Barstow, + “that I know.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He sat down thinking arter Henery Walker 'ad gone, and then he + 'ad a little collar and chain made for it, and took it out for a walk. + Pretty nearly every dog in Claybury went with 'em, and the cat was in + such a state o' mind afore they got 'ome he couldn't do anything with + it. It 'ad a fit as soon as they got indoors, and George Barstow, who + 'ad read about children's fits in the almanac, gave it a warm bath. It + brought it round immediate, and then it began to tear round the room + and up and downstairs till George Barstow was afraid to go near it.</span> + </p> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 70%" id="figure-187"> + <span + id="he-ad-a-little-collar-and-chain-made-for-it-and-took-it-out-for-a-walk"></span><img + class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " + src="images/017.jpg" /> + </div> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It was so bad that evening, sneezing, that George Barstow sent + for Bill Chambers, who'd got a good name for doctoring animals, and + asked 'im to give it something. Bill said he'd got some powders at + 'ome that would cure it at once, and he went and fetched 'em and mixed + one up with a bit o' butter.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That's the way to give a cat medicine,” he ses; “smear it with + the butter and then it'll lick it off, powder and all.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He was just going to rub it on the cat when George Barstow + caught 'old of 'is arm and stopped 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“How do I know it ain't pison?” he ses. “You're a friend o' Joe + Clark's, and for all I know he may ha' paid you to pison it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I wouldn't do such a thing,” ses Bill. “You ought to know me + better than that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“All right,” ses George Barstow; “you eat it then, and I'll give + you two shillings in stead o' one. You can easy mix some more.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not me,” ses Bill Chambers, making a face.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, three shillings, then,” ses George Barstow, getting more + and more suspicious like; “four shillings—five shillings.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bill Chambers shook his 'ead, and George Barstow, more and more + certain that he 'ad caught 'im trying to kill 'is cat and that 'e + wouldn't eat the stuff, rose 'im up to ten shillings.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bill looked at the butter and then 'e looked at the ten + shillings on the table, and at last he shut 'is eyes and gulped it + down and put the money in 'is pocket.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You see, I 'ave to be careful, Bill,” ses George Barstow, + rather upset.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bill Chambers didn't answer 'im. He sat there as white as a + sheet, and making such extraordinary faces that George was arf afraid + of 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Anything wrong, Bill?” he ses at last.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bill sat staring at 'im, and then all of a sudden he clapped 'is + 'andkerchief to 'is mouth and, getting up from his chair, opened the + door and rushed out. George Barstow thought at fust that he 'ad eaten + pison for the sake o' the ten shillings, but when 'e remembered that + Bill Chambers 'ad got the most delikit stummick in Claybury he altered + 'is mind.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cat was better next morning, but George Barstow had 'ad such + a fright about it 'e wouldn't let it go out of 'is sight, and Joe + Clark began to think that 'e would 'ave to wait longer for that + property than 'e had thought, arter all. To 'ear 'im talk anybody'd + ha' thought that 'e loved that cat. We didn't pay much attention to it + up at the Cauliflower 'ere, except maybe to wink at 'im—a thing he + couldn't a bear—but at 'ome, o' course, his young 'uns thought as + everything he said was Gospel; and one day, coming 'ome from work, as + he was passing George Barstow's he was paid out for his deceitfulness.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've wronged you, Joe Clark,” ses George Barstow, coming to the + door, “and I'm sorry for it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Oh!” ses Joe, staring.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Give that to your little Jimmy,” ses George Barstow, giving 'im + a shilling. “I've give 'im one, but I thought arterwards it wasn't + enough.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What for?” ses Joe, staring at 'im agin.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“For bringing my cat 'ome,” ses George Barstow. “'Ow it got out + I can't think, but I lost it for three hours, and I'd about given it + up when your little Jimmy brought it to me in 'is arms. He's a fine + little chap and 'e does you credit.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Joe Clark tried to speak, but he couldn't get a word out, and + Henery Walker, wot 'ad just come up and 'eard wot passed, took hold of + 'is arm and helped 'im home. He walked like a man in a dream, but + arf-way he stopped and cut a stick from the hedge to take 'ome to + little Jimmy. He said the boy 'ad been asking him for a stick for some + time, but up till then 'e'd always forgotten it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>At the end o' the fust year that cat was still alive, to + everybody's surprise; but George Barstow took such care of it 'e never + let it out of 'is sight. Every time 'e went out he took it with 'im in + a hamper, and, to prevent its being pisoned, he paid Isaac Sawyer, who + 'ad the biggest family in Claybury, sixpence a week to let one of 'is + boys taste its milk before it had it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The second year it was ill twice, but the horse-doctor that + George Barstow got for it said that it was as 'ard as nails, and with + care it might live to be twenty. He said that it wanted more fresh air + and exercise; but when he 'eard 'ow George Barstow come by it he said + that p'r'aps it would live longer indoors arter all.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>At last one day, when George Barstow 'ad been living on the fat + o' the land for nearly three years, that cat got out agin. George 'ad + raised the front-room winder two or three inches to throw something + outside, and, afore he knew wot was 'appening, the cat was out-side + and going up the road about twenty miles an hour.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George Barstow went arter it, but he might as well ha' tried to + catch the wind. The cat was arf wild with joy at getting out agin, and + he couldn't get within arf a mile of it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He stayed out all day without food or drink, follering it about + until it came on dark, and then, o' course, he lost sight of it, and, + hoping against 'ope that it would come home for its food, he went 'ome + and waited for it. He sat up all night dozing in a chair in the front + room with the door left open, but it was all no use; and arter + thinking for a long time wot was best to do, he went out and told some + o' the folks it was lost and offered a reward of five pounds for it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>You never saw such a hunt then in all your life. Nearly every + man, woman, and child in Claybury left their work or school and went + to try and earn that five pounds. By the arternoon George Barstow made + it ten pounds provided the cat was brought 'ome safe and sound, and + people as was too old to walk stood at their cottage doors to snap it + up as it came by.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Joe Clark was hunting for it 'igh and low, and so was 'is wife + and the boys. In fact, I b'lieve that everybody in Claybury excepting + the parson and Bob Pretty was trying to get that ten pounds.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>O' course, we could understand the parson—'is pride wouldn't let + 'im; but a low, poaching, thieving rascal like Bob Pretty turning up + 'is nose at ten pounds was more than we could make out. Even on the + second day, when George Barstow made it ten pounds down and a shilling + a week for a year besides, he didn't offer to stir; all he did was to + try and make fun o' them as was looking for it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Have you looked everywhere you can think of for it, Bill?” he + ses to Bill Chambers. “Yes, I 'ave,” ses Bill.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, then, you want to look everywhere else,” ses Bob Pretty. + “I know where I should look if I wanted to find it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Why don't you find it, then?” ses Bill.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Cos I don't want to make mischief,” ses Bob Pretty. “I don't + want to be unneighbourly to Joe Clark by interfering at all.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not for all that money?” ses Bill.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not for fifty pounds,” ses Bob Pretty; “you ought to know me + better than that, Bill Chambers.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's my belief that you know more about where that cat is than + you ought to,” ses Joe Gubbins.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You go on looking for it, Joe,” ses Bob Pretty, grinning; “it's + good exercise for you, and you've only lost two days' work.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll give you arf a crown if you let me search your 'ouse, + Bob,” ses Bill Chambers, looking at 'im very 'ard.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I couldn't do it at the price, Bill,” ses Bob Pretty, shaking + his 'ead. “I'm a pore man, but I'm very partikler who I 'ave come into + my 'ouse.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>O' course, everybody left off looking at once when they heard + about Bob— not that they believed that he'd be such a fool as to keep + the cat in his 'ouse; and that evening, as soon as it was dark, Joe + Clark went round to see 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't tell me as that cat's found, Joe,” ses Bob Pretty, as Joe + opened the door.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not as I've 'eard of,” said Joe, stepping inside. “I wanted to + speak to you about it; the sooner it's found the better I shall be + pleased.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It does you credit, Joe Clark,” ses Bob Pretty.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's my belief that it's dead,” ses Joe, looking at 'im very + 'ard; “but I want to make sure afore taking over the property.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bob Pretty looked at 'im and then he gave a little cough. “Oh, + you want it to be found dead,” he ses. “Now, I wonder whether that + cat's worth most dead or alive?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Joe Clark coughed then. “Dead, I should think,” he ses at last. + “George Barstow's just 'ad bills printed offering fifteen pounds for + it,” ses Bob Pretty.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll give that or more when I come into the property,” ses Joe + Clark.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's nothing like ready-money, though, is there?” ses Bob.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll promise it to you in writing, Bob,” ses Joe, trembling.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's some things that don't look well in writing, Joe,” says + Bob Pretty, considering; “besides, why should you promise it to me?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“O' course, I meant if you found it,” ses Joe.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, I'll do my best, Joe,” ses Bob Pretty; “and none of us + can do no more than that, can they?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They sat talking and argufying over it for over an hour, and + twice Bob Pretty got up and said 'e was going to see whether George + Barstow wouldn't offer more. By the time they parted they was as thick + as thieves, and next morning Bob Pretty was wearing Joe Clark's watch + and chain, and Mrs. Pretty was up at Joe's 'ouse to see whether there + was any of 'is furniture as she 'ad a fancy for.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She didn't seem to be able to make up 'er mind at fust between a + chest o' drawers that 'ad belonged to Joe's mother and a grand-father + clock. She walked from one to the other for about ten minutes, and + then Bob, who 'ad come in to 'elp her, told 'er to 'ave both.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You're quite welcome,” he ses; “ain't she, Joe?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Joe Clark said “Yes,” and arter he 'ad helped them carry 'em + 'ome the Prettys went back and took the best bedstead to pieces, cos + Bob said as it was easier to carry that way. Mrs. Clark 'ad to go and + sit down at the bottom o' the garden with the neck of 'er dress undone + to give herself air, but when she saw the little Prettys each walking + 'ome with one of 'er best chairs on their 'eads she got and walked up + and down like a mad thing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm sure I don't know where we are to put it all,” ses Bob + Pretty to Joe Gubbins, wot was looking on with other folks, “but Joe + Clark is that generous he won't 'ear of our leaving anything.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Has 'e gorn mad?” ses Bill Chambers, staring at 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not as I knows on,” ses Bob Pretty. “It's 'is good-'artedness, + that's all. He feels sure that that cat's dead, and that he'll 'ave + George Barstow's cottage and furniture. I told 'im he'd better wait + till he'd made sure, but 'e wouldn't.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Before they'd finished the Prettys 'ad picked that 'ouse as + clean as a bone, and Joe Clark 'ad to go and get clean straw for his + wife and children to sleep on; not that Mrs. Clark 'ad any sleep that + night, nor Joe neither.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Henery Walker was the fust to see what it really meant, and he + went rushing off as fast as 'e could run to tell George Barstow. + George couldn't believe 'im at fust, but when 'e did he swore that if + a 'air of that cat's head was harmed 'e'd 'ave the law o' Bob Pretty, + and arter Henery Walker 'ad gone 'e walked round to tell 'im so.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You're not yourself, George Barstow, else you wouldn't try and + take away my character like that,” ses Bob Pretty.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot did Joe Clark give you all them things for?” ses George, + pointing to the furniture.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Took a fancy to me, I s'pose,” ses Bob. “People do sometimes. + There's something about me at times that makes 'em like me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He gave 'em to you to kill my cat,” ses George Barstow. “It's + plain enough for any-body to see.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bob Pretty smiled. “I expect it'll turn up safe and sound one o' + these days,” he ses, “and then you'll come round and beg my pardon. + P'r'aps—”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“P'r'aps wot?” ses George Barstow, arter waiting a bit.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“P'r'aps somebody 'as got it and is keeping it till you've + drawed the fifteen pounds out o' the bank,” ses Bob, looking at 'im + very hard.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've taken it out o' the bank,” ses George, starting; “if that + cat's alive, Bob, and you've got it, there's the fifteen pounds the + moment you 'and it over.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot d'ye mean—me got it?” ses Bob Pretty. “You be careful o' my + character.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I mean if you know where it is,” ses George Barstow trembling + all over.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't say I couldn't find it, if that's wot you mean,” ses + Bob. “I can gin'rally find things when I want to.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You find me that cat, alive and well, and the money's yours, + Bob,” ses George, 'ardly able to speak, now that 'e fancied the cat + was still alive.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bob Pretty shook his 'ead. “No; that won't do,” he ses. “S'pose + I did 'ave the luck to find that pore animal, you'd say I'd had it all + the time and refuse to pay.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I swear I wouldn't, Bob,” ses George Barstow, jumping up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Best thing you can do if you want me to try and find that cat,” + says Bob Pretty, “is to give me the fifteen pounds now, and I'll go + and look for it at once. I can't trust you, George Barstow.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And I can't trust you,” ses George Barstow.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Very good,” ses Bob, getting up; “there's no 'arm done. P'r'aps + Joe Clark 'll find the cat is dead and p'r'aps you'll find it's alive. + It's all one to me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George Barstow walked off 'ome, but he was in such a state o' + mind 'e didn't know wot to do. Bob Pretty turning up 'is nose at + fifteen pounds like that made 'im think that Joe Clark 'ad promised to + pay 'im more if the cat was dead; and at last, arter worrying about it + for a couple o' hours, 'e came up to this 'ere Cauliflower and offered + Bob the fifteen pounds.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot's this for?” ses Bob.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“For finding my cat,” ses George.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Look here,” ses Bob, handing it back, “I've 'ad enough o' your + insults; I don't know where your cat is.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I mean for trying to find it, Bob,” ses George Barstow.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Oh, well, I don't mind that,” ses Bob, taking it. “I'm a + 'ard-working man, and I've got to be paid for my time; it's on'y fair + to my wife and children. I'll start now.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He finished up 'is beer, and while the other chaps was telling + George Barstow wot a fool he was Joe Clark slipped out arter Bob + Pretty and began to call 'im all the names he could think of.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't you worry,” ses Bob; “the cat ain't found yet.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Is it dead?” ses Joe Clark, 'ardly able to speak.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Ow should I know?” ses Bob; “that's wot I've got to try and + find out. That's wot you gave me your furniture for, and wot George + Barstow gave me the fifteen pounds for, ain't it? Now, don't you stop + me now, 'cos I'm goin' to begin looking.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He started looking there and then, and for the next two or three + days George Barstow and Joe Clark see 'im walking up and down with his + 'ands in 'is pockets looking over garden fences and calling “Puss.” He + asked everybody 'e see whether they 'ad seen a white cat with one blue + eye and one yaller one, and every time 'e came into the Cauliflower he + put his 'ead over the bar and called “Puss,” 'cos, as 'e said, it was + as likely to be there as anywhere else.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It was about a week after the cat 'ad disappeared that George + Barstow was standing at 'is door talking to Joe Clark, who was saying + the cat must be dead and 'e wanted 'is property, when he sees a man + coming up the road carrying a basket stop and speak to Bill Chambers. + Just as 'e got near them an awful “miaow” come from the basket and + George Barstow and Joe Clark started as if they'd been shot.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's found it?” shouts Bill Chambers, pointing to the man.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's been living with me over at Ling for a week pretty + nearly,” ses the man. “I tried to drive it away several times, not + knowing that there was fifteen pounds offered for it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George Barstow tried to take 'old of the basket.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I want that fifteen pounds fust,” ses the man.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That's on'y right and fair, George,” ses Bob Pretty, who 'ad + just come up. “You've got all the luck, mate. We've been hunting 'igh + and low for that cat for a week.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Then George Barstow tried to explain to the man and call Bob + Pretty names at the same time; but it was all no good. The man said it + 'ad nothing to do with 'im wot he 'ad paid to Bob Pretty; and at last + they fetched Policeman White over from Cudford, and George Barstow + signed a paper to pay five shillings a week till the reward was paid.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George Barstow 'ad the cat for five years arter that, but he + never let it get away agin. They got to like each other in time and + died within a fortnight of each other, so that Joe Clark got 'is + property arter all.</span> + </p> +</div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11191 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/11191-h/images/001.jpg b/11191-h/images/001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..56b01af --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/001.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/002.jpg b/11191-h/images/002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..90bf76d --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/002.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/003.jpg b/11191-h/images/003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2917be0 --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/003.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/004.jpg b/11191-h/images/004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..44b0431 --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/004.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/005.jpg b/11191-h/images/005.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b7185ab --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/005.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/006.jpg b/11191-h/images/006.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cf00058 --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/006.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/007.jpg b/11191-h/images/007.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b104ca8 --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/007.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/008.jpg b/11191-h/images/008.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2d1f274 --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/008.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/009.jpg b/11191-h/images/009.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0bee9e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/009.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/010.jpg b/11191-h/images/010.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fce34da --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/010.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/011.jpg b/11191-h/images/011.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c39a14b --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/011.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/012.jpg b/11191-h/images/012.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..47e359f --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/012.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/013.jpg b/11191-h/images/013.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..50806ca --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/013.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/014.jpg b/11191-h/images/014.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8f6b1fc --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/014.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/015.jpg b/11191-h/images/015.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5839841 --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/015.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/016.jpg b/11191-h/images/016.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3c53c25 --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/016.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/017.jpg b/11191-h/images/017.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0fcd277 --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/017.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/cover.jpg b/11191-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..db600fb --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/11191-h/images/frontispiece.jpg b/11191-h/images/frontispiece.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2dbcb9b --- /dev/null +++ b/11191-h/images/frontispiece.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5c187d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #11191 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11191) diff --git a/old/11191-0.txt b/old/11191-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..94fd988 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11191-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5491 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Captains All, by W.W. Jacobs + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Captains All + +Author: W.W. Jacobs + +Release Date: October 30, 2006 [eBook #11191] +[Most recently updated: December 17, 2022] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: David Widger + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAINS ALL *** + + + + + *CAPTAINS ALL* + + _By_ + + W. W. JACOBS + + + 1911 + + ―――― + + + + +CONTENTS + + + ILLUSTRATIONS + CAPTAINS ALL + THE BOATSWAIN'S MATE + THE NEST EGG + THE CONSTABLE'S MOVE + BOB'S REDEMPTION + OVER THE SIDE + THE FOUR PIGEONS + THE TEMPTATION OF SAMUEL BURGE + THE MADNESS OF MR. LISTER + THE WHITE CAT + + ―――― + + ―――― + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + “Captains All.” + “The Boatswain's Mate.” + “'I Gives You the Two Quid Afore You Go Into The House,' + Continued the Boatswain.” + “The Nest Egg.” + “He Said It Was a Bad Road and A Little Shop, And 'ad Got A Look + About It he Didn't Like.” + “The Constable's Move.” + “Mr. Grummit, Suddenly Remembering Himself, Stopped Short And + Attacked the Bed With Extraordinary Fury.” + “Bob's Redemption.” + “Afore George Had Settled With the Cabman, There Was A Policeman + Moving the Crowd On.” + “Over the Side.” + “The Four Pigeons.” + “The Fust Bob Pretty 'eard of It Was up at The cauliflower at + Eight O'clock That Evening.” + “The Temptation of Samuel Burge.” + “The Madness of Mr. Lister.” + “A Friendship Sprang up Between the Two Men Which Puzzled The + Remainder of the Crew Not a Little.” + “The White Cat.” + “He 'ad a Little Collar and Chain Made for It, And Took It Out + for a Walk.” + + + + +CAPTAINS ALL + + + + +Every sailorman grumbles about the sea, said the night-watchman, +thoughtfully. It's human nature to grumble, and I s'pose they keep on +grumbling and sticking to it because there ain't much else they can do. +There's not many shore-going berths that a sailorman is fit for, and +those that they are—such as a night-watchman's, for instance—wants such +a good character that there's few as are to equal it. + +Sometimes they get things to do ashore. I knew one man that took up +butchering, and 'e did very well at it till the police took him up. +Another man I knew gave up the sea to marry a washerwoman, and they +hadn't been married six months afore she died, and back he 'ad to go to +sea agin, pore chap. + +A man who used to grumble awful about the sea was old Sam Small—a man +I've spoke of to you before. To hear 'im go on about the sea, arter he +'ad spent four or five months' money in a fortnight, was 'artbreaking. +He used to ask us wot was going to happen to 'im in his old age, and +when we pointed out that he wouldn't be likely to 'ave any old age if he +wasn't more careful of 'imself he used to fly into a temper and call us +everything 'e could lay his tongue to. + +One time when 'e was ashore with Peter Russet and Ginger Dick he seemed +to 'ave got it on the brain. He started being careful of 'is money +instead o' spending it, and three mornings running he bought a newspaper +and read the advertisements, to see whether there was any comfortable +berth for a strong, good-'arted man wot didn't like work. + +He actually went arter one situation, and, if it hadn't ha' been for +seventy-nine other men, he said he believed he'd ha' had a good chance +of getting it. As it was, all 'e got was a black eye for shoving another +man, and for a day or two he was so down-'arted that 'e was no company +at all for the other two. + +For three or four days 'e went out by 'imself, and then, all of a +sudden, Ginger Dick and Peter began to notice a great change in him. He +seemed to 'ave got quite cheerful and 'appy. He answered 'em back +pleasant when they spoke to 'im, and one night he lay in 'is bed +whistling comic songs until Ginger and Peter Russet 'ad to get out o' +bed to him. When he bought a new necktie and a smart cap and washed +'imself twice in one day they fust began to ask each other wot was up, +and then they asked him. + +“Up?” ses Sam; “nothing.” + +“He's in love,” ses Peter Russet. + +“You're a liar,” ses Sam, without turning round. + +“He'll 'ave it bad at 'is age,” ses Ginger. + +Sam didn't say nothing, but he kept fidgeting about as though 'e'd got +something on his mind. Fust he looked out o' the winder, then he 'ummed +a tune, and at last, looking at 'em very fierce, he took a tooth-brush +wrapped in paper out of 'is pocket and began to clean 'is teeth. + +“He is in love,” ses Ginger, as soon as he could speak. + +“Or else 'e's gorn mad,” ses Peter, watching 'im. “Which is it, Sam?” + +Sam made believe that he couldn't answer 'im because o' the tooth-brush, +and arter he'd finished he 'ad such a raging toothache that 'e sat in a +corner holding 'is face and looking the pictur' o' misery. They couldn't +get a word out of him till they asked 'im to go out with them, and then +he said 'e was going to bed. Twenty minutes arterwards, when Ginger Dick +stepped back for 'is pipe, he found he 'ad gorn. + +He tried the same game next night, but the other two wouldn't 'ave it, +and they stayed in so long that at last 'e lost 'is temper, and, arter +wondering wot Ginger's father and mother could ha' been a-thinking +about, and saying that he believed Peter Russet 'ad been changed at +birth for a sea-sick monkey, he put on 'is cap and went out. Both of 'em +follered 'im sharp, but when he led 'em to a mission-hall, and actually +went inside, they left 'im and went off on their own. + +They talked it over that night between themselves, and next evening they +went out fust and hid themselves round the corner. Ten minutes +arterwards old Sam came out, walking as though 'e was going to catch a +train; and smiling to think 'ow he 'ad shaken them off. At the corner of +Commercial Road he stopped and bought 'imself a button-hole for 'is +coat, and Ginger was so surprised that 'e pinched Peter Russet to make +sure that he wasn't dreaming. + +Old Sam walked straight on whistling, and every now and then looking +down at 'is button-hole, until by-and-by he turned down a street on the +right and went into a little shop. Ginger Dick and Peter waited for 'im +at the corner, but he was inside for so long that at last they got tired +o' waiting and crept up and peeped through the winder. + +It was a little tobacconist's shop, with newspapers and penny toys and +such-like; but, as far as Ginger could see through two rows o' pipes and +the Police News, it was empty. They stood there with their noses pressed +against the glass for some time, wondering wot had 'appened to Sam, but +by-and-by a little boy went in and then they began to 'ave an idea wot +Sam's little game was. + +As the shop-bell went the door of a little parlour at the back of the +shop opened, and a stout and uncommon good-looking woman of about forty +came out. Her 'ead pushed the Police News out o' the way and her 'and +came groping into the winder arter a toy. + +Ginger 'ad a good look at 'er out o' the corner of one eye, while he +pretended to be looking at a tobacco-jar with the other. As the little +boy came out 'im and Peter Russet went in. + +“I want a pipe, please,” he ses, smiling at 'er; “a clay pipe—one o' +your best.” The woman handed 'im down a box to choose from, and just +then Peter, wot 'ad been staring in at the arf-open door at a boot wot +wanted lacing up, gave a big start and ses, “Why! Halloa!” + +“Wot's the matter?” ses the woman, looking at 'im. + +“I'd know that foot anywhere,” ses Peter, still staring at it; and the +words was hardly out of 'is mouth afore the foot 'ad moved itself away +and tucked itself under its chair. “Why, that's my dear old friend Sam +Small, ain't it?” + +“Do you know the captin?” ses the woman, smiling at 'im. + +“Cap——?” ses Peter. “Cap——? Oh, yes; why, he's the biggest friend I've +got.” “'Ow strange!” ses the woman. + +“We've been wanting to see 'im for some time,” ses Ginger. “He was kind +enough to lend me arf a crown the other day, and I've been wanting to +pay 'im.” + +“Captin Small,” ses the woman, pushing open the door, “here's some old +friends o' yours.” + +Old Sam turned 'is face round and looked at 'em, and if looks could ha' +killed, as the saying is, they'd ha' been dead men there and then. + +“Oh, yes,” he ses, in a choking voice; “'ow are you?” + +“Pretty well, thank you, captin,” ses Ginger, grinning at 'im; “and +'ow's yourself arter all this long time?” + +He held out 'is hand and Sam shook it, and then shook 'ands with Peter +Russet, who was grinning so 'ard that he couldn't speak. + +“These are two old friends o' mine, Mrs. Finch,” ses old Sam, giving 'em +a warning look; “Captin Dick and Captin Russet, two o' the oldest and +best friends a man ever 'ad.” + +“Captin Dick 'as got arf a crown for you,” ses Peter Russet, still +grinning. + +“There now,” ses Ginger, looking vexed, “if I ain't been and forgot it; +I've on'y got arf a sovereign.” + +“I can give you change, sir,” ses Mrs. Finch. “P'r'aps you'd like to sit +down for five minutes?” + +Ginger thanked 'er, and 'im and Peter Russet took a chair apiece in +front o' the fire and began asking old Sam about 'is 'ealth, and wot +he'd been doing since they saw 'im last. + +“Fancy your reckernizing his foot,” ses Mrs. Finch, coming in with the +change. + +“I'd know it anywhere,” ses Peter, who was watching Ginger pretending to +give Sam Small the 'arf-dollar, and Sam pretending in a most lifelike +manner to take it. + +Ginger Dick looked round the room. It was a comfortable little place, +with pictures on the walls and antimacassars on all the chairs, and a +row of pink vases on the mantelpiece. Then 'e looked at Mrs. Finch, and +thought wot a nice-looking woman she was. + +“This is nicer than being aboard ship with a crew o' nasty, troublesome +sailormen to look arter, Captin Small,” he ses. + +“It's wonderful the way he manages 'em,” ses Peter Russet to Mrs. Finch. +“Like a lion he is.” + +“A roaring lion,” ses Ginger, looking at Sam. “He don't know wot fear +is.” + +Sam began to smile, and Mrs. Finch looked at 'im so pleased that Peter +Russet, who 'ad been looking at 'er and the room, and thinking much the +same way as Ginger, began to think that they was on the wrong tack. + +“Afore 'e got stout and old,” he ses, shaking his 'ead, “there wasn't a +smarter skipper afloat.” + +“We all 'ave our day,” ses Ginger, shaking his 'ead too. + +“I dessay he's good for another year or two afloat, yet,” ses Peter +Russet, considering. “With care,” ses Ginger. + +Old Sam was going to say something, but 'e stopped himself just in time. +“They will 'ave their joke,” he ses, turning to Mrs. Finch and trying to +smile. “I feel as young as ever I did.” + +Mrs. Finch said that anybody with arf an eye could see that, and then +she looked at a kettle that was singing on the 'ob. + +“I s'pose you gentlemen wouldn't care for a cup o' cocoa?” she ses, +turning to them. + +Ginger Dick and Peter both said that they liked it better than anything +else, and, arter she 'ad got out the cups and saucers and a tin o' +cocoa, Ginger held the kettle and poured the water in the cups while she +stirred them, and old Sam sat looking on 'elpless. + +“It does seem funny to see you drinking cocoa, captin,” ses Ginger, as +old Sam took his cup. + +“Ho!” ses Sam, firing up; “and why, if I might make so bold as to ask?” + +“'Cos I've generally seen you drinking something out of a bottle,” ses +Ginger. + +“Now, look 'ere,” ses Sam, starting up and spilling some of the hot +cocoa over 'is lap. + +“A ginger-beer bottle,” ses Peter Russet, making faces at Ginger to keep +quiet. + +“Yes, o' course, that's wot I meant,” ses Ginger. + +Old Sam wiped the cocoa off 'is knees without saying a word, but his +weskit kept going up and down till Peter Russet felt quite sorry for +'im. + +“There's nothing like it,” he ses to Mrs. Finch. “It was by sticking to +ginger-beer and milk and such-like that Captain Small 'ad command of a +ship afore 'e was twenty-five.” + +“Lor'!” ses Mrs. Finch. + +She smiled at old Sam till Peter got uneasy agin, and began to think +p'r'aps 'e'd been praising 'im too much. + +“Of course, I'm speaking of long ago now,” he ses. + +“Years and years afore you was born, ma'am,” ses Ginger. + +Old Sam was going to say something, but Mrs. Finch looked so pleased +that 'e thought better of it. Some o' the cocoa 'e was drinking went the +wrong way, and then Ginger patted 'im on the back and told 'im to be +careful not to bring on 'is brownchitis agin. Wot with temper and being +afraid to speak for fear they should let Mrs. Finch know that 'e wasn't +a captin, he could 'ardly bear 'imself, but he very near broke out when +Peter Russet advised 'im to 'ave his weskit lined with red flannel. They +all stayed on till closing time, and by the time they left they 'ad made +theirselves so pleasant that Mrs. Finch said she'd be pleased to see +them any time they liked to look in. + +Sam Small waited till they 'ad turned the corner, and then he broke out +so alarming that they could 'ardly do anything with 'im. Twice policemen +spoke to 'im and advised 'im to go home afore they altered their minds; +and he 'ad to hold 'imself in and keep quiet while Ginger and Peter +Russet took 'is arms and said they were seeing him 'ome. + +He started the row agin when they got in-doors, and sat up in 'is bed +smacking 'is lips over the things he'd like to 'ave done to them if he +could. And then, arter saying 'ow he'd like to see Ginger boiled alive +like a lobster, he said he knew that 'e was a noble-'arted feller who +wouldn't try and cut an old pal out, and that it was a case of love at +first sight on top of a tram-car. + +“She's too young for you,” ses Ginger; “and too good-looking besides.” + +“It's the nice little bisness he's fallen in love with, Ginger,” ses +Peter Russet. “I'll toss you who 'as it.” + +Ginger, who was siting on the foot o' Sam's bed, said “no” at fust, but +arter a time he pulled out arf a dollar and spun it in the air. + +That was the last 'e see of it, although he 'ad Sam out o' bed and all +the clothes stripped off of it twice. He spent over arf an hour on his +'ands and knees looking for it, and Sam said when he was tired of +playing bears p'r'aps he'd go to bed and get to sleep like a Christian. + +They 'ad it all over agin next morning, and at last, as nobody would +agree to keep quiet and let the others 'ave a fair chance, they made up +their minds to let the best man win. Ginger Dick bought a necktie that +took all the colour out o' Sam's, and Peter Russet went in for a collar +so big that 'e was lost in it. + +They all strolled into the widow's shop separate that night. Ginger Dick +'ad smashed his pipe and wanted another; Peter Russet wanted some +tobacco; and old Sam Small walked in smiling, with a little silver +brooch for 'er, that he said 'e had picked up. + +It was a very nice brooch, and Mrs. Finch was so pleased with it that +Ginger and Peter sat there as mad as they could be because they 'adn't +thought of the same thing. + +“Captain Small is very lucky at finding things,” ses Ginger, at last. + +“He's got the name for it,” ses Peter Russet. + +“It's a handy 'abit,” ses Ginger; “it saves spending money. Who did you +give that gold bracelet to you picked up the other night, captin?” he +ses, turning to Sam. + +“Gold bracelet?” ses Sam. “I didn't pick up no gold bracelet. Wot are +you talking about?” + +“All right, captin; no offence,” ses Ginger, holding up his 'and. “I +dreamt I saw one on your mantelpiece, I s'pose. P'r'aps I oughtn't to +ha' said anything about it.” + +Old Sam looked as though he'd like to eat 'im, especially as he noticed +Mrs. Finch listening and pretending not to. “Oh! that one,” he ses, +arter a bit o' hard thinking. “Oh! I found out who it belonged to. You +wouldn't believe 'ow pleased they was at getting it back agin.” + +Ginger Dick coughed and began to think as 'ow old Sam was sharper than +he 'ad given 'im credit for, but afore he could think of anything else +to say Mrs. Finch looked at old Sam and began to talk about 'is ship, +and to say 'ow much she should like to see over it. + +“I wish I could take you,” ses Sam, looking at the other two out o' the +corner of his eye, “but my ship's over at Dunkirk, in France. I've just +run over to London for a week or two to look round.” + +“And mine's there too,” ses Peter Russet, speaking a'most afore old Sam +'ad finished; “side by side they lay in the harbour.” + +“Oh, dear,” ses Mrs. Finch, folding her 'ands and shaking her 'cad. “I +should like to go over a ship one arternoon. I'd quite made up my mind +to it, knowing three captins.” + +She smiled and looked at Ginger; and Sam and Peter looked at 'im too, +wondering whether he was going to berth his ship at Dunkirk alongside o' +theirs. + +“Ah, I wish I 'ad met you a fortnight ago,” ses Ginger, very sad. “I +gave up my ship, the High flyer, then, and I'm waiting for one my owners +are 'aving built for me at New-castle. They said the High flyer wasn't +big enough for me. She was a nice little ship, though. I believe I've +got 'er picture somewhere about me!” + +He felt in 'is pocket and pulled out a little, crumpled-up photograph of +a ship he'd been fireman aboard of some years afore, and showed it to +'er. + +“That's me standing on the bridge,” he ses, pointing out a little dot +with the stem of 'is pipe. + +“It's your figger,” ses Mrs. Finch, straining her eyes. “I should know +it anywhere.” + +“You've got wonderful eyes, ma'am,” ses old Sam, choking with 'is pipe. + +“Anybody can see that,” ses Ginger. “They're the largest and the bluest +I've ever seen.” + +Mrs. Finch told 'im not to talk nonsense, but both Sam and Peter Russet +could see 'ow pleased she was. + +“Truth is truth,” ses Ginger. “I'm a plain man, and I speak my mind.” + +“Blue is my fav'rit' colour,” ses old Sam, in a tender voice. “True +blue.” + +Peter Russet began to feel out of it. “I thought brown was,” he ses. + +“Ho!” ses Sam, turning on 'im; “and why?” + +“I 'ad my reasons,” ses Peter, nodding, and shutting 'is mouth very +firm. + +“I thought brown was 'is fav'rit colour too,” ses Ginger. “I don't know +why. It's no use asking me; because if you did I couldn't tell you.” + +“Brown's a very nice colour,” ses Mrs. Finch, wondering wot was the +matter with old Sam. + +“Blue,” ses Ginger; “big blue eyes—they're the ones for me. Other people +may 'ave their blacks and their browns,” he ses, looking at Sam and +Peter Russet, “but give me blue.” + +They went on like that all the evening, and every time the shop-bell +went and the widow 'ad to go out to serve a customer they said in +w'ispers wot they thought of each other; and once when she came back +rather sudden Ginger 'ad to explain to 'er that 'e was showing Peter +Russet a scratch on his knuckle. + +Ginger Dick was the fust there next night, and took 'er a little chiney +teapot he 'ad picked up dirt cheap because it was cracked right acrost +the middle; but, as he explained that he 'ad dropped it in hurrying to +see 'er, she was just as pleased. She stuck it up on the mantelpiece, +and the things she said about Ginger's kindness and generosity made +Peter Russet spend good money that he wanted for 'imself on a painted +flower-pot next evening. + +With three men all courting 'er at the same time Mrs. Finch had 'er +hands full, but she took to it wonderful considering. She was so nice +and kind to 'em all that even arter a week's 'ard work none of 'em was +really certain which she liked best. + +They took to going in at odd times o' the day for tobacco and such-like. +They used to go alone then, but they all met and did the polite to each +other there of an evening, and then quarrelled all the way 'ome. + +Then all of a sudden, without any warning, Ginger Dick and Peter Russet +left off going there. The fust evening Sam sat expecting them every +minute, and was so surprised that he couldn't take any advantage of it; +but on the second, beginning by squeezing Mrs. Finch's 'and at ha'-past +seven, he 'ad got best part of his arm round 'er waist by a quarter to +ten. He didn't do more that night because she told him to be'ave +'imself, and threatened to scream if he didn't leave off. + +He was arf-way home afore 'e thought of the reason for Ginger Dick and +Peter Russet giving up, and then he went along smiling to 'imself to +such an extent that people thought 'e was mad. He went off to sleep with +the smile still on 'is lips, and when Peter and Ginger came in soon +arter closing time and 'e woke up and asked them where they'd been, 'e +was still smiling. + +“I didn't 'ave the pleasure o' seeing you at Mrs. Finch's to-night,” he +ses. + +“No,” ses Ginger, very short. “We got tired of it.” + +“So un'ealthy sitting in that stuffy little room every evening,” ses +Peter. + +Old Sam put his 'ead under the bedclothes and laughed till the bed +shook; and every now and then he'd put his 'ead out and look at Peter +and Ginger and laugh agin till he choked. + +“I see 'ow it is,” he ses, sitting up and wiping his eyes on the sheet. +“Well, we cant all win.” + +“Wot d'ye mean?” ses Ginger, very disagreeable. + +“She wouldn't 'ave you, Sam, thats wot I mean. And I don't wonder at it. +I wouldn't 'ave you if I was a gal.” + +“You're dreaming, ses Peter Russet, sneering at 'im. + +“That flower-pot o' yours'll come in handy,” ses Sam, thinking 'ow he +'ad put 'is arm round the widow's waist; “and I thank you kindly for the +teapot, Ginger. + +“You don't mean to say as you've asked 'er to marry you?” ses Ginger, +looking at Peter Russet. + +“Not quite; but I'm going to,” ses Sam, “and I'll bet you even +arf-crowns she ses 'yes.'” + +Ginger wouldn't take 'im, and no more would Peter, not even when he +raised it to five shillings; and the vain way old Sam lay there boasting +and talking about 'is way with the gals made 'em both feel ill. + +“I wouldn't 'ave her if she asked me on 'er bended knees,” ses Ginger, +holding up his 'ead. + +“Nor me,” ses Peter. “You're welcome to 'er, Sam. When I think of the +evenings I've wasted over a fat old woman I feel——” + +“That'll do,” ses old Sam, very sharp; “that ain't the way to speak of a +lady, even if she 'as said 'no.'” + +“All right, Sam,” ses Ginger. “You go in and win if you think you're so +precious clever.” + +Old Sam said that that was wot 'e was going to do, and he spent so much +time next morning making 'imself look pretty that the other two could +'ardly be civil to him. + +He went off a'most direckly arter breakfast, and they didn't see 'im +agin till twelve o'clock that night. He 'ad brought a bottle o' whisky +in with 'im, and he was so 'appy that they see plain wot had 'appened. + +“She said 'yes' at two o'clock in the arternoon,” ses old Sam, smiling, +arter they had 'ad a glass apiece. “I'd nearly done the trick at one +o'clock, and then the shop-bell went, and I 'ad to begin all over agin. +Still, it wasn't unpleasant.” + +“Do you mean to tell us you've asked 'er to marry you?” ses Ginger, +'olding out 'is glass to be filled agin. + +“I do,” ses Sam; “but I 'ope there's no ill-feeling. You never 'ad a +chance, neither of you; she told me so.” + +Ginger Dick and Peter Russet stared at each other. + +“She said she 'ad been in love with me all along,” ses Sam, filling +their glasses agin to cheer 'em up. “We went out arter tea and bought +the engagement-ring, and then she got somebody to mind the shop and we +went to the Pagoda music-'all.” + +“I 'ope you didn't pay much for the ring, Sam,” ses Ginger, who always +got very kind-'arted arter two or three glasses o' whisky. “If I'd known +you was going to be in such a hurry I might ha' told you before.” + +“We ought to ha' done,” ses Peter, shaking his 'ead. + +“Told me?” ses Sam, staring at 'em. “Told me wot?” + +“Why me and Peter gave it up,” ses Ginger; “but, o' course, p'r'aps you +don't mind.” + +“Mind wot?” ses Sam. + +“It's wonderful 'ow quiet she kept it,” ses Peter. + +Old Sam stared at 'em agin, and then he asked 'em to speak in plain +English wot they'd got to say, and not to go taking away the character +of a woman wot wasn't there to speak up for herself. + +“It's nothing agin 'er character,” ses Ginger. “It's a credit to her, +looked at properly,” ses Peter Russet. + +“And Sam'll 'ave the pleasure of bringing of 'em up,” ses Ginger. + +“Bringing of 'em up?” ses Sam, in a trembling voice and turning pale; +“bringing who up?” + +“Why, 'er children,” ses Ginger. “Didn't she tell you? She's got nine of +'em.” + +Sam pretended not to believe 'em at fust, and said they was jealous; but +next day he crept down to the greengrocer's shop in the same street, +where Ginger had 'appened to buy some oranges one day, and found that it +was only too true. Nine children, the eldest of 'em only fifteen, was +staying with diff'rent relations owing to scarlet-fever next door. + +Old Sam crept back 'ome like a man in a dream, with a bag of oranges he +didn't want, and, arter making a present of the engagement-ring to +Ginger—if 'e could get it—he took the fust train to Tilbury and signed +on for a v'y'ge to China. + + + + +THE BOATSWAIN'S MATE + + + + +Mr. George Benn, retired boat-swain, sighed noisily, and with a +despondent gesture, turned to the door and stood with the handle in his +hand; Mrs. Waters, sitting behind the tiny bar in a tall Windsor-chair, +eyed him with some heat. + +“My feelings'll never change,” said the boatswain. + +“Nor mine either,” said the landlady, sharply. “It's a strange thing, +Mr. Benn, but you always ask me to marry you after the third mug.” + +“It's only to get my courage up,” pleaded the boatswain. “Next time I'll +do it afore I 'ave a drop; that'll prove to you I'm in earnest.” + +He stepped outside and closed the door before the landlady could make a +selection from the many retorts that crowded to her lips. + +After the cool bar, with its smell of damp saw-dust, the road seemed hot +and dusty; but the boatswain, a prey to gloom natural to a man whose +hand has been refused five times in a fortnight, walked on unheeding. +His steps lagged, but his brain was active. + +He walked for two miles deep in thought, and then coming to a shady bank +took a seat upon an inviting piece of turf and lit his pipe. The heat +and the drowsy hum of bees made him nod; his pipe hung from the corner +of his mouth, and his eyes closed. + +He opened them at the sound of approaching footsteps, and, feeling in +his pocket for matches, gazed lazily at the intruder. He saw a tall man +carrying a small bundle over his shoulder, and in the erect carriage, +the keen eyes, and bronzed face had little difficulty in detecting the +old soldier. + +The stranger stopped as he reached the seated boatswain and eyed him +pleasantly. + +“Got a pipe o' baccy, mate?” he inquired. + +The boatswain handed him the small metal box in which he kept that +luxury. + +“Lobster, ain't you?” he said, affably. + +The tall man nodded. “Was,” he replied. “Now I'm my own +commander-in-chief.” + +“Padding it?” suggested the boatswain, taking the box from him and +refilling his pipe. + +The other nodded, and with the air of one disposed to conversation +dropped his bundle in the ditch and took a seat beside him. “I've got +plenty of time,” he remarked. + +Mr. Benn nodded, and for a while smoked on in silence. A dim idea which +had been in his mind for some time began to clarify. He stole a glance +at his companion—a man of about thirty-eight, clear eyes, with humorous +wrinkles at the corners, a heavy moustache, and a cheerful expression +more than tinged with recklessness. + +“Ain't over and above fond o' work?” suggested the boatswain, when he +had finished his inspection. + +“I love it,” said the other, blowing a cloud of smoke in the air, “but +we can't have all we want in this world; it wouldn't be good for us.” + +The boatswain thought of Mrs. Waters, and sighed. Then he rattled his +pocket. + +“Would arf a quid be any good to you?” he inquired. + +“Look here,” began the soldier; “just because I asked you for a pipe o' +baccy—” + +“No offence,” said the other, quickly. “I mean if you earned it?” + +The soldier nodded and took his pipe from his mouth. “Gardening and +windows?” he hazarded, with a shrug of his shoulders. + +The boatswain shook his head. + +“Scrubbing, p'r'aps?” said the soldier, with a sigh of resignation. +“Last house I scrubbed out I did it so thoroughly they accused me of +pouching the soap. Hang 'em!” + +“And you didn't?” queried the boatswain, eyeing him keenly. + +The soldier rose and, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, gazed at him +darkly. “I can't give it back to you,” he said, slowly, “because I've +smoked some of it, and I can't pay you for it because I've only got +twopence, and that I want for myself. So long, matey, and next time a +poor wretch asks you for a pipe, be civil.” + +“I never see such a man for taking offence in all my born days,” +expostulated the boat-swain. “I 'ad my reasons for that remark, mate. +Good reasons they was.” + +The soldier grunted and, stooping, picked up his bundle. + +“I spoke of arf a sovereign just now,” continued the boatswain, +impressively, “and when I tell you that I offer it to you to do a bit o' +burgling, you'll see 'ow necessary it is for me to be certain of your +honesty.” + +“Burgling?” gasped the astonished soldier. “Honesty? 'Struth; are you +drunk or am I?” + +“Meaning,” said the boatswain, waving the imputation away with his hand, +“for you to pretend to be a burglar.” + +“We're both drunk, that's what it is,” said the other, resignedly. + +The boatswain fidgeted. “If you don't agree, mum's the word and no 'arm +done,” he said, holding out his hand. + +“Mum's the word,” said the soldier, taking it. “My name's Ned Travers, +and, barring cells for a spree now and again, there's nothing against +it. Mind that.” + +“Might 'appen to anybody,” said Mr. Benn, soothingly. “You fill your +pipe and don't go chucking good tobacco away agin.” + +Mr. Travers took the offered box and, with economy born of adversity, +stooped and filled up first with the plug he had thrown away. Then he +resumed his seat and, leaning back luxuriously, bade the other “fire +away.” + +“I ain't got it all ship-shape and proper yet,” said Mr. Benn, slowly, +“but it's in my mind's eye. It's been there off and on like for some +time.” + +He lit his pipe again and gazed fixedly at the opposite hedge. “Two +miles from here, where I live,” he said, after several vigorous puffs, +“there's a little public-'ouse called the Beehive, kept by a lady wot +I've got my eye on.” + +The soldier sat up. + +“She won't 'ave me,” said the boatswain, with an air of mild surprise. + +The soldier leaned back again. + +“She's a lone widder,” continued Mr. Benn, shaking his head, “and the +Beehive is in a lonely place. It's right through the village, and the +nearest house is arf a mile off.” + +“Silly place for a pub,” commented Mr. Travers. + +“I've been telling her 'ow unsafe it is,” said the boatswain. “I've been +telling her that she wants a man to protect her, and she only laughs at +me. She don't believe it; d'ye see? Likewise I'm a small man—small, but +stiff. She likes tall men.” + +“Most women do,” said Mr. Travers, sitting upright and instinctively +twisting his moustache. “When I was in the ranks—” + +“My idea is,” continued the boatswain, slightly raising his voice, “to +kill two birds with one stone—prove to her that she does want being +protected, and that I'm the man to protect her. D'ye take my meaning, +mate?” + +The soldier reached out a hand and felt the other's biceps. “Like a lump +o' wood,” he said, approvingly. + +“My opinion is,” said the boatswain, with a faint smirk, “that she loves +me without knowing it.” + +“They often do,” said Mr. Travers, with a grave shake of his head. + +“Consequently I don't want 'er to be disappointed,” said the other. + +“It does you credit,” remarked Mr. Travers. + +“I've got a good head,” said Mr. Benn, “else I shouldn't 'ave got my +rating as boatswain as soon as I did; and I've been turning it over in +my mind, over and over agin, till my brain-pan fair aches with it. Now, +if you do what I want you to to-night and it comes off all right, damme +I'll make it a quid.” + +“Go on, Vanderbilt,” said Mr. Travers; “I'm listening.” + +The boatswain gazed at him fixedly. “You meet me 'ere in this spot at +eleven o'clock to-night,” he said, solemnly; “and I'll take you to her +'ouse and put you through a little winder I know of. You goes upstairs +and alarms her, and she screams for help. I'm watching the house, +faithful-like, and hear 'er scream. I dashes in at the winder, knocks +you down, and rescues her. D'ye see?” + +“I hear,” corrected Mr. Travers, coldly. + +“She clings to me,” continued the boat-swain, with a rapt expression of +face, “in her gratitood, and, proud of my strength and pluck, she +marries me.” + +“An' I get a five years' honeymoon,” said the soldier. + +The boatswain shook his head and patted the other's shoulder. “In the +excitement of the moment you spring up and escape,” he said, with a +kindly smile. “I've thought it all out. You can run much faster than I +can; any-ways, you will. The nearest 'ouse is arf a mile off, as I said, +and her servant is staying till to-morrow at 'er mother's, ten miles +away.” + +Mr. Travers rose to his feet and stretched himself. “Time I was +toddling,” he said, with a yawn. “Thanks for amusing me, mate.” + +“You won't do it?” said the boatswain, eyeing him with much concern. + +“I'm hanged if I do,” said the soldier, emphatically. “Accidents will +happen, and then where should I be?” + +“If they did,” said the boatswain, “I'd own up and clear you.” + +“You might,” said Mr. Travers, “and then again you mightn't. So long, +mate.” + +“I—I'll make it two quid,” said the boat-swain, trembling with +eagerness. “I've took a fancy to you; you're just the man for the job.” + +The soldier, adjusting his bundle, glanced at him over his shoulder. +“Thankee,” he said, with mock gratitude. + +“Look 'ere,” said the boatswain, springing up and catching him by the +sleeve; “I'll give it to you in writing. Come, you ain't faint-hearted? +Why, a bluejacket 'ud do it for the fun o' the thing. If I give it to +you in writing, and there should be an accident, it's worse for me than +it is for you, ain't it?” + +Mr. Travers hesitated and, pushing his cap back, scratched his head. + +“I gives you the two quid afore you go into the house,” continued the +boatswain, hastily following up the impression he had made. “I'd give +'em to you now if I'd got 'em with me. That's my confidence in you; I +likes the look of you. Soldier or sailor, when there is a man's work to +be done, give 'em to me afore anybody.” + +The soldier seated himself again and let his bundle fall to the ground. +“Go on,” he said, slowly. “Write it out fair and square and sign it, and +I'm your man.” + +The boatswain clapped him on the shoulder and produced a bundle of +papers from his pocket. “There's letters there with my name and address +on 'em,” he said. “It's all fair, square, and above-board. When you've +cast your eyes over them I'll give you the writing.” + +Mr. Travers took them and, re-lighting his pipe, smoked in silence, with +various side glances at his companion as that enthusiast sucked his +pencil and sat twisting in the agonies of composition. The document +finished—after several failures had been retrieved and burnt by the +careful Mr. Travers—the boat-swain heaved a sigh of relief, and handing +it over to him, leaned back with a complacent air while he read it. + +“Seems all right,” said the soldier, folding it up and putting it in his +waistcoat-pocket. “I'll be here at eleven to-night.” + +“Eleven it is,” said the boatswain, briskly, “and, between pals—here's +arf a dollar to go on with.” + +He patted him on the shoulder again, and with a caution to keep out of +sight as much as possible till night walked slowly home. His step was +light, but he carried a face in which care and exultation were strangely +mingled. + +By ten o'clock that night care was in the ascendant, and by eleven, when +he discerned the red glow of Mr. Travers's pipe set as a beacon against +a dark background of hedge, the boatswain was ready to curse his +inventive powers. Mr. Travers greeted him cheerily and, honestly +attributing the fact to good food and a couple of pints of beer he had +had since the boatswain left him, said that he was ready for anything. + +Mr. Benn grunted and led the way in silence. There was no moon, but the +night was clear, and Mr. Travers, after one or two light-hearted +attempts at conversation, abandoned the effort and fell to whistling +softly instead. + +Except for one lighted window the village slept in darkness, but the +boatswain, who had been walking with the stealth of a Red Indian on the +war-path, breathed more freely after they had left it behind. A renewal +of his antics a little farther on apprised Mr. Travers that they were +approaching their destination, and a minute or two later they came to a +small inn standing just off the road. “All shut up and Mrs. Waters abed, +bless her,” whispered the boatswain, after walking care-fully round the +house. “How do you feel?” + +“I'm all right,” said Mr. Travers. “I feel as if I'd been burgling all +my life. How do you feel?” + +“Narvous,” said Mr. Benn, pausing under a small window at the rear of +the house. “This is the one.” + +Mr. Travers stepped back a few paces and gazed up at the house. All was +still. For a few moments he stood listening and then re-joined the +boatswain. + +“Good-bye, mate,” he said, hoisting himself on to the sill. “Death or +victory.” + +The boatswain whispered and thrust a couple of sovereigns into his hand. +“Take your time; there's no hurry,” he muttered. “I want to pull myself +together. Frighten 'er enough, but not too much. When she screams I'll +come in.” + +Mr. Travers slipped inside and then thrust his head out of the window. +“Won't she think it funny you should be so handy?” he inquired. + +“No; it's my faithful 'art,” said the boat-swain, “keeping watch over +her every night, that's the ticket. She won't know no better.” + +Mr. Travers grinned, and removing his boots passed them out to the +other. “We don't want her to hear me till I'm upstairs,” he whispered. +“Put 'em outside, handy for me to pick up.” + +The boatswain obeyed, and Mr. Travers—who was by no means a good hand at +darning socks—shivered as he trod lightly over a stone floor. Then, +following the instructions of Mr. Benn, he made his way to the stairs +and mounted noiselessly. + +But for a slight stumble half-way up his progress was very creditable +for an amateur. He paused and listened and, all being silent, made his +way to the landing and stopped out-side a door. Despite himself his +heart was beating faster than usual. + +He pushed the door open slowly and started as it creaked. Nothing +happening he pushed again, and standing just inside saw, by a small ewer +silhouetted against the casement, that he was in a bedroom. He listened +for the sound of breathing, but in vain. + +“Quiet sleeper,” he reflected; “or perhaps it is an empty room. Now, I +wonder whether—” + +The sound of an opening door made him start violently, and he stood +still, scarcely breathing, with his ears on the alert. A light shone on +the landing, and peeping round the door he saw a woman coming along the +corridor—a younger and better-looking woman than he had expected to see. +In one hand she held aloft a candle, in the other she bore a +double-barrelled gun. Mr. Travers withdrew into the room and, as the +light came nearer, slipped into a big cupboard by the side of the +fireplace and, standing bolt upright, waited. The light came into the +room. + +“Must have been my fancy,” said a pleasant voice. + +“Bless her,” smiled Mr. Travers. + +His trained ear recognized the sound of cocking triggers. The next +moment a heavy body bumped against the door of the cupboard and the key +turned in the lock. + +“Got you!” said the voice, triumphantly. “Keep still; if you try and +break out I shall shoot you.” + +“All right,” said Mr. Travers, hastily; “I won't move.” + +“Better not,” said the voice. “Mind, I've got a gun pointing straight at +you.” + +“Point it downwards, there's a good girl,” said Mr. Travers, earnestly; +“and take your finger off the trigger. If anything happened to me you'd +never forgive yourself.” + +“It's all right so long as you don't move,” said the voice; “and I'm not +a girl,” it added, sternly. + +“Yes, you are,” said the prisoner. “I saw you. I thought it was an angel +at first. I saw your little bare feet and—” + +A faint scream interrupted him. + +“You'll catch cold,” urged Mr. Travers. + +“Don't you trouble about me,” said the voice, tartly. + +“I won't give any trouble,” said Mr. Travers, who began to think it was +time for the boatswain to appear on the scene. “Why don't you call for +help? I'll go like a lamb.” + +“I don't want your advice,” was the reply. “I know what to do. Now, +don't you try and break out. I'm going to fire one barrel out of the +window, but I've got the other one for you if you move.” + +“My dear girl,” protested the horrified Mr. Travers, “you'll alarm the +neighbourhood.” + +“Just what I want to do,” said the voice. “Keep still, mind.” + +Mr. Travers hesitated. The game was up, and it was clear that in any +case the stratagem of the ingenious Mr. Benn would have to be disclosed. + +“Stop!” he said, earnestly. “Don't do anything rash. I'm not a burglar; +I'm doing this for a friend of yours—Mr. Benn.” + +“What?” said an amazed voice. + +“True as I stand here,” asseverated Mr. Travers. “Here, here's my +instructions. I'll put 'em under the door, and if you go to the back +window you'll see him in the garden waiting.” + +He rustled the paper under the door, and it was at once snatched from +his fingers. He regained an upright position and stood listening to the +startled and indignant exclamations of his gaoler as she read the +boatswain's permit: + + “This is to give notice that I, George Benn, being of + sound mind and body, have told Ned Travers to pretend to + be a burglar at Mrs. Waters's. He ain't a burglar, and + I shall be outside all the time. It's all above-board + and ship-shape. + + “(Signed) George Benn” + + “Sound mind—above-board—ship-shape,” repeated a dazed voice. + “Where is he?” + +“Out at the back,” replied Mr. Travers. “If you go to the window you can +see him. Now, do put something round your shoulders, there's a good +girl.” + +There was no reply, but a board creaked. He waited for what seemed a +long time, and then the board creaked again. + +“Did you see him?” he inquired. + +“I did,” was the sharp reply. “You both ought to be ashamed of +yourselves. You ought to be punished.” + +“There is a clothes-peg sticking into the back of my head,” remarked Mr. +Travers. “What are you going to do?” + +There was no reply. + +“What are you going to do?” repeated Mr. Travers, somewhat uneasily. +“You look too nice to do anything hard; leastways, so far as I can judge +through this crack.” + +There was a smothered exclamation, and then sounds of somebody moving +hastily about the room and the swish of clothing hastily donned. + +“You ought to have done it before,” commented the thoughtful Mr. +Travers. “It's enough to give you your death of cold.” + +“Mind your business,” said the voice, sharply. “Now, if I let you out, +will you promise to do exactly as I tell you?” + +“Honour bright,” said Mr. Travers, fervently. + +“I'm going to give Mr. Benn a lesson he won't forget,” proceeded the +other, grimly. “I'm going to fire off this gun, and then run down and +tell him I've killed you.” + +“Eh?” said the amazed Mr. Travers. “Oh, Lord!” + +“H'sh! Stop that laughing,” commanded the voice. “He'll hear you. Be +quiet!” + +The key turned in the lock, and Mr. Travers, stepping forth, clapped his +hand over his mouth and endeavoured to obey. Mrs. Waters, stepping back +with the gun ready, scrutinized him closely. + +“Come on to the landing,” said Mr. Travers, eagerly. “We don't want +anybody else to hear. Fire into this.” + +He snatched a patchwork rug from the floor and stuck it up against the +balusters. “You stay here,” said Mrs. Waters. He nodded. + +She pointed the gun at the hearth-rug, the walls shook with the +explosion, and, with a shriek that set Mr. Travers's teeth on edge, she +rushed downstairs and, drawing back the bolts of the back door, tottered +outside and into the arms of the agitated boatswain. + +“Oh! oh! oh!” she cried. + +“What—what's the matter?” gasped the boatswain. + +The widow struggled in his arms. “A burglar,” she said, in a tense +whisper. “But it's all right; I've killed him.” + +“Kill—” stuttered the other. “Kill——Killed him?” + +Mrs. Waters nodded and released herself, “First shot,” she said, with a +satisfied air. + +The boatswain wrung his hands. “Good heavens!” he said, moving slowly +towards the door. “Poor fellow!” + +“Come back,” said the widow, tugging at his coat. + +“I was—was going to see—whether I could do anything for 'im,” quavered +the boatswain. “Poor fellow!” + +“You stay where you are,” commanded Mrs. Waters. “I don't want any +witnesses. I don't want this house to have a bad name. I'm going to keep +it quiet.” + +“Quiet?” said the shaking boatswain. “How?” + +“First thing to do,” said the widow, thoughtfully, “is to get rid of the +body. I'll bury him in the garden, I think. There's a very good bit of +ground behind those potatoes. You'll find the spade in the tool-house.” + +The horrified Mr. Benn stood stock-still regarding her. + +“While you're digging the grave,” continued Mrs. 'Waters, calmly, “I'll +go in and clean up the mess.” + +The boatswain reeled and then fumbled with trembling fingers at his +collar. + +Like a man in a dream he stood watching as she ran to the tool-house and +returned with a spade and pick; like a man in a dream he followed her on +to the garden. + +“Be careful,” she said, sharply; “you're treading down my potatoes.” + +The boatswain stopped dead and stared at her. Apparently unconscious of +his gaze, she began to pace out the measurements and then, placing the +tools in his hands, urged him to lose no time. + +“I'll bring him down when you're gone,” she said, looking towards the +house. + +The boatswain wiped his damp brow with the back of his hand. “How are +you going to get it downstairs?” he breathed. + +“Drag it,” said Mrs. Waters, briefly. + +“Suppose he isn't dead?” said the boat-swain, with a gleam of hope. + +“Fiddlesticks!” said Mrs. Waters. “Do you think I don't know? Now, don't +waste time talking; and mind you dig it deep. I'll put a few cabbages on +top afterwards—I've got more than I want.” + +She re-entered the house and ran lightly upstairs. The candle was still +alight and the gun was leaning against the bed-post; but the visitor had +disappeared. Conscious of an odd feeling of disappointment, she looked +round the empty room. + +“Come and look at him,” entreated a voice, and she turned and beheld the +amused countenance of her late prisoner at the door. + +“I've been watching from the back window,” he said, nodding. “You're a +wonder; that's what you are. Come and look at him.” + +Mrs. Waters followed, and leaning out of the window watched with simple +pleasure the efforts of the amateur sexton. Mr. Benn was digging like +one possessed, only pausing at intervals to straighten his back and to +cast a fearsome glance around him. The only thing that marred her +pleasure was the behaviour of Mr. Travers, who was struggling for a +place with all the fervour of a citizen at the Lord Mayor's show. + +“Get back,” she said, in a fierce whisper. “He'll see you.” + +Mr. Travers with obvious reluctance obeyed, just as the victim looked +up. + +“Is that you, Mrs. Waters?” inquired the boatswain, fearfully. + +“Yes, of course it is,” snapped the widow. “Who else should it be, do +you think? Go on! What are you stopping for?” + +Mr. Benn's breathing as he bent to his task again was distinctly +audible. The head of Mr. Travers ranged itself once more alongside the +widow's. For a long time they watched in silence. + +“Won't you come down here, Mrs. Waters?” called the boatswain, looking +up so suddenly that Mr. Travers's head bumped painfully against the side +of the window. “It's a bit creepy, all alone.” + +“I'm all right,” said Mrs. Waters. + +“I keep fancying there's something dodging behind them currant bushes,” +pursued the unfortunate Mr. Benn, hoarsely. “How you can stay there +alone I can't think. I thought I saw something looking over your +shoulder just now. Fancy if it came creeping up behind and caught hold +of you! The widow gave a sudden faint scream. + +“If you do that again!” she said, turning fiercely on Mr. Travers. + +“He put it into my head,” said the culprit, humbly; “I should never have +thought of such a thing by myself. I'm one of the quietest and +best-behaved——” + +“Make haste, Mr. Benn,” said the widow, turning to the window again; +“I've got a lot to do when you've finished.” + +The boatswain groaned and fell to digging again, and Mrs. Waters, after +watching a little while longer, gave Mr. Travers some pointed +instructions about the window and went down to the garden again. + +“That will do, I think,” she said, stepping into the hole and regarding +it critically. “Now you'd better go straight off home, and, mind, not a +word to a soul about this.” + +She put her hand on his shoulder, and noticing with pleasure that he +shuddered at her touch led the way to the gate. The boat-swain paused +for a moment, as though about to speak, and then, apparently thinking +better of it, bade her good-bye in a hoarse voice and walked feebly up +the road. Mrs. Waters stood watching until his steps died away in the +distance, and then, returning to the garden, took up the spade and stood +regarding with some dismay the mountainous result of his industry. Mr. +Travers, who was standing just inside the back door, joined her. + +“Let me,” he said, gallantly. + +The day was breaking as he finished his task. The clean, sweet air and +the exercise had given him an appetite to which the smell of cooking +bacon and hot coffee that proceeded from the house had set a sharper +edge. He took his coat from a bush and put it on. Mrs. Waters appeared +at the door. + +“You had better come in and have some breakfast before you go,” she +said, brusquely; “there's no more sleep for me now.” + +Mr. Travers obeyed with alacrity, and after a satisfying wash in the +scullery came into the big kitchen with his face shining and took a seat +at the table. The cloth was neatly laid, and Mrs. Waters, fresh and +cool, with a smile upon her pleasant face, sat behind the tray. She +looked at her guest curiously, Mr. Travers's spirits being somewhat +higher than the state of his wardrobe appeared to justify. + +“Why don't you get some settled work?” she inquired, with gentle +severity, as he imparted snatches of his history between bites. + +“Easier said than done,” said Mr. Travers, serenely. “But don't you run +away with the idea that I'm a beggar, because I'm not. I pay my way, +such as it is. And, by-the-bye, I s'pose I haven't earned that two +pounds Benn gave me?” + +His face lengthened, and he felt uneasily in his pocket. + +“I'll give them to him when I'm tired of the joke,” said the widow, +holding out her hand and watching him closely. + +Mr. Travers passed the coins over to her. “Soft hand you've got,” he +said, musingly. “I don't wonder Benn was desperate. I dare say I should +have done the same in his place.” + +Mrs. Waters bit her lip and looked out at the window; Mr. Travers +resumed his breakfast. + +“There's only one job that I'm really fit for, now that I'm too old for +the Army,” he said, confidentially, as, breakfast finished, he stood at +the door ready to depart. + +“Playing at burglars?” hazarded Mrs. Waters. + +“Landlord of a little country public-house,” said Mr. Travers, simply. + +Mrs. Waters fell back and regarded him with open-eyed amazement. + +“Good morning,” she said, as soon as she could trust her voice. + +“Good-bye,” said Mr. Travers, reluctantly. “I should like to hear how +old Benn takes this joke, though.” + +Mrs. Waters retreated into the house and stood regarding him. “If you're +passing this way again and like to look in—I'll tell you,” she said, +after a long pause. “Good-bye.” + +“I'll look in in a week's time,” said Mr. Travers. + +He took the proffered hand and shook it warmly. “It would be the best +joke of all,” he said, turning away. + +“What would?” + +The soldier confronted her again. + +“For old Benn to come round here one evening and find me landlord. Think +it over.” + +Mrs. Waters met his gaze soberly. “I'll think it over when you have +gone,” she said, softly. “Now go.” + + + + +THE NEST EGG + + + + +Artfulness,” said the night-watch-man, smoking placidly, “is a gift; but +it don't pay always. I've met some artful ones in my time—plenty of 'em; +but I can't truthfully say as 'ow any of them was the better for meeting +me.” + +He rose slowly from the packing-case on which he had been sitting and, +stamping down the point of a rusty nail with his heel, resumed his seat, +remarking that he had endured it for some time under the impression that +it was only a splinter. + +“I've surprised more than one in my time,” he continued, slowly. “When I +met one of these 'ere artful ones I used fust of all to pretend to be +more stupid than wot I really am.” + +He stopped and stared fixedly. + +“More stupid than I looked,” he said. He stopped again. + +“More stupid than wot they thought I looked,” he said, speaking with +marked deliberation. And I'd let 'em go on and on until I thought I had +'ad about enough, and then turn round on 'em. Nobody ever got the better +o' me except my wife, and that was only before we was married. Two +nights arterwards she found a fish-hook in my trouser-pocket, and arter +that I could ha' left untold gold there—if I'd ha' had it. It spoilt wot +some people call the honey-moon, but it paid in the long run. + +One o' the worst things a man can do is to take up artfulness all of a +sudden. I never knew it to answer yet, and I can tell you of a case +that'll prove my words true. + +It's some years ago now, and the chap it 'appened to was a young man, a +shipmate o' mine, named Charlie Tagg. Very steady young chap he was, too +steady for most of 'em. That's 'ow it was me and 'im got to be such +pals. + +He'd been saving up for years to get married, and all the advice we +could give 'im didn't 'ave any effect. He saved up nearly every penny of +'is money and gave it to his gal to keep for 'im, and the time I'm +speaking of she'd got seventy-two pounds of 'is and seventeen-and-six of +'er own to set up house-keeping with. + +Then a thing happened that I've known to 'appen to sailormen afore. At +Sydney 'e got silly on another gal, and started walking out with her, +and afore he knew wot he was about he'd promised to marry 'er too. + +Sydney and London being a long way from each other was in 'is favour, +but the thing that troubled 'im was 'ow to get that seventy-two pounds +out of Emma Cook, 'is London gal, so as he could marry the other with +it. It worried 'im all the way home, and by the time we got into the +London river 'is head was all in a maze with it. Emma Cook 'ad got it +all saved up in the bank, to take a little shop with when they got +spliced, and 'ow to get it he could not think. + +He went straight off to Poplar, where she lived, as soon as the ship was +berthed. He walked all the way so as to 'ave more time for thinking, but +wot with bumping into two old gentlemen with bad tempers, and being +nearly run over by a cabman with a white 'orse and red whiskers, he got +to the house without 'aving thought of anything. + +They was just finishing their tea as 'e got there, and they all seemed +so pleased to see 'im that it made it worse than ever for 'im. Mrs. +Cook, who 'ad pretty near finished, gave 'im her own cup to drink out +of, and said that she 'ad dreamt of 'im the night afore last, and old +Cook said that he 'ad got so good-looking 'e shouldn't 'ave known him. + +“I should 'ave passed 'im in the street,” he ses. “I never see such an +alteration.” + +“They'll be a nice-looking couple,” ses his wife, looking at a young +chap, named George Smith, that 'ad been sitting next to Emma. + +Charlie Tagg filled 'is mouth with bread and butter, and wondered 'ow he +was to begin. He squeezed Emma's 'and just for the sake of keeping up +appearances, and all the time 'e was thinking of the other gal waiting +for 'im thousands o' miles away. + +“You've come 'ome just in the nick o' time,” ses old Cook; “if you'd +done it o' purpose you couldn't 'ave arranged it better.” + +“Somebody's birthday?” ses Charlie, trying to smile. + +Old Cook shook his 'ead. “Though mine is next Wednesday,” he ses, “and +thank you for thinking of it. No; you're just in time for the biggest +bargain in the chandlery line that anybody ever 'ad a chance of. If you +'adn't ha' come back we should have 'ad to ha' done it without you.” + +“Eighty pounds,” ses Mrs. Cook, smiling at Charlie. “With the money +Emma's got saved and your wages this trip you'll 'ave plenty. You must +come round arter tea and 'ave a look at it.” + +“Little place not arf a mile from 'ere,” ses old Cook. “Properly worked +up, the way Emma'll do it, it'll be a little fortune. I wish I'd had a +chance like it in my young time.” + +He sat shaking his 'ead to think wot he'd lost, and Charlie Tagg sat +staring at 'im and wondering wot he was to do. + +“My idea is for Charlie to go for a few more v'y'ges arter they're +married while Emma works up the business,” ses Mrs. Cook; “she'll be all +right with young Bill and Sarah Ann to 'elp her and keep 'er company +while he's away.” + +“We'll see as she ain't lonely,” ses George Smith, turning to Charlie. + +Charlie Tagg gave a bit of a cough and said it wanted considering. He +said it was no good doing things in a 'urry and then repenting of 'em +all the rest of your life. And 'e said he'd been given to understand +that chandlery wasn't wot it 'ad been, and some of the cleverest people +'e knew thought that it would be worse before it was better. By the time +he'd finished they was all looking at 'im as though they couldn't +believe their ears. + +“You just step round and 'ave a look at the place,” ses old Cook; “if +that don't make you alter your tune, call me a sinner.” + +Charlie Tagg felt as though 'e could ha' called 'im a lot o' worse +things than that, but he took up 'is hat and Mrs. Cook and Emma got +their bonnets on and they went round. + +“I don't think much of it for eighty pounds,” ses Charlie, beginning his +artfulness as they came near a big shop, with plate-glass and a double +front. + +“Eh?” ses old Cook, staring at 'im. “Why, that ain't the place. Why, you +wouldn't get that for eight 'undred.” + +“Well, I don't think much of it,” ses Charlie; “if it's worse than that +I can't look at it—I can't, indeed.” + +“You ain't been drinking, Charlie?” ses old Cook, in a puzzled voice. + +“Certainly not,” ses Charlie. + +He was pleased to see 'ow anxious they all looked, and when they did +come to the shop 'e set up a laugh that old Cook said chilled the marrer +in 'is bones. He stood looking in a 'elpless sort o' way at his wife and +Emma, and then at last he ses, “There it is; and a fair bargain at the +price.” + +“I s'pose you ain't been drinking?” ses Charlie. + +“Wot's the matter with it?” ses Mrs. Cook flaring up. + +“Come inside and look at it,” ses Emma, taking 'old of his arm. + +“Not me,” ses Charlie, hanging back. “Why, I wouldn't take it at a +gift.” + +He stood there on the kerbstone, and all they could do 'e wouldn't +budge. He said it was a bad road and a little shop, and 'ad got a look +about it he didn't like. They walked back 'ome like a funeral +procession, and Emma 'ad to keep saying “H's!” in w'ispers to 'er mother +all the way. + +“I don't know wot Charlie does want, I'm sure,” ses Mrs. Cook, taking +off 'er bonnet as soon as she got indoors and pitching it on the chair +he was just going to set down on. + +“It's so awk'ard,” ses old Cook, rubbing his 'cad. “Fact is, Charlie, we +pretty near gave 'em to understand as we'd buy it.” + +“It's as good as settled,” ses Mrs. Cook, trembling all over with +temper. + +“They won't settle till they get the money,” ses Charlie. “You may make +your mind easy about that.” + +“Emma's drawn it all out of the bank ready,” ses old Cook, eager like. + +Charlie felt 'ot and cold all over. “I'd better take care of it,” he +ses, in a trembling voice. “You might be robbed.” + +“So might you be,” ses Mrs. Cook. “Don't you worry; it's in a safe +place.” + +“Sailormen are always being robbed,” ses George Smith, who 'ad been +helping young Bill with 'is sums while they 'ad gone to look at the +shop. “There's more sailormen robbed than all the rest put together.” + +“They won't rob Charlie,” ses Mrs. Cook, pressing 'er lips together. +“I'll take care o' that.” + +Charlie tried to laugh, but 'e made such a queer noise that young Bill +made a large blot on 'is exercise-book, and old Cook, wot was lighting +his pipe, burnt 'is fingers through not looking wot 'e was doing. + +“You see,” ses Charlie, “if I was robbed, which ain't at all likely, it +'ud only be me losing my own money; but if you was robbed of it you'd +never forgive yourselves.” + +“I dessay I should get over it,” ses Mrs. Cook, sniffing. “I'd 'ave a +try, at all events.” + +Charlie started to laugh agin, and old Cook, who had struck another +match, blew it out and waited till he'd finished. + +“The whole truth is,” ses Charlie, looking round, “I've got something +better to do with the money. I've got a chance offered me that'll make +me able to double it afore you know where you are.” + +“Not afore I know where I am,” ses Mrs. Cook, with a laugh that was +worse than Charlie's. + +“The chance of a lifetime,” ses Charlie, trying to keep 'is temper. “I +can't tell you wot it is, because I've promised to keep it secret for a +time. You'll be surprised when I do tell you.” + +“If I wait till then till I'm surprised,” ses Mrs. Cook, “I shall 'ave +to wait a long time. My advice to you is to take that shop and ha' done +with it.” + +Charlie sat there arguing all the evening, but it was no good, and the +idea o' them people sitting there and refusing to let 'im have his own +money pretty near sent 'im crazy. It was all 'e could do to kiss Emma +good-night, and 'e couldn't have 'elped slamming the front door if he'd +been paid for it. The only comfort he 'ad got left was the Sydney gal's +photygraph, and he took that out and looked at it under nearly every +lamp-post he passed. + +He went round the next night and 'ad an-other try to get 'is money, but +it was no use; and all the good he done was to make Mrs. Cook in such a +temper that she 'ad to go to bed before he 'ad arf finished. It was no +good talking to old Cook and Emma, because they daren't do anything +without 'er, and it was no good calling things up the stairs to her +because she didn't answer. Three nights running Mrs. Cook went off to +bed afore eight o'clock, for fear she should say something to 'im as +she'd be sorry for arterwards; and for three nights Charlie made 'imself +so disagreeable that Emma told 'im plain the sooner 'e went back to sea +agin the better she should like it. The only one who seemed to enjoy it +was George Smith, and 'e used to bring bits out o' newspapers and read +to 'em, showing 'ow silly people was done out of their money. + +On the fourth night Charlie dropped it and made 'imself so amiable that +Mrs. Cook stayed up and made 'im a Welsh rare-bit for 'is supper, and +made 'im drink two glasses o' beer instead o' one, while old Cook sat +and drank three glasses o' water just out of temper, and to show that 'e +didn't mind. When she started on the chandler's shop agin Charlie said +he'd think it over, and when 'e went away Mrs. Cook called 'im her +sailor-boy and wished 'im pleasant dreams. + +But Charlie Tagg 'ad got better things to do than to dream, and 'e sat +up in bed arf the night thinking out a new plan he'd thought of to get +that money. When 'e did fall asleep at last 'e dreamt of taking a little +farm in Australia and riding about on 'orseback with the Sydney gal +watching his men at work. + +In the morning he went and hunted up a shipmate of 'is, a young feller +named Jack Bates. Jack was one o' these 'ere chaps, nobody's enemy but +their own, as the saying is; a good-'arted, free-'anded chap as you +could wish to see. Everybody liked 'im, and the ship's cat loved 'im. +He'd ha' sold the shirt off 'is back to oblige a pal, and three times in +one week he got 'is face scratched for trying to prevent 'usbands +knocking their wives about. + +Charlie Tagg went to 'im because he was the only man 'e could trust, and +for over arf an hour he was telling Jack Bates all 'is troubles, and at +last, as a great favour, he let 'im see the Sydney gal's photygraph, and +told him that all that pore gal's future 'appiness depended upon 'im. + +“I'll step round to-night and rob 'em of that seventy-two pounds,” ses +Jack; “it's your money, and you've a right to it.” + +Charlie shook his 'ead. “That wouldn't do,” he ses; “besides, I don't +know where they keep it. No; I've got a better plan than that. Come +round to the Crooked Billet, so as we can talk it over in peace and +quiet.” + +He stood Jack three or four arf-pints afore 'e told 'im his plan, and +Jack was so pleased with it that he wanted to start at once, but Charlie +persuaded 'im to wait. + +“And don't you spare me, mind, out o' friendship,” ses Charlie, “because +the blacker you paint me the better I shall like it.” + +“You trust me, mate,” ses Jack Bates; “if I don't get that seventy-two +pounds for you, you may call me a Dutchman. Why, it's fair robbery, I +call it, sticking to your money like that.” + +They spent the rest o' the day together, and when evening came Charlie +went off to the Cooks'. Emma 'ad arf expected they was going to a +theayter that night, but Charlie said he wasn't feeling the thing, and +he sat there so quiet and miserable they didn't know wot to make of 'im. + +“'Ave you got any trouble on your mind, Charlie,” ses Mrs. Cook, “or is +it the tooth-ache?” + +“It ain't the toothache,” ses Charlie. + +He sat there pulling a long face and staring at the floor, but all Mrs. +Cook and Emma could do 'e wouldn't tell them wot was the matter with +'im. He said 'e didn't want to worry other people with 'is troubles; let +everybody bear their own, that was 'is motto. Even when George Smith +offered to go to the theayter with Emma instead of 'im he didn't fire +up, and, if it 'adn't ha' been for Mrs. Cook, George wouldn't ha' been +sorry that 'e spoke. + +“Theayters ain't for me,” ses Charlie, with a groan. “I'm more likely to +go to gaol, so far as I can see, than a theayter.” + +Mrs. Cook and Emma both screamed and Sarah Ann did 'er first +highstericks, and very well, too, considering that she 'ad only just +turned fifteen. + +“Gaol!” ses old Cook, as soon as they 'ad quieted Sarah Ann with a bowl +o' cold water that young Bill 'ad the presence o' mind to go and fetch. +“Gaol! What for?” + +“You wouldn't believe if I was to tell you.” ses Charlie, getting up to +go, “and besides, I don't want any of you to think as 'ow I am worse +than wot I am.” + +He shook his 'cad at them sorrowful-like, and afore they could stop 'im +he 'ad gone. Old Cook shouted arter 'im, but it was no use, and the +others was running into the scullery to fill the bowl agin for Emma. + +Mrs. Cook went round to 'is lodgings next morning, but found that 'e was +out. They began to fancy all sorts o' things then, but Charlie turned up +agin that evening more miserable than ever. + +“I went round to see you this morning,” ses Mrs. Cook, “but you wasn't +at 'ome.” + +“I never am, 'ardly,” ses Charlie. “I can't be—it ain't safe.” + +“Why not?” ses Mrs. Cook, fidgeting. + +“If I was to tell you, you'd lose your good opinion of me,” ses Charlie. + +“It wouldn't be much to lose,” ses Mrs. Cook, firing up. + +Charlie didn't answer 'er. When he did speak he spoke to the old man, +and he was so down-'arted that 'e gave 'im the chills a'most, He 'ardly +took any notice of Emma, and, when Mrs. Cook spoke about the shop agin, +said that chandlers' shops was for happy people, not for 'im. + +By the time they sat down to supper they was nearly all as miserable as +Charlie 'imself. From words he let drop they all seemed to 'ave the idea +that the police was arter 'im, and Mrs. Cook was just asking 'im for wot +she called the third and last time, but wot was more likely the hundred +and third, wot he'd done, when there was a knock at the front door, so +loud and so sudden that old Cook and young Bill both cut their mouths at +the same time. + +“Anybody 'ere o' the name of Emma Cook?” ses a man's voice, when young +Bill opened the door. + +“She's inside,” ses the boy, and the next moment Jack Bates followed 'im +into the room, and then fell back with a start as 'e saw Charlie Tagg. + +“Ho, 'ere you are, are you?” he ses, looking at 'im very black. “Wot's +the matter?” ses Mrs. Cook, very sharp. + +“I didn't expect to 'ave the pleasure o' seeing you 'ere, my lad,” ses +Jack, still staring at Charlie, and twisting 'is face up into awful +scowls. “Which is Emma Cook?” + +“Miss Cook is my name,” ses Emma, very sharp. “Wot d'ye want?” + +“Very good,” ses Jack Bates, looking at Charlie agin; “then p'r'aps +you'll do me the kindness of telling that lie o' yours agin afore this +young lady.” + +“It's the truth,” ses Charlie, looking down at 'is plate. + +“If somebody don't tell me wot all this is about in two minutes, I shall +do something desprit,” ses Mrs. Cook, getting up. + +“This 'ere—er—man,” ses Jack Bates, pointing at Charlie, “owes me +seventy-five pounds and won't pay. When I ask 'im for it he ses a party +he's keeping company with, by the name of Emma Cook, 'as got it, and he +can't get it.” + +“So she has,” ses Charlie, without looking up. + +“Wot does 'e owe you the money for?” ses Mrs. Cook. + +“'Cos I lent it to 'im,” ses Jack. + +“Lent it? What for?” ses Mrs. Cook. + +“'Cos I was a fool, I s'pose,” ses jack Bates; “a good-natured fool. +Anyway, I'm sick and tired of asking for it, and if I don't get it +to-night I'm going to see the police about it.” + +He sat down on a chair with 'is hat cocked over one eye, and they all +sat staring at 'im as though they didn't know wot to say next. + +“So this is wot you meant when you said you'd got the chance of a +lifetime, is it?” ses Mrs. Cook to Charlie. “This is wot you wanted it +for, is it? Wot did you borrow all that money for?” + +“Spend,” ses Charlie, in a sulky voice. + +“Spend!” ses Mrs. Cook, with a scream; “wot in?” + +“Drink and cards mostly,” ses Jack Bates, remembering wot Charlie 'ad +told 'im about blackening 'is character. + +You might ha' heard a pin drop a'most, and Charlie sat there without +saying a word. + +“Charlie's been led away,” ses Mrs. Cook, looking 'ard at Jack Bates. “I +s'pose you lent 'im the money to win it back from 'im at cards, didn't +you?” + +“And gave 'im too much licker fust,” ses old Cook. “I've 'eard of your +kind. If Charlie takes my advice 'e won't pay you a farthing. I should +let you do your worst if I was 'im; that's wot I should do. You've got a +low face; a nasty, ugly, low face.” + +“One o' the worst I ever see,” ses Mrs. Cook. “It looks as though it +might ha' been cut out o' the Police News.” + +“'Owever could you ha' trusted a man with a face like that, Charlie?” +ses old Cook. “Come away from 'im, Bill; I don't like such a chap in the +room.” + +Jack Bates began to feel very awk'ard. They was all glaring at 'im as +though they could eat 'im, and he wasn't used to such treatment. And, as +a matter o' fact, he'd got a very good-'arted face. + +“You go out o' that door,” ses old Cook, pointing to it. “Go and do your +worst. You won't get any money 'ere.” + +“Stop a minute,” ses Emma, and afore they could stop 'er she ran +upstairs. Mrs. Cook went arter 'er and 'igh words was heard up in the +bedroom, but by-and-by Emma came down holding her head very 'igh and +looking at Jack Bates as though he was dirt. + +“How am I to know Charlie owes you this money?” she ses. + +Jack Bates turned very red, and arter fumbling in 'is pockets took out +about a dozen dirty bits o' paper, which Charlie 'ad given 'im for I O +U's. Emma read 'em all, and then she threw a little parcel on the table. + +“There's your money,” she ses; “take it and go.” + +Mrs. Cook and 'er father began to call out, but it was no good. + +“There's seventy-two pounds there,” ses Emma, who was very pale; “and +'ere's a ring you can have to 'elp make up the rest.” And she drew +Charlie's ring off and throwed it on the table. “I've done with 'im for +good,” she ses, with a look at 'er mother. + +Jack Bates took up the money and the ring and stood there looking at 'er +and trying to think wot to say. He'd always been uncommon partial to the +sex, and it did seem 'ard to stand there and take all that on account of +Charlie Tagg. + +“I only wanted my own,” he ses, at last, shuffling about the floor. + +“Well, you've got it,” ses Mrs. Cook, “and now you can go.” + +“You're pi'soning the air of my front parlour,” ses old Cook, opening +the winder a little at the top. + +“P'r'aps I ain't so bad as you think I am,” ses Jack Bates, still +looking at Emma, and with that 'e walked over to Charlie and dumped down +the money on the table in front of 'im. “Take it,” he ses, “and don't +borrow any more. I make you a free gift of it. P'r'aps my 'art ain't as +black as my face,” he ses, turning to Mrs. Cook. + +They was all so surprised at fust that they couldn't speak, but old Cook +smiled at 'im and put the winder up agin. And Charlie Tagg sat there arf +mad with temper, locking as though 'e could eat Jack Bates without any +salt, as the saying is. + +“I—I can't take it,” he ses at last, with a stammer. + +“Can't take it? Why not?” ses old Cook, staring. “This gentleman 'as +given it to you.” “A free gift,” ses Mrs. Cook, smiling at Jack very +sweet. + +“I can't take it,” ses Charlie, winking at Jack to take the money up and +give it to 'im quiet, as arranged. “I 'ave my pride.” + +“So 'ave I,” ses Jack. “Are you going to take it?” + +Charlie gave another look. “No,” he ses, “I cant take a favour. I +borrowed the money and I'll pay it back. + +“Very good,” ses Jack, taking it up. “It's my money, ain't it?” + +“Yes,” ses Charlie, taking no notice of Mrs. Cook and 'er husband, wot +was both talking to 'im at once, and trying to persuade 'im to alter his +mind. + +“Then I give it to Miss Emma Cook,” ses Jack Bates, putting it into her +hands. “Good-night everybody and good luck.” + +He slammed the front door behind 'im and they 'eard 'im go off down the +road as if 'e was going for fire-engines. Charlie sat there for a moment +struck all of a heap, and then 'e jumped up and dashed arter 'im. He +just saw 'im disappearing round a corner, and he didn't see 'im agin for +a couple o' year arterwards, by which time the Sydney gal had 'ad three +or four young men arter 'im, and Emma, who 'ad changed her name to +Smith, was doing one o' the best businesses in the chandlery line in +Poplar. + + + + +THE CONSTABLE'S MOVE + + + + +Mr. Bob Grummit sat in the kitchen with his corduroy-clad legs stretched +on the fender. His wife's half-eaten dinner was getting cold on the +table; Mr. Grummit, who was badly in need of cheering up, emptied her +half-empty glass of beer and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. + +“Come away, I tell you,” he called. “D'ye hear? Come away. You'll be +locked up if you don't.” + +He gave a little laugh at the sarcasm, and sticking his short pipe in +his mouth lurched slowly to the front-room door and scowled at his wife +as she lurked at the back of the window watching intently the furniture +which was being carried in next door. + +“Come away or else you'll be locked up,” repeated Mr. Grummit. “You +mustn't look at policemen's furniture; it's agin the law.” + +Mrs. Grummit made no reply, but, throwing appearances to the winds, +stepped to the window until her nose touched, as a walnut sideboard with +bevelled glass back was tenderly borne inside under the personal +supervision of Police-Constable Evans. + +“They'll be 'aving a pianner next,” said the indignant Mr. Grummit, +peering from the depths of the room. + +“They've got one,” responded his wife; “there's the end if it stickin' +up in the van.” + +Mr. Grummit advanced and regarded the end fixedly. “Did you throw all +them tin cans and things into their yard wot I told you to?” he +demanded. + +“He picked up three of 'em while I was upstairs,” replied his wife. “I +'eard 'im tell her that they'd come in handy for paint and things.” + +“That's 'ow coppers get on and buy pianners,” said the incensed Mr. +Grummit, “sneaking other people's property. I didn't tell you to throw +good 'uns over, did I? Wot d'ye mean by it?” + +Mrs. Grummit made no reply, but watched with bated breath the triumphal +entrance of the piano. The carman set it tenderly on the narrow +footpath, while P. C. Evans, stooping low, examined it at all points, +and Mrs. Evans, raising the lid, struck a few careless chords. + +“Showing off,” explained Mrs. Grummit, with a half turn; “and she's got +fingers like carrots.” + +“It's a disgrace to Mulberry Gardens to 'ave a copper come and live in +it,” said the indignant Grummit; “and to come and live next to me!— +that's what I can't get over. To come and live next door to a man wot +has been fined twice, and both times wrong. Why, for two pins I'd go in +and smash 'is pianner first and 'im after it. He won't live 'ere long, +you take my word for it.” + +“Why not?” inquired his wife. + +“Why?” repeated Mr. Grummit. “Why? Why, becos I'll make the place too +'ot to hold him. Ain't there enough houses in Tunwich without 'im +a-coming and living next door to me?” + +For a whole week the brain concealed in Mr. Grummit's bullet-shaped head +worked in vain, and his temper got correspondingly bad. The day after +the Evans' arrival he had found his yard littered with tins which he +recognized as old acquaintances, and since that time they had travelled +backwards and forwards with monotonous regularity. They sometimes made +as many as three journeys a day, and on one occasion the heavens opened +to drop a battered tin bucket on the back of Mr. Grummit as he was tying +his bootlace. Five minutes later he spoke of the outrage to Mr. Evans, +who had come out to admire the sunset. + +“I heard something fall,” said the constable, eyeing the pail curiously. + +“You threw it,” said Mr. Grummit, breathing furiously. + +“Me? Nonsense,” said the other, easily. “I was having tea in the parlour +with my wife and my mother-in-law, and my brother Joe and his young +lady.” + +“Any more of 'em?” demanded the hapless Mr. Grummit, aghast at this list +of witnesses for an alibi. + +“It ain't a bad pail, if you look at it properly,” said the constable. +“I should keep it if I was you; unless the owner offers a reward for it. +It'll hold enough water for your wants.” + +Mr. Grummit flung indoors and, after wasting some time concocting +impossible measures of retaliation with his sympathetic partner, went +off to discuss affairs with his intimates at the Bricklayers' Arms. The +company, although unanimously agreeing that Mr. Evans ought to be +boiled, were miserably deficient in ideas as to the means by which such +a desirable end was to be attained. + +“Make 'im a laughing-stock, that's the best thing,” said an elderly +labourer. “The police don't like being laughed at.” + +“'Ow?” demanded Mr. Grummit, with some asperity. + +“There's plenty o' ways,” said the old man. + +“I should find 'em out fast enough if I 'ad a bucket dropped on my back, +I know.” + +Mr. Grummit made a retort the feebleness of which was somewhat balanced +by its ferocity, and subsided into glum silence. His back still ached, +but, despite that aid to intellectual effort, the only ways he could +imagine of making the constable look foolish contained an almost certain +risk of hard labour for himself. + +He pondered the question for a week, and meanwhile the tins—to the +secret disappointment of Mr. Evans—remained untouched in his yard. For +the whole of the time he went about looking, as Mrs. Grummit expressed +it, as though his dinner had disagreed with him. + +“I've been talking to old Bill Smith,” he said, suddenly, as he came in +one night. + +Mrs. Grummit looked up, and noticed with wifely pleasure that he was +looking almost cheerful. + +“He's given me a tip,” said Mr. Grummit, with a faint smile; “a copper +mustn't come into a free-born Englishman's 'ouse unless he's invited.” + +“Wot of it?” inquired his wife. “You wasn't think of asking him in, was +you?” + +Mr. Grummit regarded her almost play-fully. “If a copper comes in +without being told to,” he continued, “he gets into trouble for it. Now +d'ye see?” + +“But he won't come,” said the puzzled Mrs. Grummit. + +Mr. Grummit winked. “Yes 'e will if you scream loud enough,” he +retorted. “Where's the copper-stick?” + +“Have you gone mad?” demanded his wife, “or do you think I 'ave?” + +“You go up into the bedroom,” said Mr. Grummit, emphasizing his remarks +with his forefinger. “I come up and beat the bed black and blue with the +copper-stick; you scream for mercy and call out 'Help!' 'Murder!' and +things like that. Don't call out 'Police!' cos Bill ain't sure about +that part. Evans comes bursting in to save your life—I'll leave the door +on the latch—and there you are. He's sure to get into trouble for it. +Bill said so. He's made a study o' that sort o' thing.” + +Mrs. Grummit pondered this simple plan so long that her husband began to +lose patience. At last, against her better sense, she rose and fetched +the weapon in question. + +“And you be careful what you're hitting,” she said, as they went +upstairs to bed. “We'd better have 'igh words first, I s'pose?” + +“You pitch into me with your tongue,” said Mr. Grummit, amiably. + +Mrs. Grummit, first listening to make sure that the constable and his +wife were in the bedroom the other side of the flimsy wall, complied, +and in a voice that rose gradually to a piercing falsetto told Mr. +Grummit things that had been rankling in her mind for some months. She +raked up misdemeanours that he had long since forgotten, and, not +content with that, had a fling at the entire Grummit family, beginning +with her mother-in-law and ending with Mr. Grummit's youngest sister. +The hand that held the copper-stick itched. + +“Any more to say?” demanded Mr. Grummit advancing upon her. + +Mrs. Grummit emitted a genuine shriek, and Mr. Grummit, suddenly +remembering himself, stopped short and attacked the bed with +extraordinary fury. The room resounded with the blows, and the efforts +of Mrs. Grummit were a revelation even to her husband. + +“I can hear 'im moving,” whispered Mr. Grummit, pausing to take breath. + +“Mur—der!” wailed his wife. “Help! Help!” + +Mr. Grummit, changing the stick into his left hand, renewed the attack; +Mrs. Grummit, whose voice was becoming exhausted, sought a temporary +relief in moans. + +“Is—he——deaf?” panted the wife-beater, “or wot?” + +He knocked over a chair, and Mrs. Grummit contrived another frenzied +scream. A loud knocking sounded on the wall. + +“Hel—lp!” moaned Mrs. Grummit. + +“Halloa, there!” came the voice of the constable. “Why don't you keep +that baby quiet? We can't get a wink of sleep.” + +Mr. Grummit dropped the stick on the bed and turned a dazed face to his +wife. + +“He—he's afraid—to come in,” he gasped. “Keep it up, old gal.” + +He took up the stick again and Mrs. Grummit did her best, but the heart +had gone out of the thing, and he was about to give up the task as +hopeless when the door below was heard to open with a bang. + +“Here he is,” cried the jubilant Grummit. “Now!” + +His wife responded, and at the same moment the bedroom door was flung +open, and her brother, who had been hastily fetched by the neighbours on +the other side, burst into the room and with one hearty blow sent Mr. +Grummit sprawling. + +“Hit my sister, will you?” he roared, as the astounded Mr. Grummit rose. +“Take that!” + +Mr. Grummit took it, and several other favours, while his wife, tugging +at her brother, endeavoured to explain. It was not, however, until Mr. +Grummit claimed the usual sanctuary of the defeated by refusing to rise +that she could make herself heard. + +“Joke?” repeated her brother, incredulously. “Joke?” + +Mrs. Grummit in a husky voice explained. + +Her brother passed from incredulity to amazement and from amazement to +mirth. He sat down gurgling, and the indignant face of the injured +Grummit only added to his distress. + +“Best joke I ever heard in my life,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Don't +look at me like that, Bob; I can't bear it.” + +“Get off 'ome,” responded Mr. Grummit, glowering at him. + +“There's a crowd outside, and half the doors in the place open,” said +the other. “Well, it's a good job there's no harm done. So long.” + +He passed, beaming, down the stairs, and Mr. Grummit, drawing near the +window, heard him explaining in a broken voice to the neighbours +outside. Strong men patted him on the back and urged him gruffly to say +what he had to say and laugh afterwards. Mr. Grummit turned from the +window, and in a slow and stately fashion prepared to retire for the +night. Even the sudden and startling disappearance of Mrs. Grummit as +she got into bed failed to move him. + +“The bed's broke, Bob,” she said faintly. + +“Beds won't last for ever,” he said, shortly; “sleep on the floor.” + +Mrs. Grummit clambered out, and after some trouble secured the +bedclothes and made up a bed in a corner of the room. In a short time +she was fast asleep; but her husband, broad awake, spent the night in +devising further impracticable schemes for the discomfiture of the foe +next door. + +He saw Mr. Evans next morning as he passed on his way to work. The +constable was at the door smoking in his shirt-sleeves, and Mr. Grummit +felt instinctively that he was waiting there to see him pass. + +“I heard you last night,” said the constable, playfully. “My word! Good +gracious!” + +“Wot's the matter with you?” demanded Mr. Grummit, stopping short. + +The constable stared at him. “She has been knocking you about,” he +gasped. “Why, it must ha' been you screaming, then! I thought it sounded +loud. Why don't you go and get a summons and have her locked up? I +should be pleased to take her.” + +Mr. Grummit faced him, quivering with passion. “Wot would it cost if I +set about you?” he demanded, huskily. + +“Two months,” said Mr. Evans, smiling serenely; “p'r'aps three.” + +Mr. Grummit hesitated and his fists clenched nervously. The constable, +lounging against his door-post, surveyed him with a dispassionate smile. +“That would be besides what you'd get from me,” he said, softly. + +“Come out in the road,” said Mr. Grummit, with sudden violence. + +“It's agin the rules,” said Mr. Evans; “sorry I can't. Why not go and +ask your wife's brother to oblige you?” + +He went in laughing and closed the door, and Mr. Grummit, after a +frenzied outburst, proceeded on his way, returning the smiles of such +acquaintances as he passed with an icy stare or a strongly-worded offer +to make them laugh the other side of their face. The rest of the day he +spent in working so hard that he had no time to reply to the anxious +inquiries of his fellow-workmen. + +He came home at night glum and silent, the hardship of not being able to +give Mr. Evans his deserts without incurring hard labour having weighed +on his spirits all day. To avoid the annoyance of the piano next door, +which was slowly and reluctantly yielding up “The Last Rose of Summer” +note by note, he went out at the back, and the first thing he saw was +Mr. Evans mending his path with tins and other bric-a-brac. + +“Nothing like it,” said the constable, looking up. “Your missus gave 'em +to us this morning. A little gravel on top, and there you are.” + +He turned whistling to his work again, and the other, after endeavouring +in vain to frame a suitable reply, took a seat on an inverted wash-tub +and lit his pipe. His one hope was that Constable Evans was going to try +and cultivate a garden. + +The hope was realized a few days later, and Mr. Grummit at the back +window sat gloating over a dozen fine geraniums, some lobelias and +calceolarias, which decorated the constable's plot of ground. He could +not sleep for thinking of them. + +He rose early the next morning, and, after remarking to Mrs. Grummit +that Mr. Evans's flowers looked as though they wanted rain, went off to +his work. The cloud which had been on his spirits for some time had +lifted, and he whistled as he walked. The sight of flowers in front +windows added to his good humour. + +He was still in good spirits when he left off work that afternoon, but +some slight hesitation about returning home sent him to the +Brick-layers' firms instead. He stayed there until closing time, and +then, being still disinclined for home, paid a visit to Bill Smith, who +lived the other side of Tunwich. By the time he started for home it was +nearly midnight. + +The outskirts of the town were deserted and the houses in darkness. The +clock of Tunwich church struck twelve, and the last stroke was just +dying away as he turned a corner and ran almost into the arms of the man +he had been trying to avoid. + +“Halloa!” said Constable Evans, sharply. “Here, I want a word with you.” + +Mr. Grummit quailed. “With me, sir?” he said, with involuntary respect. + +“What have you been doing to my flowers?” demanded the other, hotly. + +“Flowers?” repeated Mr. Grummit, as though the word were new to him. +“Flowers? What flowers?” + +“You know well enough,” retorted the constable. “You got over my fence +last night and smashed all my flowers down.” + +“You be careful wot you're saying,” urged Mr. Grummit. “Why, I love +flowers. You don't mean to tell me that all them beautiful flowers wot +you put in so careful 'as been spoiled?” + +“You know all about it,” said the constable, choking. “I shall take out +a summons against you for it.” + +“Ho!” said Mr. Grummit. “And wot time do you say it was when I done it?” + +“Never you mind the time,” said the other. + +“Cos it's important,” said Mr. Grummit. + +“My wife's brother—the one you're so fond of—slept in my 'ouse last +night. He was ill arf the night, pore chap; but, come to think of it, +it'll make 'im a good witness for my innocence.” + +“If I wasn't a policeman,” said Mr. Evans, speaking with great +deliberation, “I'd take hold o' you, Bob Grummit, and I'd give you the +biggest hiding you've ever had in your life.” + +“If you wasn't a policeman,” said Mr. Grummit, yearningly, “I'd arf +murder you.” + +The two men eyed each other wistfully, loth to part. + +“If I gave you what you deserve I should get into trouble,” said the +constable. + +“If I gave you a quarter of wot you ought to 'ave I should go to quod,” +sighed Mr. Grummit. + +“I wouldn't put you there,” said the constable, earnestly; “I swear I +wouldn't.” + +“Everything's beautiful and quiet,” said Mr. Grummit, trembling with +eagerness, “and I wouldn't say a word to a soul. I'll take my solemn +davit I wouldn't.” + +“When I think o' my garden—” began the constable. With a sudden movement +he knocked off Mr. Grummit's cap, and then, seizing him by the coat, +began to hustle him along the road. In the twinkling of an eye they had +closed. + +Tunwich church chimed the half-hour as they finished, and Mr. Grummit, +forgetting his own injuries, stood smiling at the wreck before him. The +constable's helmet had been smashed and trodden on; his uniform was torn +and covered with blood and dirt, and his good looks marred for a +fortnight at least. He stooped with a groan, and, recovering his helmet, +tried mechanically to punch it into shape. He stuck the battered relic +on his head, and Mr. Grummit fell back—awed, despite himself. + +“It was a fair fight,” he stammered. + +The constable waved him away. “Get out o' my sight before I change my +mind,” he said, fiercely; “and mind, if you say a word about this it'll +be the worse for you.” + +“Do you think I've gone mad?” said the other. He took another look at +his victim and, turning away, danced fantastically along the road home. +The constable, making his way to a gas-lamp, began to inspect damages. + +They were worse even than he had thought, and, leaning against the +lamp-post, he sought in vain for an explanation that, in the absence of +a prisoner, would satisfy the inspector. A button which was hanging by a +thread fell tinkling on to the footpath, and he had just picked it up +and placed it in his pocket when a faint distant outcry broke upon his +ear. + +He turned and walked as rapidly as his condition would permit in the +direction of the noise. It became louder and more imperative, and cries +of “Police!” became distinctly audible. He quickened into a run, and +turning a corner beheld a little knot of people standing at the gate of +a large house. Other people only partially clad were hastening to-wards +them. The constable arrived out of breath. + +“Better late than never,” said the owner of the house, sarcastically. + +Mr. Evans, breathing painfully, supported himself with his hand on the +fence. + +“They went that way, but I suppose you didn't see them,” continued the +householder. “Halloa!” he added, as somebody opened the hall door and +the constable's damaged condition became visible in the gas-light. “Are +you hurt?” + +“Yes,” said Mr. Evans, who was trying hard to think clearly. To gain +time he blew a loud call on his whistle. + +“The rascals!” continued the other. “I think I should know the big chap +with a beard again, but the others were too quick for me.” + +Mr. Evans blew his whistle again—thoughtfully. The opportunity seemed +too good to lose. + +“Did they get anything?” he inquired. + +“Not a thing,” said the owner, triumphantly. “I was disturbed just in +time.” + +The constable gave a slight gulp. “I saw the three running by the side +of the road,” he said, slowly. “Their behaviour seemed suspicious, so I +collared the big one, but they set on me like wild cats. They had me +down three times; the last time I laid my head open against the kerb, +and when I came to my senses again they had gone.” + +He took off his battered helmet with a flourish and, amid a murmur of +sympathy, displayed a nasty cut on his head. A sergeant and a constable, +both running, appeared round the corner and made towards' them. + +“Get back to the station and make your report,” said the former, as +Constable Evans, in a somewhat defiant voice, repeated his story. +“You've done your best; I can see that.” + +Mr. Evans, enacting to perfection the part of a wounded hero, limped +painfully off, praying devoutly as he went that the criminals might make +good their escape. If not, he reflected that the word of a policeman was +at least equal to that of three burglars. + +He repeated his story at the station, and, after having his head +dressed, was sent home and advised to keep himself quiet for a day or +two. He was off duty for four days, and, the Tunwich Gazette having +devoted a column to the affair, headed “A Gallant Constable,” modestly +secluded himself from the public gaze for the whole of that time. + +To Mr. Grummit, who had read the article in question until he could have +repeated it backwards, this modesty was particularly trying. The +constable's yard was deserted and the front door ever closed. Once Mr. +Grummit even went so far as to tap with his nails on the front parlour +window, and the only response was the sudden lowering of the blind. It +was not until a week afterwards that his eyes were gladdened by a sight +of the constable sitting in his yard; and fearing that even then he +might escape him, he ran out on tip-toe and put his face over the fence +before the latter was aware of his presence. + +“Wot about that 'ere burglary?” he demanded in truculent tones. + +“Good evening, Grummit,” said the constable, with a patronizing air. + +“Wot about that burglary?” repeated Mr. Grummit, with a scowl. “I don't +believe you ever saw a burglar.” + +Mr. Evans rose and stretched himself gracefully. “You'd better run +indoors, my good man,” he said, slowly. + +“Telling all them lies about burglars,” continued the indignant Mr. +Grummit, producing his newspaper and waving it. “Why, I gave you that +black eye, I smashed your 'elmet, I cut your silly 'ead open, I——” + +“You've been drinking,” said the other, severely. + +“You mean to say I didn't?” demanded Mr. Grummit, ferociously. + +Mr. Evans came closer and eyed him steadily. “I don't know what you're +talking about,” he said, calmly. + +Mr. Grummit, about to speak, stopped appalled at such hardihood. + +“Of course, if you mean to say that you were one o' them burglars,” +continued the constable, “why, say it and I'll take you with pleasure. +Come to think of it, I did seem to remember one o' their voices.” + +Mr. Grummit, with his eyes fixed on the other's, backed a couple of +yards and breathed heavily. + +“About your height, too, he was,” mused the constable. “I hope for your +sake you haven't been saying to anybody else what you said to me just +now.” + +Mr. Grummit shook his head. “Not a word,” he faltered. + +“That's all right, then,” said Mr. Evans. “I shouldn't like to be hard +on a neighbour; not that we shall be neighbours much longer.” + +Mr. Grummit, feeling that a reply was expected of him, gave utterance to +a feeble “Oh!” + +“No,” said Mr. Evans, looking round disparagingly. “It ain't good enough +for us now; I was promoted to sergeant this morning. A sergeant can't +live in a common place like this.” + +Mr. Grummit, a prey to a sickening fear, drew near the fence again. “A— +a sergeant?” he stammered. + +Mr. Evans smiled and gazed carefully at a distant cloud. “For my bravery +with them burglars the other night, Grummit,” he said, modestly. “I +might have waited years if it hadn't been for them.” + +He nodded to the frantic Grummit and turned away; Mr. Grummit, without +any adieu at all, turned and crept back to the house. + + + + +BOB'S REDEMPTION + + + + +GRATITOODE!” said the night-watchman, with a hard laugh. “Hmf! Don't +talk to me about gratitoode; I've seen too much of it. If people wot +I've helped in my time 'ad only done arf their dooty—arf, mind you—I +should be riding in my carriage.” + +Forgetful of the limitations of soap-boxes he attempted to illustrate +his remark by lolling, and nearly went over backwards. Recovering +himself by an effort he gazed sternly across the river and smoked +fiercely. It was evident that he was brooding over an ill-used past. + +'Arry Thomson was one of them, he said, at last. For over six months I +wrote all 'is love-letters for him, 'e being an iggernerant sort of man +and only being able to do the kisses at the end, which he always +insisted on doing 'imself: being jealous. Only three weeks arter he was +married 'e come up to where I was standing one day and set about me +without saying a word. I was a single man at the time and I didn't +understand it. My idea was that he 'ad gone mad, and, being pretty +artful and always 'aving a horror of mad people, I let 'im chase me into +a police-station. Leastways, I would ha' let 'im, but he didn't come, +and I all but got fourteen days for being drunk and disorderly. + +Then there was Bill Clark. He 'ad been keeping comp'ny with a gal and +got tired of it, and to oblige 'im I went to her and told 'er he was a +married man with five children. Bill was as pleased as Punch at fust, +but as soon as she took up with another chap he came round to see me and +said as I'd ruined his life. We 'ad words about it—naturally—and I did +ruin it then to the extent of a couple o' ribs. I went to see 'im in the +horsepittle—place I've always been fond of—and the langwidge he used to +me was so bad that they sent for the Sister to 'ear it. + +That's on'y two out of dozens I could name. Arf the unpleasantnesses in +my life 'ave come out of doing kindnesses to people, and all the +gratitoode I've 'ad for it I could put in a pint-pot with a pint o' beer +already in it. + +The only case o' real gratitoode I ever heard of 'appened to a shipmate +o' mine—a young chap named Bob Evans. Coming home from Auckland in a +barque called the Dragon Fly he fell overboard, and another chap named +George Crofts, one o' the best swimmers I ever knew, went overboard +arter 'im and saved his life. + +We was hardly moving at the time, and the sea was like a duck pond, but +to 'ear Bob Evans talk you'd ha' thought that George Crofts was the +bravest-'arted chap that ever lived. He 'adn't liked him afore, same as +the rest of us, George being a sly, mean sort o' chap; but arter George +'ad saved his life 'e couldn't praise 'im enough. He said that so long +as he 'ad a crust George should share it, and wotever George asked 'im +he should have. + +The unfortnit part of it was that George took 'im at his word, and all +the rest of the v'y'ge he acted as though Bob belonged to 'im, and by +the time we got into the London river Bob couldn't call his soul 'is +own. He used to take a room when he was ashore and live very steady, as +'e was saving up to get married, and as soon as he found that out George +invited 'imself to stay with him. + +“It won't cost you a bit more,” he ses, “not if you work it properly.” + +Bob didn't work it properly, but George having saved his life, and never +letting 'im forget it, he didn't like to tell him so. He thought he'd +let 'im see gradual that he'd got to be careful because of 'is gal, and +the fust evening they was ashore 'e took 'im along with 'im there to +tea. + +Gerty Mitchell—that was the gal's name—'adn't heard of Bob's accident, +and when she did she gave a little scream, and putting 'er arms round +his neck, began to kiss 'im right in front of George and her mother. + +“You ought to give him one too,” ses Mrs. Mitchell, pointing to George. + +George wiped 'is mouth on the back of his 'and, but Gerty pretended not +to 'ear. + +“Fancy if you'd been drownded!” she ses, hugging Bob agin. + +“He was pretty near,” ses George, shaking his 'ead. “I'm a pore swimmer, +but I made up my mind either to save 'im or else go down to a watery +grave myself.” + +He wiped his mouth on the back of his 'and agin, but all the notice +Gerty took of it was to send her young brother Ted out for some beer. +Then they all 'ad supper together, and Mrs. Mitchell drank good luck to +George in a glass o' beer, and said she 'oped that 'er own boy would +grow up like him. “Let 'im grow up a good and brave man, that's all I +ask,” she ses. “I don't care about 'is looks.” + +“He might have both,” ses George, sharp-like. “Why not?” + +Mrs. Mitchell said she supposed he might, and then she cuffed young +Ted's ears for making a noise while 'e was eating, and then cuffed 'im +agin for saying that he'd finished 'is supper five minutes ago. + +George and Bob walked 'ome together, and all the way there George said +wot a pretty gal Gerty was and 'ow lucky it was for Bob that he 'adn't +been drownded. He went round to tea with 'im the next day to Mrs. +Mitchell's, and arter tea, when Bob and Gerty said they was going out to +spend the evening together, got 'imself asked too. + +They took a tram-car and went to a music-hall, and Bob paid for the +three of 'em. George never seemed to think of putting his 'and in his +pocket, and even arter the music-hall, when they all went into a shop +and 'ad stewed eels, he let Bob pay. + +As I said afore, Bob Evans was chock-full of gratefulness, and it seemed +only fair that he shouldn't grumble at spending a little over the man +wot 'ad risked 'is life to save his; but wot with keeping George at his +room, and paying for 'im every time they went out, he was spending a lot +more money than 'e could afford. + +“You're on'y young once, Bob,” George said to him when 'e made a remark +one arternoon as to the fast way his money was going, “and if it hadn't +ha' been for me you'd never 'ave lived to grow old.” + +Wot with spending the money and always 'aving George with them when they +went out, it wasn't long afore Bob and Gerty 'ad a quarrel. “I don't +like a pore-spirited man,” she ses. “Two's company and three's none, +and, besides, why can't he pay for 'imself? He's big enough. Why should +you spend your money on 'im? He never pays a farthing.” + +Bob explained that he couldn't say anything because 'e owed his life to +George, but 'e might as well 'ave talked to a lamp-post. The more he +argued the more angry Gerty got, and at last she ses, “Two's company and +three's none, and if you and me can't go out without George Crofts, then +me and 'im 'll go out with-out you.” + +She was as good as her word, too, and the next night, while Bob 'ad gone +out to get some 'bacca, she went off alone with George. It was ten +o'clock afore they came back agin, and Gerty's eyes were all shining and +'er cheeks as pink as roses. She shut 'er mother up like a concertina +the moment she began to find fault with 'er, and at supper she sat next +to George and laughed at everything 'e said. + +George and Bob walked all the way 'ome arter supper without saying a +word, but arter they got to their room George took a side-look at Bob, +and then he ses, suddenlike, “Look 'ere! I saved your life, didn't I?” + +“You did,” ses Bob, “and I thank you for it.” + +“I saved your life,” ses George agin, very solemn. “If it hadn't ha' +been for me you couldn't ha' married anybody.” + +“That's true,” ses Bob. + +“Me and Gerty 'ave been having a talk,” ses George, bending down to undo +his boots. “We've been getting on very well together; you can't 'elp +your feelings, and the long and the short of it is, the pore gal has +fallen in love with me.” + +Bob didn't say a word. + +“If you look at it this way it's fair enough,” ses George. “I gave you +your life and you give me your gal. We're quits now. You don't owe me +anything and I don't owe you anything. That's the way Gerty puts it, and +she told me to tell you so.” + +“If—if she don't want me I'm agreeable,” ses Bob, in a choking voice. +“We'll call it quits, and next time I tumble overboard I 'ope you won't +be handy.” + +He took Gerty's photygraph out of 'is box and handed it to George. +“You've got more right to it now than wot I 'ave,” he ses. “I shan't go +round there any more; I shall look out for a ship to-morrow.” + +George Crofts said that perhaps it was the best thing he could do, and +'e asked 'im in a offhand sort o' way 'ow long the room was paid up for. + +Mrs. Mitchell 'ad a few words to say about it next day, but Gerty told +'er to save 'er breath for walking upstairs. The on'y thing that George +didn't like when they went out was that young Ted was with them, but +Gerty said she preferred it till she knew 'im better; and she 'ad so +much to say about his noble behaviour in saving life that George gave +way. They went out looking at the shops, George thinking that that was +the cheapest way of spending an evening, and they were as happy as +possible till Gerty saw a brooch she liked so much in a window that he +couldn't get 'er away. + +“It is a beauty,” she ses. “I don't know when I've seen a brooch I liked +better. Look here! Let's all guess the price and then go in and see +who's right.” + +They 'ad their guesses, and then they went in and asked, and as soon as +Gerty found that it was only three-and-sixpence she began to feel in her +pocket for 'er purse, just like your wife does when you go out with 'er, +knowing all the time that it's on the mantelpiece with twopence-ha'penny +and a cough lozenge in it. + +“I must ha' left it at 'ome,” she ses, looking at George. + +“Just wot I've done,” ses George, arter patting 'is pockets. + +Gerty bit 'er lips and, for a minute or two, be civil to George she +could not. Then she gave a little smile and took 'is arm agin, and they +walked on talking and laughing till she turned round of a sudden and +asked a big chap as was passing wot 'e was shoving 'er for. + +“Shoving you?” ses he. “Wot do you think I want to shove you for?” + +“Don't you talk to me,” ses Gerty, firing up. “George, make 'im beg my +pardon.” + +“You ought to be more careful,” ses George, in a gentle sort o' way. + +“Make 'im beg my pardon,” ses Gerty, stamping 'er foot; “if he don't, +knock 'im down.” + +“Yes, knock 'im down,” ses the big man, taking hold o' George's cap and +rumpling his 'air. + +Pore George, who was never much good with his fists, hit 'im in the +chest, and the next moment he was on 'is back in the middle o' the road +wondering wot had 'appened to 'im. By the time 'e got up the other man +was arf a mile away; and young Ted stepped up and wiped 'im down with a +pocket-'andkerchief while Gerty explained to 'im 'ow she saw 'im slip on +a piece o' banana peel. + +“It's 'ard lines,” she ses; “but never mind, you frightened 'im away, +and I don't wonder at it. You do look terrible when you're angry, +George; I didn't know you.” + +She praised 'im all the way 'ome, and if it 'adn't been for his mouth +and nose George would 'ave enjoyed it more than 'e did. She told 'er +mother how 'e had flown at a big man wot 'ad insulted her, and Mrs. +Mitchell shook her 'ead at 'im and said his bold spirit would lead 'im +into trouble afore he 'ad done. + +They didn't seem to be able to make enough of 'im, and next day when he +went round Gerty was so upset at the sight of 'is bruises that he +thought she was going to cry. When he had 'ad his tea she gave 'im a +cigar she had bought for 'im herself, and when he 'ad finished smoking +it she smiled at him, and said that she was going to take 'im out for a +pleasant evening to try and make up to 'im for wot he 'ad suffered for +'er. + +“We're all going to stand treat to each other,” she ses. “Bob always +would insist on paying for everything, but I like to feel a bit +independent. Give and take—that's the way I like to do things.” + +“There's nothing like being independent,” ses George. “Bob ought to ha' +known that.” + +“I'm sure it's the best plan,” ses Gerty. “Now, get your 'at on. We're +going to a theayter, and Ted shall pay the 'bus fares.” + +George wanted to ask about the theayter, but 'e didn't like to, and +arter Gerty was dressed they went out and Ted paid the 'bus fares like a +man. + +“Here you are,” ses Gerty, as the 'bus stopped outside the theayter. +“Hurry up and get the tickets, George; ask for three upper circles.” + +She bustled George up to the pay place, and as soon as she 'ad picked +out the seats she grabbed 'old of the tickets and told George to make +haste. + +“Twelve shillings it is,” ses the man, as George put down arf a crown. + +“Twelve?” ses George, beginning to stammer. “Twelve? Twelve? Twel—?” + +“Twelve shillings,” ses the man; “three upper circles you've 'ad.” + +George was going to fetch Gerty back and 'ave cheaper seats, but she 'ad +gone inside with young Ted, and at last, arter making an awful fuss, he +paid the rest o' the money and rushed in arter her, arf crazy at the +idea o' spending so much money. + +“Make 'aste,” ses Gerty, afore he could say anything; “the band 'as just +begun.” + +She started running upstairs, and she was so excited that, when they got +their seats and George started complaining about the price, she didn't +pay any attention to wot he was saying, but kept pointing out ladies' +dresses to 'im in w'ispers and wondering wot they 'ad paid for them. +George gave it up at last, and then he sat wondering whether he 'ad done +right arter all in taking Bob's gal away from him. + +Gerty enjoyed it very much, but when the curtain came down after the +first act she leaned back in her chair and looked up at George and said +she felt faint and thought she'd like to 'ave an ice-cream. “And you +'ave one too, dear,” she ses, when young Ted 'ad got up and beckoned to +the gal, “and Ted 'ud like one too, I'm sure.” + +She put her 'ead on George's shoulder and looked up at 'im. Then she put +her 'and on his and stroked it, and George, reckoning that arter all +ice-creams were on'y a ha'penny or at the most a penny each, altered 'is +mind about not spending any more money and ordered three. + +The way he carried on when the gal said they was three shillings was +alarming. At fust 'e thought she was 'aving a joke with 'im, and it took +another gal and the fireman and an old gentleman wot was sitting behind +'im to persuade 'im different. He was so upset that 'e couldn't eat his +arter paying for it, and Ted and Gerty had to finish it for 'im. + +“They're expensive, but they're worth the money,” ses Gerty. “You are +good to me, George. I could go on eating 'em all night, but you mustn't +fling your money away like this always.” + +“I'll see to that,” ses George, very bitter. + +“I thought we was going to stand treat to each other? That was the idea, +I understood.” + +“So we are,” ses Gerty. “Ted stood the 'bus fares, didn't he?” + +“He did,” ses George, “wot there was of 'em; but wot about you?” + +“Me?” ses Gerty, drawing her 'ead back and staring at 'im. “Why, 'ave +you forgot that cigar already, George?” + +George opened 'is mouth, but 'e couldn't speak a word. He sat looking at +'er and making a gasping noise in 'is throat, and fortunately just as 'e +got 'is voice back the curtain went up agin, and everybody said, “H'sh!” + +He couldn't enjoy the play at all, 'e was so upset, and he began to see +more than ever 'ow wrong he 'ad been in taking Bob's gal away from 'im. +He walked downstairs into the street like a man in a dream, with Gerty +sticking to 'is arm and young Ted treading on 'is heels behind. + +“Now, you mustn't waste any more money, George,” ses Gerty, when they +got outside. “We'll walk 'ome.” + +George 'ad got arf a mind to say something about a 'bus, but he +remembered in time that very likely young Ted hadn't got any more money. +Then Gerty said she knew a short cut, and she took them, walking along +little, dark, narrow streets and places, until at last, just as George +thought they must be pretty near 'ome, she began to dab her eyes with +'er pocket-'andkerchief and say she'd lost 'er way. + +“You two go 'ome and leave me,” she ses, arf crying. “I can't walk +another step.” + +“Where are we?” ses George, looking round. + +“I don't know,” ses Gerty. “I couldn't tell you if you paid me. I must +'ave taken a wrong turning. Oh, hurrah! Here's a cab!” + +Afore George could stop 'er she held up 'er umbrella, and a 'ansom cab, +with bells on its horse, crossed the road and pulled up in front of 'em. +Ted nipped in first and Gerty followed 'im. + +“Tell 'im the address, dear, and make 'aste and get in,” ses Gerty. + +George told the cabman, and then he got in and sat on Ted's knee, partly +on Gerty's umbrella, and mostly on nothing. + +“You are good to me, George,” ses Gerty, touching the back of 'is neck +with the brim of her hat. “It ain't often I get a ride in a cab. All the +time I was keeping company with Bob we never 'ad one once. I only wish +I'd got the money to pay for it.” + +George, who was going to ask a question, stopped 'imself, and then he +kept striking matches and trying to read all about cab fares on a bill +in front of 'im. + +“'Ow are we to know 'ow many miles it is?” he ses, at last. + +“I don't know,” ses Gerty; “leave it to the cabman. It's his bisness, +ain't it? And if 'e don't know he must suffer for it.” + +There was hardly a soul in Gerty's road when they got there, but afore +George 'ad settled with the cabman there was a policeman moving the +crowd on and arf the winders in the road up. By the time George had paid +'im and the cabman 'ad told him wot 'e looked like, Gerty and Ted 'ad +disappeared indoors, all the lights was out, and, in a state o' mind +that won't bear thinking of, George walked 'ome to his lodging. + +Bob was asleep when he got there, but 'e woke 'im up and told 'im about +it, and then arter a time he said that he thought Bob ought to pay arf +because he 'ad saved 'is life. + +“Cert'nly not,” ses Bob. “We're quits now; that was the arrangement. I +only wish it was me spending the money on her; I shouldn't grumble.” + +George didn't get a wink o' sleep all night for thinking of the money he +'ad spent, and next day when he went round he 'ad almost made up 'is +mind to tell Bob that if 'e liked to pay up the money he could 'ave +Gerty back; but she looked so pretty, and praised 'im up so much for 'is +generosity, that he began to think better of it. One thing 'e was +determined on, and that was never to spend money like that agin for +fifty Gertys. + +There was a very sensible man there that evening that George liked very +much. His name was Uncle Joe, and when Gerty was praising George to 'is +face for the money he 'ad been spending, Uncle Joe, instead o' looking +pleased, shook his 'ead over it. + +“Young people will be young people, I know,” he ses, “but still I don't +approve of extravagance. Bob Evans would never 'ave spent all that money +over you.” + +“Bob Evans ain't everybody,” ses Mrs. Mitchell, standing up for Gerty. + +“He was steady, anyway,” ses Uncle Joe. “Besides, Gerty ought not to ha' +let Mr. Crofts spend his money like that. She could ha' prevented it if +she'd ha' put 'er foot down and insisted on it.” + +He was so solemn about it that everybody began to feel a bit upset, and +Gerty borrowed Ted's pocket-'andkerchief, and then wiped 'er eyes on the +cuff of her dress instead. + +“Well, well,” ses Uncle Joe; “I didn't mean to be 'ard, but don't do it +no more. You are young people, and can't afford it.” + +“We must 'ave a little pleasure sometimes,” ses Gerty. + +“Yes, I know,” ses Uncle Joe; “but there's moderation in everything. +Look 'ere, it's time somebody paid for Mr. Crofts. To-morrow's Saturday, +and, if you like, I'll take you all to the Crystal Palace.” + +Gerty jumped up off of 'er chair and kissed 'im, while Mrs. Mitchell +said she knew 'is bark was worse than 'is bite, and asked 'im who was +wasting his money now? + +“You meet me at London Bridge Station at two o'clock,” ses Uncle Joe, +getting up to go. “It ain't extravagance for a man as can afford it.” + +He shook 'ands with George Crofts and went, and, arter George 'ad stayed +long enough to hear a lot o' things about Uncle Joe which made 'im think +they'd get on very well together, he went off too. + +They all turned up very early the next arternoon, and Gerty was dressed +so nice that George couldn't take his eyes off of her. Besides her there +was Mrs. Mitchell and Ted and a friend of 'is named Charlie Smith. + +They waited some time, but Uncle Joe didn't turn up, and they all got +looking at the clock and talking about it, and 'oping he wouldn't make +'em miss the train. + +“Here he comes!” ses Ted, at last. + +Uncle Joe came rushing in, puffing and blowing as though he'd bust. +“Take 'em on by this train, will you?” he ses, catching 'old o' George +by the arm. “I've just been stopped by a bit o' business I must do, and +I'll come on by the next, or as soon arter as I can.” + +He rushed off again, puffing and blowing his 'ardest, in such a hurry +that he forgot to give George the money for the tickets. However, George +borrowed a pencil of Mrs. Mitchell in the train, and put down on paper +'ow much they cost, and Mrs. Mitchell said if George didn't like to +remind 'im she would. + +They left young Ted and Charlie to stay near the station when they got +to the Palace, Uncle Joe 'aving forgotten to say where he'd meet 'em, +but train arter train came in without 'im, and at last the two boys gave +it up. + +“We're sure to run across 'im sooner or later,” ses Gerty. “Let's 'ave +something to eat; I'm so hungry.” + +George said something about buns and milk, but Gerty took 'im up sharp. +“Buns and milk?” she ses. “Why, uncle would never forgive us if we +spoilt his treat like that.” + +She walked into a refreshment place and they 'ad cold meat and bread and +pickles and beer and tarts and cheese, till even young Ted said he'd 'ad +enough, but still they couldn't see any signs of Uncle Joe. They went on +to the roundabouts to look for 'im, and then into all sorts o' shows at +sixpence a head, but still there was no signs of 'im, and George had 'ad +to start on a fresh bit o' paper to put down wot he'd spent. + +“I suppose he must ha' been detained on important business,” ses Gerty, +at last. + +“Unless it's one of 'is jokes,” ses Mrs. Mitchell, shaking her 'ead. +“You know wot your uncle is, Gerty.” + +“There now, I never thought o' that,” ses Gerty, with a start; “p'r'aps +it is.” + +“Joke?” ses George, choking and staring from one to the other. + +“I was wondering where he'd get the money from,” ses Mrs. Mitchell to +Gerty. “I see it all now; I never see such a man for a bit o' fun in all +my born days. And the solemn way he went on last night, too. Why, he +must ha' been laughing in 'is sleeve all the time. It's as good as a +play.” + +“Look here!” ses George, 'ardly able to speak; “do you mean to tell me +he never meant to come?” + +“I'm afraid not,” ses Mrs. Mitchell, “knowing wot he is. But don't you +worry; I'll give him a bit o' my mind when I see 'im.” + +George Crofts felt as though he'd burst, and then 'e got his breath, and +the things 'e said about Uncle Joe was so awful that Mrs. Mitchell told +the boys to go away. + +“How dare you talk of my uncle like that?” ses Gerty, firing up. + +“You forget yourself, George,” ses Mrs. Mitchell. “You'll like 'im when +you get to know 'im better.” + +“Don't you call me George,” ses George Crofts, turning on 'er. “I've +been done, that's wot I've been. I 'ad fourteen pounds when I was paid +off, and it's melting like butter.” + +“Well, we've enjoyed ourselves,” ses Gerty, “and that's what money was +given us for. I'm sure those two boys 'ave had a splendid time, thanks +to you. Don't go and spoil all by a little bit o' temper.” + +“Temper!” ses George, turning on her. “I've done with you, I wouldn't +marry you if you was the on'y gal in the world. I wouldn't marry you if +you paid me.” + +“Oh, indeed!” ses Gerty; “but if you think you can get out of it like +that you're mistaken. I've lost my young man through you, and I'm not +going to lose you too. I'll send my two big cousins round to see you +to-morrow.” + +“They won't put up with no nonsense, I can tell you,” ses Mrs. Mitchell. + +She called the boys to her, and then she and Gerty, arter holding their +'eads very high and staring at George, went off and left 'im alone. He +went straight off 'ome, counting 'is money all the way and trying to +make it more, and, arter telling Bob 'ow he'd been treated, and trying +hard to get 'im to go shares in his losses, packed up his things and +cleared out, all boiling over with temper. + +Bob was so dazed he couldn't make head or tail out of it, but 'e went +round to see Gerty the first thing next morning, and she explained +things to him. + +“I don't know when I've enjoyed myself so much,” she ses, wiping her +eyes, “but I've had enough gadding about for once, and if you come round +this evening we'll have a nice quiet time together looking at the +furniture shops.” + + + + +OVER THE SIDE + + + + +Of all classes of men, those who follow the sea are probably the most +prone to superstition. Afloat upon the black waste of waters, at the +mercy of wind and sea, with vast depths and strange creatures below +them, a belief in the supernatural is easier than ashore, under the +cheerful gas-lamps. Strange stories of the sea are plentiful, and an +incident which happened within my own experience has made me somewhat +chary of dubbing a man fool or coward because he has encountered +something he cannot explain. There are stories of the supernatural with +prosaic sequels; there are others to which the sequel has never been +published. + +I was fifteen years old at the time, and as my father, who had a strong +objection to the sea, would not apprentice me to it, I shipped before +the mast on a sturdy little brig called the Endeavour, bound for Riga. +She was a small craft, but the skipper was as fine a seaman as one could +wish for, and, in fair weather, an easy man to sail under. Most boys +have a rough time of it when they first go to sea, but, with a strong +sense of what was good for me, I had attached myself to a brawny, +good-natured infant, named Bill Smith, and it was soon understood that +whoever hit me struck Bill by proxy. Not that the crew were particularly +brutal, but a sound cuffing occasionally is held by most seamen to be +beneficial to a lad's health and morals. The only really spiteful fellow +among them was a man named Jem Dadd. He was a morose, sallow-looking +man, of about forty, with a strong taste for the supernatural, and a +stronger taste still for frightening his fellows with it. I have seen +Bill almost afraid to go on deck of a night for his trick at the wheel, +after a few of his reminiscences. Rats were a favourite topic with him, +and he would never allow one to be killed if he could help it, for he +claimed for them that they were the souls of drowned sailors, hence +their love of ships and their habit of leaving them when they became +unseaworthy. He was a firm believer in the transmigration of souls, some +idea of which he had, no doubt, picked up in Eastern ports, and gave his +shivering auditors to understand that his arrangements for his own +immediate future were already perfected. + +We were six or seven days out when a strange thing happened. Dadd had +the second watch one night, and Bill was to relieve him. They were not +very strict aboard the brig in fair weather, and when a man's time was +up he just made the wheel fast, and, running for'ard, shouted down the +fo'c's'le. On this night I happened to awake suddenly, in time to see +Bill slip out of his bunk and stand by me, rubbing his red eyelids with +his knuckles. + +“Dadd's giving me a long time,” he whispered, seeing that I was awake; +“it's a whole hour after his time.” + +He pattered up on deck, and I was just turning over, thankful that I was +too young to have a watch to keep, when he came softly down again, and, +taking me by the shoulders, shook me roughly. + +“Jack,” he whispered. “Jack.” + +I raised myself on my elbows, and, in the light of the smoking lamp, saw +that he was shaking all over. + +“Come on deck,” he said, thickly. + +I put on my clothes, and followed him quietly to the sweet, cool air +above. It was a beautiful clear night, but, from his manner, I looked +nervously around for some cause of alarm. I saw nothing. The deck was +deserted, except for the solitary figure at the wheel. + +“Look at him,” whispered Bill, bending a contorted face to mine. + +I walked aft a few steps, and Bill followed slowly. Then I saw that Jem +Dadd was leaning forward clumsily on the wheel, with his hands clenched +on the spokes. + +“He's asleep,” said I, stopping short. + +Bill breathed hard. “He's in a queer sleep,” said he; “kind o' trance +more like. Go closer.” + +I took fast hold of Bill's sleeve, and we both went. The light of the +stars was sufficient to show that Dadd's face was very white, and that +his dim, black eyes were wide open, and staring in a very strange and +dreadful manner straight before him. + +“Dadd,” said I, softly, “Dadd!” + +There was no reply, and, with a view of arousing him, I tapped one +sinewy hand as it gripped the wheel, and even tried to loosen it. + +He remained immovable, and, suddenly with a great cry, my courage +deserted me, and Bill and I fairly bolted down into the cabin and woke +the skipper. + +Then we saw how it was with Jem, and two strong seamen forcibly loosened +the grip of those rigid fingers, and, laying him on the deck, covered +him with a piece of canvas. The rest of the night two men stayed at the +wheel, and, gazing fearfully at the outline of the canvas, longed for +dawn. + +It came at last, and, breakfast over, the body was sewn up in canvas, +and the skipper held a short service compiled from a Bible which +belonged to the mate, and what he remembered of the Burial Service +proper. Then the corpse went overboard with a splash, and the men, after +standing awkwardly together for a few minutes, slowly dispersed to their +duties. + +For the rest of that day we were all very quiet and restrained; pity for +the dead man being mingled with a dread of taking the wheel when night +came. + +“The wheel's haunted,” said the cook, solemnly; “mark my words, there's +more of you will be took the same way Dadd was.” + +The cook, like myself, had no watch to keep. + +The men bore up pretty well until night came on again, and then they +unanimously resolved to have a double watch. The cook, sorely against +his will, was impressed into the service, and I, glad to oblige my +patron, agreed to stay up with Bill. + +Some of the pleasure had vanished by the time night came, and I seemed +only just to have closed my eyes when Bill came, and, with a rough shake +or two, informed me that the time had come. Any hope that I might have +had of escaping the ordeal was at once dispelled by his expectant +demeanour, and the helpful way in which he assisted me with my clothes, +and, yawning terribly, I followed him on deck. + +The night was not so clear as the preceding one, and the air was chilly, +with a little moisture in it. I buttoned up my jacket, and thrust my +hands in my pockets. + +“Everything quiet?” asked Bill as he stepped up and took the wheel. + +“Ay, ay,” said Roberts, “quiet as the grave,” and, followed by his +willing mate, he went below. + +I sat on the deck by Bill's side as, with a light touch on the wheel, he +kept the brig to her course. It was weary work sitting there, doing +nothing, and thinking of the warm berth below, and I believe that I +should have fallen asleep, but that my watchful companion stirred me +with his foot whenever he saw me nodding. + +I suppose I must have sat there, shivering and yawning, for about an +hour, when, tired of inactivity, I got up and went and leaned over the +side of the vessel. The sound of the water gurgling and lapping by was +so soothing that I began to doze. + +I was recalled to my senses by a smothered cry from Bill, and, running +to him, I found him staring to port in an intense and uncomfortable +fashion. At my approach, he took one hand from the wheel, and gripped my +arm so tightly that I was like to have screamed with the pain of it. + +“Jack,” said he, in a shaky voice, “while you was away something popped +its head up, and looked over the ship's side.” + +“You've been dreaming,” said I, in a voice which was a very fair +imitation of Bill's own. + +“Dreaming,” repeated Bill, “dreaming! Ah, look there!” + +He pointed with outstretched finger, and my heart seemed to stop beating +as I saw a man's head appear above the side. For a brief space it peered +at us in silence, and then a dark figure sprang like a cat on to the +deck, and stood crouching a short distance away. + +A mist came before my eyes, and my tongue failed me, but Bill let off a +roar, such as I have never heard before or since. It was answered from +below, both aft and for'ard, and the men came running up on deck just as +they left their beds. + +“What's up?” shouted the skipper, glancing aloft. + +For answer, Bill pointed to the intruder, and the men, who had just +caught sight of him, came up and formed a compact knot by the wheel. + +“Come over the side, it did,” panted Bill, “come over like a ghost out +of the sea.” + +The skipper took one of the small lamps from the binnacle, and, holding +it aloft, walked boldly up to the cause of alarm. In the little patch of +light we saw a ghastly black-bearded man, dripping with water, regarding +us with unwinking eyes, which glowed red in the light of the lamp. + +“Where did you come from?” asked the skipper. + +The figure shook its head. + +“Where did you come from?” he repeated, walking up, and laying his hand +on the other's shoulder. + +Then the intruder spoke, but in a strange fashion and in strange words. +We leaned forward to listen, but, even when he repeated them, we could +make nothing of them. + +“He's a furriner,” said Roberts. + +“Blest if I've ever 'eard the lingo afore,” said Bill. “Does anybody +rekernize it?” + +Nobody did, and the skipper, after another attempt, gave it up, and, +falling back upon the universal language of signs, pointed first to the +man and then to the sea. The other understood him, and, in a heavy, +slovenly fashion, portrayed a man drifting in an open boat, and +clutching and clambering up the side of a passing ship. As his meaning +dawned upon us, we rushed to the stern, and, leaning over, peered into +the gloom, but the night was dark, and we saw nothing. + +“Well,” said the skipper, turning to Bill, with a mighty yawn, “take him +below, and give him some grub, and the next time a gentleman calls on +you, don't make such a confounded row about it.” + +He went below, followed by the mate, and after some slight hesitation, +Roberts stepped up to the intruder, and signed to him to follow. He came +stolidly enough, leaving a trail of water on the deck, and, after +changing into the dry things we gave him, fell to, but without much +appearance of hunger, upon some salt beef and biscuits, regarding us +between bites with black, lack-lustre eyes. + +“He seems as though he's a-walking in his sleep,” said the cook. + +“He ain't very hungry,” said one of the men; “he seems to mumble his +food.” + +“Hungry!” repeated Bill, who had just left the wheel. “Course he ain't +famished. He had his tea last night.” + +The men stared at him in bewilderment. + +“Don't you see?” said Bill, still in a hoarse whisper; “ain't you ever +seen them eyes afore? Don't you know what he used to say about dying? +It's Jem Dadd come back to us. Jem Dadd got another man's body, as he +always said he would.” + +“Rot!” said Roberts, trying to speak bravely, but he got up, and, with +the others, huddled together at the end of the fo'c's'le, and stared in +a bewildered fashion at the sodden face and short, squat figure of our +visitor. For his part, having finished his meal, he pushed his plate +from him, and, leaning back on the locker, looked at the empty bunks. + +Roberts caught his eye, and, with a nod and a wave of his hand, +indicated the bunks. The fellow rose from the locker, and, amid a +breathless silence, climbed into one of them—Jem Dadd's! + +He slept in the dead sailor's bed that night, the only man in the +fo'c's'le who did sleep properly, and turned out heavily and lumpishly +in the morning for breakfast. + +The skipper had him on deck after the meal, but could make nothing of +him. To all his questions he replied in the strange tongue of the night +before, and, though our fellows had been to many ports, and knew a word +or two of several languages, none of them recognized it. The skipper +gave it up at last, and, left to himself, he stared about him for some +time, regardless of our interest in his movements, and then, leaning +heavily against the side of the ship, stayed there so long that we +thought he must have fallen asleep. + +“He's half-dead now!” whispered Roberts. + +“Hush!” said Bill, “mebbe he's been in the water a week or two, and +can't quite make it out. See how he's looking at it now.” + +He stayed on deck all day in the sun, but, as night came on, returned to +the warmth of the fo'c's'le. The food we gave him remained untouched, +and he took little or no notice of us, though I fancied that he saw the +fear we had of him. He slept again in the dead man's bunk, and when +morning came still lay there. + +Until dinner-time, nobody interfered with him, and then Roberts, pushed +forward by the others, approached him with some food. He motioned, it +away with a dirty, bloated hand, and, making signs for water, drank it +eagerly. + +For two days he stayed there quietly, the black eyes always open, the +stubby fingers always on the move. On the third morning Bill, who had +conquered his fear sufficiently to give him water occasionally, called +softly to us. + +“Come and look at him,” said he. “What's the matter with him?” + +“He's dying!” said the cook, with a shudder. + +“He can't be going to die yet!” said Bill, blankly. + +As he spoke the man's eyes seemed to get softer and more life-like, and +he looked at us piteously and helplessly. From face to face he gazed in +mute inquiry, and then, striking his chest feebly with his fist, uttered +two words. + +We looked at each other blankly, and he repeated them eagerly, and again +touched his chest. + +“It's his name,” said the cook, and we all repeated them. + +He smiled in an exhausted fashion, and then, rallying his energies, held +up a forefinger; as we stared at this new riddle, he lowered it, and +held up all four fingers, doubled. + +“Come away,” quavered the cook; “he's putting a spell on us.” + +We drew back at that, and back farther still, as he repeated the +motions. Then Bill's face cleared suddenly, and he stepped towards him. + +“He means his wife and younkers!” he shouted eagerly. “This ain't no Jem +Dadd!” + +It was good then to see how our fellows drew round the dying sailor, and +strove to cheer him. Bill, to show he understood the finger business, +nodded cheerily, and held his hand at four different heights from the +floor. The last was very low, so low that the man set his lips together, +and strove to turn his heavy head from us. + +“Poor devil!” said Bill, “he wants us to tell his wife and children +what's become of him. He must ha' been dying when he come aboard. What +was his name, again?” + +But the name was not easy to English lips, and we had already forgotten +it. + +“Ask him again,” said the cook, “and write it down. Who's got a pen?” + +He went to look for one as Bill turned to the sailor to get him to +repeat it. Then he turned round again, and eyed us blankly, for, by this +time, the owner had himself forgotten it. + + + + +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. + +“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. + + + + +THE TEMPTATION OF SAMUEL BURGE + + + + +Mr. Higgs, jeweller, sat in the small parlour behind his shop, gazing +hungrily at a supper-table which had been laid some time before. It was +a quarter to ten by the small town clock on the mantelpiece, and the +jeweller rubbing his hands over the fire tried in vain to remember what +etiquette had to say about starting a meal before the arrival of an +expected guest. + +“He must be coming by the last train after all, sir,” said the +housekeeper entering the room and glancing at the clock. “I suppose +these London gentlemen keep such late hours they don't understand us +country folk wanting to get to bed in decent time. You must be wanting +your supper, sir.” + +Mr. Higgs sighed. “I shall be glad of my supper,” he said slowly, “but I +dare say our friend is hungrier still. Travelling is hungry work.” + +“Perhaps he is thinking over his words for the seventh day,” said the +housekeeper solemnly. “Forgetting hunger and thirst and all our poor +earthly feelings in the blessedness of his work.” + +“Perhaps so,” assented the other, whose own earthly feelings were +particularly strong just at that moment. + +“Brother Simpson used to forget all about meal-times when he stayed +here,” said the housekeeper, clasping her hands. “He used to sit by the +window with his eyes half-closed and shake his head at the smell from +the kitchen and call it flesh-pots of Egypt. He said that if it wasn't +for keeping up his strength for the work, luscious bread and fair water +was all he wanted. I expect Brother Burge will be a similar sort of +man.” + +“Brother Clark wrote and told me that he only lives for the work,” said +the jeweller, with another glance at the clock. “The chapel at +Clerkenwell is crowded to hear him. It's a blessed favour and privilege +to have such a selected instrument staying in the house. I'm curious to +see him; from what Brother Clark said I rather fancy that he was a +little bit wild in his younger days.” + +“Hallelujah!” exclaimed the housekeeper with fervour. “I mean to think +as he's seen the error of his ways,” she added sharply, as her master +looked up. + +“There he is,” said the latter, as the bell rang. + +The housekeeper went to the side-door, and drawing back the bolt +admitted the gentleman whose preaching had done so much for the small +but select sect known as the Seventh Day Primitive Apostles. She came +back into the room followed by a tall stout man, whose upper lip and +short stubby beard streaked with grey seemed a poor match for the beady +eyes which lurked behind a pair of clumsy spectacles. + +“Brother Samuel Burge?” inquired the jeweller, rising. + +The visitor nodded, and regarding him with a smile charged with +fraternal love, took his hand in a huge grip and shook it fervently. + +“I am glad to see you, Brother Higgs,” he said, regarding him fondly. +“Oh, 'ow my eyes have yearned to be set upon you! Oh, 'ow my ears 'ave +longed to hearken unto the words of your voice!” + +He breathed thickly, and taking a seat sat with his hands upon his +knees, looking at a fine piece of cold beef which the housekeeper had +just placed upon the table. + +“Is Brother Clark well?” inquired the jeweller, placing a chair for him +at the table and taking up his carving-knife. + +“Dear Brother Clark is in excellent 'ealth, I thank you,” said the +other, taking the proffered chair. “Oh! what a man he is; what a +instrument for good. Always stretching out them blessed hands of 'is to +make one of the fallen a Seventh Day Primitive.” + +“And success attends his efforts?” said the jeweller. + +“Success, Brother!” repeated Mr. Burge, eating rapidly and gesticulating +with his knife. “Success ain't no name for it. Why, since this day last +week he has saved three pick-pockets, two Salvationists, one bigamist +and a Roman Catholic.” + +Brother Higgs murmured his admiration. “You are also a power for good,” +he said wistfully. “Brother Clark tells me in his letter that your +exhortations have been abundantly blessed.” + +Mr. Burge shook his head. “A lot of it falls by the wayside,” he said +modestly, “but some of it is an eye-opener to them as don't entirely +shut their ears. Only the day before yesterday I 'ad two jemmies and a +dark lantern sent me with a letter saying as 'ow the owner had no +further use for 'em.” + +The jeweller's eyes glistened with admiration not quite untinged with +envy. “Have you expounded the Word for long?” he inquired. + +“Six months,” replied the other. “It come to me quite natural—I was on +the penitent bench on the Saturday, and the Wednesday afterwards I +preached as good a sermon as ever I've preached in my life. Brother +Clark said it took 'is breath away.” + +“And he's a judge too,” said the admiring jeweller. + +“Now,” continued Brother Burge, helping himself plentifully to pickled +walnuts. “Now there ain't standing room in our Bethel when I'm +expounding. People come to hear me from all parts—old and young—rich and +poor—and the Apostles that don't come early 'ave to stand outside and +catch the crumbs I throw 'em through the winders.” + +“It is enough,” sighed Brother Higgs, whose own audience was frequently +content to be on the wrong side of the window, “it is enough to make a +man vain.” + +“I struggle against it, Brother,” said Mr. Burge, passing his cup up for +some more tea. “I fight against it hard, but once the Evil One was +almost too much for me; and in spite of myself, and knowing besides that +it was a plot of 'is, I nearly felt uplifted.” + +Brother Higgs, passing him some more beef, pressed for details. + +“He sent me two policemen,” replied the other, scowling darkly at the +meanness of the trick. “One I might 'ave stood, but two come to being +pretty near too much for me. They sat under me while I gave 'em the Word +'ot and strong, and the feeling I had standing up there and telling +policemen what they ought to do I shall never forget.” + +“But why should policemen make you proud?” asked his puzzled listener. + +Mr. Burge looked puzzled in his turn. “Why, hasn't Brother Clark told +you about me?” he inquired. + +Mr. Higgs shook his head. “He sort of—suggested that—that you had been a +little bit wild before you came to us,” he murmured apologetically. + +“A—little—bit—wild?” repeated Brother Burge, in horrified accents. “ME? +a little bit wild?” + +“No doubt he exaggerated a little,” said the jeweller hurriedly. “Being +such a good man himself, no doubt things would seem wild to him that +wouldn't to us—to me, I mean.” + +“A little bit wild,” said his visitor again. “Sam Burge, the Converted +Burglar, a little bit wild. Well, well!” + +“Converted what?” shouted the jeweller, half-rising from his chair. + +“Burglar,” said the other shortly. “Why, I should think I know more +about the inside o' gaols than anybody in England; I've pretty near +killed three policemen, besides breaking a gent's leg and throwing a +footman out of window, and then Brother Clark goes and says I've been a +little bit wild. I wonder what he would 'ave?” + +“But you—you've quite reformed now?” said the jeweller, resuming his +seat and making a great effort to hide his consternation. + +“I 'ope so,” said Mr. Burge, with alarming humility; “but it's an +uncertain world, and far be it from me to boast. That's why I've come +here.” + +Mr. Higgs, only half-comprehending, sat back gasping. + +“If I can stand this,” pursued Brother Burge, gesticulating wildly in +the direction of the shop, “if I can stand being here with all these +'ere pretty little things to be 'ad for the trouble of picking of 'em +up, I can stand anything. Tempt me, I says to Brother Clark. Put me in +the way o' temptation, I says. Let me see whether the Evil One or me is +the strongest; let me 'ave a good old up and down with the Powers o' +Darkness, and see who wins.” + +Mr. Higgs, gripping the edge of the table with both hands, gazed at this +new Michael in speechless consternation. + +“I think I see his face now,” said Brother Burge, with tender +enthusiasm. “All in a glow it was, and he patted me on the shoulder and +says, 'I'll send you on a week's mission to Duncombe,' he says, and 'you +shall stop with Brother Higgs who 'as a shop full o' cunning wrought +vanities in silver and gold.'” + +“But suppose,” said the jeweller, finding his voice by a great effort, +“suppose victory is not given unto you.” + +“It won't make any difference,” replied his visitor. “Brother Clark +promised that it shouldn't. 'If you fall, Brother,' he says, 'we'll help +you up again. When you are tired of sin come back to us—there's always a +welcome.'” + +“But—” began the dismayed jeweller. + +“We can only do our best,” said Brother Burge, “the rest we must leave. +I 'ave girded my loins for the fray, and taken much spiritual sustenance +on the way down from this little hymn-book.” + +Mr. Higgs paid no heed. He sat marvelling over the fatuousness of +Brother Clark and trying to think of ways and means out of the dilemma +into which that gentleman's perverted enthusiasm had placed him. He +wondered whether it would be possible to induce Brother Burge to sleep +elsewhere by offering to bear his hotel expenses, and at last, after +some hesitation, broached the subject. + +“What!” exclaimed the other, pushing his plate from him and regarding +him with great severity. “Go and sleep at a hotel? After Brother Clark +has been and took all this trouble? Why, I wouldn't think of doing such +a thing.” + +“Brother Clark has no right to expose you to such a trial,” said Mr. +Higgs with great warmth. + +“I wonder what he'd say if he 'eard you,” remarked Mr. Burge sternly. +“After his going and making all these arrangements, for you to try and +go and upset 'em. To ask me to shun the fight like a coward; to ask me +to go and hide in the rear-ranks in a hotel with everything locked up, +or a Coffer Pallis with nothing to steal.” + +“I should sleep far more comfortably if I knew that you were not +undergoing this tremendous strain,” said the unhappy Mr. Higgs, “and +besides that, if you did give way, it would be a serious business for me +—that's what I want you to look at. I am afraid that if—if unhappily you +did fall, I couldn't prevent you.” + +“I'm sure you couldn't,” said the other cordially. “That's the beauty of +it; that's when the Evil One's whispers get louder and louder. Why, I +could choke you between my finger and thumb. If unfortunately my fallen +nature should be too strong for me, don't interfere whatever you do. I +mightn't be myself.” + +Mr. Higgs rose and faced him gasping. + +“Not even—call for—the police—I suppose,” he jerked out. + +“That would be interfering,” said Brother Burge coldly. + +The jeweller tried to think. It was past eleven. The housekeeper had +gone to spend the night with an ailing sister, and a furtive glance at +Brother Burge's small shifty eyes and fat unwholesome face was +sufficient to deter him from leaving him alone with his property, while +he went to ask the police to give an eye to his house for the night. +Besides, it was more than probable that Mr. Burge would decline to allow +such a proceeding. With a growing sense of his peril he resolved to try +flattery. + +“It was a great thing for the Brethren to secure a man like you,” he +said. + +“I never thought they'd ha' done it,” said Mr. Burge frankly. “I've 'ad +all sorts trying to convert me; crying over me and praying over me. I +remember the first dear good man that called me a lorst lamb. He didn't +say anything else for a month.” + +“So upset,” hazarded the jeweller. + +“I broke his jor, pore feller,” said Brother Burge, a sad but withal +indulgent smile lighting up his face at the vagaries of his former +career. “What time do you go to bed, Brother?” + +“Any time,” said the other reluctantly. “I suppose you are tired with +your journey?” + +Mr. Burge assented, and rising from his chair yawned loudly and +stretched himself. In the small room with his huge arms raised he looked +colossal. + +“I suppose,” said the jeweller, still seeking to re-assure himself, “I +suppose dear Brother Clark felt pretty certain of you, else he wouldn't +have sent you here?” + +“Brother Clark said 'What is a jeweller's shop compared with a 'uman +soul, a priceless 'uman soul?'” replied Mr. Burge. “What is a few +gew-gaws to decorate them that perish, and make them vain, when you come +to consider the opportunity of such a trial, and the good it'll do and +the draw it'll be—if I do win—and testify to the congregation to that +effect? Why, there's sermons for a lifetime in it.” + +“So there is,” said the jeweller, trying to look cheerful. “You've got a +good face, Brother Burge, and you'll do a lot of good by your preaching. +There is honesty written in every feature.” + +Mr. Burge turned and surveyed himself in the small pier-glass. “Yes,” he +said, somewhat discontentedly, “I don't look enough like a burglar to +suit some of 'em.” + +“Some people are hard to please,” said the other warmly. + +Mr. Burge started and eyed him thoughtfully, and then as Mr. Higgs after +some hesitation walked into the shop to turn the gas out, stood in the +doorway watching him. A smothered sigh as he glanced round the shop bore +witness to the state of his feelings. + +The jeweller hesitated again in the parlour, and then handing Brother +Burge his candle turned out the gas, and led the way slowly upstairs to +the room which had been prepared for the honoured visitor. He shook +hands at the door and bade him an effusive good-night, his voice +trembling despite himself as he expressed a hope that Mr. Burge would +sleep well. He added casually that he himself was a very light sleeper. + +To-night sleep of any kind was impossible. He had given up the front +room to his guest, and his own window looked out on an over-grown +garden. He sat trying to read, with his ears alert for the slightest +sound. Brother Burge seemed to be a long time undressing. For half an +hour after he had retired he could hear him moving restlessly about his +room. + +Twelve o'clock struck from the tower of the parish church, and was +followed almost directly by the tall clock standing in the hall +down-stairs. Scarcely had the sounds died away than a low moaning from +the next room caused the affrighted jeweller to start from his chair and +place his ear against the wall. Two or three hollow groans came through +the plaster, followed by ejaculations which showed clearly that Brother +Burge was at that moment engaged in a terrified combat with the Powers +of Darkness to decide whether he should, or should not, rifle his host's +shop. His hands clenched and his ear pressed close to the wall, the +jeweller listened to a monologue which increased in interest with every +word. + +“I tell you I won't,” said the voice in the next room with a groan, “I +won't. Get thee behind me—Get thee—No, and don't shove me over to the +door; if you can't get behind me without doing that, stay where you are. +Yes, I know it's a fortune as well as what you do; but it ain't mine.” + +The listener caught his breath painfully. + +“Diamond rings,” continued Brother Burge in a suffocating voice. “Stop +it, I tell you. No, I won't just go and look at 'em.” + +A series of groans which the jeweller noticed to his horror got weaker +and weaker testified to the greatness of the temptation. He heard +Brother Burge rise, and then a succession of panting snarls seemed to +indicate a fierce bodily encounter. + +“I don't—want to look at 'em,” said Brother Burge in an exhausted voice. +“What's—the good of—looking at 'em? It's like you, you know diamonds are +my weakness. What does it matter if he is asleep? What's my knife got to +do with you?” + +Brother Higgs reeled back and a mist passed before his eyes. He came to +himself at the sound of a door opening, and impelled with a vague idea +of defending his property, snatched up his candle and looked out on to +the landing. + +The light fell on Brother Burge, fully dressed and holding his boots in +his hand. For a moment they gazed at each other in silence; then the +jeweller found his voice. + +“I thought you were ill, Brother,” he faltered. + +An ugly scowl lit up the other's features. “Don't you tell me any of +your lies,” he said fiercely. “You're watching me; that's what you're +doing. Spying on me.” + +“I thought that you were being tempted,” confessed the trembling Mr. +Higgs. + +An expression of satisfaction which he strove to suppress appeared on +Mr. Burge's face. + +“So I was,” he said sternly. “So I was; but that's my business. I don't +want your assistance; I can fight my own battles. You go to bed—I'm +going to tell the congregation I won the fight single-'anded.” + +“So you have, Brother,” said the other eagerly; “but it's doing me good +to see it. It's a lesson to me; a lesson to all of us the way you +wrestled.” + +“I thought you was asleep,” growled Brother Burge, turning back to his +room and speaking over his shoulder. “You get back to bed; the fight +ain't half over yet. Get back to bed and keep quiet.” + +The door closed behind him, and Mr. Higgs, still trembling, regained his +room and looked in agony at the clock. It was only half-past twelve and +the sun did not rise until six. He sat and shivered until a second +instalment of groans in the next room brought him in desperation to his +feet. + +Brother Burge was in the toils again, and the jeweller despite his fears +could not help realizing what a sensation the story of his temptation +would create. Brother Burge was now going round and round his room like +an animal in a cage, and sounds as of a soul wrought almost beyond +endurance smote upon the listener's quivering ear. Then there was a long +silence more alarming even than the noise of the conflict. Had Brother +Burge won, and was he now sleeping the sleep of the righteous, or—— Mr. +Higgs shivered and put his other ear to the wall. Then he heard his +guest move stealthily across the floor; the boards creaked and the +handle of the door turned. + +Mr. Higgs started, and with a sudden flash of courage born of anger and +desperation seized a small brass poker from the fire-place, and taking +the candle in his other hand went out on to the landing again. Brother +Burge was closing his door softly, and his face when he turned it upon +the jeweller was terrible in its wrath. His small eyes snapped with +fury, and his huge hands opened and shut convulsively. + +“What, agin!” he said in a low growl. “After all I told you!” + +Mr. Higgs backed slowly as he advanced. + +“No noise,” said Mr. Burge in a dreadful whisper. “One scream and I'll— +What were you going to do with that poker?” + +He took a stealthy step forward. + +“I—I,” began the jeweller. His voice failed him. “Burglars,” he mouthed, +“downstairs.” + +“What?” said the other, pausing. + +Mr. Higgs threw truth to the winds. “I heard them in the shop,” he said, +recovering, “that's why I took up the poker. Can't you hear them?” + +Mr. Burge listened for the fraction of a second. “Nonsense,” he said +huskily. + +“I heard them talking,” said the other recklessly. “Let's go down and +call the police.” + +“Call 'em from the winder,” said Brother Burge, backing with some haste, +“they might 'ave pistols or something, and they're ugly customers when +they're disturbed.” + +He stood with strained face listening. + +“Here they come,” whispered the jeweller with a sudden movement of +alarm. + +Brother Burge turned, and bolting into his room clapped the door to and +locked it. The jeweller stood dumbfounded on the landing; then he heard +the window go up and the voice of Brother Burge, much strengthened by +the religious exercises of the past six months, bellowing lustily for +the police. + +For a few seconds Mr. Higgs stood listening and wondering what +explanation he should give. Still thinking, he ran downstairs, and, +throwing open the pantry window, unlocked the door leading into the shop +and scattered a few of his cherished possessions about the floor. By the +time he had done this, people were already beating upon the street-door +and exchanging hurried remarks with Mr. Burge at the window above. The +jeweller shot back the bolts, and half-a-dozen neighbours, headed by the +butcher opposite, clad in his nightgown and armed with a cleaver, burst +into the passage. A constable came running up just as the pallid face of +Brother Burge peered over the balusters. The constable went upstairs +three at a time, and twisting his hand in the ex-burglar's neck-cloth +bore him backwards. + +“I've got one,” he shouted. “Come up and hold him while I look round.” + +The butcher was beside him in a moment; Brother Burge struggling wildly, +called loudly upon the name of Brother Higgs. + +“That's all right, constable,” said the latter, “that's a friend of +mine.” + +“Friend o' yours, sir?” said the disappointed officer, still holding +him. + +The jeweller nodded. “Mr. Samuel Burge the Converted Burglar,” he said +mechanically. + +“Conver——” gasped the astonished constable. “Converted burglar? Here!” + +“He is a preacher now,” added Mr. Higgs. + +“Preacher?” retorted the constable. “Why it's as plain as a pikestaff. +Confederates: his part was to go down and let 'em in.” + +Mr. Burge raised a piteous outcry. “I hope you may be forgiven for them +words,” he cried piously. + +“What time did you go up to bed?” pursued the constable. + +“About half-past eleven,” replied Mr. Higgs. + +The other grunted with satisfaction. “And he's fully dressed, with his +boots off,” he remarked. “Did you hear him go out of his room at all?” + +“He did go out,” said the jeweller truth-fully, “but——” + +“I thought so,” said the constable, turning to his prisoner with +affectionate solicitude. “Now you come along o' me. Come quietly, +because it'll be the best for you in the end.” + +“You won't get your skull split open then,” added the butcher, toying +with his cleaver. + +The jeweller hesitated. He had no desire to be left alone with Mr. Burge +again; and a sense of humour, which many years' association with the +Primitive Apostles had not quite eradicated, strove for hearing. + +“Think of the sermon it'll make,” he said encouragingly to the frantic +Mr. Burge, “think of the congregation!” + +Brother Burge replied in language which he had not used in public since +he had joined the Apostles. The butcher and another man stood guard over +him while the constable searched the premises and made all secure again. +Then with a final appeal to Mr. Higgs who was keeping in the background, +he was pitched to the police-station by the energetic constable and five +zealous assistants. + +A diffidence, natural in the circumstances, prevented him from narrating +the story of his temptation to the magistrates next morning, and Mr. +Higgs was equally reticent. He was put back while the police +communicated with London, and in the meantime Brother Clark and a band +of Apostles flanked down to his support. + +On his second appearance before the magistrates he was confronted with +his past; and his past to the great astonishment of the Brethren being +free from all blemish with the solitary exception of fourteen days for +stealing milk-cans, he was discharged with a caution. The disillusioned +Primitive Apostles also gave him his freedom. + + + + +THE MADNESS OF MR. LISTER + + + + +Old Jem Lister, of the Susannah, was possessed of two devils—the love of +strong drink and avarice—and the only thing the twain had in common was +to get a drink without paying for it. When Mr. Lister paid for a drink, +the demon of avarice masquerading as conscience preached a teetotal +lecture, and when he showed signs of profiting by it, the demon of drink +would send him hanging round public-house doors cadging for drinks in a +way which his shipmates regarded as a slur upon the entire ship's +company. Many a healthy thirst reared on salt beef and tickled with +strong tobacco had been spoiled by the sight of Mr. Lister standing by +the entrance, with a propitiatory smile, waiting to be invited in to +share it, and on one occasion they had even seen him (him, Jem Lister, +A.B.) holding a horse's head, with ulterior motives. + +It was pointed out to Mr. Lister at last that his conduct was reflecting +discredit upon men who were fully able to look after themselves in that +direction, without having any additional burden thrust upon them. Bill +Henshaw was the spokesman, and on the score of violence (miscalled +firmness) his remarks left little to be desired. On the score of +profanity, Bill might recall with pride that in the opinion of his +fellows he had left nothing unsaid. + +“You ought to ha' been a member o' Parliament, Bill,” said Harry Lea, +when he had finished. + +“It wants money,” said Henshaw, shaking his head. + +Mr. Lister laughed, a senile laugh, but not lacking in venom. + +“That's what we've got to say,” said Henshaw, turning upon him suddenly. +“If there's anything I hate in this world, it's a drinking miser. You +know our opinion, and the best thing you can do is to turn over a new +leaf now.” + +“Take us all in to the Goat and Compasses,” urged Lea; “bring out some +o' those sovrins you've been hoarding.” + +Mr. Lister gazed at him with frigid scorn, and finding that the +conversation still seemed to centre round his unworthy person, went up +on deck and sat glowering over the insults which had been heaped upon +him. His futile wrath when Bill dogged his footsteps ashore next day and +revealed his character to a bibulous individual whom he had almost +persuaded to be a Christian—from his point of view—bordered upon the +maudlin, and he wandered back to the ship, wild-eyed and dry of throat. + +For the next two months it was safe to say that every drink he had he +paid for. His eyes got brighter and his complexion clearer, nor was he +as pleased as one of the other sex might have been when the +self-satisfied Henshaw pointed out these improvements to his companions, +and claimed entire responsibility for them. It is probable that Mr. +Lister, under these circumstances, might in time have lived down his +taste for strong drink, but that at just that time they shipped a new +cook. + +He was a big, cadaverous young fellow, who looked too closely after his +own interests to be much of a favourite with the other men forward. On +the score of thrift, it was soon discovered that he and Mr. Lister had +much in common, and the latter, pleased to find a congenial spirit, was +disposed to make the most of him, and spent, despite the heat, much of +his spare time in the galley. + +“You keep to it,” said the greybeard impressively; “money was made to be +took care of; if you don't spend your money you've always got it. I've +always been a saving man—what's the result?” + +The cook, waiting some time in patience to be told, gently inquired what +it was. + +“'Ere am I,” said Mr. Lister, good-naturedly helping him to cut a +cabbage, “at the age of sixty-two with a bank-book down below in my +chest, with one hundered an' ninety pounds odd in it.” + +“One 'undered and ninety pounds!” repeated the cook, with awe. + +“To say nothing of other things,” continued Mr. Lister, with joyful +appreciation of the effect he was producing. “Altogether I've got a +little over four 'undered pounds.” + +The cook gasped, and with gentle firmness took the cabbage from him as +being unfit work for a man of such wealth. + +“It's very nice,” he said, slowly. “It's very nice. You'll be able to +live on it in your old age.” + +Mr. Lister shook his head mournfully, and his eyes became humid. + +“There's no old age for me,” he said, sadly; “but you needn't tell +them,” and he jerked his thumb towards the forecastle. + +“No, no,” said the cook. + +“I've never been one to talk over my affairs,” said Mr. Lister, in a low +voice. “I've never yet took fancy enough to anybody so to do. No, my +lad, I'm saving up for somebody else.” + +“What are you going to live on when you're past work then?” demanded the +other. + +Mr. Lister took him gently by the sleeve, and his voice sank with the +solemnity of his subject: “I'm not going to have no old age,” he said, +resignedly. + +“Not going to live!” repeated the cook, gazing uneasily at a knife by +his side. “How do you know?” + +“I went to a orsepittle in London,” said Mr. Lister. “I've been to two +or three altogether, while the money I've spent on doctors is more than +I like to think of, and they're all surprised to think that I've lived +so long. I'm so chock-full o' complaints, that they tell me I can't live +more than two years, and I might go off at any moment.” + +“Well, you've got money,” said the cook, “why don't you knock off work +now and spend the evenin' of your life ashore? Why should you save up +for your relatives?” + +“I've got no relatives,” said Mr. Lister; “I'm all alone. I 'spose I +shall leave my money to some nice young feller, and I hope it'll do 'im +good.” + +With the dazzling thoughts which flashed through the cook's brain the +cabbage dropped violently into the saucepan, and a shower of cooling +drops fell on both men. + +“I 'spose you take medicine?” he said, at length. + +“A little rum,” said Mr. Lister, faintly; “the doctors tell me that it +is the only thing that keeps me up—o' course, the chaps down there “—he +indicated the forecastle again with a jerk of his head—“accuse me o' +taking too much.” + +“What do ye take any notice of 'em for?” inquired the other, +indignantly. + +“I 'spose it is foolish,” admitted Mr. Lister; “but I don't like being +misunderstood. I keep my troubles to myself as a rule, cook. I don't +know what's made me talk to you like this. I 'eard the other day you was +keeping company with a young woman.” + +“Well, I won't say as I ain't,” replied the other, busying himself over +the fire. + +“An' the best thing, too, my lad,” said the old man, warmly. “It keeps +you stiddy, keeps you out of public-'ouses; not as they ain't good in +moderation—I 'ope you'll be 'appy.” + +A friendship sprang up between the two men which puzzled the remainder +of the crew not a little. + +The cook thanked him, and noticed that Mr. Lister was fidgeting with a +piece of paper. + +“A little something I wrote the other day,” said the old man, catching +his eye. “If I let you see it, will you promise not to tell a soul about +it, and not to give me no thanks?” + +The wondering cook promised, and, the old man being somewhat emphatic on +the subject, backed his promise with a home made affidavit of singular +power and profanity. + +“Here it is, then,” said Mr. Lister. + +The cook took the paper, and as he read the letters danced before him. +He blinked his eyes and started again, slowly. In plain black and white +and nondescript-coloured finger-marks, Mr. Lister, after a general +statement as to his bodily and mental health, left the whole of his +estate to the cook. The will was properly dated and witnessed, and the +cook's voice shook with excitement and emotion as he offered to hand it +back. + +“I don't know what I've done for you to do this,” he said. + +Mr. Lister waved it away again. “Keep it,” he said, simply; “while +you've got it on you, you'll know it's safe.” + +From this moment a friendship sprang up between the two men which +puzzled the remainder of the crew not a little. The attitude of the cook +was as that of a son to a father: the benignancy of Mr. Lister beautiful +to behold. It was noticed, too, that he had abandoned the reprehensible +practice of hanging round tavern doors in favour of going inside and +drinking the cook's health. + +For about six months the cook, although always in somewhat straitened +circumstances, was well content with the tacit bargain, and then, bit by +bit, the character of Mr. Lister was revealed to him. It was not a nice +character, but subtle; and when he made the startling discovery that a +will could be rendered invalid by the simple process of making another +one the next day, he became as a man possessed. When he ascertained that +Mr. Lister when at home had free quarters at the house of a married +niece, he used to sit about alone, and try and think of ways and means +of securing capital sunk in a concern which seemed to show no signs of +being wound-up. + +“I've got a touch of the 'art again, lad,” said the elderly invalid, as +they sat alone in the forecastle one night at Seacole. + +“You move about too much,” said the cook. “Why not turn in and rest?” + +Mr. Lister, who had not expected this, fidgeted. “I think I'll go ashore +a bit and try the air,” he said, suggestively. “I'll just go as far as +the Black Horse and back. You won't have me long now, my lad.” + +“No, I know,” said the cook; “that's what's worrying me a bit.” “Don't +worry about me,” said the old man, pausing with his hand on the other's +shoulder; “I'm not worth it. Don't look so glum, lad.” + +“I've got something on my mind, Jem,” said the cook, staring straight in +front of him. + +“What is it?” inquired Mr. Lister. + +“You know what you told me about those pains in your inside?” said the +cook, without looking at him. + +Jem groaned and felt his side. + +“And what you said about its being a relief to die,” continued the +other, “only you was afraid to commit suicide?” + +“Well?” said Mr. Lister. + +“It used to worry me,” continued the cook, earnestly. “I used to say to +myself, 'Poor old Jem,' I ses, 'why should 'e suffer like this when he +wants to die? It seemed 'ard.'” + +“It is 'ard,” said Mr. Lister, “but what about it?” + +The other made no reply, but looking at him for the first time, surveyed +him with a troubled expression. + +“What about it?” repeated Mr. Lister, with some emphasis. + +“You did say you wanted to die, didn't you?” said the cook. “Now suppose +suppose——” + +“Suppose what?” inquired the old man, sharply. “Why don't you say what +you're agoing to say?” + +“Suppose,” said the cook, “some one what liked you, Jem—what liked you, +mind—'eard you say this over and over again, an' see you sufferin' and +'eard you groanin' and not able to do nothin' for you except lend you a +few shillings here and there for medicine, or stand you a few glasses o' +rum; suppose they knew a chap in a chemist's shop?” + +“Suppose they did?” said the other, turning pale. + +“A chap what knows all about p'isons,” continued the cook, “p'isons what +a man can take without knowing it in 'is grub. Would it be wrong, do you +think, if that friend I was speaking about put it in your food to put +you out of your misery?” + +“Wrong,” said Mr. Lister, with glassy eyes. “Wrong. Look 'ere, cook—” + +“I don't mean anything to give him pain,” said the other, waving his +hand; “you ain't felt no pain lately, 'ave you, Jem?” + +“Do you mean to say!” shouted Mr. Lister. + +“I don't mean to say anything,” said the cook. “Answer my question. You +ain't felt no pain lately, 'ave you?” + +“Have—you—been—putting—p'ison—in—my—wittles?” demanded Mr. Lister, in +trembling accents. + +“If I 'ad, Jem, supposin' that I 'ad,” said the cook, in accents of +reproachful surprise, “do you mean to say that you'd mind?” + +“MIND,” said Mr. Lister, with fervour. “I'd 'ave you 'ung!” + +“But you said you wanted to die,” said the surprised cook. + +Mr. Lister swore at him with startling vigour. “I'll 'ave you 'ung,” he +repeated, wildly. + +“Me,” said the cook, artlessly. “What for?” + +“For giving me p'ison,” said Mr. Lister, frantically. “Do you think you +can deceive me by your roundabouts? Do you think I can't see through +you?” + +The other with a sphinx-like smile sat unmoved. “Prove it,” he said, +darkly. “But supposin' if anybody 'ad been givin' you p'ison, would you +like to take something to prevent its acting?” + +“I'd take gallons of it,” said Mr. Lister, feverishly. + +The other sat pondering, while the old man watched him anxiously. “It's +a pity you don't know your own mind, Jem,” he said, at length; “still, +you know your own business best. But it's very expensive stuff.” + +“How much?” inquired the other. + +“Well, they won't sell more than two shillings-worth at a time,” said +the cook, trying to speak carelessly, “but if you like to let me 'ave +the money, I'll go ashore to the chemist's and get the first lot now.” + +Mr. Lister's face was a study in emotions, which the other tried in vain +to decipher. + +Then he slowly extracted the amount from his trousers-pocket, and handed +it over with-out a word. + +“I'll go at once,” said the cook, with a little feeling, “and I'll never +take a man at his word again, Jem.” + +He ran blithely up on deck, and stepping ashore, spat on the coins for +luck and dropped them in his pocket. Down below, Mr. Lister, with his +chin in his hand, sat in a state of mind pretty evenly divided between +rage and fear. + +The cook, who was in no mood for company, missed the rest of the crew by +two public-houses, and having purchased a baby's teething powder and +removed the label, had a congratulatory drink or two before going on +board again. A chatter of voices from the forecastle warned him that the +crew had returned, but the tongues ceased abruptly as he descended, and +three pairs of eyes surveyed him in grim silence. + +“What's up?” he demanded. + +“Wot 'ave you been doin' to poor old Jem?” demanded Henshaw, sternly. + +“Nothin',” said the other, shortly. + +“You ain't been p'isoning 'im?” demanded Henshaw. + +“Certainly not,” said the cook, emphatically. + +“He ses you told 'im you p'isoned 'im,” said Henshaw, solemnly, “and 'e +give you two shillings to get something to cure 'im. It's too late now.” + +“What?” stammered the bewildered cook. He looked round anxiously at the +men. + +They were all very grave, and the silence became oppressive. “Where is +he?” he demanded. + +Henshaw and the others exchanged glances. “He's gone mad,” said he, +slowly. + +“Mad?” repeated the horrified cook, and, seeing the aversion of the +crew, in a broken voice he narrated the way in which he had been +victimized. + +“Well, you've done it now,” said Henshaw, when he had finished. “He's +gone right orf 'is 'ed.” + +“Where is he?” inquired the cook. + +“Where you can't follow him,” said the other, slowly. + +“Heaven?” hazarded the unfortunate cook. “No; skipper's bunk,” said Lea. + +“Oh, can't I foller 'im?” said the cook, starting up. “I'll soon 'ave +'im out o' that.” + +“Better leave 'im alone,” said Henshaw. “He was that wild we couldn't do +nothing with 'im, singing an' larfin' and crying all together—I +certainly thought he was p'isoned.” + +“I'll swear I ain't touched him,” said the cook. + +“Well, you've upset his reason,” said Henshaw; “there'll be an awful row +when the skipper comes aboard and finds 'im in 'is bed. + +“'Well, come an' 'elp me to get 'im out,” said the cook. + +“I ain't going to be mixed up in it,” said Henshaw, shaking his head. + +“Don't you, Bill,” said the other two. + +“Wot the skipper'll say I don't know,” said Henshaw; “anyway, it'll be +said to you, not——” + +“I'll go and get 'im out if 'e was five madmen,” said the cook, +compressing his lips. + +“You'll harve to carry 'im out, then,” said Henshaw. “I don't wish you +no 'arm, cook, and perhaps it would be as well to get 'im out afore the +skipper or mate comes aboard. If it was me, I know what I should do.” + +“What?” inquired the cook, breathlessly. + +“Draw a sack over his head,” said Henshaw, impressively; “he'll scream +like blazes as soon as you touch him, and rouse the folks ashore if you +don't. Besides that, if you draw it well down it'll keep his arms fast.” + +The cook thanked him fervently, and routing out a sack, rushed hastily +on deck, his departure being the signal for Mr. Henshaw and his friends +to make preparations for retiring for the night so hastily as almost to +savour of panic. + +The cook, after a hasty glance ashore, went softly below with the sack +over his arm and felt his way in the darkness to the skipper's bunk. The +sound of deep and regular breathing reassured him, and without undue +haste he opened the mouth of the sack and gently raised the sleeper's +head. + +“Eh? Wha——” began a sleepy voice. + +The next moment the cook had bagged him, and gripping him tightly round +the middle, turned a deaf ear to the smothered cries of his victim as he +strove to lift him out of the bunk. In the exciting time which followed, +he had more than one reason for thinking that he had caught a centipede. + +“Now, you keep still,” he cried, breathlessly. “I'm not going to hurt +you.” + +He got his burden out of bed at last, and staggered to the foot of the +companion-ladder with it. Then there was a halt, two legs sticking +obstinately across the narrow way and refusing to be moved, while a +furious humming proceeded from the other end of the sack. + +Four times did the exhausted cook get his shoulder under his burden and +try and push it up the ladder, and four times did it wriggle and fight +its way down again. Half crazy with fear and rage, he essayed it for the +fifth time, and had got it half-way up when there was a sudden +exclamation of surprise from above, and the voice of the mate sharply +demanding an explanation. + +“What the blazes are you up to?” he cried. + +“It's all right, sir,” said the panting cook; “old Jem's had a drop too +much and got down aft, and I'm getting 'im for'ard again.” + +“Jem?” said the astonished mate. “Why, he's sitting up here on the +fore-hatch. He came aboard with me.” + +“Sitting,” began the horrified cook; “sit—oh, lor!” + +He stood with his writhing burden wedged between his body and the +ladder, and looked up despairingly at the mate. + +“I'm afraid I've made a mistake,” he said in a trembling voice. + +The mate struck a match and looked down. + +“Take that sack off,” he demanded, sternly. + +The cook placed his burden upon its feet, and running up the ladder +stood by the mate shivering. The latter struck another match, and the +twain watched in breathless silence the writhings of the strange +creature below as the covering worked slowly upwards. In the fourth +match it got free, and revealed the empurpled visage of the master of +the Susannah. For the fraction of a second the cook gazed at him in +speechless horror, and then, with a hopeless cry, sprang ashore and ran +for it, hotly pursued by his enraged victim. At the time of sailing he +was still absent, and the skipper, loth to part two such friends, sent +Mr. James Lister, at the urgent request of the anxious crew, to look for +him. + + + + +THE WHITE CAT + + + + +The traveller stood looking from the tap-room window of the Cauliflower +at the falling rain. The village street below was empty, and everything +was quiet with the exception of the garrulous old man smoking with much +enjoyment on the settle behind him. + +“It'll do a power o' good,” said the ancient, craning his neck round the +edge of the settle and turning a bleared eye on the window. “I ain't +like some folk; I never did mind a drop o' rain.” + +The traveller grunted and, returning to the settle opposite the old man, +fell to lazily stroking a cat which had strolled in attracted by the +warmth of the small fire which smouldered in the grate. + +“He's a good mouser,” said the old man, “but I expect that Smith the +landlord would sell 'im to anybody for arf a crown; but we 'ad a cat in +Claybury once that you couldn't ha' bought for a hundred golden +sovereigns.” + +The traveller continued to caress the cat. + +“A white cat, with one yaller eye and one blue one,” continued the old +man. “It sounds queer, but it's as true as I sit 'ere wishing that I 'ad +another mug o' ale as good as the last you gave me.” + +The traveller, with a start that upset the cat's nerves, finished his +own mug, and then ordered both to be refilled. He stirred the fire into +a blaze, and, lighting his pipe and putting one foot on to the hob, +prepared to listen. + +It used to belong to old man Clark, young Joe Clark's uncle, said the +ancient, smacking his lips delicately over the ale and extending a +tremulous claw to the tobacco-pouch pushed towards him; and he was never +tired of showing it off to people. He used to call it 'is blue-eyed +darling, and the fuss 'e made o' that cat was sinful. + +Young Joe Clark couldn't bear it, but being down in 'is uncle's will for +five cottages and a bit o' land bringing in about forty pounds a year, +he 'ad to 'ide his feelings and pretend as he loved it. He used to take +it little drops o' cream and tit-bits o' meat, and old Clark was so +pleased that 'e promised 'im that he should 'ave the cat along with all +the other property when 'e was dead. + +Young Joe said he couldn't thank 'im enough, and the old man, who 'ad +been ailing a long time, made 'im come up every day to teach 'im 'ow to +take care of it arter he was gone. He taught Joe 'ow to cook its meat +and then chop it up fine; 'ow it liked a clean saucer every time for its +milk; and 'ow he wasn't to make a noise when it was asleep. + +“Take care your children don't worry it, Joe,” he ses one day, very +sharp. “One o' your boys was pulling its tail this morning, and I want +you to clump his 'ead for 'im.” + +“Which one was it?” ses Joe. + +“The slobbery-nosed one,” ses old Clark. + +“I'll give 'im a clout as soon as I get 'ome,” ses Joe, who was very +fond of 'is children. + +“Go and fetch 'im and do it 'ere,” ses the old man; “that'll teach 'im +to love animals.” + +Joe went off 'ome to fetch the boy, and arter his mother 'ad washed his +face, and wiped his nose, an' put a clean pinneyfore on 'im, he took 'im +to 'is uncle's and clouted his 'ead for 'im. Arter that Joe and 'is wife +'ad words all night long, and next morning old Clark, coming in from the +garden, was just in time to see 'im kick the cat right acrost the +kitchen. + +He could 'ardly speak for a minute, and when 'e could Joe see plain wot +a fool he'd been. Fust of all 'e called Joe every name he could think +of— which took 'im a long time—and then he ordered 'im out of 'is house. + +“You shall 'ave my money wen your betters have done with it,” he ses, +“and not afore. That's all you've done for yourself.” + +Joe Clark didn't know wot he meant at the time, but when old Clark died +three months arterwards 'e found out. His uncle 'ad made a new will and +left everything to old George Barstow for as long as the cat lived, +providing that he took care of it. When the cat was dead the property +was to go to Joe. + +The cat was only two years old at the time, and George Barstow, who was +arf crazy with joy, said it shouldn't be 'is fault if it didn't live +another twenty years. + +The funny thing was the quiet way Joe Clark took it. He didn't seem to +be at all cut up about it, and when Henery Walker said it was a shame, +'e said he didn't mind, and that George Barstow was a old man, and he +was quite welcome to 'ave the property as long as the cat lived. + +“It must come to me by the time I'm an old man,” he ses, “ard that's all +I care about.” + +Henery Walker went off, and as 'e passed the cottage where old Clark +used to live, and which George Barstow 'ad moved into, 'e spoke to the +old man over the palings and told 'im wot Joe Clark 'ad said. George +Barstow only grunted and went on stooping and prying over 'is front +garden. + +“Bin and lost something?” ses Henery Walker, watching 'im. + +“No; I'm finding,” ses George Barstow, very fierce, and picking up +something. “That's the fifth bit o' powdered liver I've found in my +garden this morning.” + +Henery Walker went off whistling, and the opinion he'd 'ad o' Joe Clark +began to improve. He spoke to Joe about it that arternoon, and Joe said +that if 'e ever accused 'im o' such a thing again he'd knock 'is 'ead +off. He said that he 'oped the cat 'ud live to be a hundred, and that +'e'd no more think of giving it poisoned meat than Henery Walker would +of paying for 'is drink so long as 'e could get anybody else to do it +for 'im. + +They 'ad bets up at this 'ere Cauliflower public-'ouse that evening as +to 'ow long that cat 'ud live. Nobody gave it more than a month, and +Bill Chambers sat and thought o' so many ways o' killing it on the sly +that it was wunnerful to hear 'im. + +George Barstow took fright when he 'eard of them, and the care 'e took +o' that cat was wunnerful to behold. Arf its time it was shut up in the +back bedroom, and the other arf George Barstow was fussing arter it till +that cat got to hate 'im like pison. Instead o' giving up work as he'd +thought to do, 'e told Henery Walker that 'e'd never worked so 'ard in +his life. + +“Wot about fresh air and exercise for it?” ses Henery. + +“Wot about Joe Clark?” ses George Bar-stow. “I'm tied 'and and foot. I +dursent leave the house for a moment. I ain't been to the Cauliflower +since I've 'ad it, and three times I got out o' bed last night to see if +it was safe.” + +“Mark my words,” ses Henery Walker; “if that cat don't 'ave exercise, +you'll lose it. + +“I shall lose it if it does 'ave exercise,” ses George Barstow, “that I +know.” + +He sat down thinking arter Henery Walker 'ad gone, and then he 'ad a +little collar and chain made for it, and took it out for a walk. Pretty +nearly every dog in Claybury went with 'em, and the cat was in such a +state o' mind afore they got 'ome he couldn't do anything with it. It +'ad a fit as soon as they got indoors, and George Barstow, who 'ad read +about children's fits in the almanac, gave it a warm bath. It brought it +round immediate, and then it began to tear round the room and up and +downstairs till George Barstow was afraid to go near it. + +It was so bad that evening, sneezing, that George Barstow sent for Bill +Chambers, who'd got a good name for doctoring animals, and asked 'im to +give it something. Bill said he'd got some powders at 'ome that would +cure it at once, and he went and fetched 'em and mixed one up with a bit +o' butter. + +“That's the way to give a cat medicine,” he ses; “smear it with the +butter and then it'll lick it off, powder and all.” + +He was just going to rub it on the cat when George Barstow caught 'old +of 'is arm and stopped 'im. + +“How do I know it ain't pison?” he ses. “You're a friend o' Joe Clark's, +and for all I know he may ha' paid you to pison it.” + +“I wouldn't do such a thing,” ses Bill. “You ought to know me better +than that.” + +“All right,” ses George Barstow; “you eat it then, and I'll give you two +shillings in stead o' one. You can easy mix some more.” + +“Not me,” ses Bill Chambers, making a face. + +“Well, three shillings, then,” ses George Barstow, getting more and more +suspicious like; “four shillings—five shillings.” + +Bill Chambers shook his 'ead, and George Barstow, more and more certain +that he 'ad caught 'im trying to kill 'is cat and that 'e wouldn't eat +the stuff, rose 'im up to ten shillings. + +Bill looked at the butter and then 'e looked at the ten shillings on the +table, and at last he shut 'is eyes and gulped it down and put the money +in 'is pocket. + +“You see, I 'ave to be careful, Bill,” ses George Barstow, rather upset. + +Bill Chambers didn't answer 'im. He sat there as white as a sheet, and +making such extraordinary faces that George was arf afraid of 'im. + +“Anything wrong, Bill?” he ses at last. + +Bill sat staring at 'im, and then all of a sudden he clapped 'is +'andkerchief to 'is mouth and, getting up from his chair, opened the +door and rushed out. George Barstow thought at fust that he 'ad eaten +pison for the sake o' the ten shillings, but when 'e remembered that +Bill Chambers 'ad got the most delikit stummick in Claybury he altered +'is mind. + +The cat was better next morning, but George Barstow had 'ad such a +fright about it 'e wouldn't let it go out of 'is sight, and Joe Clark +began to think that 'e would 'ave to wait longer for that property than +'e had thought, arter all. To 'ear 'im talk anybody'd ha' thought that +'e loved that cat. We didn't pay much attention to it up at the +Cauliflower 'ere, except maybe to wink at 'im—a thing he couldn't a +bear—but at 'ome, o' course, his young 'uns thought as everything he +said was Gospel; and one day, coming 'ome from work, as he was passing +George Barstow's he was paid out for his deceitfulness. + +“I've wronged you, Joe Clark,” ses George Barstow, coming to the door, +“and I'm sorry for it.” + +“Oh!” ses Joe, staring. + +“Give that to your little Jimmy,” ses George Barstow, giving 'im a +shilling. “I've give 'im one, but I thought arterwards it wasn't +enough.” + +“What for?” ses Joe, staring at 'im agin. + +“For bringing my cat 'ome,” ses George Barstow. “'Ow it got out I can't +think, but I lost it for three hours, and I'd about given it up when +your little Jimmy brought it to me in 'is arms. He's a fine little chap +and 'e does you credit.” + +Joe Clark tried to speak, but he couldn't get a word out, and Henery +Walker, wot 'ad just come up and 'eard wot passed, took hold of 'is arm +and helped 'im home. He walked like a man in a dream, but arf-way he +stopped and cut a stick from the hedge to take 'ome to little Jimmy. He +said the boy 'ad been asking him for a stick for some time, but up till +then 'e'd always forgotten it. + +At the end o' the fust year that cat was still alive, to everybody's +surprise; but George Barstow took such care of it 'e never let it out of +'is sight. Every time 'e went out he took it with 'im in a hamper, and, +to prevent its being pisoned, he paid Isaac Sawyer, who 'ad the biggest +family in Claybury, sixpence a week to let one of 'is boys taste its +milk before it had it. + +The second year it was ill twice, but the horse-doctor that George +Barstow got for it said that it was as 'ard as nails, and with care it +might live to be twenty. He said that it wanted more fresh air and +exercise; but when he 'eard 'ow George Barstow come by it he said that +p'r'aps it would live longer indoors arter all. + +At last one day, when George Barstow 'ad been living on the fat o' the +land for nearly three years, that cat got out agin. George 'ad raised +the front-room winder two or three inches to throw something outside, +and, afore he knew wot was 'appening, the cat was out-side and going up +the road about twenty miles an hour. + +George Barstow went arter it, but he might as well ha' tried to catch +the wind. The cat was arf wild with joy at getting out agin, and he +couldn't get within arf a mile of it. + +He stayed out all day without food or drink, follering it about until it +came on dark, and then, o' course, he lost sight of it, and, hoping +against 'ope that it would come home for its food, he went 'ome and +waited for it. He sat up all night dozing in a chair in the front room +with the door left open, but it was all no use; and arter thinking for a +long time wot was best to do, he went out and told some o' the folks it +was lost and offered a reward of five pounds for it. + +You never saw such a hunt then in all your life. Nearly every man, +woman, and child in Claybury left their work or school and went to try +and earn that five pounds. By the arternoon George Barstow made it ten +pounds provided the cat was brought 'ome safe and sound, and people as +was too old to walk stood at their cottage doors to snap it up as it +came by. + +Joe Clark was hunting for it 'igh and low, and so was 'is wife and the +boys. In fact, I b'lieve that everybody in Claybury excepting the parson +and Bob Pretty was trying to get that ten pounds. + +O' course, we could understand the parson—'is pride wouldn't let 'im; +but a low, poaching, thieving rascal like Bob Pretty turning up 'is nose +at ten pounds was more than we could make out. Even on the second day, +when George Barstow made it ten pounds down and a shilling a week for a +year besides, he didn't offer to stir; all he did was to try and make +fun o' them as was looking for it. + +“Have you looked everywhere you can think of for it, Bill?” he ses to +Bill Chambers. “Yes, I 'ave,” ses Bill. + +“Well, then, you want to look everywhere else,” ses Bob Pretty. “I know +where I should look if I wanted to find it.” + +“Why don't you find it, then?” ses Bill. + +“'Cos I don't want to make mischief,” ses Bob Pretty. “I don't want to +be unneighbourly to Joe Clark by interfering at all.” + +“Not for all that money?” ses Bill. + +“Not for fifty pounds,” ses Bob Pretty; “you ought to know me better +than that, Bill Chambers.” + +“It's my belief that you know more about where that cat is than you +ought to,” ses Joe Gubbins. + +“You go on looking for it, Joe,” ses Bob Pretty, grinning; “it's good +exercise for you, and you've only lost two days' work.” + +“I'll give you arf a crown if you let me search your 'ouse, Bob,” ses +Bill Chambers, looking at 'im very 'ard. + +“I couldn't do it at the price, Bill,” ses Bob Pretty, shaking his 'ead. +“I'm a pore man, but I'm very partikler who I 'ave come into my 'ouse.” + +O' course, everybody left off looking at once when they heard about Bob— +not that they believed that he'd be such a fool as to keep the cat in +his 'ouse; and that evening, as soon as it was dark, Joe Clark went +round to see 'im. + +“Don't tell me as that cat's found, Joe,” ses Bob Pretty, as Joe opened +the door. + +“Not as I've 'eard of,” said Joe, stepping inside. “I wanted to speak to +you about it; the sooner it's found the better I shall be pleased.” + +“It does you credit, Joe Clark,” ses Bob Pretty. + +“It's my belief that it's dead,” ses Joe, looking at 'im very 'ard; “but +I want to make sure afore taking over the property.” + +Bob Pretty looked at 'im and then he gave a little cough. “Oh, you want +it to be found dead,” he ses. “Now, I wonder whether that cat's worth +most dead or alive?” + +Joe Clark coughed then. “Dead, I should think,” he ses at last. “George +Barstow's just 'ad bills printed offering fifteen pounds for it,” ses +Bob Pretty. + +“I'll give that or more when I come into the property,” ses Joe Clark. + +“There's nothing like ready-money, though, is there?” ses Bob. + +“I'll promise it to you in writing, Bob,” ses Joe, trembling. + +“There's some things that don't look well in writing, Joe,” says Bob +Pretty, considering; “besides, why should you promise it to me?” + +“O' course, I meant if you found it,” ses Joe. + +“Well, I'll do my best, Joe,” ses Bob Pretty; “and none of us can do no +more than that, can they?” + +They sat talking and argufying over it for over an hour, and twice Bob +Pretty got up and said 'e was going to see whether George Barstow +wouldn't offer more. By the time they parted they was as thick as +thieves, and next morning Bob Pretty was wearing Joe Clark's watch and +chain, and Mrs. Pretty was up at Joe's 'ouse to see whether there was +any of 'is furniture as she 'ad a fancy for. + +She didn't seem to be able to make up 'er mind at fust between a chest +o' drawers that 'ad belonged to Joe's mother and a grand-father clock. +She walked from one to the other for about ten minutes, and then Bob, +who 'ad come in to 'elp her, told 'er to 'ave both. + +“You're quite welcome,” he ses; “ain't she, Joe?” + +Joe Clark said “Yes,” and arter he 'ad helped them carry 'em 'ome the +Prettys went back and took the best bedstead to pieces, cos Bob said as +it was easier to carry that way. Mrs. Clark 'ad to go and sit down at +the bottom o' the garden with the neck of 'er dress undone to give +herself air, but when she saw the little Prettys each walking 'ome with +one of 'er best chairs on their 'eads she got and walked up and down +like a mad thing. + +“I'm sure I don't know where we are to put it all,” ses Bob Pretty to +Joe Gubbins, wot was looking on with other folks, “but Joe Clark is that +generous he won't 'ear of our leaving anything.” + +“Has 'e gorn mad?” ses Bill Chambers, staring at 'im. + +“Not as I knows on,” ses Bob Pretty. “It's 'is good-'artedness, that's +all. He feels sure that that cat's dead, and that he'll 'ave George +Barstow's cottage and furniture. I told 'im he'd better wait till he'd +made sure, but 'e wouldn't.” + +Before they'd finished the Prettys 'ad picked that 'ouse as clean as a +bone, and Joe Clark 'ad to go and get clean straw for his wife and +children to sleep on; not that Mrs. Clark 'ad any sleep that night, nor +Joe neither. + +Henery Walker was the fust to see what it really meant, and he went +rushing off as fast as 'e could run to tell George Barstow. George +couldn't believe 'im at fust, but when 'e did he swore that if a 'air of +that cat's head was harmed 'e'd 'ave the law o' Bob Pretty, and arter +Henery Walker 'ad gone 'e walked round to tell 'im so. + +“You're not yourself, George Barstow, else you wouldn't try and take +away my character like that,” ses Bob Pretty. + +“Wot did Joe Clark give you all them things for?” ses George, pointing +to the furniture. + +“Took a fancy to me, I s'pose,” ses Bob. “People do sometimes. There's +something about me at times that makes 'em like me.” + +“He gave 'em to you to kill my cat,” ses George Barstow. “It's plain +enough for any-body to see.” + +Bob Pretty smiled. “I expect it'll turn up safe and sound one o' these +days,” he ses, “and then you'll come round and beg my pardon. P'r'aps—” + +“P'r'aps wot?” ses George Barstow, arter waiting a bit. + +“P'r'aps somebody 'as got it and is keeping it till you've drawed the +fifteen pounds out o' the bank,” ses Bob, looking at 'im very hard. + +“I've taken it out o' the bank,” ses George, starting; “if that cat's +alive, Bob, and you've got it, there's the fifteen pounds the moment you +'and it over.” + +“Wot d'ye mean—me got it?” ses Bob Pretty. “You be careful o' my +character.” + +“I mean if you know where it is,” ses George Barstow trembling all over. + +“I don't say I couldn't find it, if that's wot you mean,” ses Bob. “I +can gin'rally find things when I want to.” + +“You find me that cat, alive and well, and the money's yours, Bob,” ses +George, 'ardly able to speak, now that 'e fancied the cat was still +alive. + +Bob Pretty shook his 'ead. “No; that won't do,” he ses. “S'pose I did +'ave the luck to find that pore animal, you'd say I'd had it all the +time and refuse to pay.” + +“I swear I wouldn't, Bob,” ses George Barstow, jumping up. + +“Best thing you can do if you want me to try and find that cat,” says +Bob Pretty, “is to give me the fifteen pounds now, and I'll go and look +for it at once. I can't trust you, George Barstow.” + +“And I can't trust you,” ses George Barstow. + +“Very good,” ses Bob, getting up; “there's no 'arm done. P'r'aps Joe +Clark 'll find the cat is dead and p'r'aps you'll find it's alive. It's +all one to me.” + +George Barstow walked off 'ome, but he was in such a state o' mind 'e +didn't know wot to do. Bob Pretty turning up 'is nose at fifteen pounds +like that made 'im think that Joe Clark 'ad promised to pay 'im more if +the cat was dead; and at last, arter worrying about it for a couple o' +hours, 'e came up to this 'ere Cauliflower and offered Bob the fifteen +pounds. + +“Wot's this for?” ses Bob. + +“For finding my cat,” ses George. + +“Look here,” ses Bob, handing it back, “I've 'ad enough o' your insults; +I don't know where your cat is.” + +“I mean for trying to find it, Bob,” ses George Barstow. + +“Oh, well, I don't mind that,” ses Bob, taking it. “I'm a 'ard-working +man, and I've got to be paid for my time; it's on'y fair to my wife and +children. I'll start now.” + +He finished up 'is beer, and while the other chaps was telling George +Barstow wot a fool he was Joe Clark slipped out arter Bob Pretty and +began to call 'im all the names he could think of. + +“Don't you worry,” ses Bob; “the cat ain't found yet.” + +“Is it dead?” ses Joe Clark, 'ardly able to speak. + +“'Ow should I know?” ses Bob; “that's wot I've got to try and find out. +That's wot you gave me your furniture for, and wot George Barstow gave +me the fifteen pounds for, ain't it? Now, don't you stop me now, 'cos +I'm goin' to begin looking.” + +He started looking there and then, and for the next two or three days +George Barstow and Joe Clark see 'im walking up and down with his 'ands +in 'is pockets looking over garden fences and calling “Puss.” He asked +everybody 'e see whether they 'ad seen a white cat with one blue eye and +one yaller one, and every time 'e came into the Cauliflower he put his +'ead over the bar and called “Puss,” 'cos, as 'e said, it was as likely +to be there as anywhere else. + +It was about a week after the cat 'ad disappeared that George Barstow +was standing at 'is door talking to Joe Clark, who was saying the cat +must be dead and 'e wanted 'is property, when he sees a man coming up +the road carrying a basket stop and speak to Bill Chambers. Just as 'e +got near them an awful “miaow” come from the basket and George Barstow +and Joe Clark started as if they'd been shot. + +“He's found it?” shouts Bill Chambers, pointing to the man. + +“It's been living with me over at Ling for a week pretty nearly,” ses +the man. “I tried to drive it away several times, not knowing that there +was fifteen pounds offered for it.” + +George Barstow tried to take 'old of the basket. + +“I want that fifteen pounds fust,” ses the man. + +“That's on'y right and fair, George,” ses Bob Pretty, who 'ad just come +up. “You've got all the luck, mate. We've been hunting 'igh and low for +that cat for a week.” + +Then George Barstow tried to explain to the man and call Bob Pretty +names at the same time; but it was all no good. The man said it 'ad +nothing to do with 'im wot he 'ad paid to Bob Pretty; and at last they +fetched Policeman White over from Cudford, and George Barstow signed a +paper to pay five shillings a week till the reward was paid. + +George Barstow 'ad the cat for five years arter that, but he never let +it get away agin. They got to like each other in time and died within a +fortnight of each other, so that Joe Clark got 'is property arter all. + + ―――― + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAINS ALL *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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} + + div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage + { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } + + .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } +} + +@media print { + div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } + div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } + + .vfill { margin-top: 20% } + h2.title { margin-top: 20% } +} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Captains All, by W.W. Jacobs</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Captains All</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: W.W. Jacobs</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 30, 2006 [eBook #11191]<br /> +[Most recently updated: December 17, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAINS ALL ***</div> + + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="center line"> + <span class="bold x-large">CAPTAINS ALL</span> + </div> + <div class="center line"> + + </div> + <div class="center line"> + <cite class="italics">By</cite> + </div> + <div class="center line"> + + </div> + <div class="center line"> + <span class="large">W. W. JACOBS</span> + </div> + <div class="center line"> + + </div> + <div class="center line"> + + </div> + <div class="center line"> + <span>1911</span> + </div> + </div> + <div class="container margin transition"> + <p class="center pfirst"> + <span>????</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="id1"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <span>CONTENTS</span> + </h2> + <div class="container contents"> + <ul class="compact simple toc-list"> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#illustrations" id="id13">ILLUSTRATIONS</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id2" id="id14">CAPTAINS ALL</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#the-boatswains-mate" + id="id15">THE BOATSWAIN'S MATE</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#the-nest-egg" id="id16">THE + NEST EGG</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#the-constables-move" + id="id17">THE CONSTABLE'S MOVE</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#bobs-redemption" id="id18">BOB'S + REDEMPTION</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#over-the-side" id="id19">OVER + THE SIDE</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#the-four-pigeons" id="id20">THE + FOUR PIGEONS</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" + href="#the-temptation-of-samuel-burge" id="id21">THE TEMPTATION + OF SAMUEL BURGE</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#the-madness-of-mr-lister" + id="id22">THE MADNESS OF MR. LISTER</a> + </p> + </li> + <li class="level-2 toc-entry"> + <p class="first pfirst"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#the-white-cat" id="id23">THE + WHITE CAT</a> + </p> + </li> + </ul> + </div> + </div> + <div class="container margin transition"> + <p class="center pfirst"> + <span>????</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled block figure" style="width: 68%"> + <img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" + alt=" " src="images/cover.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled block figure" style="width: 68%"> + <img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" + alt=" " src="images/frontispiece.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="container margin transition"> + <p class="center pfirst"> + <span>????</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="illustrations"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id13"><span>ILLUSTRATIONS</span></a> + </h2> + <blockquote> + <div> + <div class="line-block outermost"> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id3">“Captains All.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id4">“The Boatswain's + Mate.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" + href="#i-gives-you-the-two-quid-afore-you-go-into-the-house-continued-the-boatswain">“'I + Gives You the Two Quid Afore You Go Into The House,' Continued + the Boatswain.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id5">“The Nest Egg.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" + href="#he-said-it-was-a-bad-road-and-a-little-shop-and-ad-got-a-look-about-it-he-didnt-like">“He + Said It Was a Bad Road and A Little Shop, And 'ad Got A Look + About It he Didn't Like.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id6">“The Constable's + Move.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" + href="#mr-grummit-suddenly-remembering-himself-stopped-short-and-attacked-the-bed-with-extraordinary-fury">“Mr. + Grummit, Suddenly Remembering Himself, Stopped Short And + Attacked the Bed With Extraordinary Fury.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id7">“Bob's Redemption.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" + href="#afore-george-had-settled-with-the-cabman-there-was-a-policeman-moving-the-crowd-on">“Afore + George Had Settled With the Cabman, There Was A Policeman Moving + the Crowd On.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id8">“Over the Side.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id9">“The Four Pigeons.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" + href="#the-fust-bob-pretty-eard-of-it-was-up-at-the-cauliflower-at-eight-oclock-that-evening">“The + Fust Bob Pretty 'eard of It Was up at The cauliflower at Eight + O'clock That Evening.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id10">“The Temptation of + Samuel Burge.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id11">“The Madness of Mr. + Lister.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" + href="#a-friendship-sprang-up-between-the-two-men-which-puzzled-the-remainder-of-the-crew-not-a-little">“A + Friendship Sprang up Between the Two Men Which Puzzled The + Remainder of the Crew Not a Little.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" href="#id12">“The White Cat.”</a> + </div> + <div class="line"> + <a class="reference internal" + href="#he-ad-a-little-collar-and-chain-made-for-it-and-took-it-out-for-a-walk">“He + 'ad a Little Collar and Chain Made for It, And Took It Out for a + Walk.”</a> + </div> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="id2"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id14"><span>CAPTAINS ALL</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 68%" id="figure-171"> + <span id="id3"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/001.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">E</span><span + class="dropspan">very sailorman grumbles</span><span> about the sea, + said the night-watchman, thoughtfully. It's human nature to grumble, + and I s'pose they keep on grumbling and sticking to it because there + ain't much else they can do. There's not many shore-going berths that + a sailorman is fit for, and those that they are—such as a + night-watchman's, for instance—wants such a good character that + there's few as are to equal it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Sometimes they get things to do ashore. I knew one man that took + up butchering, and 'e did very well at it till the police took him up. + Another man I knew gave up the sea to marry a washerwoman, and they + hadn't been married six months afore she died, and back he 'ad to go + to sea agin, pore chap.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>A man who used to grumble awful about the sea was old Sam + Small—a man I've spoke of to you before. To hear 'im go on about the + sea, arter he 'ad spent four or five months' money in a fortnight, was + 'artbreaking. He used to ask us wot was going to happen to 'im in his + old age, and when we pointed out that he wouldn't be likely to 'ave + any old age if he wasn't more careful of 'imself he used to fly into a + temper and call us everything 'e could lay his tongue to.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>One time when 'e was ashore with Peter Russet and Ginger Dick he + seemed to 'ave got it on the brain. He started being careful of 'is + money instead o' spending it, and three mornings running he bought a + newspaper and read the advertisements, to see whether there was any + comfortable berth for a strong, good-'arted man wot didn't like work.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He actually went arter one situation, and, if it hadn't ha' been + for seventy-nine other men, he said he believed he'd ha' had a good + chance of getting it. As it was, all 'e got was a black eye for + shoving another man, and for a day or two he was so down-'arted that + 'e was no company at all for the other two.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>For three or four days 'e went out by 'imself, and then, all of + a sudden, Ginger Dick and Peter began to notice a great change in him. + He seemed to 'ave got quite cheerful and 'appy. He answered 'em back + pleasant when they spoke to 'im, and one night he lay in 'is bed + whistling comic songs until Ginger and Peter Russet 'ad to get out o' + bed to him. When he bought a new necktie and a smart cap and washed + 'imself twice in one day they fust began to ask each other wot was up, + and then they asked him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Up?” ses Sam; “nothing.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's in love,” ses Peter Russet.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You're a liar,” ses Sam, without turning round.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He'll 'ave it bad at 'is age,” ses Ginger.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Sam didn't say nothing, but he kept fidgeting about as though + 'e'd got something on his mind. Fust he looked out o' the winder, then + he 'ummed a tune, and at last, looking at 'em very fierce, he took a + tooth-brush wrapped in paper out of 'is pocket and began to clean 'is + teeth.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He is in love,” ses Ginger, as soon as he could speak.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Or else 'e's gorn mad,” ses Peter, watching 'im. “Which is it, + Sam?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Sam made believe that he couldn't answer 'im because o' the + tooth-brush, and arter he'd finished he 'ad such a raging toothache + that 'e sat in a corner holding 'is face and looking the pictur' o' + misery. They couldn't get a word out of him till they asked 'im to go + out with them, and then he said 'e was going to bed. Twenty minutes + arterwards, when Ginger Dick stepped back for 'is pipe, he found he + 'ad gorn.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He tried the same game next night, but the other two wouldn't + 'ave it, and they stayed in so long that at last 'e lost 'is temper, + and, arter wondering wot Ginger's father and mother could ha' been + a-thinking about, and saying that he believed Peter Russet 'ad been + changed at birth for a sea-sick monkey, he put on 'is cap and went + out. Both of 'em follered 'im sharp, but when he led 'em to a + mission-hall, and actually went inside, they left 'im and went off on + their own.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They talked it over that night between themselves, and next + evening they went out fust and hid themselves round the corner. Ten + minutes arterwards old Sam came out, walking as though 'e was going to + catch a train; and smiling to think 'ow he 'ad shaken them off. At the + corner of Commercial Road he stopped and bought 'imself a button-hole + for 'is coat, and Ginger was so surprised that 'e pinched Peter Russet + to make sure that he wasn't dreaming.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam walked straight on whistling, and every now and then + looking down at 'is button-hole, until by-and-by he turned down a + street on the right and went into a little shop. Ginger Dick and Peter + waited for 'im at the corner, but he was inside for so long that at + last they got tired o' waiting and crept up and peeped through the + winder.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It was a little tobacconist's shop, with newspapers and penny + toys and such-like; but, as far as Ginger could see through two rows + o' pipes and the Police News, it was empty. They stood there with + their noses pressed against the glass for some time, wondering wot had + 'appened to Sam, but by-and-by a little boy went in and then they + began to 'ave an idea wot Sam's little game was.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>As the shop-bell went the door of a little parlour at the back + of the shop opened, and a stout and uncommon good-looking woman of + about forty came out. Her 'ead pushed the Police News out o' the way + and her 'and came groping into the winder arter a toy.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger 'ad a good look at 'er out o' the corner of one eye, + while he pretended to be looking at a tobacco-jar with the other. As + the little boy came out 'im and Peter Russet went in.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I want a pipe, please,” he ses, smiling at 'er; “a clay + pipe—one o' your best.” The woman handed 'im down a box to choose + from, and just then Peter, wot 'ad been staring in at the arf-open + door at a boot wot wanted lacing up, gave a big start and ses, “Why! + Halloa!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot's the matter?” ses the woman, looking at 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'd know that foot anywhere,” ses Peter, still staring at it; + and the words was hardly out of 'is mouth afore the foot 'ad moved + itself away and tucked itself under its chair. “Why, that's my dear + old friend Sam Small, ain't it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Do you know the captin?” ses the woman, smiling at 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Cap——?” ses Peter. “Cap——? Oh, yes; why, he's the biggest + friend I've got.” “'Ow strange!” ses the woman.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We've been wanting to see 'im for some time,” ses Ginger. “He + was kind enough to lend me arf a crown the other day, and I've been + wanting to pay 'im.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Captin Small,” ses the woman, pushing open the door, “here's + some old friends o' yours.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam turned 'is face round and looked at 'em, and if looks + could ha' killed, as the saying is, they'd ha' been dead men there and + then.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Oh, yes,” he ses, in a choking voice; “'ow are you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Pretty well, thank you, captin,” ses Ginger, grinning at 'im; + “and 'ow's yourself arter all this long time?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He held out 'is hand and Sam shook it, and then shook 'ands with + Peter Russet, who was grinning so 'ard that he couldn't speak.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“These are two old friends o' mine, Mrs. Finch,” ses old Sam, + giving 'em a warning look; “Captin Dick and Captin Russet, two o' the + oldest and best friends a man ever 'ad.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Captin Dick 'as got arf a crown for you,” ses Peter Russet, + still grinning.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There now,” ses Ginger, looking vexed, “if I ain't been and + forgot it; I've on'y got arf a sovereign.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I can give you change, sir,” ses Mrs. Finch. “P'r'aps you'd + like to sit down for five minutes?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger thanked 'er, and 'im and Peter Russet took a chair apiece + in front o' the fire and began asking old Sam about 'is 'ealth, and + wot he'd been doing since they saw 'im last.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Fancy your reckernizing his foot,” ses Mrs. Finch, coming in + with the change.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'd know it anywhere,” ses Peter, who was watching Ginger + pretending to give Sam Small the 'arf-dollar, and Sam pretending in a + most lifelike manner to take it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger Dick looked round the room. It was a comfortable little + place, with pictures on the walls and antimacassars on all the chairs, + and a row of pink vases on the mantelpiece. Then 'e looked at Mrs. + Finch, and thought wot a nice-looking woman she was.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“This is nicer than being aboard ship with a crew o' nasty, + troublesome sailormen to look arter, Captin Small,” he ses.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's wonderful the way he manages 'em,” ses Peter Russet to + Mrs. Finch. “Like a lion he is.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A roaring lion,” ses Ginger, looking at Sam. “He don't know wot + fear is.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Sam began to smile, and Mrs. Finch looked at 'im so pleased that + Peter Russet, who 'ad been looking at 'er and the room, and thinking + much the same way as Ginger, began to think that they was on the wrong + tack.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Afore 'e got stout and old,” he ses, shaking his 'ead, “there + wasn't a smarter skipper afloat.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We all 'ave our day,” ses Ginger, shaking his 'ead too.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I dessay he's good for another year or two afloat, yet,” ses + Peter Russet, considering. “With care,” ses Ginger.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam was going to say something, but 'e stopped himself just + in time. “They will 'ave their joke,” he ses, turning to Mrs. Finch + and trying to smile. “I feel as young as ever I did.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Finch said that anybody with arf an eye could see that, and + then she looked at a kettle that was singing on the 'ob.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I s'pose you gentlemen wouldn't care for a cup o' cocoa?” she + ses, turning to them.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger Dick and Peter both said that they liked it better than + anything else, and, arter she 'ad got out the cups and saucers and a + tin o' cocoa, Ginger held the kettle and poured the water in the cups + while she stirred them, and old Sam sat looking on 'elpless.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It does seem funny to see you drinking cocoa, captin,” ses + Ginger, as old Sam took his cup.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Ho!” ses Sam, firing up; “and why, if I might make so bold as + to ask?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Cos I've generally seen you drinking something out of a + bottle,” ses Ginger.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Now, look 'ere,” ses Sam, starting up and spilling some of the + hot cocoa over 'is lap.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A ginger-beer bottle,” ses Peter Russet, making faces at Ginger + to keep quiet.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Yes, o' course, that's wot I meant,” ses Ginger.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam wiped the cocoa off 'is knees without saying a word, but + his weskit kept going up and down till Peter Russet felt quite sorry + for 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's nothing like it,” he ses to Mrs. Finch. “It was by + sticking to ginger-beer and milk and such-like that Captain Small 'ad + command of a ship afore 'e was twenty-five.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Lor'!” ses Mrs. Finch.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She smiled at old Sam till Peter got uneasy agin, and began to + think p'r'aps 'e'd been praising 'im too much.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Of course, I'm speaking of long ago now,” he ses.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Years and years afore you was born, ma'am,” ses Ginger.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam was going to say something, but Mrs. Finch looked so + pleased that 'e thought better of it. Some o' the cocoa 'e was + drinking went the wrong way, and then Ginger patted 'im on the back + and told 'im to be careful not to bring on 'is brownchitis agin. Wot + with temper and being afraid to speak for fear they should let Mrs. + Finch know that 'e wasn't a captin, he could 'ardly bear 'imself, but + he very near broke out when Peter Russet advised 'im to 'ave his + weskit lined with red flannel. They all stayed on till closing time, + and by the time they left they 'ad made theirselves so pleasant that + Mrs. Finch said she'd be pleased to see them any time they liked to + look in.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Sam Small waited till they 'ad turned the corner, and then he + broke out so alarming that they could 'ardly do anything with 'im. + Twice policemen spoke to 'im and advised 'im to go home afore they + altered their minds; and he 'ad to hold 'imself in and keep quiet + while Ginger and Peter Russet took 'is arms and said they were seeing + him 'ome.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He started the row agin when they got in-doors, and sat up in + 'is bed smacking 'is lips over the things he'd like to 'ave done to + them if he could. And then, arter saying 'ow he'd like to see Ginger + boiled alive like a lobster, he said he knew that 'e was a + noble-'arted feller who wouldn't try and cut an old pal out, and that + it was a case of love at first sight on top of a tram-car.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“She's too young for you,” ses Ginger; “and too good-looking + besides.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's the nice little bisness he's fallen in love with, Ginger,” + ses Peter Russet. “I'll toss you who 'as it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger, who was siting on the foot o' Sam's bed, said “no” at + fust, but arter a time he pulled out arf a dollar and spun it in the + air.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>That was the last 'e see of it, although he 'ad Sam out o' bed + and all the clothes stripped off of it twice. He spent over arf an + hour on his 'ands and knees looking for it, and Sam said when he was + tired of playing bears p'r'aps he'd go to bed and get to sleep like a + Christian.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They 'ad it all over agin next morning, and at last, as nobody + would agree to keep quiet and let the others 'ave a fair chance, they + made up their minds to let the best man win. Ginger Dick bought a + necktie that took all the colour out o' Sam's, and Peter Russet went + in for a collar so big that 'e was lost in it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They all strolled into the widow's shop separate that night. + Ginger Dick 'ad smashed his pipe and wanted another; Peter Russet + wanted some tobacco; and old Sam Small walked in smiling, with a + little silver brooch for 'er, that he said 'e had picked up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It was a very nice brooch, and Mrs. Finch was so pleased with it + that Ginger and Peter sat there as mad as they could be because they + 'adn't thought of the same thing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Captain Small is very lucky at finding things,” ses Ginger, at + last.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's got the name for it,” ses Peter Russet.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's a handy 'abit,” ses Ginger; “it saves spending money. Who + did you give that gold bracelet to you picked up the other night, + captin?” he ses, turning to Sam.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Gold bracelet?” ses Sam. “I didn't pick up no gold bracelet. + Wot are you talking about?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“All right, captin; no offence,” ses Ginger, holding up his + 'and. “I dreamt I saw one on your mantelpiece, I s'pose. P'r'aps I + oughtn't to ha' said anything about it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam looked as though he'd like to eat 'im, especially as he + noticed Mrs. Finch listening and pretending not to. “Oh! that one,” he + ses, arter a bit o' hard thinking. “Oh! I found out who it belonged + to. You wouldn't believe 'ow pleased they was at getting it back + agin.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger Dick coughed and began to think as 'ow old Sam was + sharper than he 'ad given 'im credit for, but afore he could think of + anything else to say Mrs. Finch looked at old Sam and began to talk + about 'is ship, and to say 'ow much she should like to see over it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I wish I could take you,” ses Sam, looking at the other two out + o' the corner of his eye, “but my ship's over at Dunkirk, in France. + I've just run over to London for a week or two to look round.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And mine's there too,” ses Peter Russet, speaking a'most afore + old Sam 'ad finished; “side by side they lay in the harbour.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Oh, dear,” ses Mrs. Finch, folding her 'ands and shaking her + 'cad. “I should like to go over a ship one arternoon. I'd quite made + up my mind to it, knowing three captins.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She smiled and looked at Ginger; and Sam and Peter looked at 'im + too, wondering whether he was going to berth his ship at Dunkirk + alongside o' theirs.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Ah, I wish I 'ad met you a fortnight ago,” ses Ginger, very + sad. “I gave up my ship, the High flyer, then, and I'm waiting for one + my owners are 'aving built for me at New-castle. They said the High + flyer wasn't big enough for me. She was a nice little ship, though. I + believe I've got 'er picture somewhere about me!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He felt in 'is pocket and pulled out a little, crumpled-up + photograph of a ship he'd been fireman aboard of some years afore, and + showed it to 'er.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That's me standing on the bridge,” he ses, pointing out a + little dot with the stem of 'is pipe.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's your figger,” ses Mrs. Finch, straining her eyes. “I + should know it anywhere.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You've got wonderful eyes, ma'am,” ses old Sam, choking with + 'is pipe.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Anybody can see that,” ses Ginger. “They're the largest and the + bluest I've ever seen.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Finch told 'im not to talk nonsense, but both Sam and Peter + Russet could see 'ow pleased she was.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Truth is truth,” ses Ginger. “I'm a plain man, and I speak my + mind.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Blue is my fav'rit' colour,” ses old Sam, in a tender voice. + “True blue.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Peter Russet began to feel out of it. “I thought brown was,” he + ses.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Ho!” ses Sam, turning on 'im; “and why?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I 'ad my reasons,” ses Peter, nodding, and shutting 'is mouth + very firm.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I thought brown was 'is fav'rit colour too,” ses Ginger. “I + don't know why. It's no use asking me; because if you did I couldn't + tell you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Brown's a very nice colour,” ses Mrs. Finch, wondering wot was + the matter with old Sam.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Blue,” ses Ginger; “big blue eyes—they're the ones for me. + Other people may 'ave their blacks and their browns,” he ses, looking + at Sam and Peter Russet, “but give me blue.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They went on like that all the evening, and every time the + shop-bell went and the widow 'ad to go out to serve a customer they + said in w'ispers wot they thought of each other; and once when she + came back rather sudden Ginger 'ad to explain to 'er that 'e was + showing Peter Russet a scratch on his knuckle.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger Dick was the fust there next night, and took 'er a little + chiney teapot he 'ad picked up dirt cheap because it was cracked right + acrost the middle; but, as he explained that he 'ad dropped it in + hurrying to see 'er, she was just as pleased. She stuck it up on the + mantelpiece, and the things she said about Ginger's kindness and + generosity made Peter Russet spend good money that he wanted for + 'imself on a painted flower-pot next evening.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>With three men all courting 'er at the same time Mrs. Finch had + 'er hands full, but she took to it wonderful considering. She was so + nice and kind to 'em all that even arter a week's 'ard work none of + 'em was really certain which she liked best.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They took to going in at odd times o' the day for tobacco and + such-like. They used to go alone then, but they all met and did the + polite to each other there of an evening, and then quarrelled all the + way 'ome.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Then all of a sudden, without any warning, Ginger Dick and Peter + Russet left off going there. The fust evening Sam sat expecting them + every minute, and was so surprised that he couldn't take any advantage + of it; but on the second, beginning by squeezing Mrs. Finch's 'and at + ha'-past seven, he 'ad got best part of his arm round 'er waist by a + quarter to ten. He didn't do more that night because she told him to + be'ave 'imself, and threatened to scream if he didn't leave off.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He was arf-way home afore 'e thought of the reason for Ginger + Dick and Peter Russet giving up, and then he went along smiling to + 'imself to such an extent that people thought 'e was mad. He went off + to sleep with the smile still on 'is lips, and when Peter and Ginger + came in soon arter closing time and 'e woke up and asked them where + they'd been, 'e was still smiling.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I didn't 'ave the pleasure o' seeing you at Mrs. Finch's + to-night,” he ses.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No,” ses Ginger, very short. “We got tired of it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So un'ealthy sitting in that stuffy little room every evening,” + ses Peter.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam put his 'ead under the bedclothes and laughed till the + bed shook; and every now and then he'd put his 'ead out and look at + Peter and Ginger and laugh agin till he choked.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I see 'ow it is,” he ses, sitting up and wiping his eyes on the + sheet. “Well, we cant all win.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot d'ye mean?” ses Ginger, very disagreeable.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“She wouldn't 'ave you, Sam, thats wot I mean. And I don't + wonder at it. I wouldn't 'ave you if I was a gal.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You're dreaming, ses Peter Russet, sneering at 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That flower-pot o' yours'll come in handy,” ses Sam, thinking + 'ow he 'ad put 'is arm round the widow's waist; “and I thank you + kindly for the teapot, Ginger.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You don't mean to say as you've asked 'er to marry you?” ses + Ginger, looking at Peter Russet.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not quite; but I'm going to,” ses Sam, “and I'll bet you even + arf-crowns she ses 'yes.'”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger wouldn't take 'im, and no more would Peter, not even when + he raised it to five shillings; and the vain way old Sam lay there + boasting and talking about 'is way with the gals made 'em both feel + ill.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I wouldn't 'ave her if she asked me on 'er bended knees,” ses + Ginger, holding up his 'ead.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Nor me,” ses Peter. “You're welcome to 'er, Sam. When I think + of the evenings I've wasted over a fat old woman I feel——”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That'll do,” ses old Sam, very sharp; “that ain't the way to + speak of a lady, even if she 'as said 'no.'”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“All right, Sam,” ses Ginger. “You go in and win if you think + you're so precious clever.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam said that that was wot 'e was going to do, and he spent + so much time next morning making 'imself look pretty that the other + two could 'ardly be civil to him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He went off a'most direckly arter breakfast, and they didn't see + 'im agin till twelve o'clock that night. He 'ad brought a bottle o' + whisky in with 'im, and he was so 'appy that they see plain wot had + 'appened.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“She said 'yes' at two o'clock in the arternoon,” ses old Sam, + smiling, arter they had 'ad a glass apiece. “I'd nearly done the trick + at one o'clock, and then the shop-bell went, and I 'ad to begin all + over agin. Still, it wasn't unpleasant.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Do you mean to tell us you've asked 'er to marry you?” ses + Ginger, 'olding out 'is glass to be filled agin.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I do,” ses Sam; “but I 'ope there's no ill-feeling. You never + 'ad a chance, neither of you; she told me so.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Ginger Dick and Peter Russet stared at each other.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“She said she 'ad been in love with me all along,” ses Sam, + filling their glasses agin to cheer 'em up. “We went out arter tea and + bought the engagement-ring, and then she got somebody to mind the shop + and we went to the Pagoda music-'all.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I 'ope you didn't pay much for the ring, Sam,” ses Ginger, who + always got very kind-'arted arter two or three glasses o' whisky. “If + I'd known you was going to be in such a hurry I might ha' told you + before.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We ought to ha' done,” ses Peter, shaking his 'ead.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Told me?” ses Sam, staring at 'em. “Told me wot?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Why me and Peter gave it up,” ses Ginger; “but, o' course, + p'r'aps you don't mind.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Mind wot?” ses Sam.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's wonderful 'ow quiet she kept it,” ses Peter.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam stared at 'em agin, and then he asked 'em to speak in + plain English wot they'd got to say, and not to go taking away the + character of a woman wot wasn't there to speak up for herself.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's nothing agin 'er character,” ses Ginger. “It's a credit to + her, looked at properly,” ses Peter Russet.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And Sam'll 'ave the pleasure of bringing of 'em up,” ses + Ginger.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Bringing of 'em up?” ses Sam, in a trembling voice and turning + pale; “bringing who up?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Why, 'er children,” ses Ginger. “Didn't she tell you? She's got + nine of 'em.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Sam pretended not to believe 'em at fust, and said they was + jealous; but next day he crept down to the greengrocer's shop in the + same street, where Ginger had 'appened to buy some oranges one day, + and found that it was only too true. Nine children, the eldest of 'em + only fifteen, was staying with diff'rent relations owing to + scarlet-fever next door.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Sam crept back 'ome like a man in a dream, with a bag of + oranges he didn't want, and, arter making a present of the + engagement-ring to Ginger—if 'e could get it—he took the fust train to + Tilbury and signed on for a v'y'ge to China.</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="the-boatswains-mate"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id15"><span>THE BOATSWAIN'S MATE</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 68%" id="figure-172"> + <span id="id4"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/002.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">M</span><span + class="dropspan">r. George Benn, retired</span><span> boat-swain, + sighed noisily, and with a despondent gesture, turned to the door and + stood with the handle in his hand; Mrs. Waters, sitting behind the + tiny bar in a tall Windsor-chair, eyed him with some heat.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“My feelings'll never change,” said the boatswain.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Nor mine either,” said the landlady, sharply. “It's a strange + thing, Mr. Benn, but you always ask me to marry you after the third + mug.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's only to get my courage up,” pleaded the boatswain. “Next + time I'll do it afore I 'ave a drop; that'll prove to you I'm in + earnest.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He stepped outside and closed the door before the landlady could + make a selection from the many retorts that crowded to her lips.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>After the cool bar, with its smell of damp saw-dust, the road + seemed hot and dusty; but the boatswain, a prey to gloom natural to a + man whose hand has been refused five times in a fortnight, walked on + unheeding. His steps lagged, but his brain was active.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He walked for two miles deep in thought, and then coming to a + shady bank took a seat upon an inviting piece of turf and lit his + pipe. The heat and the drowsy hum of bees made him nod; his pipe hung + from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes closed.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He opened them at the sound of approaching footsteps, and, + feeling in his pocket for matches, gazed lazily at the intruder. He + saw a tall man carrying a small bundle over his shoulder, and in the + erect carriage, the keen eyes, and bronzed face had little difficulty + in detecting the old soldier.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The stranger stopped as he reached the seated boatswain and eyed + him pleasantly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Got a pipe o' baccy, mate?” he inquired.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain handed him the small metal box in which he kept + that luxury.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Lobster, ain't you?” he said, affably.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The tall man nodded. “Was,” he replied. “Now I'm my own + commander-in-chief.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Padding it?” suggested the boatswain, taking the box from him + and refilling his pipe.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The other nodded, and with the air of one disposed to + conversation dropped his bundle in the ditch and took a seat beside + him. “I've got plenty of time,” he remarked.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Benn nodded, and for a while smoked on in silence. A dim + idea which had been in his mind for some time began to clarify. He + stole a glance at his companion—a man of about thirty-eight, clear + eyes, with humorous wrinkles at the corners, a heavy moustache, and a + cheerful expression more than tinged with recklessness.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Ain't over and above fond o' work?” suggested the boatswain, + when he had finished his inspection.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I love it,” said the other, blowing a cloud of smoke in the + air, “but we can't have all we want in this world; it wouldn't be good + for us.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain thought of Mrs. Waters, and sighed. Then he + rattled his pocket.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Would arf a quid be any good to you?” he inquired.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Look here,” began the soldier; “just because I asked you for a + pipe o' baccy—”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No offence,” said the other, quickly. “I mean if you earned + it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier nodded and took his pipe from his mouth. “Gardening + and windows?” he hazarded, with a shrug of his shoulders.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain shook his head.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Scrubbing, p'r'aps?” said the soldier, with a sigh of + resignation. “Last house I scrubbed out I did it so thoroughly they + accused me of pouching the soap. Hang 'em!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And you didn't?” queried the boatswain, eyeing him keenly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier rose and, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, gazed + at him darkly. “I can't give it back to you,” he said, slowly, + “because I've smoked some of it, and I can't pay you for it because + I've only got twopence, and that I want for myself. So long, matey, + and next time a poor wretch asks you for a pipe, be civil.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I never see such a man for taking offence in all my born days,” + expostulated the boat-swain. “I 'ad my reasons for that remark, mate. + Good reasons they was.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier grunted and, stooping, picked up his bundle.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I spoke of arf a sovereign just now,” continued the boatswain, + impressively, “and when I tell you that I offer it to you to do a bit + o' burgling, you'll see 'ow necessary it is for me to be certain of + your honesty.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Burgling?” gasped the astonished soldier. “Honesty? 'Struth; + are you drunk or am I?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Meaning,” said the boatswain, waving the imputation away with + his hand, “for you to pretend to be a burglar.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We're both drunk, that's what it is,” said the other, + resignedly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain fidgeted. “If you don't agree, mum's the word and + no 'arm done,” he said, holding out his hand.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Mum's the word,” said the soldier, taking it. “My name's Ned + Travers, and, barring cells for a spree now and again, there's nothing + against it. Mind that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Might 'appen to anybody,” said Mr. Benn, soothingly. “You fill + your pipe and don't go chucking good tobacco away agin.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers took the offered box and, with economy born of + adversity, stooped and filled up first with the plug he had thrown + away. Then he resumed his seat and, leaning back luxuriously, bade the + other “fire away.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I ain't got it all ship-shape and proper yet,” said Mr. Benn, + slowly, “but it's in my mind's eye. It's been there off and on like + for some time.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He lit his pipe again and gazed fixedly at the opposite hedge. + “Two miles from here, where I live,” he said, after several vigorous + puffs, “there's a little public-'ouse called the Beehive, kept by a + lady wot I've got my eye on.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier sat up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“She won't 'ave me,” said the boatswain, with an air of mild + surprise.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier leaned back again.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“She's a lone widder,” continued Mr. Benn, shaking his head, + “and the Beehive is in a lonely place. It's right through the village, + and the nearest house is arf a mile off.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Silly place for a pub,” commented Mr. Travers.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've been telling her 'ow unsafe it is,” said the boatswain. + “I've been telling her that she wants a man to protect her, and she + only laughs at me. She don't believe it; d'ye see? Likewise I'm a + small man—small, but stiff. She likes tall men.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Most women do,” said Mr. Travers, sitting upright and + instinctively twisting his moustache. “When I was in the ranks—”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“My idea is,” continued the boatswain, slightly raising his + voice, “to kill two birds with one stone—prove to her that she does + want being protected, and that I'm the man to protect her. D'ye take + my meaning, mate?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier reached out a hand and felt the other's biceps. + “Like a lump o' wood,” he said, approvingly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“My opinion is,” said the boatswain, with a faint smirk, “that + she loves me without knowing it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They often do,” said Mr. Travers, with a grave shake of his + head.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Consequently I don't want 'er to be disappointed,” said the + other.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It does you credit,” remarked Mr. Travers.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've got a good head,” said Mr. Benn, “else I shouldn't 'ave + got my rating as boatswain as soon as I did; and I've been turning it + over in my mind, over and over agin, till my brain-pan fair aches with + it. Now, if you do what I want you to to-night and it comes off all + right, damme I'll make it a quid.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Go on, Vanderbilt,” said Mr. Travers; “I'm listening.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain gazed at him fixedly. “You meet me 'ere in this + spot at eleven o'clock to-night,” he said, solemnly; “and I'll take + you to her 'ouse and put you through a little winder I know of. You + goes upstairs and alarms her, and she screams for help. I'm watching + the house, faithful-like, and hear 'er scream. I dashes in at the + winder, knocks you down, and rescues her. D'ye see?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I hear,” corrected Mr. Travers, coldly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“She clings to me,” continued the boat-swain, with a rapt + expression of face, “in her gratitood, and, proud of my strength and + pluck, she marries me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“An' I get a five years' honeymoon,” said the soldier.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain shook his head and patted the other's shoulder. + “In the excitement of the moment you spring up and escape,” he said, + with a kindly smile. “I've thought it all out. You can run much faster + than I can; any-ways, you will. The nearest 'ouse is arf a mile off, + as I said, and her servant is staying till to-morrow at 'er mother's, + ten miles away.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers rose to his feet and stretched himself. “Time I was + toddling,” he said, with a yawn. “Thanks for amusing me, mate.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You won't do it?” said the boatswain, eyeing him with much + concern.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm hanged if I do,” said the soldier, emphatically. “Accidents + will happen, and then where should I be?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If they did,” said the boatswain, “I'd own up and clear you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You might,” said Mr. Travers, “and then again you mightn't. So + long, mate.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I—I'll make it two quid,” said the boat-swain, trembling with + eagerness. “I've took a fancy to you; you're just the man for the + job.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier, adjusting his bundle, glanced at him over his + shoulder. “Thankee,” he said, with mock gratitude.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Look 'ere,” said the boatswain, springing up and catching him + by the sleeve; “I'll give it to you in writing. Come, you ain't + faint-hearted? Why, a bluejacket 'ud do it for the fun o' the thing. + If I give it to you in writing, and there should be an accident, it's + worse for me than it is for you, ain't it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers hesitated and, pushing his cap back, scratched his + head.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I gives you the two quid afore you go into the house,” + continued the boatswain, hastily following up the impression he had + made. “I'd give 'em to you now if I'd got 'em with me. That's my + confidence in you; I likes the look of you. Soldier or sailor, when + there is a man's work to be done, give 'em to me afore anybody.”</span> + </p> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 69%" id="figure-173"> + <span + id="i-gives-you-the-two-quid-afore-you-go-into-the-house-continued-the-boatswain"></span><img + class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " + src="images/003.jpg" /> + </div> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier seated himself again and let his bundle fall to the + ground. “Go on,” he said, slowly. “Write it out fair and square and + sign it, and I'm your man.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain clapped him on the shoulder and produced a bundle + of papers from his pocket. “There's letters there with my name and + address on 'em,” he said. “It's all fair, square, and above-board. + When you've cast your eyes over them I'll give you the writing.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers took them and, re-lighting his pipe, smoked in + silence, with various side glances at his companion as that enthusiast + sucked his pencil and sat twisting in the agonies of composition. The + document finished—after several failures had been retrieved and burnt + by the careful Mr. Travers—the boat-swain heaved a sigh of relief, and + handing it over to him, leaned back with a complacent air while he + read it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Seems all right,” said the soldier, folding it up and putting + it in his waistcoat-pocket. “I'll be here at eleven to-night.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Eleven it is,” said the boatswain, briskly, “and, between + pals—here's arf a dollar to go on with.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He patted him on the shoulder again, and with a caution to keep + out of sight as much as possible till night walked slowly home. His + step was light, but he carried a face in which care and exultation + were strangely mingled.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>By ten o'clock that night care was in the ascendant, and by + eleven, when he discerned the red glow of Mr. Travers's pipe set as a + beacon against a dark background of hedge, the boatswain was ready to + curse his inventive powers. Mr. Travers greeted him cheerily and, + honestly attributing the fact to good food and a couple of pints of + beer he had had since the boatswain left him, said that he was ready + for anything.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Benn grunted and led the way in silence. There was no moon, + but the night was clear, and Mr. Travers, after one or two + light-hearted attempts at conversation, abandoned the effort and fell + to whistling softly instead.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Except for one lighted window the village slept in darkness, but + the boatswain, who had been walking with the stealth of a Red Indian + on the war-path, breathed more freely after they had left it behind. A + renewal of his antics a little farther on apprised Mr. Travers that + they were approaching their destination, and a minute or two later + they came to a small inn standing just off the road. “All shut up and + Mrs. Waters abed, bless her,” whispered the boatswain, after walking + care-fully round the house. “How do you feel?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm all right,” said Mr. Travers. “I feel as if I'd been + burgling all my life. How do you feel?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Narvous,” said Mr. Benn, pausing under a small window at the + rear of the house. “This is the one.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers stepped back a few paces and gazed up at the house. + All was still. For a few moments he stood listening and then re-joined + the boatswain.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Good-bye, mate,” he said, hoisting himself on to the sill. + “Death or victory.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain whispered and thrust a couple of sovereigns into + his hand. “Take your time; there's no hurry,” he muttered. “I want to + pull myself together. Frighten 'er enough, but not too much. When she + screams I'll come in.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers slipped inside and then thrust his head out of the + window. “Won't she think it funny you should be so handy?” he + inquired.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No; it's my faithful 'art,” said the boat-swain, “keeping watch + over her every night, that's the ticket. She won't know no better.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers grinned, and removing his boots passed them out to + the other. “We don't want her to hear me till I'm upstairs,” he + whispered. “Put 'em outside, handy for me to pick up.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain obeyed, and Mr. Travers—who was by no means a good + hand at darning socks—shivered as he trod lightly over a stone floor. + Then, following the instructions of Mr. Benn, he made his way to the + stairs and mounted noiselessly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>But for a slight stumble half-way up his progress was very + creditable for an amateur. He paused and listened and, all being + silent, made his way to the landing and stopped out-side a door. + Despite himself his heart was beating faster than usual.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He pushed the door open slowly and started as it creaked. + Nothing happening he pushed again, and standing just inside saw, by a + small ewer silhouetted against the casement, that he was in a bedroom. + He listened for the sound of breathing, but in vain.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Quiet sleeper,” he reflected; “or perhaps it is an empty room. + Now, I wonder whether—”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The sound of an opening door made him start violently, and he + stood still, scarcely breathing, with his ears on the alert. A light + shone on the landing, and peeping round the door he saw a woman coming + along the corridor—a younger and better-looking woman than he had + expected to see. In one hand she held aloft a candle, in the other she + bore a double-barrelled gun. Mr. Travers withdrew into the room and, + as the light came nearer, slipped into a big cupboard by the side of + the fireplace and, standing bolt upright, waited. The light came into + the room.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Must have been my fancy,” said a pleasant voice.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Bless her,” smiled Mr. Travers.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>His trained ear recognized the sound of cocking triggers. The + next moment a heavy body bumped against the door of the cupboard and + the key turned in the lock.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Got you!” said the voice, triumphantly. “Keep still; if you try + and break out I shall shoot you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“All right,” said Mr. Travers, hastily; “I won't move.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Better not,” said the voice. “Mind, I've got a gun pointing + straight at you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Point it downwards, there's a good girl,” said Mr. Travers, + earnestly; “and take your finger off the trigger. If anything happened + to me you'd never forgive yourself.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's all right so long as you don't move,” said the voice; “and + I'm not a girl,” it added, sternly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Yes, you are,” said the prisoner. “I saw you. I thought it was + an angel at first. I saw your little bare feet and—”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>A faint scream interrupted him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You'll catch cold,” urged Mr. Travers.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't you trouble about me,” said the voice, tartly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I won't give any trouble,” said Mr. Travers, who began to think + it was time for the boatswain to appear on the scene. “Why don't you + call for help? I'll go like a lamb.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't want your advice,” was the reply. “I know what to do. + Now, don't you try and break out. I'm going to fire one barrel out of + the window, but I've got the other one for you if you move.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“My dear girl,” protested the horrified Mr. Travers, “you'll + alarm the neighbourhood.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Just what I want to do,” said the voice. “Keep still, mind.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers hesitated. The game was up, and it was clear that in + any case the stratagem of the ingenious Mr. Benn would have to be + disclosed.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Stop!” he said, earnestly. “Don't do anything rash. I'm not a + burglar; I'm doing this for a friend of yours—Mr. Benn.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What?” said an amazed voice.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“True as I stand here,” asseverated Mr. Travers. “Here, here's + my instructions. I'll put 'em under the door, and if you go to the + back window you'll see him in the garden waiting.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He rustled the paper under the door, and it was at once snatched + from his fingers. He regained an upright position and stood listening + to the startled and indignant exclamations of his gaoler as she read + the boatswain's permit:</span> + </p> + <blockquote> + <div> + <blockquote> + <div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span>“This is to give notice that I, George Benn, being of + sound mind and body, have told Ned Travers to pretend to be a + burglar at Mrs. Waters's. He ain't a burglar, and I shall be + outside all the time. It's all above-board and ship-shape.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“(Signed) George Benn”</span> + </p> + </div> + </blockquote> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span>“Sound mind—above-board—ship-shape,” repeated a dazed voice. + “Where is he?”</span> + </p> + </div> + </blockquote> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span>“Out at the back,” replied Mr. Travers. “If you go to the window + you can see him. Now, do put something round your shoulders, there's a + good girl.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>There was no reply, but a board creaked. He waited for what + seemed a long time, and then the board creaked again.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Did you see him?” he inquired.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I did,” was the sharp reply. “You both ought to be ashamed of + yourselves. You ought to be punished.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There is a clothes-peg sticking into the back of my head,” + remarked Mr. Travers. “What are you going to do?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>There was no reply.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What are you going to do?” repeated Mr. Travers, somewhat + uneasily. “You look too nice to do anything hard; leastways, so far as + I can judge through this crack.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>There was a smothered exclamation, and then sounds of somebody + moving hastily about the room and the swish of clothing hastily + donned.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You ought to have done it before,” commented the thoughtful Mr. + Travers. “It's enough to give you your death of cold.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Mind your business,” said the voice, sharply. “Now, if I let + you out, will you promise to do exactly as I tell you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Honour bright,” said Mr. Travers, fervently.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm going to give Mr. Benn a lesson he won't forget,” proceeded + the other, grimly. “I'm going to fire off this gun, and then run down + and tell him I've killed you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Eh?” said the amazed Mr. Travers. “Oh, Lord!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“H'sh! Stop that laughing,” commanded the voice. “He'll hear + you. Be quiet!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The key turned in the lock, and Mr. Travers, stepping forth, + clapped his hand over his mouth and endeavoured to obey. Mrs. Waters, + stepping back with the gun ready, scrutinized him closely.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come on to the landing,” said Mr. Travers, eagerly. “We don't + want anybody else to hear. Fire into this.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He snatched a patchwork rug from the floor and stuck it up + against the balusters. “You stay here,” said Mrs. Waters. He nodded.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She pointed the gun at the hearth-rug, the walls shook with the + explosion, and, with a shriek that set Mr. Travers's teeth on edge, + she rushed downstairs and, drawing back the bolts of the back door, + tottered outside and into the arms of the agitated boatswain.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Oh! oh! oh!” she cried.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What—what's the matter?” gasped the boatswain.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The widow struggled in his arms. “A burglar,” she said, in a + tense whisper. “But it's all right; I've killed him.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Kill—” stuttered the other. “Kill——Killed him?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Waters nodded and released herself, “First shot,” she said, + with a satisfied air.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain wrung his hands. “Good heavens!” he said, moving + slowly towards the door. “Poor fellow!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come back,” said the widow, tugging at his coat.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I was—was going to see—whether I could do anything for 'im,” + quavered the boatswain. “Poor fellow!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You stay where you are,” commanded Mrs. Waters. “I don't want + any witnesses. I don't want this house to have a bad name. I'm going + to keep it quiet.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Quiet?” said the shaking boatswain. “How?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“First thing to do,” said the widow, thoughtfully, “is to get + rid of the body. I'll bury him in the garden, I think. There's a very + good bit of ground behind those potatoes. You'll find the spade in the + tool-house.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The horrified Mr. Benn stood stock-still regarding her.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“While you're digging the grave,” continued Mrs. 'Waters, + calmly, “I'll go in and clean up the mess.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain reeled and then fumbled with trembling fingers at + his collar.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Like a man in a dream he stood watching as she ran to the + tool-house and returned with a spade and pick; like a man in a dream + he followed her on to the garden.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Be careful,” she said, sharply; “you're treading down my + potatoes.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain stopped dead and stared at her. Apparently + unconscious of his gaze, she began to pace out the measurements and + then, placing the tools in his hands, urged him to lose no time.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll bring him down when you're gone,” she said, looking + towards the house.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain wiped his damp brow with the back of his hand. + “How are you going to get it downstairs?” he breathed.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Drag it,” said Mrs. Waters, briefly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Suppose he isn't dead?” said the boat-swain, with a gleam of + hope.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Fiddlesticks!” said Mrs. Waters. “Do you think I don't know? + Now, don't waste time talking; and mind you dig it deep. I'll put a + few cabbages on top afterwards—I've got more than I want.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She re-entered the house and ran lightly upstairs. The candle + was still alight and the gun was leaning against the bed-post; but the + visitor had disappeared. Conscious of an odd feeling of + disappointment, she looked round the empty room.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come and look at him,” entreated a voice, and she turned and + beheld the amused countenance of her late prisoner at the door.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've been watching from the back window,” he said, nodding. + “You're a wonder; that's what you are. Come and look at him.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Waters followed, and leaning out of the window watched with + simple pleasure the efforts of the amateur sexton. Mr. Benn was + digging like one possessed, only pausing at intervals to straighten + his back and to cast a fearsome glance around him. The only thing that + marred her pleasure was the behaviour of Mr. Travers, who was + struggling for a place with all the fervour of a citizen at the Lord + Mayor's show.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Get back,” she said, in a fierce whisper. “He'll see you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers with obvious reluctance obeyed, just as the victim + looked up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Is that you, Mrs. Waters?” inquired the boatswain, fearfully.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Yes, of course it is,” snapped the widow. “Who else should it + be, do you think? Go on! What are you stopping for?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Benn's breathing as he bent to his task again was distinctly + audible. The head of Mr. Travers ranged itself once more alongside the + widow's. For a long time they watched in silence.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Won't you come down here, Mrs. Waters?” called the boatswain, + looking up so suddenly that Mr. Travers's head bumped painfully + against the side of the window. “It's a bit creepy, all alone.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm all right,” said Mrs. Waters.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I keep fancying there's something dodging behind them currant + bushes,” pursued the unfortunate Mr. Benn, hoarsely. “How you can stay + there alone I can't think. I thought I saw something looking over your + shoulder just now. Fancy if it came creeping up behind and caught hold + of you! The widow gave a sudden faint scream.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If you do that again!” she said, turning fiercely on Mr. + Travers.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He put it into my head,” said the culprit, humbly; “I should + never have thought of such a thing by myself. I'm one of the quietest + and best-behaved——”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Make haste, Mr. Benn,” said the widow, turning to the window + again; “I've got a lot to do when you've finished.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The boatswain groaned and fell to digging again, and Mrs. + Waters, after watching a little while longer, gave Mr. Travers some + pointed instructions about the window and went down to the garden + again.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That will do, I think,” she said, stepping into the hole and + regarding it critically. “Now you'd better go straight off home, and, + mind, not a word to a soul about this.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She put her hand on his shoulder, and noticing with pleasure + that he shuddered at her touch led the way to the gate. The boat-swain + paused for a moment, as though about to speak, and then, apparently + thinking better of it, bade her good-bye in a hoarse voice and walked + feebly up the road. Mrs. Waters stood watching until his steps died + away in the distance, and then, returning to the garden, took up the + spade and stood regarding with some dismay the mountainous result of + his industry. Mr. Travers, who was standing just inside the back door, + joined her.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Let me,” he said, gallantly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The day was breaking as he finished his task. The clean, sweet + air and the exercise had given him an appetite to which the smell of + cooking bacon and hot coffee that proceeded from the house had set a + sharper edge. He took his coat from a bush and put it on. Mrs. Waters + appeared at the door.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You had better come in and have some breakfast before you go,” + she said, brusquely; “there's no more sleep for me now.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers obeyed with alacrity, and after a satisfying wash in + the scullery came into the big kitchen with his face shining and took + a seat at the table. The cloth was neatly laid, and Mrs. Waters, fresh + and cool, with a smile upon her pleasant face, sat behind the tray. + She looked at her guest curiously, Mr. Travers's spirits being + somewhat higher than the state of his wardrobe appeared to justify.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Why don't you get some settled work?” she inquired, with gentle + severity, as he imparted snatches of his history between bites.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Easier said than done,” said Mr. Travers, serenely. “But don't + you run away with the idea that I'm a beggar, because I'm not. I pay + my way, such as it is. And, by-the-bye, I s'pose I haven't earned that + two pounds Benn gave me?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>His face lengthened, and he felt uneasily in his pocket.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll give them to him when I'm tired of the joke,” said the + widow, holding out her hand and watching him closely.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Travers passed the coins over to her. “Soft hand you've + got,” he said, musingly. “I don't wonder Benn was desperate. I dare + say I should have done the same in his place.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Waters bit her lip and looked out at the window; Mr. + Travers resumed his breakfast.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's only one job that I'm really fit for, now that I'm too + old for the Army,” he said, confidentially, as, breakfast finished, he + stood at the door ready to depart.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Playing at burglars?” hazarded Mrs. Waters.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Landlord of a little country public-house,” said Mr. Travers, + simply.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Waters fell back and regarded him with open-eyed amazement.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Good morning,” she said, as soon as she could trust her voice.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Good-bye,” said Mr. Travers, reluctantly. “I should like to + hear how old Benn takes this joke, though.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Waters retreated into the house and stood regarding him. + “If you're passing this way again and like to look in—I'll tell you,” + she said, after a long pause. “Good-bye.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll look in in a week's time,” said Mr. Travers.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He took the proffered hand and shook it warmly. “It would be the + best joke of all,” he said, turning away.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What would?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The soldier confronted her again.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“For old Benn to come round here one evening and find me + landlord. Think it over.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Waters met his gaze soberly. “I'll think it over when you + have gone,” she said, softly. “Now go.”</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="the-nest-egg"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id16"><span>THE NEST EGG</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 46%" id="figure-174"> + <span id="id5"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/004.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">A</span><span + class="dropspan">rtfulness,” said the</span><span> night-watch-man, + smoking placidly, “is a gift; but it don't pay always. I've met some + artful ones in my time—plenty of 'em; but I can't truthfully say as + 'ow any of them was the better for meeting me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He rose slowly from the packing-case on which he had been + sitting and, stamping down the point of a rusty nail with his heel, + resumed his seat, remarking that he had endured it for some time under + the impression that it was only a splinter.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've surprised more than one in my time,” he continued, slowly. + “When I met one of these 'ere artful ones I used fust of all to + pretend to be more stupid than wot I really am.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He stopped and stared fixedly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“More stupid than I looked,” he said. He stopped again.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“More stupid than wot they thought I looked,” he said, speaking + with marked deliberation. And I'd let 'em go on and on until I thought + I had 'ad about enough, and then turn round on 'em. Nobody ever got + the better o' me except my wife, and that was only before we was + married. Two nights arterwards she found a fish-hook in my + trouser-pocket, and arter that I could ha' left untold gold there—if + I'd ha' had it. It spoilt wot some people call the honey-moon, but it + paid in the long run.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>One o' the worst things a man can do is to take up artfulness + all of a sudden. I never knew it to answer yet, and I can tell you of + a case that'll prove my words true.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It's some years ago now, and the chap it 'appened to was a young + man, a shipmate o' mine, named Charlie Tagg. Very steady young chap he + was, too steady for most of 'em. That's 'ow it was me and 'im got to + be such pals.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He'd been saving up for years to get married, and all the advice + we could give 'im didn't 'ave any effect. He saved up nearly every + penny of 'is money and gave it to his gal to keep for 'im, and the + time I'm speaking of she'd got seventy-two pounds of 'is and + seventeen-and-six of 'er own to set up house-keeping with.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Then a thing happened that I've known to 'appen to sailormen + afore. At Sydney 'e got silly on another gal, and started walking out + with her, and afore he knew wot he was about he'd promised to marry + 'er too.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Sydney and London being a long way from each other was in 'is + favour, but the thing that troubled 'im was 'ow to get that + seventy-two pounds out of Emma Cook, 'is London gal, so as he could + marry the other with it. It worried 'im all the way home, and by the + time we got into the London river 'is head was all in a maze with it. + Emma Cook 'ad got it all saved up in the bank, to take a little shop + with when they got spliced, and 'ow to get it he could not think.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He went straight off to Poplar, where she lived, as soon as the + ship was berthed. He walked all the way so as to 'ave more time for + thinking, but wot with bumping into two old gentlemen with bad + tempers, and being nearly run over by a cabman with a white 'orse and + red whiskers, he got to the house without 'aving thought of anything.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They was just finishing their tea as 'e got there, and they all + seemed so pleased to see 'im that it made it worse than ever for 'im. + Mrs. Cook, who 'ad pretty near finished, gave 'im her own cup to drink + out of, and said that she 'ad dreamt of 'im the night afore last, and + old Cook said that he 'ad got so good-looking 'e shouldn't 'ave known + him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I should 'ave passed 'im in the street,” he ses. “I never see + such an alteration.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They'll be a nice-looking couple,” ses his wife, looking at a + young chap, named George Smith, that 'ad been sitting next to Emma.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie Tagg filled 'is mouth with bread and butter, and + wondered 'ow he was to begin. He squeezed Emma's 'and just for the + sake of keeping up appearances, and all the time 'e was thinking of + the other gal waiting for 'im thousands o' miles away.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You've come 'ome just in the nick o' time,” ses old Cook; “if + you'd done it o' purpose you couldn't 'ave arranged it better.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Somebody's birthday?” ses Charlie, trying to smile.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Old Cook shook his 'ead. “Though mine is next Wednesday,” he + ses, “and thank you for thinking of it. No; you're just in time for + the biggest bargain in the chandlery line that anybody ever 'ad a + chance of. If you 'adn't ha' come back we should have 'ad to ha' done + it without you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Eighty pounds,” ses Mrs. Cook, smiling at Charlie. “With the + money Emma's got saved and your wages this trip you'll 'ave plenty. + You must come round arter tea and 'ave a look at it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Little place not arf a mile from 'ere,” ses old Cook. “Properly + worked up, the way Emma'll do it, it'll be a little fortune. I wish + I'd had a chance like it in my young time.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He sat shaking his 'ead to think wot he'd lost, and Charlie Tagg + sat staring at 'im and wondering wot he was to do.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“My idea is for Charlie to go for a few more v'y'ges arter + they're married while Emma works up the business,” ses Mrs. Cook; + “she'll be all right with young Bill and Sarah Ann to 'elp her and + keep 'er company while he's away.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We'll see as she ain't lonely,” ses George Smith, turning to + Charlie.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie Tagg gave a bit of a cough and said it wanted + considering. He said it was no good doing things in a 'urry and then + repenting of 'em all the rest of your life. And 'e said he'd been + given to understand that chandlery wasn't wot it 'ad been, and some of + the cleverest people 'e knew thought that it would be worse before it + was better. By the time he'd finished they was all looking at 'im as + though they couldn't believe their ears.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You just step round and 'ave a look at the place,” ses old + Cook; “if that don't make you alter your tune, call me a sinner.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie Tagg felt as though 'e could ha' called 'im a lot o' + worse things than that, but he took up 'is hat and Mrs. Cook and Emma + got their bonnets on and they went round.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't think much of it for eighty pounds,” ses Charlie, + beginning his artfulness as they came near a big shop, with + plate-glass and a double front.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Eh?” ses old Cook, staring at 'im. “Why, that ain't the place. + Why, you wouldn't get that for eight 'undred.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, I don't think much of it,” ses Charlie; “if it's worse + than that I can't look at it—I can't, indeed.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You ain't been drinking, Charlie?” ses old Cook, in a puzzled + voice.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Certainly not,” ses Charlie.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He was pleased to see 'ow anxious they all looked, and when they + did come to the shop 'e set up a laugh that old Cook said chilled the + marrer in 'is bones. He stood looking in a 'elpless sort o' way at his + wife and Emma, and then at last he ses, “There it is; and a fair + bargain at the price.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I s'pose you ain't been drinking?” ses Charlie.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot's the matter with it?” ses Mrs. Cook flaring up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come inside and look at it,” ses Emma, taking 'old of his arm.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not me,” ses Charlie, hanging back. “Why, I wouldn't take it at + a gift.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He stood there on the kerbstone, and all they could do 'e + wouldn't budge. He said it was a bad road and a little shop, and 'ad + got a look about it he didn't like. They walked back 'ome like a + funeral procession, and Emma 'ad to keep saying “H's!” in w'ispers to + 'er mother all the way.</span> + </p> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 67%" id="figure-175"> + <span + id="he-said-it-was-a-bad-road-and-a-little-shop-and-ad-got-a-look-about-it-he-didnt-like"></span><img + class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " + src="images/005.jpg" /> + </div> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't know wot Charlie does want, I'm sure,” ses Mrs. Cook, + taking off 'er bonnet as soon as she got indoors and pitching it on + the chair he was just going to set down on.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's so awk'ard,” ses old Cook, rubbing his 'cad. “Fact is, + Charlie, we pretty near gave 'em to understand as we'd buy it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's as good as settled,” ses Mrs. Cook, trembling all over + with temper.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They won't settle till they get the money,” ses Charlie. “You + may make your mind easy about that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Emma's drawn it all out of the bank ready,” ses old Cook, eager + like.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie felt 'ot and cold all over. “I'd better take care of + it,” he ses, in a trembling voice. “You might be robbed.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So might you be,” ses Mrs. Cook. “Don't you worry; it's in a + safe place.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Sailormen are always being robbed,” ses George Smith, who 'ad + been helping young Bill with 'is sums while they 'ad gone to look at + the shop. “There's more sailormen robbed than all the rest put + together.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They won't rob Charlie,” ses Mrs. Cook, pressing 'er lips + together. “I'll take care o' that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie tried to laugh, but 'e made such a queer noise that + young Bill made a large blot on 'is exercise-book, and old Cook, wot + was lighting his pipe, burnt 'is fingers through not looking wot 'e + was doing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You see,” ses Charlie, “if I was robbed, which ain't at all + likely, it 'ud only be me losing my own money; but if you was robbed + of it you'd never forgive yourselves.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I dessay I should get over it,” ses Mrs. Cook, sniffing. “I'd + 'ave a try, at all events.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie started to laugh agin, and old Cook, who had struck + another match, blew it out and waited till he'd finished.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“The whole truth is,” ses Charlie, looking round, “I've got + something better to do with the money. I've got a chance offered me + that'll make me able to double it afore you know where you are.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not afore I know where I am,” ses Mrs. Cook, with a laugh that + was worse than Charlie's.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“The chance of a lifetime,” ses Charlie, trying to keep 'is + temper. “I can't tell you wot it is, because I've promised to keep it + secret for a time. You'll be surprised when I do tell you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If I wait till then till I'm surprised,” ses Mrs. Cook, “I + shall 'ave to wait a long time. My advice to you is to take that shop + and ha' done with it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie sat there arguing all the evening, but it was no good, + and the idea o' them people sitting there and refusing to let 'im have + his own money pretty near sent 'im crazy. It was all 'e could do to + kiss Emma good-night, and 'e couldn't have 'elped slamming the front + door if he'd been paid for it. The only comfort he 'ad got left was + the Sydney gal's photygraph, and he took that out and looked at it + under nearly every lamp-post he passed.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He went round the next night and 'ad an-other try to get 'is + money, but it was no use; and all the good he done was to make Mrs. + Cook in such a temper that she 'ad to go to bed before he 'ad arf + finished. It was no good talking to old Cook and Emma, because they + daren't do anything without 'er, and it was no good calling things up + the stairs to her because she didn't answer. Three nights running Mrs. + Cook went off to bed afore eight o'clock, for fear she should say + something to 'im as she'd be sorry for arterwards; and for three + nights Charlie made 'imself so disagreeable that Emma told 'im plain + the sooner 'e went back to sea agin the better she should like it. The + only one who seemed to enjoy it was George Smith, and 'e used to bring + bits out o' newspapers and read to 'em, showing 'ow silly people was + done out of their money.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>On the fourth night Charlie dropped it and made 'imself so + amiable that Mrs. Cook stayed up and made 'im a Welsh rare-bit for 'is + supper, and made 'im drink two glasses o' beer instead o' one, while + old Cook sat and drank three glasses o' water just out of temper, and + to show that 'e didn't mind. When she started on the chandler's shop + agin Charlie said he'd think it over, and when 'e went away Mrs. Cook + called 'im her sailor-boy and wished 'im pleasant dreams.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>But Charlie Tagg 'ad got better things to do than to dream, and + 'e sat up in bed arf the night thinking out a new plan he'd thought of + to get that money. When 'e did fall asleep at last 'e dreamt of taking + a little farm in Australia and riding about on 'orseback with the + Sydney gal watching his men at work.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>In the morning he went and hunted up a shipmate of 'is, a young + feller named Jack Bates. Jack was one o' these 'ere chaps, nobody's + enemy but their own, as the saying is; a good-'arted, free-'anded chap + as you could wish to see. Everybody liked 'im, and the ship's cat + loved 'im. He'd ha' sold the shirt off 'is back to oblige a pal, and + three times in one week he got 'is face scratched for trying to + prevent 'usbands knocking their wives about.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie Tagg went to 'im because he was the only man 'e could + trust, and for over arf an hour he was telling Jack Bates all 'is + troubles, and at last, as a great favour, he let 'im see the Sydney + gal's photygraph, and told him that all that pore gal's future + 'appiness depended upon 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll step round to-night and rob 'em of that seventy-two + pounds,” ses Jack; “it's your money, and you've a right to it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie shook his 'ead. “That wouldn't do,” he ses; “besides, I + don't know where they keep it. No; I've got a better plan than that. + Come round to the Crooked Billet, so as we can talk it over in peace + and quiet.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He stood Jack three or four arf-pints afore 'e told 'im his + plan, and Jack was so pleased with it that he wanted to start at once, + but Charlie persuaded 'im to wait.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And don't you spare me, mind, out o' friendship,” ses Charlie, + “because the blacker you paint me the better I shall like it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You trust me, mate,” ses Jack Bates; “if I don't get that + seventy-two pounds for you, you may call me a Dutchman. Why, it's fair + robbery, I call it, sticking to your money like that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They spent the rest o' the day together, and when evening came + Charlie went off to the Cooks'. Emma 'ad arf expected they was going + to a theayter that night, but Charlie said he wasn't feeling the + thing, and he sat there so quiet and miserable they didn't know wot to + make of 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Ave you got any trouble on your mind, Charlie,” ses Mrs. Cook, + “or is it the tooth-ache?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It ain't the toothache,” ses Charlie.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He sat there pulling a long face and staring at the floor, but + all Mrs. Cook and Emma could do 'e wouldn't tell them wot was the + matter with 'im. He said 'e didn't want to worry other people with 'is + troubles; let everybody bear their own, that was 'is motto. Even when + George Smith offered to go to the theayter with Emma instead of 'im he + didn't fire up, and, if it 'adn't ha' been for Mrs. Cook, George + wouldn't ha' been sorry that 'e spoke.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Theayters ain't for me,” ses Charlie, with a groan. “I'm more + likely to go to gaol, so far as I can see, than a theayter.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Cook and Emma both screamed and Sarah Ann did 'er first + highstericks, and very well, too, considering that she 'ad only just + turned fifteen.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Gaol!” ses old Cook, as soon as they 'ad quieted Sarah Ann with + a bowl o' cold water that young Bill 'ad the presence o' mind to go + and fetch. “Gaol! What for?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You wouldn't believe if I was to tell you.” ses Charlie, + getting up to go, “and besides, I don't want any of you to think as + 'ow I am worse than wot I am.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He shook his 'cad at them sorrowful-like, and afore they could + stop 'im he 'ad gone. Old Cook shouted arter 'im, but it was no use, + and the others was running into the scullery to fill the bowl agin for + Emma.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Cook went round to 'is lodgings next morning, but found + that 'e was out. They began to fancy all sorts o' things then, but + Charlie turned up agin that evening more miserable than ever.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I went round to see you this morning,” ses Mrs. Cook, “but you + wasn't at 'ome.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I never am, 'ardly,” ses Charlie. “I can't be—it ain't safe.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Why not?” ses Mrs. Cook, fidgeting.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If I was to tell you, you'd lose your good opinion of me,” ses + Charlie.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It wouldn't be much to lose,” ses Mrs. Cook, firing up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie didn't answer 'er. When he did speak he spoke to the old + man, and he was so down-'arted that 'e gave 'im the chills a'most, He + 'ardly took any notice of Emma, and, when Mrs. Cook spoke about the + shop agin, said that chandlers' shops was for happy people, not for + 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>By the time they sat down to supper they was nearly all as + miserable as Charlie 'imself. From words he let drop they all seemed + to 'ave the idea that the police was arter 'im, and Mrs. Cook was just + asking 'im for wot she called the third and last time, but wot was + more likely the hundred and third, wot he'd done, when there was a + knock at the front door, so loud and so sudden that old Cook and young + Bill both cut their mouths at the same time.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Anybody 'ere o' the name of Emma Cook?” ses a man's voice, when + young Bill opened the door.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“She's inside,” ses the boy, and the next moment Jack Bates + followed 'im into the room, and then fell back with a start as 'e saw + Charlie Tagg.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Ho, 'ere you are, are you?” he ses, looking at 'im very black. + “Wot's the matter?” ses Mrs. Cook, very sharp.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I didn't expect to 'ave the pleasure o' seeing you 'ere, my + lad,” ses Jack, still staring at Charlie, and twisting 'is face up + into awful scowls. “Which is Emma Cook?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Miss Cook is my name,” ses Emma, very sharp. “Wot d'ye want?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Very good,” ses Jack Bates, looking at Charlie agin; “then + p'r'aps you'll do me the kindness of telling that lie o' yours agin + afore this young lady.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's the truth,” ses Charlie, looking down at 'is plate.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If somebody don't tell me wot all this is about in two minutes, + I shall do something desprit,” ses Mrs. Cook, getting up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“This 'ere—er—man,” ses Jack Bates, pointing at Charlie, “owes + me seventy-five pounds and won't pay. When I ask 'im for it he ses a + party he's keeping company with, by the name of Emma Cook, 'as got it, + and he can't get it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So she has,” ses Charlie, without looking up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot does 'e owe you the money for?” ses Mrs. Cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Cos I lent it to 'im,” ses Jack.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Lent it? What for?” ses Mrs. Cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Cos I was a fool, I s'pose,” ses jack Bates; “a good-natured + fool. Anyway, I'm sick and tired of asking for it, and if I don't get + it to-night I'm going to see the police about it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He sat down on a chair with 'is hat cocked over one eye, and + they all sat staring at 'im as though they didn't know wot to say + next.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So this is wot you meant when you said you'd got the chance of + a lifetime, is it?” ses Mrs. Cook to Charlie. “This is wot you wanted + it for, is it? Wot did you borrow all that money for?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Spend,” ses Charlie, in a sulky voice.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Spend!” ses Mrs. Cook, with a scream; “wot in?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Drink and cards mostly,” ses Jack Bates, remembering wot + Charlie 'ad told 'im about blackening 'is character.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>You might ha' heard a pin drop a'most, and Charlie sat there + without saying a word.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Charlie's been led away,” ses Mrs. Cook, looking 'ard at Jack + Bates. “I s'pose you lent 'im the money to win it back from 'im at + cards, didn't you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And gave 'im too much licker fust,” ses old Cook. “I've 'eard + of your kind. If Charlie takes my advice 'e won't pay you a farthing. + I should let you do your worst if I was 'im; that's wot I should do. + You've got a low face; a nasty, ugly, low face.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“One o' the worst I ever see,” ses Mrs. Cook. “It looks as + though it might ha' been cut out o' the Police News.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Owever could you ha' trusted a man with a face like that, + Charlie?” ses old Cook. “Come away from 'im, Bill; I don't like such a + chap in the room.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Jack Bates began to feel very awk'ard. They was all glaring at + 'im as though they could eat 'im, and he wasn't used to such + treatment. And, as a matter o' fact, he'd got a very good-'arted face.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You go out o' that door,” ses old Cook, pointing to it. “Go and + do your worst. You won't get any money 'ere.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Stop a minute,” ses Emma, and afore they could stop 'er she ran + upstairs. Mrs. Cook went arter 'er and 'igh words was heard up in the + bedroom, but by-and-by Emma came down holding her head very 'igh and + looking at Jack Bates as though he was dirt.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“How am I to know Charlie owes you this money?” she ses.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Jack Bates turned very red, and arter fumbling in 'is pockets + took out about a dozen dirty bits o' paper, which Charlie 'ad given + 'im for I O U's. Emma read 'em all, and then she threw a little parcel + on the table.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's your money,” she ses; “take it and go.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Cook and 'er father began to call out, but it was no good.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's seventy-two pounds there,” ses Emma, who was very pale; + “and 'ere's a ring you can have to 'elp make up the rest.” And she + drew Charlie's ring off and throwed it on the table. “I've done with + 'im for good,” she ses, with a look at 'er mother.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Jack Bates took up the money and the ring and stood there + looking at 'er and trying to think wot to say. He'd always been + uncommon partial to the sex, and it did seem 'ard to stand there and + take all that on account of Charlie Tagg.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I only wanted my own,” he ses, at last, shuffling about the + floor.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, you've got it,” ses Mrs. Cook, “and now you can go.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You're pi'soning the air of my front parlour,” ses old Cook, + opening the winder a little at the top.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“P'r'aps I ain't so bad as you think I am,” ses Jack Bates, + still looking at Emma, and with that 'e walked over to Charlie and + dumped down the money on the table in front of 'im. “Take it,” he ses, + “and don't borrow any more. I make you a free gift of it. P'r'aps my + 'art ain't as black as my face,” he ses, turning to Mrs. Cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They was all so surprised at fust that they couldn't speak, but + old Cook smiled at 'im and put the winder up agin. And Charlie Tagg + sat there arf mad with temper, locking as though 'e could eat Jack + Bates without any salt, as the saying is.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I—I can't take it,” he ses at last, with a stammer.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Can't take it? Why not?” ses old Cook, staring. “This gentleman + 'as given it to you.” “A free gift,” ses Mrs. Cook, smiling at Jack + very sweet.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I can't take it,” ses Charlie, winking at Jack to take the + money up and give it to 'im quiet, as arranged. “I 'ave my pride.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So 'ave I,” ses Jack. “Are you going to take it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Charlie gave another look. “No,” he ses, “I cant take a favour. + I borrowed the money and I'll pay it back.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Very good,” ses Jack, taking it up. “It's my money, ain't it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Yes,” ses Charlie, taking no notice of Mrs. Cook and 'er + husband, wot was both talking to 'im at once, and trying to persuade + 'im to alter his mind.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Then I give it to Miss Emma Cook,” ses Jack Bates, putting it + into her hands. “Good-night everybody and good luck.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He slammed the front door behind 'im and they 'eard 'im go off + down the road as if 'e was going for fire-engines. Charlie sat there + for a moment struck all of a heap, and then 'e jumped up and dashed + arter 'im. He just saw 'im disappearing round a corner, and he didn't + see 'im agin for a couple o' year arterwards, by which time the Sydney + gal had 'ad three or four young men arter 'im, and Emma, who 'ad + changed her name to Smith, was doing one o' the best businesses in the + chandlery line in Poplar.</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="the-constables-move"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id17"><span>THE CONSTABLE'S MOVE</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 69%" id="figure-176"> + <span id="id6"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/006.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">M</span><span + class="dropspan">r. Bob Grummit sat in the</span><span> kitchen with + his corduroy-clad legs stretched on the fender. His wife's half-eaten + dinner was getting cold on the table; Mr. Grummit, who was badly in + need of cheering up, emptied her half-empty glass of beer and wiped + his lips with the back of his hand.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come away, I tell you,” he called. “D'ye hear? Come away. + You'll be locked up if you don't.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He gave a little laugh at the sarcasm, and sticking his short + pipe in his mouth lurched slowly to the front-room door and scowled at + his wife as she lurked at the back of the window watching intently the + furniture which was being carried in next door.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come away or else you'll be locked up,” repeated Mr. Grummit. + “You mustn't look at policemen's furniture; it's agin the law.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Grummit made no reply, but, throwing appearances to the + winds, stepped to the window until her nose touched, as a walnut + sideboard with bevelled glass back was tenderly borne inside under the + personal supervision of Police-Constable Evans.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They'll be 'aving a pianner next,” said the indignant Mr. + Grummit, peering from the depths of the room.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They've got one,” responded his wife; “there's the end if it + stickin' up in the van.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit advanced and regarded the end fixedly. “Did you + throw all them tin cans and things into their yard wot I told you to?” + he demanded.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He picked up three of 'em while I was upstairs,” replied his + wife. “I 'eard 'im tell her that they'd come in handy for paint and + things.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That's 'ow coppers get on and buy pianners,” said the incensed + Mr. Grummit, “sneaking other people's property. I didn't tell you to + throw good 'uns over, did I? Wot d'ye mean by it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Grummit made no reply, but watched with bated breath the + triumphal entrance of the piano. The carman set it tenderly on the + narrow footpath, while P. C. Evans, stooping low, examined it at all + points, and Mrs. Evans, raising the lid, struck a few careless chords.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Showing off,” explained Mrs. Grummit, with a half turn; “and + she's got fingers like carrots.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's a disgrace to Mulberry Gardens to 'ave a copper come and + live in it,” said the indignant Grummit; “and to come and live next to + me!— that's what I can't get over. To come and live next door to a man + wot has been fined twice, and both times wrong. Why, for two pins I'd + go in and smash 'is pianner first and 'im after it. He won't live 'ere + long, you take my word for it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Why not?” inquired his wife.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Why?” repeated Mr. Grummit. “Why? Why, becos I'll make the + place too 'ot to hold him. Ain't there enough houses in Tunwich + without 'im a-coming and living next door to me?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>For a whole week the brain concealed in Mr. Grummit's + bullet-shaped head worked in vain, and his temper got correspondingly + bad. The day after the Evans' arrival he had found his yard littered + with tins which he recognized as old acquaintances, and since that + time they had travelled backwards and forwards with monotonous + regularity. They sometimes made as many as three journeys a day, and + on one occasion the heavens opened to drop a battered tin bucket on + the back of Mr. Grummit as he was tying his bootlace. Five minutes + later he spoke of the outrage to Mr. Evans, who had come out to admire + the sunset.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I heard something fall,” said the constable, eyeing the pail + curiously.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You threw it,” said Mr. Grummit, breathing furiously.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Me? Nonsense,” said the other, easily. “I was having tea in the + parlour with my wife and my mother-in-law, and my brother Joe and his + young lady.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Any more of 'em?” demanded the hapless Mr. Grummit, aghast at + this list of witnesses for an alibi.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It ain't a bad pail, if you look at it properly,” said the + constable. “I should keep it if I was you; unless the owner offers a + reward for it. It'll hold enough water for your wants.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit flung indoors and, after wasting some time + concocting impossible measures of retaliation with his sympathetic + partner, went off to discuss affairs with his intimates at the + Bricklayers' Arms. The company, although unanimously agreeing that Mr. + Evans ought to be boiled, were miserably deficient in ideas as to the + means by which such a desirable end was to be attained.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Make 'im a laughing-stock, that's the best thing,” said an + elderly labourer. “The police don't like being laughed at.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Ow?” demanded Mr. Grummit, with some asperity.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's plenty o' ways,” said the old man.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I should find 'em out fast enough if I 'ad a bucket dropped on + my back, I know.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit made a retort the feebleness of which was somewhat + balanced by its ferocity, and subsided into glum silence. His back + still ached, but, despite that aid to intellectual effort, the only + ways he could imagine of making the constable look foolish contained + an almost certain risk of hard labour for himself.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He pondered the question for a week, and meanwhile the tins—to + the secret disappointment of Mr. Evans—remained untouched in his yard. + For the whole of the time he went about looking, as Mrs. Grummit + expressed it, as though his dinner had disagreed with him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've been talking to old Bill Smith,” he said, suddenly, as he + came in one night.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Grummit looked up, and noticed with wifely pleasure that he + was looking almost cheerful.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's given me a tip,” said Mr. Grummit, with a faint smile; “a + copper mustn't come into a free-born Englishman's 'ouse unless he's + invited.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot of it?” inquired his wife. “You wasn't think of asking him + in, was you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit regarded her almost play-fully. “If a copper comes + in without being told to,” he continued, “he gets into trouble for it. + Now d'ye see?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“But he won't come,” said the puzzled Mrs. Grummit.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit winked. “Yes 'e will if you scream loud enough,” he + retorted. “Where's the copper-stick?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Have you gone mad?” demanded his wife, “or do you think I + 'ave?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You go up into the bedroom,” said Mr. Grummit, emphasizing his + remarks with his forefinger. “I come up and beat the bed black and + blue with the copper-stick; you scream for mercy and call out 'Help!' + 'Murder!' and things like that. Don't call out 'Police!' cos Bill + ain't sure about that part. Evans comes bursting in to save your + life—I'll leave the door on the latch—and there you are. He's sure to + get into trouble for it. Bill said so. He's made a study o' that sort + o' thing.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Grummit pondered this simple plan so long that her husband + began to lose patience. At last, against her better sense, she rose + and fetched the weapon in question.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And you be careful what you're hitting,” she said, as they went + upstairs to bed. “We'd better have 'igh words first, I s'pose?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You pitch into me with your tongue,” said Mr. Grummit, amiably.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Grummit, first listening to make sure that the constable + and his wife were in the bedroom the other side of the flimsy wall, + complied, and in a voice that rose gradually to a piercing falsetto + told Mr. Grummit things that had been rankling in her mind for some + months. She raked up misdemeanours that he had long since forgotten, + and, not content with that, had a fling at the entire Grummit family, + beginning with her mother-in-law and ending with Mr. Grummit's + youngest sister. The hand that held the copper-stick itched.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Any more to say?” demanded Mr. Grummit advancing upon her.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Grummit emitted a genuine shriek, and Mr. Grummit, suddenly + remembering himself, stopped short and attacked the bed with + extraordinary fury. The room resounded with the blows, and the efforts + of Mrs. Grummit were a revelation even to her husband.</span> + </p> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 68%" id="figure-177"> + <span + id="mr-grummit-suddenly-remembering-himself-stopped-short-and-attacked-the-bed-with-extraordinary-fury"></span><img + class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " + src="images/007.jpg" /> + </div> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I can hear 'im moving,” whispered Mr. Grummit, pausing to take + breath.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Mur—der!” wailed his wife. “Help! Help!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit, changing the stick into his left hand, renewed the + attack; Mrs. Grummit, whose voice was becoming exhausted, sought a + temporary relief in moans.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Is—he——deaf?” panted the wife-beater, “or wot?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He knocked over a chair, and Mrs. Grummit contrived another + frenzied scream. A loud knocking sounded on the wall.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Hel—lp!” moaned Mrs. Grummit.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Halloa, there!” came the voice of the constable. “Why don't you + keep that baby quiet? We can't get a wink of sleep.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit dropped the stick on the bed and turned a dazed face + to his wife.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He—he's afraid—to come in,” he gasped. “Keep it up, old gal.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He took up the stick again and Mrs. Grummit did her best, but + the heart had gone out of the thing, and he was about to give up the + task as hopeless when the door below was heard to open with a bang.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Here he is,” cried the jubilant Grummit. “Now!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>His wife responded, and at the same moment the bedroom door was + flung open, and her brother, who had been hastily fetched by the + neighbours on the other side, burst into the room and with one hearty + blow sent Mr. Grummit sprawling.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Hit my sister, will you?” he roared, as the astounded Mr. + Grummit rose. “Take that!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit took it, and several other favours, while his wife, + tugging at her brother, endeavoured to explain. It was not, however, + until Mr. Grummit claimed the usual sanctuary of the defeated by + refusing to rise that she could make herself heard.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Joke?” repeated her brother, incredulously. “Joke?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Grummit in a husky voice explained.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Her brother passed from incredulity to amazement and from + amazement to mirth. He sat down gurgling, and the indignant face of + the injured Grummit only added to his distress.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Best joke I ever heard in my life,” he said, wiping his eyes. + “Don't look at me like that, Bob; I can't bear it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Get off 'ome,” responded Mr. Grummit, glowering at him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's a crowd outside, and half the doors in the place open,” + said the other. “Well, it's a good job there's no harm done. So long.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He passed, beaming, down the stairs, and Mr. Grummit, drawing + near the window, heard him explaining in a broken voice to the + neighbours outside. Strong men patted him on the back and urged him + gruffly to say what he had to say and laugh afterwards. Mr. Grummit + turned from the window, and in a slow and stately fashion prepared to + retire for the night. Even the sudden and startling disappearance of + Mrs. Grummit as she got into bed failed to move him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“The bed's broke, Bob,” she said faintly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Beds won't last for ever,” he said, shortly; “sleep on the + floor.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Grummit clambered out, and after some trouble secured the + bedclothes and made up a bed in a corner of the room. In a short time + she was fast asleep; but her husband, broad awake, spent the night in + devising further impracticable schemes for the discomfiture of the foe + next door.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He saw Mr. Evans next morning as he passed on his way to work. + The constable was at the door smoking in his shirt-sleeves, and Mr. + Grummit felt instinctively that he was waiting there to see him pass.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I heard you last night,” said the constable, playfully. “My + word! Good gracious!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot's the matter with you?” demanded Mr. Grummit, stopping + short.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The constable stared at him. “She has been knocking you about,” + he gasped. “Why, it must ha' been you screaming, then! I thought it + sounded loud. Why don't you go and get a summons and have her locked + up? I should be pleased to take her.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit faced him, quivering with passion. “Wot would it + cost if I set about you?” he demanded, huskily.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Two months,” said Mr. Evans, smiling serenely; “p'r'aps three.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit hesitated and his fists clenched nervously. The + constable, lounging against his door-post, surveyed him with a + dispassionate smile. “That would be besides what you'd get from me,” + he said, softly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come out in the road,” said Mr. Grummit, with sudden violence.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's agin the rules,” said Mr. Evans; “sorry I can't. Why not + go and ask your wife's brother to oblige you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He went in laughing and closed the door, and Mr. Grummit, after + a frenzied outburst, proceeded on his way, returning the smiles of + such acquaintances as he passed with an icy stare or a strongly-worded + offer to make them laugh the other side of their face. The rest of the + day he spent in working so hard that he had no time to reply to the + anxious inquiries of his fellow-workmen.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He came home at night glum and silent, the hardship of not being + able to give Mr. Evans his deserts without incurring hard labour + having weighed on his spirits all day. To avoid the annoyance of the + piano next door, which was slowly and reluctantly yielding up “The + Last Rose of Summer” note by note, he went out at the back, and the + first thing he saw was Mr. Evans mending his path with tins and other + bric-a-brac.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Nothing like it,” said the constable, looking up. “Your missus + gave 'em to us this morning. A little gravel on top, and there you + are.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He turned whistling to his work again, and the other, after + endeavouring in vain to frame a suitable reply, took a seat on an + inverted wash-tub and lit his pipe. His one hope was that Constable + Evans was going to try and cultivate a garden.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The hope was realized a few days later, and Mr. Grummit at the + back window sat gloating over a dozen fine geraniums, some lobelias + and calceolarias, which decorated the constable's plot of ground. He + could not sleep for thinking of them.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He rose early the next morning, and, after remarking to Mrs. + Grummit that Mr. Evans's flowers looked as though they wanted rain, + went off to his work. The cloud which had been on his spirits for some + time had lifted, and he whistled as he walked. The sight of flowers in + front windows added to his good humour.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He was still in good spirits when he left off work that + afternoon, but some slight hesitation about returning home sent him to + the Brick-layers' firms instead. He stayed there until closing time, + and then, being still disinclined for home, paid a visit to Bill + Smith, who lived the other side of Tunwich. By the time he started for + home it was nearly midnight.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The outskirts of the town were deserted and the houses in + darkness. The clock of Tunwich church struck twelve, and the last + stroke was just dying away as he turned a corner and ran almost into + the arms of the man he had been trying to avoid.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Halloa!” said Constable Evans, sharply. “Here, I want a word + with you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit quailed. “With me, sir?” he said, with involuntary + respect.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What have you been doing to my flowers?” demanded the other, + hotly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Flowers?” repeated Mr. Grummit, as though the word were new to + him. “Flowers? What flowers?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You know well enough,” retorted the constable. “You got over my + fence last night and smashed all my flowers down.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You be careful wot you're saying,” urged Mr. Grummit. “Why, I + love flowers. You don't mean to tell me that all them beautiful + flowers wot you put in so careful 'as been spoiled?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You know all about it,” said the constable, choking. “I shall + take out a summons against you for it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Ho!” said Mr. Grummit. “And wot time do you say it was when I + done it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Never you mind the time,” said the other.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Cos it's important,” said Mr. Grummit.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“My wife's brother—the one you're so fond of—slept in my 'ouse + last night. He was ill arf the night, pore chap; but, come to think of + it, it'll make 'im a good witness for my innocence.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If I wasn't a policeman,” said Mr. Evans, speaking with great + deliberation, “I'd take hold o' you, Bob Grummit, and I'd give you the + biggest hiding you've ever had in your life.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If you wasn't a policeman,” said Mr. Grummit, yearningly, “I'd + arf murder you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The two men eyed each other wistfully, loth to part.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If I gave you what you deserve I should get into trouble,” said + the constable.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If I gave you a quarter of wot you ought to 'ave I should go to + quod,” sighed Mr. Grummit.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I wouldn't put you there,” said the constable, earnestly; “I + swear I wouldn't.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Everything's beautiful and quiet,” said Mr. Grummit, trembling + with eagerness, “and I wouldn't say a word to a soul. I'll take my + solemn davit I wouldn't.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“When I think o' my garden—” began the constable. With a sudden + movement he knocked off Mr. Grummit's cap, and then, seizing him by + the coat, began to hustle him along the road. In the twinkling of an + eye they had closed.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Tunwich church chimed the half-hour as they finished, and Mr. + Grummit, forgetting his own injuries, stood smiling at the wreck + before him. The constable's helmet had been smashed and trodden on; + his uniform was torn and covered with blood and dirt, and his good + looks marred for a fortnight at least. He stooped with a groan, and, + recovering his helmet, tried mechanically to punch it into shape. He + stuck the battered relic on his head, and Mr. Grummit fell back—awed, + despite himself.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It was a fair fight,” he stammered.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The constable waved him away. “Get out o' my sight before I + change my mind,” he said, fiercely; “and mind, if you say a word about + this it'll be the worse for you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Do you think I've gone mad?” said the other. He took another + look at his victim and, turning away, danced fantastically along the + road home. The constable, making his way to a gas-lamp, began to + inspect damages.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They were worse even than he had thought, and, leaning against + the lamp-post, he sought in vain for an explanation that, in the + absence of a prisoner, would satisfy the inspector. A button which was + hanging by a thread fell tinkling on to the footpath, and he had just + picked it up and placed it in his pocket when a faint distant outcry + broke upon his ear.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He turned and walked as rapidly as his condition would permit in + the direction of the noise. It became louder and more imperative, and + cries of “Police!” became distinctly audible. He quickened into a run, + and turning a corner beheld a little knot of people standing at the + gate of a large house. Other people only partially clad were hastening + to-wards them. The constable arrived out of breath.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Better late than never,” said the owner of the house, + sarcastically.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Evans, breathing painfully, supported himself with his hand + on the fence.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They went that way, but I suppose you didn't see them,” + continued the householder. “Halloa!” he added, as somebody opened the + hall door and the constable's damaged condition became visible in the + gas-light. “Are you hurt?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Yes,” said Mr. Evans, who was trying hard to think clearly. To + gain time he blew a loud call on his whistle.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“The rascals!” continued the other. “I think I should know the + big chap with a beard again, but the others were too quick for me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Evans blew his whistle again—thoughtfully. The opportunity + seemed too good to lose.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Did they get anything?” he inquired.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not a thing,” said the owner, triumphantly. “I was disturbed + just in time.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The constable gave a slight gulp. “I saw the three running by + the side of the road,” he said, slowly. “Their behaviour seemed + suspicious, so I collared the big one, but they set on me like wild + cats. They had me down three times; the last time I laid my head open + against the kerb, and when I came to my senses again they had gone.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He took off his battered helmet with a flourish and, amid a + murmur of sympathy, displayed a nasty cut on his head. A sergeant and + a constable, both running, appeared round the corner and made towards' + them.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Get back to the station and make your report,” said the former, + as Constable Evans, in a somewhat defiant voice, repeated his story. + “You've done your best; I can see that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Evans, enacting to perfection the part of a wounded hero, + limped painfully off, praying devoutly as he went that the criminals + might make good their escape. If not, he reflected that the word of a + policeman was at least equal to that of three burglars.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He repeated his story at the station, and, after having his head + dressed, was sent home and advised to keep himself quiet for a day or + two. He was off duty for four days, and, the Tunwich Gazette having + devoted a column to the affair, headed “A Gallant Constable,” modestly + secluded himself from the public gaze for the whole of that time.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>To Mr. Grummit, who had read the article in question until he + could have repeated it backwards, this modesty was particularly + trying. The constable's yard was deserted and the front door ever + closed. Once Mr. Grummit even went so far as to tap with his nails on + the front parlour window, and the only response was the sudden + lowering of the blind. It was not until a week afterwards that his + eyes were gladdened by a sight of the constable sitting in his yard; + and fearing that even then he might escape him, he ran out on tip-toe + and put his face over the fence before the latter was aware of his + presence.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot about that 'ere burglary?” he demanded in truculent tones.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Good evening, Grummit,” said the constable, with a patronizing + air.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot about that burglary?” repeated Mr. Grummit, with a scowl. + “I don't believe you ever saw a burglar.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Evans rose and stretched himself gracefully. “You'd better + run indoors, my good man,” he said, slowly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Telling all them lies about burglars,” continued the indignant + Mr. Grummit, producing his newspaper and waving it. “Why, I gave you + that black eye, I smashed your 'elmet, I cut your silly 'ead open, + I——”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You've been drinking,” said the other, severely.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You mean to say I didn't?” demanded Mr. Grummit, ferociously.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Evans came closer and eyed him steadily. “I don't know what + you're talking about,” he said, calmly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit, about to speak, stopped appalled at such hardihood.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Of course, if you mean to say that you were one o' them + burglars,” continued the constable, “why, say it and I'll take you + with pleasure. Come to think of it, I did seem to remember one o' + their voices.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit, with his eyes fixed on the other's, backed a couple + of yards and breathed heavily.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“About your height, too, he was,” mused the constable. “I hope + for your sake you haven't been saying to anybody else what you said to + me just now.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit shook his head. “Not a word,” he faltered.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That's all right, then,” said Mr. Evans. “I shouldn't like to + be hard on a neighbour; not that we shall be neighbours much longer.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit, feeling that a reply was expected of him, gave + utterance to a feeble “Oh!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No,” said Mr. Evans, looking round disparagingly. “It ain't + good enough for us now; I was promoted to sergeant this morning. A + sergeant can't live in a common place like this.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Grummit, a prey to a sickening fear, drew near the fence + again. “A— a sergeant?” he stammered.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Evans smiled and gazed carefully at a distant cloud. “For my + bravery with them burglars the other night, Grummit,” he said, + modestly. “I might have waited years if it hadn't been for them.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He nodded to the frantic Grummit and turned away; Mr. Grummit, + without any adieu at all, turned and crept back to the house.</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="bobs-redemption"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id18"><span>BOB'S REDEMPTION</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 48%" id="figure-178"> + <span id="id7"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/008.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">G</span><span + class="dropspan">RATITOODE!” said the</span><span> night-watchman, + with a hard laugh. “Hmf! Don't talk to me about gratitoode; I've seen + too much of it. If people wot I've helped in my time 'ad only done arf + their dooty—arf, mind you—I should be riding in my carriage.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Forgetful of the limitations of soap-boxes he attempted to + illustrate his remark by lolling, and nearly went over backwards. + Recovering himself by an effort he gazed sternly across the river and + smoked fiercely. It was evident that he was brooding over an ill-used + past.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>'Arry Thomson was one of them, he said, at last. For over six + months I wrote all 'is love-letters for him, 'e being an iggernerant + sort of man and only being able to do the kisses at the end, which he + always insisted on doing 'imself: being jealous. Only three weeks + arter he was married 'e come up to where I was standing one day and + set about me without saying a word. I was a single man at the time and + I didn't understand it. My idea was that he 'ad gone mad, and, being + pretty artful and always 'aving a horror of mad people, I let 'im + chase me into a police-station. Leastways, I would ha' let 'im, but he + didn't come, and I all but got fourteen days for being drunk and + disorderly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Then there was Bill Clark. He 'ad been keeping comp'ny with a + gal and got tired of it, and to oblige 'im I went to her and told 'er + he was a married man with five children. Bill was as pleased as Punch + at fust, but as soon as she took up with another chap he came round to + see me and said as I'd ruined his life. We 'ad words about + it—naturally—and I did ruin it then to the extent of a couple o' ribs. + I went to see 'im in the horsepittle—place I've always been fond + of—and the langwidge he used to me was so bad that they sent for the + Sister to 'ear it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>That's on'y two out of dozens I could name. Arf the + unpleasantnesses in my life 'ave come out of doing kindnesses to + people, and all the gratitoode I've 'ad for it I could put in a + pint-pot with a pint o' beer already in it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The only case o' real gratitoode I ever heard of 'appened to a + shipmate o' mine—a young chap named Bob Evans. Coming home from + Auckland in a barque called the Dragon Fly he fell overboard, and + another chap named George Crofts, one o' the best swimmers I ever + knew, went overboard arter 'im and saved his life.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>We was hardly moving at the time, and the sea was like a duck + pond, but to 'ear Bob Evans talk you'd ha' thought that George Crofts + was the bravest-'arted chap that ever lived. He 'adn't liked him + afore, same as the rest of us, George being a sly, mean sort o' chap; + but arter George 'ad saved his life 'e couldn't praise 'im enough. He + said that so long as he 'ad a crust George should share it, and + wotever George asked 'im he should have.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The unfortnit part of it was that George took 'im at his word, + and all the rest of the v'y'ge he acted as though Bob belonged to 'im, + and by the time we got into the London river Bob couldn't call his + soul 'is own. He used to take a room when he was ashore and live very + steady, as 'e was saving up to get married, and as soon as he found + that out George invited 'imself to stay with him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It won't cost you a bit more,” he ses, “not if you work it + properly.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bob didn't work it properly, but George having saved his life, + and never letting 'im forget it, he didn't like to tell him so. He + thought he'd let 'im see gradual that he'd got to be careful because + of 'is gal, and the fust evening they was ashore 'e took 'im along + with 'im there to tea.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Gerty Mitchell—that was the gal's name—'adn't heard of Bob's + accident, and when she did she gave a little scream, and putting 'er + arms round his neck, began to kiss 'im right in front of George and + her mother.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You ought to give him one too,” ses Mrs. Mitchell, pointing to + George.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George wiped 'is mouth on the back of his 'and, but Gerty + pretended not to 'ear.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Fancy if you'd been drownded!” she ses, hugging Bob agin.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He was pretty near,” ses George, shaking his 'ead. “I'm a pore + swimmer, but I made up my mind either to save 'im or else go down to a + watery grave myself.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He wiped his mouth on the back of his 'and agin, but all the + notice Gerty took of it was to send her young brother Ted out for some + beer. Then they all 'ad supper together, and Mrs. Mitchell drank good + luck to George in a glass o' beer, and said she 'oped that 'er own boy + would grow up like him. “Let 'im grow up a good and brave man, that's + all I ask,” she ses. “I don't care about 'is looks.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He might have both,” ses George, sharp-like. “Why not?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Mitchell said she supposed he might, and then she cuffed + young Ted's ears for making a noise while 'e was eating, and then + cuffed 'im agin for saying that he'd finished 'is supper five minutes + ago.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George and Bob walked 'ome together, and all the way there + George said wot a pretty gal Gerty was and 'ow lucky it was for Bob + that he 'adn't been drownded. He went round to tea with 'im the next + day to Mrs. Mitchell's, and arter tea, when Bob and Gerty said they + was going out to spend the evening together, got 'imself asked too.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They took a tram-car and went to a music-hall, and Bob paid for + the three of 'em. George never seemed to think of putting his 'and in + his pocket, and even arter the music-hall, when they all went into a + shop and 'ad stewed eels, he let Bob pay.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>As I said afore, Bob Evans was chock-full of gratefulness, and + it seemed only fair that he shouldn't grumble at spending a little + over the man wot 'ad risked 'is life to save his; but wot with keeping + George at his room, and paying for 'im every time they went out, he + was spending a lot more money than 'e could afford.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You're on'y young once, Bob,” George said to him when 'e made a + remark one arternoon as to the fast way his money was going, “and if + it hadn't ha' been for me you'd never 'ave lived to grow old.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Wot with spending the money and always 'aving George with them + when they went out, it wasn't long afore Bob and Gerty 'ad a quarrel. + “I don't like a pore-spirited man,” she ses. “Two's company and + three's none, and, besides, why can't he pay for 'imself? He's big + enough. Why should you spend your money on 'im? He never pays a + farthing.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bob explained that he couldn't say anything because 'e owed his + life to George, but 'e might as well 'ave talked to a lamp-post. The + more he argued the more angry Gerty got, and at last she ses, “Two's + company and three's none, and if you and me can't go out without + George Crofts, then me and 'im 'll go out with-out you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She was as good as her word, too, and the next night, while Bob + 'ad gone out to get some 'bacca, she went off alone with George. It + was ten o'clock afore they came back agin, and Gerty's eyes were all + shining and 'er cheeks as pink as roses. She shut 'er mother up like a + concertina the moment she began to find fault with 'er, and at supper + she sat next to George and laughed at everything 'e said.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George and Bob walked all the way 'ome arter supper without + saying a word, but arter they got to their room George took a + side-look at Bob, and then he ses, suddenlike, “Look 'ere! I saved + your life, didn't I?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You did,” ses Bob, “and I thank you for it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I saved your life,” ses George agin, very solemn. “If it hadn't + ha' been for me you couldn't ha' married anybody.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That's true,” ses Bob.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Me and Gerty 'ave been having a talk,” ses George, bending down + to undo his boots. “We've been getting on very well together; you + can't 'elp your feelings, and the long and the short of it is, the + pore gal has fallen in love with me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bob didn't say a word.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If you look at it this way it's fair enough,” ses George. “I + gave you your life and you give me your gal. We're quits now. You + don't owe me anything and I don't owe you anything. That's the way + Gerty puts it, and she told me to tell you so.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If—if she don't want me I'm agreeable,” ses Bob, in a choking + voice. “We'll call it quits, and next time I tumble overboard I 'ope + you won't be handy.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He took Gerty's photygraph out of 'is box and handed it to + George. “You've got more right to it now than wot I 'ave,” he ses. “I + shan't go round there any more; I shall look out for a ship + to-morrow.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George Crofts said that perhaps it was the best thing he could + do, and 'e asked 'im in a offhand sort o' way 'ow long the room was + paid up for.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mrs. Mitchell 'ad a few words to say about it next day, but + Gerty told 'er to save 'er breath for walking upstairs. The on'y thing + that George didn't like when they went out was that young Ted was with + them, but Gerty said she preferred it till she knew 'im better; and + she 'ad so much to say about his noble behaviour in saving life that + George gave way. They went out looking at the shops, George thinking + that that was the cheapest way of spending an evening, and they were + as happy as possible till Gerty saw a brooch she liked so much in a + window that he couldn't get 'er away.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It is a beauty,” she ses. “I don't know when I've seen a brooch + I liked better. Look here! Let's all guess the price and then go in + and see who's right.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They 'ad their guesses, and then they went in and asked, and as + soon as Gerty found that it was only three-and-sixpence she began to + feel in her pocket for 'er purse, just like your wife does when you go + out with 'er, knowing all the time that it's on the mantelpiece with + twopence-ha'penny and a cough lozenge in it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I must ha' left it at 'ome,” she ses, looking at George.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Just wot I've done,” ses George, arter patting 'is pockets.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Gerty bit 'er lips and, for a minute or two, be civil to George + she could not. Then she gave a little smile and took 'is arm agin, and + they walked on talking and laughing till she turned round of a sudden + and asked a big chap as was passing wot 'e was shoving 'er for.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Shoving you?” ses he. “Wot do you think I want to shove you + for?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't you talk to me,” ses Gerty, firing up. “George, make 'im + beg my pardon.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You ought to be more careful,” ses George, in a gentle sort o' + way.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Make 'im beg my pardon,” ses Gerty, stamping 'er foot; “if he + don't, knock 'im down.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Yes, knock 'im down,” ses the big man, taking hold o' George's + cap and rumpling his 'air.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Pore George, who was never much good with his fists, hit 'im in + the chest, and the next moment he was on 'is back in the middle o' the + road wondering wot had 'appened to 'im. By the time 'e got up the + other man was arf a mile away; and young Ted stepped up and wiped 'im + down with a pocket-'andkerchief while Gerty explained to 'im 'ow she + saw 'im slip on a piece o' banana peel.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's 'ard lines,” she ses; “but never mind, you frightened 'im + away, and I don't wonder at it. You do look terrible when you're + angry, George; I didn't know you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She praised 'im all the way 'ome, and if it 'adn't been for his + mouth and nose George would 'ave enjoyed it more than 'e did. She told + 'er mother how 'e had flown at a big man wot 'ad insulted her, and + Mrs. Mitchell shook her 'ead at 'im and said his bold spirit would + lead 'im into trouble afore he 'ad done.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They didn't seem to be able to make enough of 'im, and next day + when he went round Gerty was so upset at the sight of 'is bruises that + he thought she was going to cry. When he had 'ad his tea she gave 'im + a cigar she had bought for 'im herself, and when he 'ad finished + smoking it she smiled at him, and said that she was going to take 'im + out for a pleasant evening to try and make up to 'im for wot he 'ad + suffered for 'er.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We're all going to stand treat to each other,” she ses. “Bob + always would insist on paying for everything, but I like to feel a bit + independent. Give and take—that's the way I like to do things.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's nothing like being independent,” ses George. “Bob ought + to ha' known that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm sure it's the best plan,” ses Gerty. “Now, get your 'at on. + We're going to a theayter, and Ted shall pay the 'bus fares.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George wanted to ask about the theayter, but 'e didn't like to, + and arter Gerty was dressed they went out and Ted paid the 'bus fares + like a man.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Here you are,” ses Gerty, as the 'bus stopped outside the + theayter. “Hurry up and get the tickets, George; ask for three upper + circles.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She bustled George up to the pay place, and as soon as she 'ad + picked out the seats she grabbed 'old of the tickets and told George + to make haste.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Twelve shillings it is,” ses the man, as George put down arf a + crown.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Twelve?” ses George, beginning to stammer. “Twelve? Twelve? + Twel—?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Twelve shillings,” ses the man; “three upper circles you've + 'ad.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George was going to fetch Gerty back and 'ave cheaper seats, but + she 'ad gone inside with young Ted, and at last, arter making an awful + fuss, he paid the rest o' the money and rushed in arter her, arf crazy + at the idea o' spending so much money.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Make 'aste,” ses Gerty, afore he could say anything; “the band + 'as just begun.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She started running upstairs, and she was so excited that, when + they got their seats and George started complaining about the price, + she didn't pay any attention to wot he was saying, but kept pointing + out ladies' dresses to 'im in w'ispers and wondering wot they 'ad paid + for them. George gave it up at last, and then he sat wondering whether + he 'ad done right arter all in taking Bob's gal away from him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Gerty enjoyed it very much, but when the curtain came down after + the first act she leaned back in her chair and looked up at George and + said she felt faint and thought she'd like to 'ave an ice-cream. “And + you 'ave one too, dear,” she ses, when young Ted 'ad got up and + beckoned to the gal, “and Ted 'ud like one too, I'm sure.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She put her 'ead on George's shoulder and looked up at 'im. Then + she put her 'and on his and stroked it, and George, reckoning that + arter all ice-creams were on'y a ha'penny or at the most a penny each, + altered 'is mind about not spending any more money and ordered three.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The way he carried on when the gal said they was three shillings + was alarming. At fust 'e thought she was 'aving a joke with 'im, and + it took another gal and the fireman and an old gentleman wot was + sitting behind 'im to persuade 'im different. He was so upset that 'e + couldn't eat his arter paying for it, and Ted and Gerty had to finish + it for 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They're expensive, but they're worth the money,” ses Gerty. + “You are good to me, George. I could go on eating 'em all night, but + you mustn't fling your money away like this always.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll see to that,” ses George, very bitter.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I thought we was going to stand treat to each other? That was + the idea, I understood.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So we are,” ses Gerty. “Ted stood the 'bus fares, didn't he?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He did,” ses George, “wot there was of 'em; but wot about you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Me?” ses Gerty, drawing her 'ead back and staring at 'im. “Why, + 'ave you forgot that cigar already, George?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George opened 'is mouth, but 'e couldn't speak a word. He sat + looking at 'er and making a gasping noise in 'is throat, and + fortunately just as 'e got 'is voice back the curtain went up agin, + and everybody said, “H'sh!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He couldn't enjoy the play at all, 'e was so upset, and he began + to see more than ever 'ow wrong he 'ad been in taking Bob's gal away + from 'im. He walked downstairs into the street like a man in a dream, + with Gerty sticking to 'is arm and young Ted treading on 'is heels + behind.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Now, you mustn't waste any more money, George,” ses Gerty, when + they got outside. “We'll walk 'ome.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George 'ad got arf a mind to say something about a 'bus, but he + remembered in time that very likely young Ted hadn't got any more + money. Then Gerty said she knew a short cut, and she took them, + walking along little, dark, narrow streets and places, until at last, + just as George thought they must be pretty near 'ome, she began to dab + her eyes with 'er pocket-'andkerchief and say she'd lost 'er way.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You two go 'ome and leave me,” she ses, arf crying. “I can't + walk another step.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Where are we?” ses George, looking round.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't know,” ses Gerty. “I couldn't tell you if you paid me. + I must 'ave taken a wrong turning. Oh, hurrah! Here's a cab!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Afore George could stop 'er she held up 'er umbrella, and a + 'ansom cab, with bells on its horse, crossed the road and pulled up in + front of 'em. Ted nipped in first and Gerty followed 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Tell 'im the address, dear, and make 'aste and get in,” ses + Gerty.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George told the cabman, and then he got in and sat on Ted's + knee, partly on Gerty's umbrella, and mostly on nothing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You are good to me, George,” ses Gerty, touching the back of + 'is neck with the brim of her hat. “It ain't often I get a ride in a + cab. All the time I was keeping company with Bob we never 'ad one + once. I only wish I'd got the money to pay for it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George, who was going to ask a question, stopped 'imself, and + then he kept striking matches and trying to read all about cab fares + on a bill in front of 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Ow are we to know 'ow many miles it is?” he ses, at last.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't know,” ses Gerty; “leave it to the cabman. It's his + bisness, ain't it? And if 'e don't know he must suffer for it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>There was hardly a soul in Gerty's road when they got there, but + afore George 'ad settled with the cabman there was a policeman moving + the crowd on and arf the winders in the road up. By the time George + had paid 'im and the cabman 'ad told him wot 'e looked like, Gerty and + Ted 'ad disappeared indoors, all the lights was out, and, in a state + o' mind that won't bear thinking of, George walked 'ome to his + lodging.</span> + </p> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 69%" id="figure-179"> + <span + id="afore-george-had-settled-with-the-cabman-there-was-a-policeman-moving-the-crowd-on"></span><img + class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " + src="images/009.jpg" /> + </div> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bob was asleep when he got there, but 'e woke 'im up and told + 'im about it, and then arter a time he said that he thought Bob ought + to pay arf because he 'ad saved 'is life.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Cert'nly not,” ses Bob. “We're quits now; that was the + arrangement. I only wish it was me spending the money on her; I + shouldn't grumble.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George didn't get a wink o' sleep all night for thinking of the + money he 'ad spent, and next day when he went round he 'ad almost made + up 'is mind to tell Bob that if 'e liked to pay up the money he could + 'ave Gerty back; but she looked so pretty, and praised 'im up so much + for 'is generosity, that he began to think better of it. One thing 'e + was determined on, and that was never to spend money like that agin + for fifty Gertys.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>There was a very sensible man there that evening that George + liked very much. His name was Uncle Joe, and when Gerty was praising + George to 'is face for the money he 'ad been spending, Uncle Joe, + instead o' looking pleased, shook his 'ead over it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Young people will be young people, I know,” he ses, “but still + I don't approve of extravagance. Bob Evans would never 'ave spent all + that money over you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Bob Evans ain't everybody,” ses Mrs. Mitchell, standing up for + Gerty.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He was steady, anyway,” ses Uncle Joe. “Besides, Gerty ought + not to ha' let Mr. Crofts spend his money like that. She could ha' + prevented it if she'd ha' put 'er foot down and insisted on it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He was so solemn about it that everybody began to feel a bit + upset, and Gerty borrowed Ted's pocket-'andkerchief, and then wiped + 'er eyes on the cuff of her dress instead.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, well,” ses Uncle Joe; “I didn't mean to be 'ard, but + don't do it no more. You are young people, and can't afford it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We must 'ave a little pleasure sometimes,” ses Gerty.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Yes, I know,” ses Uncle Joe; “but there's moderation in + everything. Look 'ere, it's time somebody paid for Mr. Crofts. + To-morrow's Saturday, and, if you like, I'll take you all to the + Crystal Palace.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Gerty jumped up off of 'er chair and kissed 'im, while Mrs. + Mitchell said she knew 'is bark was worse than 'is bite, and asked 'im + who was wasting his money now?</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You meet me at London Bridge Station at two o'clock,” ses Uncle + Joe, getting up to go. “It ain't extravagance for a man as can afford + it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He shook 'ands with George Crofts and went, and, arter George + 'ad stayed long enough to hear a lot o' things about Uncle Joe which + made 'im think they'd get on very well together, he went off too.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They all turned up very early the next arternoon, and Gerty was + dressed so nice that George couldn't take his eyes off of her. Besides + her there was Mrs. Mitchell and Ted and a friend of 'is named Charlie + Smith.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They waited some time, but Uncle Joe didn't turn up, and they + all got looking at the clock and talking about it, and 'oping he + wouldn't make 'em miss the train.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Here he comes!” ses Ted, at last.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Uncle Joe came rushing in, puffing and blowing as though he'd + bust. “Take 'em on by this train, will you?” he ses, catching 'old o' + George by the arm. “I've just been stopped by a bit o' business I must + do, and I'll come on by the next, or as soon arter as I can.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He rushed off again, puffing and blowing his 'ardest, in such a + hurry that he forgot to give George the money for the tickets. + However, George borrowed a pencil of Mrs. Mitchell in the train, and + put down on paper 'ow much they cost, and Mrs. Mitchell said if George + didn't like to remind 'im she would.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They left young Ted and Charlie to stay near the station when + they got to the Palace, Uncle Joe 'aving forgotten to say where he'd + meet 'em, but train arter train came in without 'im, and at last the + two boys gave it up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We're sure to run across 'im sooner or later,” ses Gerty. + “Let's 'ave something to eat; I'm so hungry.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George said something about buns and milk, but Gerty took 'im up + sharp. “Buns and milk?” she ses. “Why, uncle would never forgive us if + we spoilt his treat like that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She walked into a refreshment place and they 'ad cold meat and + bread and pickles and beer and tarts and cheese, till even young Ted + said he'd 'ad enough, but still they couldn't see any signs of Uncle + Joe. They went on to the roundabouts to look for 'im, and then into + all sorts o' shows at sixpence a head, but still there was no signs of + 'im, and George had 'ad to start on a fresh bit o' paper to put down + wot he'd spent.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I suppose he must ha' been detained on important business,” ses + Gerty, at last.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Unless it's one of 'is jokes,” ses Mrs. Mitchell, shaking her + 'ead. “You know wot your uncle is, Gerty.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There now, I never thought o' that,” ses Gerty, with a start; + “p'r'aps it is.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Joke?” ses George, choking and staring from one to the other.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I was wondering where he'd get the money from,” ses Mrs. + Mitchell to Gerty. “I see it all now; I never see such a man for a bit + o' fun in all my born days. And the solemn way he went on last night, + too. Why, he must ha' been laughing in 'is sleeve all the time. It's + as good as a play.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Look here!” ses George, 'ardly able to speak; “do you mean to + tell me he never meant to come?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm afraid not,” ses Mrs. Mitchell, “knowing wot he is. But + don't you worry; I'll give him a bit o' my mind when I see 'im.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George Crofts felt as though he'd burst, and then 'e got his + breath, and the things 'e said about Uncle Joe was so awful that Mrs. + Mitchell told the boys to go away.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“How dare you talk of my uncle like that?” ses Gerty, firing up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You forget yourself, George,” ses Mrs. Mitchell. “You'll like + 'im when you get to know 'im better.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't you call me George,” ses George Crofts, turning on 'er. + “I've been done, that's wot I've been. I 'ad fourteen pounds when I + was paid off, and it's melting like butter.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, we've enjoyed ourselves,” ses Gerty, “and that's what + money was given us for. I'm sure those two boys 'ave had a splendid + time, thanks to you. Don't go and spoil all by a little bit o' + temper.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Temper!” ses George, turning on her. “I've done with you, I + wouldn't marry you if you was the on'y gal in the world. I wouldn't + marry you if you paid me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Oh, indeed!” ses Gerty; “but if you think you can get out of it + like that you're mistaken. I've lost my young man through you, and I'm + not going to lose you too. I'll send my two big cousins round to see + you to-morrow.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They won't put up with no nonsense, I can tell you,” ses Mrs. + Mitchell.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She called the boys to her, and then she and Gerty, arter + holding their 'eads very high and staring at George, went off and left + 'im alone. He went straight off 'ome, counting 'is money all the way + and trying to make it more, and, arter telling Bob 'ow he'd been + treated, and trying hard to get 'im to go shares in his losses, packed + up his things and cleared out, all boiling over with temper.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bob was so dazed he couldn't make head or tail out of it, but 'e + went round to see Gerty the first thing next morning, and she + explained things to him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't know when I've enjoyed myself so much,” she ses, wiping + her eyes, “but I've had enough gadding about for once, and if you come + round this evening we'll have a nice quiet time together looking at + the furniture shops.”</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="over-the-side"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id19"><span>OVER THE SIDE</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 46%" id="figure-180"> + <span id="id8"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/010.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">O</span><span + class="dropspan">f all classes of men, those</span><span> who follow + the sea are probably the most prone to superstition. Afloat upon the + black waste of waters, at the mercy of wind and sea, with vast depths + and strange creatures below them, a belief in the supernatural is + easier than ashore, under the cheerful gas-lamps. Strange stories of + the sea are plentiful, and an incident which happened within my own + experience has made me somewhat chary of dubbing a man fool or coward + because he has encountered something he cannot explain. There are + stories of the supernatural with prosaic sequels; there are others to + which the sequel has never been published.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>I was fifteen years old at the time, and as my father, who had a + strong objection to the sea, would not apprentice me to it, I shipped + before the mast on a sturdy little brig called the Endeavour, bound + for Riga. She was a small craft, but the skipper was as fine a seaman + as one could wish for, and, in fair weather, an easy man to sail + under. Most boys have a rough time of it when they first go to sea, + but, with a strong sense of what was good for me, I had attached + myself to a brawny, good-natured infant, named Bill Smith, and it was + soon understood that whoever hit me struck Bill by proxy. Not that the + crew were particularly brutal, but a sound cuffing occasionally is + held by most seamen to be beneficial to a lad's health and morals. The + only really spiteful fellow among them was a man named Jem Dadd. He + was a morose, sallow-looking man, of about forty, with a strong taste + for the supernatural, and a stronger taste still for frightening his + fellows with it. I have seen Bill almost afraid to go on deck of a + night for his trick at the wheel, after a few of his reminiscences. + Rats were a favourite topic with him, and he would never allow one to + be killed if he could help it, for he claimed for them that they were + the souls of drowned sailors, hence their love of ships and their + habit of leaving them when they became unseaworthy. He was a firm + believer in the transmigration of souls, some idea of which he had, no + doubt, picked up in Eastern ports, and gave his shivering auditors to + understand that his arrangements for his own immediate future were + already perfected.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>We were six or seven days out when a strange thing happened. + Dadd had the second watch one night, and Bill was to relieve him. They + were not very strict aboard the brig in fair weather, and when a man's + time was up he just made the wheel fast, and, running for'ard, shouted + down the fo'c's'le. On this night I happened to awake suddenly, in + time to see Bill slip out of his bunk and stand by me, rubbing his red + eyelids with his knuckles.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Dadd's giving me a long time,” he whispered, seeing that I was + awake; “it's a whole hour after his time.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He pattered up on deck, and I was just turning over, thankful + that I was too young to have a watch to keep, when he came softly down + again, and, taking me by the shoulders, shook me roughly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Jack,” he whispered. “Jack.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>I raised myself on my elbows, and, in the light of the smoking + lamp, saw that he was shaking all over.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come on deck,” he said, thickly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>I put on my clothes, and followed him quietly to the sweet, cool + air above. It was a beautiful clear night, but, from his manner, I + looked nervously around for some cause of alarm. I saw nothing. The + deck was deserted, except for the solitary figure at the wheel.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Look at him,” whispered Bill, bending a contorted face to mine.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>I walked aft a few steps, and Bill followed slowly. Then I saw + that Jem Dadd was leaning forward clumsily on the wheel, with his + hands clenched on the spokes.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's asleep,” said I, stopping short.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bill breathed hard. “He's in a queer sleep,” said he; “kind o' + trance more like. Go closer.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>I took fast hold of Bill's sleeve, and we both went. The light + of the stars was sufficient to show that Dadd's face was very white, + and that his dim, black eyes were wide open, and staring in a very + strange and dreadful manner straight before him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Dadd,” said I, softly, “Dadd!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>There was no reply, and, with a view of arousing him, I tapped + one sinewy hand as it gripped the wheel, and even tried to loosen it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He remained immovable, and, suddenly with a great cry, my + courage deserted me, and Bill and I fairly bolted down into the cabin + and woke the skipper.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Then we saw how it was with Jem, and two strong seamen forcibly + loosened the grip of those rigid fingers, and, laying him on the deck, + covered him with a piece of canvas. The rest of the night two men + stayed at the wheel, and, gazing fearfully at the outline of the + canvas, longed for dawn.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It came at last, and, breakfast over, the body was sewn up in + canvas, and the skipper held a short service compiled from a Bible + which belonged to the mate, and what he remembered of the Burial + Service proper. Then the corpse went overboard with a splash, and the + men, after standing awkwardly together for a few minutes, slowly + dispersed to their duties.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>For the rest of that day we were all very quiet and restrained; + pity for the dead man being mingled with a dread of taking the wheel + when night came.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“The wheel's haunted,” said the cook, solemnly; “mark my words, + there's more of you will be took the same way Dadd was.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook, like myself, had no watch to keep.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The men bore up pretty well until night came on again, and then + they unanimously resolved to have a double watch. The cook, sorely + against his will, was impressed into the service, and I, glad to + oblige my patron, agreed to stay up with Bill.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Some of the pleasure had vanished by the time night came, and I + seemed only just to have closed my eyes when Bill came, and, with a + rough shake or two, informed me that the time had come. Any hope that + I might have had of escaping the ordeal was at once dispelled by his + expectant demeanour, and the helpful way in which he assisted me with + my clothes, and, yawning terribly, I followed him on deck.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The night was not so clear as the preceding one, and the air was + chilly, with a little moisture in it. I buttoned up my jacket, and + thrust my hands in my pockets.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Everything quiet?” asked Bill as he stepped up and took the + wheel.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Ay, ay,” said Roberts, “quiet as the grave,” and, followed by + his willing mate, he went below.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>I sat on the deck by Bill's side as, with a light touch on the + wheel, he kept the brig to her course. It was weary work sitting + there, doing nothing, and thinking of the warm berth below, and I + believe that I should have fallen asleep, but that my watchful + companion stirred me with his foot whenever he saw me nodding.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>I suppose I must have sat there, shivering and yawning, for + about an hour, when, tired of inactivity, I got up and went and leaned + over the side of the vessel. The sound of the water gurgling and + lapping by was so soothing that I began to doze.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>I was recalled to my senses by a smothered cry from Bill, and, + running to him, I found him staring to port in an intense and + uncomfortable fashion. At my approach, he took one hand from the + wheel, and gripped my arm so tightly that I was like to have screamed + with the pain of it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Jack,” said he, in a shaky voice, “while you was away something + popped its head up, and looked over the ship's side.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You've been dreaming,” said I, in a voice which was a very fair + imitation of Bill's own.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Dreaming,” repeated Bill, “dreaming! Ah, look there!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He pointed with outstretched finger, and my heart seemed to stop + beating as I saw a man's head appear above the side. For a brief space + it peered at us in silence, and then a dark figure sprang like a cat + on to the deck, and stood crouching a short distance away.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>A mist came before my eyes, and my tongue failed me, but Bill + let off a roar, such as I have never heard before or since. It was + answered from below, both aft and for'ard, and the men came running up + on deck just as they left their beds.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What's up?” shouted the skipper, glancing aloft.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>For answer, Bill pointed to the intruder, and the men, who had + just caught sight of him, came up and formed a compact knot by the + wheel.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come over the side, it did,” panted Bill, “come over like a + ghost out of the sea.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The skipper took one of the small lamps from the binnacle, and, + holding it aloft, walked boldly up to the cause of alarm. In the + little patch of light we saw a ghastly black-bearded man, dripping + with water, regarding us with unwinking eyes, which glowed red in the + light of the lamp.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Where did you come from?” asked the skipper.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The figure shook its head.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Where did you come from?” he repeated, walking up, and laying + his hand on the other's shoulder.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Then the intruder spoke, but in a strange fashion and in strange + words. We leaned forward to listen, but, even when he repeated them, + we could make nothing of them.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's a furriner,” said Roberts.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Blest if I've ever 'eard the lingo afore,” said Bill. “Does + anybody rekernize it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Nobody did, and the skipper, after another attempt, gave it up, + and, falling back upon the universal language of signs, pointed first + to the man and then to the sea. The other understood him, and, in a + heavy, slovenly fashion, portrayed a man drifting in an open boat, and + clutching and clambering up the side of a passing ship. As his meaning + dawned upon us, we rushed to the stern, and, leaning over, peered into + the gloom, but the night was dark, and we saw nothing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well,” said the skipper, turning to Bill, with a mighty yawn, + “take him below, and give him some grub, and the next time a gentleman + calls on you, don't make such a confounded row about it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He went below, followed by the mate, and after some slight + hesitation, Roberts stepped up to the intruder, and signed to him to + follow. He came stolidly enough, leaving a trail of water on the deck, + and, after changing into the dry things we gave him, fell to, but + without much appearance of hunger, upon some salt beef and biscuits, + regarding us between bites with black, lack-lustre eyes.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He seems as though he's a-walking in his sleep,” said the cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He ain't very hungry,” said one of the men; “he seems to mumble + his food.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Hungry!” repeated Bill, who had just left the wheel. “Course he + ain't famished. He had his tea last night.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The men stared at him in bewilderment.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't you see?” said Bill, still in a hoarse whisper; “ain't + you ever seen them eyes afore? Don't you know what he used to say + about dying? It's Jem Dadd come back to us. Jem Dadd got another man's + body, as he always said he would.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Rot!” said Roberts, trying to speak bravely, but he got up, + and, with the others, huddled together at the end of the fo'c's'le, + and stared in a bewildered fashion at the sodden face and short, squat + figure of our visitor. For his part, having finished his meal, he + pushed his plate from him, and, leaning back on the locker, looked at + the empty bunks.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Roberts caught his eye, and, with a nod and a wave of his hand, + indicated the bunks. The fellow rose from the locker, and, amid a + breathless silence, climbed into one of them—Jem Dadd's!</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He slept in the dead sailor's bed that night, the only man in + the fo'c's'le who did sleep properly, and turned out heavily and + lumpishly in the morning for breakfast.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The skipper had him on deck after the meal, but could make + nothing of him. To all his questions he replied in the strange tongue + of the night before, and, though our fellows had been to many ports, + and knew a word or two of several languages, none of them recognized + it. The skipper gave it up at last, and, left to himself, he stared + about him for some time, regardless of our interest in his movements, + and then, leaning heavily against the side of the ship, stayed there + so long that we thought he must have fallen asleep.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's half-dead now!” whispered Roberts.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Hush!” said Bill, “mebbe he's been in the water a week or two, + and can't quite make it out. See how he's looking at it now.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He stayed on deck all day in the sun, but, as night came on, + returned to the warmth of the fo'c's'le. The food we gave him remained + untouched, and he took little or no notice of us, though I fancied + that he saw the fear we had of him. He slept again in the dead man's + bunk, and when morning came still lay there.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Until dinner-time, nobody interfered with him, and then Roberts, + pushed forward by the others, approached him with some food. He + motioned, it away with a dirty, bloated hand, and, making signs for + water, drank it eagerly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>For two days he stayed there quietly, the black eyes always + open, the stubby fingers always on the move. On the third morning + Bill, who had conquered his fear sufficiently to give him water + occasionally, called softly to us.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come and look at him,” said he. “What's the matter with him?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's dying!” said the cook, with a shudder.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He can't be going to die yet!” said Bill, blankly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>As he spoke the man's eyes seemed to get softer and more + life-like, and he looked at us piteously and helplessly. From face to + face he gazed in mute inquiry, and then, striking his chest feebly + with his fist, uttered two words.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>We looked at each other blankly, and he repeated them eagerly, + and again touched his chest.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's his name,” said the cook, and we all repeated them.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He smiled in an exhausted fashion, and then, rallying his + energies, held up a forefinger; as we stared at this new riddle, he + lowered it, and held up all four fingers, doubled.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Come away,” quavered the cook; “he's putting a spell on us.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>We drew back at that, and back farther still, as he repeated the + motions. Then Bill's face cleared suddenly, and he stepped towards + him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He means his wife and younkers!” he shouted eagerly. “This + ain't no Jem Dadd!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It was good then to see how our fellows drew round the dying + sailor, and strove to cheer him. Bill, to show he understood the + finger business, nodded cheerily, and held his hand at four different + heights from the floor. The last was very low, so low that the man set + his lips together, and strove to turn his heavy head from us.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Poor devil!” said Bill, “he wants us to tell his wife and + children what's become of him. He must ha' been dying when he come + aboard. What was his name, again?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>But the name was not easy to English lips, and we had already + forgotten it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Ask him again,” said the cook, “and write it down. Who's got a + pen?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He went to look for one as Bill turned to the sailor to get him + to repeat it. Then he turned round again, and eyed us blankly, for, by + this time, the owner had himself forgotten it.</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="the-four-pigeons"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id20"><span>THE FOUR PIGEONS</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 44%" id="figure-181"> + <span id="id9"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/011.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">T</span><span + class="dropspan">he old man took up his mug</span><span> 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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>One of the men nodded.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It puts life into me,” said the old man, raising it to his lips + and bowing. “It makes me talk.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's plenty more where that came from,” he ses, pulling out + a handful o' money.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Peter Gubbins looked at it, 'ardly able to speak. “It's worth + while being shot to 'ave all that money,” he ses, at last.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“They're more careful now,” ses Dicky Weed, the tailor.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There won't be no more shot,” ses Sam Jones.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We're too careful,” ses Peter Gubbins.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Bob Pretty don't know everything,” ses Dicky Weed.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll bet you what you like there'll be some more of you shot,” + ses Bob Pretty, in a temper. “Now, then.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Will you give me sixpence a week, too?” ses Henery Walker, + jumping up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I will,” ses Bob; “and anybody else that likes. And wot's more, + I'll pay in advance. Fust sixpences now.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 68%" id="figure-182"> + <span + id="the-fust-bob-pretty-eard-of-it-was-up-at-the-cauliflower-at-eight-oclock-that-evening"></span><img + class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " + src="images/012.jpg" /> + </div> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's on'y me, old pal,” he ses, smiling at 'im as Henery woke + up and shouted at 'im to get up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I shall want all that money,” ses Henery in a weak voice. “I + might 'ave to have a wooden leg, Bob.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There seems to be wounded men calling out all over the place,” + he ses, in a temper.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I think there is another one over there, sir,” ses one o' the + keepers, pointing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot's the matter?” ses Mr. Sutton, shouting at 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“But there oughtn't to be anybody 'ere,” ses Mr. Sutton to one + of the keepers.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I believe he's done it 'imself,” says Mr. Sutton, stamping his + foot.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Henery Walker began it. “I s'pose you've 'eard the dreadful + news, Bob Pretty?” he ses, looking at 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's my luck, Henery,” ses Bob, “always was lucky from a + child.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And I s'pose you think you're going to 'ave arf of the money + they get?” ses Henery Walker.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't talk about money while them pore chaps is suffering,” ses + Bob. “I'm surprised at you, Henery.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't you believe it, Henery,” ses Bob, smiling at 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Speak for yourself, Henery,” ses John Biggs, who thought Henery + was looking at 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Poor Henery; he's gorn mad,” he ses, shaking his 'ead.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You're a murderer,” ses Ralph Thomson, shaking 'is fist at him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I shouldn't do that if I was you, Henery,” ses Bob.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I dessay,” ses Henery Walker; “but then you see I am.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Henery Walker, wot 'ad been standing up looking fierce at 'im, + sat down agin, struck all of a heap.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I wonder 'ow they heard about it,” ses Dicky Weed.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A friend o' yours?” ses John Biggs, staring at 'im. “What for?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Another?” ses Peter, who 'ad been tellin' everybody that 'e + wouldn't speak to 'im agin as long as he lived. “Wot about?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You dursn't do it, Bob,” ses Peter, all of a tremble.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“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.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>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.</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="the-temptation-of-samuel-burge"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id21"><span>THE TEMPTATION OF SAMUEL + BURGE</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 50%" id="figure-183"> + <span id="id10"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/013.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">M</span><span + class="dropspan">r. Higgs, jeweller, sat</span><span> in the small + parlour behind his shop, gazing hungrily at a supper-table which had + been laid some time before. It was a quarter to ten by the small town + clock on the mantelpiece, and the jeweller rubbing his hands over the + fire tried in vain to remember what etiquette had to say about + starting a meal before the arrival of an expected guest.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He must be coming by the last train after all, sir,” said the + housekeeper entering the room and glancing at the clock. “I suppose + these London gentlemen keep such late hours they don't understand us + country folk wanting to get to bed in decent time. You must be wanting + your supper, sir.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs sighed. “I shall be glad of my supper,” he said + slowly, “but I dare say our friend is hungrier still. Travelling is + hungry work.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Perhaps he is thinking over his words for the seventh day,” + said the housekeeper solemnly. “Forgetting hunger and thirst and all + our poor earthly feelings in the blessedness of his work.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Perhaps so,” assented the other, whose own earthly feelings + were particularly strong just at that moment.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Brother Simpson used to forget all about meal-times when he + stayed here,” said the housekeeper, clasping her hands. “He used to + sit by the window with his eyes half-closed and shake his head at the + smell from the kitchen and call it flesh-pots of Egypt. He said that + if it wasn't for keeping up his strength for the work, luscious bread + and fair water was all he wanted. I expect Brother Burge will be a + similar sort of man.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Brother Clark wrote and told me that he only lives for the + work,” said the jeweller, with another glance at the clock. “The + chapel at Clerkenwell is crowded to hear him. It's a blessed favour + and privilege to have such a selected instrument staying in the house. + I'm curious to see him; from what Brother Clark said I rather fancy + that he was a little bit wild in his younger days.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Hallelujah!” exclaimed the housekeeper with fervour. “I mean to + think as he's seen the error of his ways,” she added sharply, as her + master looked up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There he is,” said the latter, as the bell rang.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The housekeeper went to the side-door, and drawing back the bolt + admitted the gentleman whose preaching had done so much for the small + but select sect known as the Seventh Day Primitive Apostles. She came + back into the room followed by a tall stout man, whose upper lip and + short stubby beard streaked with grey seemed a poor match for the + beady eyes which lurked behind a pair of clumsy spectacles.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Brother Samuel Burge?” inquired the jeweller, rising.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The visitor nodded, and regarding him with a smile charged with + fraternal love, took his hand in a huge grip and shook it fervently.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I am glad to see you, Brother Higgs,” he said, regarding him + fondly. “Oh, 'ow my eyes have yearned to be set upon you! Oh, 'ow my + ears 'ave longed to hearken unto the words of your voice!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He breathed thickly, and taking a seat sat with his hands upon + his knees, looking at a fine piece of cold beef which the housekeeper + had just placed upon the table.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Is Brother Clark well?” inquired the jeweller, placing a chair + for him at the table and taking up his carving-knife.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Dear Brother Clark is in excellent 'ealth, I thank you,” said + the other, taking the proffered chair. “Oh! what a man he is; what a + instrument for good. Always stretching out them blessed hands of 'is + to make one of the fallen a Seventh Day Primitive.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And success attends his efforts?” said the jeweller.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Success, Brother!” repeated Mr. Burge, eating rapidly and + gesticulating with his knife. “Success ain't no name for it. Why, + since this day last week he has saved three pick-pockets, two + Salvationists, one bigamist and a Roman Catholic.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Brother Higgs murmured his admiration. “You are also a power for + good,” he said wistfully. “Brother Clark tells me in his letter that + your exhortations have been abundantly blessed.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Burge shook his head. “A lot of it falls by the wayside,” he + said modestly, “but some of it is an eye-opener to them as don't + entirely shut their ears. Only the day before yesterday I 'ad two + jemmies and a dark lantern sent me with a letter saying as 'ow the + owner had no further use for 'em.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The jeweller's eyes glistened with admiration not quite untinged + with envy. “Have you expounded the Word for long?” he inquired.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Six months,” replied the other. “It come to me quite natural—I + was on the penitent bench on the Saturday, and the Wednesday + afterwards I preached as good a sermon as ever I've preached in my + life. Brother Clark said it took 'is breath away.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And he's a judge too,” said the admiring jeweller.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Now,” continued Brother Burge, helping himself plentifully to + pickled walnuts. “Now there ain't standing room in our Bethel when I'm + expounding. People come to hear me from all parts—old and young—rich + and poor—and the Apostles that don't come early 'ave to stand outside + and catch the crumbs I throw 'em through the winders.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It is enough,” sighed Brother Higgs, whose own audience was + frequently content to be on the wrong side of the window, “it is + enough to make a man vain.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I struggle against it, Brother,” said Mr. Burge, passing his + cup up for some more tea. “I fight against it hard, but once the Evil + One was almost too much for me; and in spite of myself, and knowing + besides that it was a plot of 'is, I nearly felt uplifted.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Brother Higgs, passing him some more beef, pressed for details.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He sent me two policemen,” replied the other, scowling darkly + at the meanness of the trick. “One I might 'ave stood, but two come to + being pretty near too much for me. They sat under me while I gave 'em + the Word 'ot and strong, and the feeling I had standing up there and + telling policemen what they ought to do I shall never forget.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“But why should policemen make you proud?” asked his puzzled + listener.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Burge looked puzzled in his turn. “Why, hasn't Brother Clark + told you about me?” he inquired.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs shook his head. “He sort of—suggested that—that you + had been a little bit wild before you came to us,” he murmured + apologetically.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A—little—bit—wild?” repeated Brother Burge, in horrified + accents. “ME? a little bit wild?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No doubt he exaggerated a little,” said the jeweller hurriedly. + “Being such a good man himself, no doubt things would seem wild to him + that wouldn't to us—to me, I mean.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A little bit wild,” said his visitor again. “Sam Burge, the + Converted Burglar, a little bit wild. Well, well!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Converted what?” shouted the jeweller, half-rising from his + chair.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Burglar,” said the other shortly. “Why, I should think I know + more about the inside o' gaols than anybody in England; I've pretty + near killed three policemen, besides breaking a gent's leg and + throwing a footman out of window, and then Brother Clark goes and says + I've been a little bit wild. I wonder what he would 'ave?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“But you—you've quite reformed now?” said the jeweller, resuming + his seat and making a great effort to hide his consternation.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I 'ope so,” said Mr. Burge, with alarming humility; “but it's + an uncertain world, and far be it from me to boast. That's why I've + come here.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs, only half-comprehending, sat back gasping.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If I can stand this,” pursued Brother Burge, gesticulating + wildly in the direction of the shop, “if I can stand being here with + all these 'ere pretty little things to be 'ad for the trouble of + picking of 'em up, I can stand anything. Tempt me, I says to Brother + Clark. Put me in the way o' temptation, I says. Let me see whether the + Evil One or me is the strongest; let me 'ave a good old up and down + with the Powers o' Darkness, and see who wins.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs, gripping the edge of the table with both hands, gazed + at this new Michael in speechless consternation.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I think I see his face now,” said Brother Burge, with tender + enthusiasm. “All in a glow it was, and he patted me on the shoulder + and says, 'I'll send you on a week's mission to Duncombe,' he says, + and 'you shall stop with Brother Higgs who 'as a shop full o' cunning + wrought vanities in silver and gold.'”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“But suppose,” said the jeweller, finding his voice by a great + effort, “suppose victory is not given unto you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It won't make any difference,” replied his visitor. “Brother + Clark promised that it shouldn't. 'If you fall, Brother,' he says, + 'we'll help you up again. When you are tired of sin come back to + us—there's always a welcome.'”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“But—” began the dismayed jeweller.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“We can only do our best,” said Brother Burge, “the rest we must + leave. I 'ave girded my loins for the fray, and taken much spiritual + sustenance on the way down from this little hymn-book.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs paid no heed. He sat marvelling over the fatuousness + of Brother Clark and trying to think of ways and means out of the + dilemma into which that gentleman's perverted enthusiasm had placed + him. He wondered whether it would be possible to induce Brother Burge + to sleep elsewhere by offering to bear his hotel expenses, and at + last, after some hesitation, broached the subject.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What!” exclaimed the other, pushing his plate from him and + regarding him with great severity. “Go and sleep at a hotel? After + Brother Clark has been and took all this trouble? Why, I wouldn't + think of doing such a thing.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Brother Clark has no right to expose you to such a trial,” said + Mr. Higgs with great warmth.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I wonder what he'd say if he 'eard you,” remarked Mr. Burge + sternly. “After his going and making all these arrangements, for you + to try and go and upset 'em. To ask me to shun the fight like a + coward; to ask me to go and hide in the rear-ranks in a hotel with + everything locked up, or a Coffer Pallis with nothing to steal.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I should sleep far more comfortably if I knew that you were not + undergoing this tremendous strain,” said the unhappy Mr. Higgs, “and + besides that, if you did give way, it would be a serious business for + me —that's what I want you to look at. I am afraid that if—if + unhappily you did fall, I couldn't prevent you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm sure you couldn't,” said the other cordially. “That's the + beauty of it; that's when the Evil One's whispers get louder and + louder. Why, I could choke you between my finger and thumb. If + unfortunately my fallen nature should be too strong for me, don't + interfere whatever you do. I mightn't be myself.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs rose and faced him gasping.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not even—call for—the police—I suppose,” he jerked out.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That would be interfering,” said Brother Burge coldly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The jeweller tried to think. It was past eleven. The housekeeper + had gone to spend the night with an ailing sister, and a furtive + glance at Brother Burge's small shifty eyes and fat unwholesome face + was sufficient to deter him from leaving him alone with his property, + while he went to ask the police to give an eye to his house for the + night. Besides, it was more than probable that Mr. Burge would decline + to allow such a proceeding. With a growing sense of his peril he + resolved to try flattery.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It was a great thing for the Brethren to secure a man like + you,” he said.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I never thought they'd ha' done it,” said Mr. Burge frankly. + “I've 'ad all sorts trying to convert me; crying over me and praying + over me. I remember the first dear good man that called me a lorst + lamb. He didn't say anything else for a month.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So upset,” hazarded the jeweller.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I broke his jor, pore feller,” said Brother Burge, a sad but + withal indulgent smile lighting up his face at the vagaries of his + former career. “What time do you go to bed, Brother?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Any time,” said the other reluctantly. “I suppose you are tired + with your journey?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Burge assented, and rising from his chair yawned loudly and + stretched himself. In the small room with his huge arms raised he + looked colossal.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I suppose,” said the jeweller, still seeking to re-assure + himself, “I suppose dear Brother Clark felt pretty certain of you, + else he wouldn't have sent you here?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Brother Clark said 'What is a jeweller's shop compared with a + 'uman soul, a priceless 'uman soul?'” replied Mr. Burge. “What is a + few gew-gaws to decorate them that perish, and make them vain, when + you come to consider the opportunity of such a trial, and the good + it'll do and the draw it'll be—if I do win—and testify to the + congregation to that effect? Why, there's sermons for a lifetime in + it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So there is,” said the jeweller, trying to look cheerful. + “You've got a good face, Brother Burge, and you'll do a lot of good by + your preaching. There is honesty written in every feature.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Burge turned and surveyed himself in the small pier-glass. + “Yes,” he said, somewhat discontentedly, “I don't look enough like a + burglar to suit some of 'em.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Some people are hard to please,” said the other warmly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Burge started and eyed him thoughtfully, and then as Mr. + Higgs after some hesitation walked into the shop to turn the gas out, + stood in the doorway watching him. A smothered sigh as he glanced + round the shop bore witness to the state of his feelings.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The jeweller hesitated again in the parlour, and then handing + Brother Burge his candle turned out the gas, and led the way slowly + upstairs to the room which had been prepared for the honoured visitor. + He shook hands at the door and bade him an effusive good-night, his + voice trembling despite himself as he expressed a hope that Mr. Burge + would sleep well. He added casually that he himself was a very light + sleeper.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>To-night sleep of any kind was impossible. He had given up the + front room to his guest, and his own window looked out on an + over-grown garden. He sat trying to read, with his ears alert for the + slightest sound. Brother Burge seemed to be a long time undressing. + For half an hour after he had retired he could hear him moving + restlessly about his room.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Twelve o'clock struck from the tower of the parish church, and + was followed almost directly by the tall clock standing in the hall + down-stairs. Scarcely had the sounds died away than a low moaning from + the next room caused the affrighted jeweller to start from his chair + and place his ear against the wall. Two or three hollow groans came + through the plaster, followed by ejaculations which showed clearly + that Brother Burge was at that moment engaged in a terrified combat + with the Powers of Darkness to decide whether he should, or should + not, rifle his host's shop. His hands clenched and his ear pressed + close to the wall, the jeweller listened to a monologue which + increased in interest with every word.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I tell you I won't,” said the voice in the next room with a + groan, “I won't. Get thee behind me—Get thee—No, and don't shove me + over to the door; if you can't get behind me without doing that, stay + where you are. Yes, I know it's a fortune as well as what you do; but + it ain't mine.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The listener caught his breath painfully.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Diamond rings,” continued Brother Burge in a suffocating voice. + “Stop it, I tell you. No, I won't just go and look at 'em.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>A series of groans which the jeweller noticed to his horror got + weaker and weaker testified to the greatness of the temptation. He + heard Brother Burge rise, and then a succession of panting snarls + seemed to indicate a fierce bodily encounter.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't—want to look at 'em,” said Brother Burge in an + exhausted voice. “What's—the good of—looking at 'em? It's like you, + you know diamonds are my weakness. What does it matter if he is + asleep? What's my knife got to do with you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Brother Higgs reeled back and a mist passed before his eyes. He + came to himself at the sound of a door opening, and impelled with a + vague idea of defending his property, snatched up his candle and + looked out on to the landing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The light fell on Brother Burge, fully dressed and holding his + boots in his hand. For a moment they gazed at each other in silence; + then the jeweller found his voice.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I thought you were ill, Brother,” he faltered.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>An ugly scowl lit up the other's features. “Don't you tell me + any of your lies,” he said fiercely. “You're watching me; that's what + you're doing. Spying on me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I thought that you were being tempted,” confessed the trembling + Mr. Higgs.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>An expression of satisfaction which he strove to suppress + appeared on Mr. Burge's face.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So I was,” he said sternly. “So I was; but that's my business. + I don't want your assistance; I can fight my own battles. You go to + bed—I'm going to tell the congregation I won the fight single-'anded.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“So you have, Brother,” said the other eagerly; “but it's doing + me good to see it. It's a lesson to me; a lesson to all of us the way + you wrestled.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I thought you was asleep,” growled Brother Burge, turning back + to his room and speaking over his shoulder. “You get back to bed; the + fight ain't half over yet. Get back to bed and keep quiet.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The door closed behind him, and Mr. Higgs, still trembling, + regained his room and looked in agony at the clock. It was only + half-past twelve and the sun did not rise until six. He sat and + shivered until a second instalment of groans in the next room brought + him in desperation to his feet.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Brother Burge was in the toils again, and the jeweller despite + his fears could not help realizing what a sensation the story of his + temptation would create. Brother Burge was now going round and round + his room like an animal in a cage, and sounds as of a soul wrought + almost beyond endurance smote upon the listener's quivering ear. Then + there was a long silence more alarming even than the noise of the + conflict. Had Brother Burge won, and was he now sleeping the sleep of + the righteous, or—— Mr. Higgs shivered and put his other ear to the + wall. Then he heard his guest move stealthily across the floor; the + boards creaked and the handle of the door turned.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs started, and with a sudden flash of courage born of + anger and desperation seized a small brass poker from the fire-place, + and taking the candle in his other hand went out on to the landing + again. Brother Burge was closing his door softly, and his face when he + turned it upon the jeweller was terrible in its wrath. His small eyes + snapped with fury, and his huge hands opened and shut convulsively.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What, agin!” he said in a low growl. “After all I told you!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs backed slowly as he advanced.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No noise,” said Mr. Burge in a dreadful whisper. “One scream + and I'll— What were you going to do with that poker?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He took a stealthy step forward.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I—I,” began the jeweller. His voice failed him. “Burglars,” he + mouthed, “downstairs.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What?” said the other, pausing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Higgs threw truth to the winds. “I heard them in the shop,” + he said, recovering, “that's why I took up the poker. Can't you hear + them?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Burge listened for the fraction of a second. “Nonsense,” he + said huskily.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I heard them talking,” said the other recklessly. “Let's go + down and call the police.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Call 'em from the winder,” said Brother Burge, backing with + some haste, “they might 'ave pistols or something, and they're ugly + customers when they're disturbed.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He stood with strained face listening.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Here they come,” whispered the jeweller with a sudden movement + of alarm.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Brother Burge turned, and bolting into his room clapped the door + to and locked it. The jeweller stood dumbfounded on the landing; then + he heard the window go up and the voice of Brother Burge, much + strengthened by the religious exercises of the past six months, + bellowing lustily for the police.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>For a few seconds Mr. Higgs stood listening and wondering what + explanation he should give. Still thinking, he ran downstairs, and, + throwing open the pantry window, unlocked the door leading into the + shop and scattered a few of his cherished possessions about the floor. + By the time he had done this, people were already beating upon the + street-door and exchanging hurried remarks with Mr. Burge at the + window above. The jeweller shot back the bolts, and half-a-dozen + neighbours, headed by the butcher opposite, clad in his nightgown and + armed with a cleaver, burst into the passage. A constable came running + up just as the pallid face of Brother Burge peered over the balusters. + The constable went upstairs three at a time, and twisting his hand in + the ex-burglar's neck-cloth bore him backwards.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've got one,” he shouted. “Come up and hold him while I look + round.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The butcher was beside him in a moment; Brother Burge struggling + wildly, called loudly upon the name of Brother Higgs.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That's all right, constable,” said the latter, “that's a friend + of mine.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Friend o' yours, sir?” said the disappointed officer, still + holding him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The jeweller nodded. “Mr. Samuel Burge the Converted Burglar,” + he said mechanically.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Conver——” gasped the astonished constable. “Converted burglar? + Here!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He is a preacher now,” added Mr. Higgs.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Preacher?” retorted the constable. “Why it's as plain as a + pikestaff. Confederates: his part was to go down and let 'em in.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Burge raised a piteous outcry. “I hope you may be forgiven + for them words,” he cried piously.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What time did you go up to bed?” pursued the constable.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“About half-past eleven,” replied Mr. Higgs.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The other grunted with satisfaction. “And he's fully dressed, + with his boots off,” he remarked. “Did you hear him go out of his room + at all?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He did go out,” said the jeweller truth-fully, “but——”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I thought so,” said the constable, turning to his prisoner with + affectionate solicitude. “Now you come along o' me. Come quietly, + because it'll be the best for you in the end.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You won't get your skull split open then,” added the butcher, + toying with his cleaver.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The jeweller hesitated. He had no desire to be left alone with + Mr. Burge again; and a sense of humour, which many years' association + with the Primitive Apostles had not quite eradicated, strove for + hearing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Think of the sermon it'll make,” he said encouragingly to the + frantic Mr. Burge, “think of the congregation!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Brother Burge replied in language which he had not used in + public since he had joined the Apostles. The butcher and another man + stood guard over him while the constable searched the premises and + made all secure again. Then with a final appeal to Mr. Higgs who was + keeping in the background, he was pitched to the police-station by the + energetic constable and five zealous assistants.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>A diffidence, natural in the circumstances, prevented him from + narrating the story of his temptation to the magistrates next morning, + and Mr. Higgs was equally reticent. He was put back while the police + communicated with London, and in the meantime Brother Clark and a band + of Apostles flanked down to his support.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>On his second appearance before the magistrates he was + confronted with his past; and his past to the great astonishment of + the Brethren being free from all blemish with the solitary exception + of fourteen days for stealing milk-cans, he was discharged with a + caution. The disillusioned Primitive Apostles also gave him his + freedom.</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="the-madness-of-mr-lister"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id22"><span>THE MADNESS OF MR. LISTER</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 46%" id="figure-184"> + <span id="id11"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/014.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">O</span><span + class="dropspan">ld Jem Lister, of the</span><span> Susannah, was + possessed of two devils—the love of strong drink and avarice—and the + only thing the twain had in common was to get a drink without paying + for it. When Mr. Lister paid for a drink, the demon of avarice + masquerading as conscience preached a teetotal lecture, and when he + showed signs of profiting by it, the demon of drink would send him + hanging round public-house doors cadging for drinks in a way which his + shipmates regarded as a slur upon the entire ship's company. Many a + healthy thirst reared on salt beef and tickled with strong tobacco had + been spoiled by the sight of Mr. Lister standing by the entrance, with + a propitiatory smile, waiting to be invited in to share it, and on one + occasion they had even seen him (him, Jem Lister, A.B.) holding a + horse's head, with ulterior motives.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It was pointed out to Mr. Lister at last that his conduct was + reflecting discredit upon men who were fully able to look after + themselves in that direction, without having any additional burden + thrust upon them. Bill Henshaw was the spokesman, and on the score of + violence (miscalled firmness) his remarks left little to be desired. + On the score of profanity, Bill might recall with pride that in the + opinion of his fellows he had left nothing unsaid.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You ought to ha' been a member o' Parliament, Bill,” said Harry + Lea, when he had finished.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It wants money,” said Henshaw, shaking his head.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Lister laughed, a senile laugh, but not lacking in venom.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That's what we've got to say,” said Henshaw, turning upon him + suddenly. “If there's anything I hate in this world, it's a drinking + miser. You know our opinion, and the best thing you can do is to turn + over a new leaf now.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Take us all in to the Goat and Compasses,” urged Lea; “bring + out some o' those sovrins you've been hoarding.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Lister gazed at him with frigid scorn, and finding that the + conversation still seemed to centre round his unworthy person, went up + on deck and sat glowering over the insults which had been heaped upon + him. His futile wrath when Bill dogged his footsteps ashore next day + and revealed his character to a bibulous individual whom he had almost + persuaded to be a Christian—from his point of view—bordered upon the + maudlin, and he wandered back to the ship, wild-eyed and dry of + throat.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>For the next two months it was safe to say that every drink he + had he paid for. His eyes got brighter and his complexion clearer, nor + was he as pleased as one of the other sex might have been when the + self-satisfied Henshaw pointed out these improvements to his + companions, and claimed entire responsibility for them. It is probable + that Mr. Lister, under these circumstances, might in time have lived + down his taste for strong drink, but that at just that time they + shipped a new cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He was a big, cadaverous young fellow, who looked too closely + after his own interests to be much of a favourite with the other men + forward. On the score of thrift, it was soon discovered that he and + Mr. Lister had much in common, and the latter, pleased to find a + congenial spirit, was disposed to make the most of him, and spent, + despite the heat, much of his spare time in the galley.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You keep to it,” said the greybeard impressively; “money was + made to be took care of; if you don't spend your money you've always + got it. I've always been a saving man—what's the result?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook, waiting some time in patience to be told, gently + inquired what it was.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Ere am I,” said Mr. Lister, good-naturedly helping him to cut + a cabbage, “at the age of sixty-two with a bank-book down below in my + chest, with one hundered an' ninety pounds odd in it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“One 'undered and ninety pounds!” repeated the cook, with awe.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“To say nothing of other things,” continued Mr. Lister, with + joyful appreciation of the effect he was producing. “Altogether I've + got a little over four 'undered pounds.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook gasped, and with gentle firmness took the cabbage from + him as being unfit work for a man of such wealth.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's very nice,” he said, slowly. “It's very nice. You'll be + able to live on it in your old age.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Lister shook his head mournfully, and his eyes became humid.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's no old age for me,” he said, sadly; “but you needn't + tell them,” and he jerked his thumb towards the forecastle.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No, no,” said the cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've never been one to talk over my affairs,” said Mr. Lister, + in a low voice. “I've never yet took fancy enough to anybody so to do. + No, my lad, I'm saving up for somebody else.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What are you going to live on when you're past work then?” + demanded the other.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Lister took him gently by the sleeve, and his voice sank + with the solemnity of his subject: “I'm not going to have no old age,” + he said, resignedly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not going to live!” repeated the cook, gazing uneasily at a + knife by his side. “How do you know?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I went to a orsepittle in London,” said Mr. Lister. “I've been + to two or three altogether, while the money I've spent on doctors is + more than I like to think of, and they're all surprised to think that + I've lived so long. I'm so chock-full o' complaints, that they tell me + I can't live more than two years, and I might go off at any moment.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, you've got money,” said the cook, “why don't you knock + off work now and spend the evenin' of your life ashore? Why should you + save up for your relatives?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've got no relatives,” said Mr. Lister; “I'm all alone. I + 'spose I shall leave my money to some nice young feller, and I hope + it'll do 'im good.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>With the dazzling thoughts which flashed through the cook's + brain the cabbage dropped violently into the saucepan, and a shower of + cooling drops fell on both men.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I 'spose you take medicine?” he said, at length.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A little rum,” said Mr. Lister, faintly; “the doctors tell me + that it is the only thing that keeps me up—o' course, the chaps down + there “—he indicated the forecastle again with a jerk of his + head—“accuse me o' taking too much.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What do ye take any notice of 'em for?” inquired the other, + indignantly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I 'spose it is foolish,” admitted Mr. Lister; “but I don't like + being misunderstood. I keep my troubles to myself as a rule, cook. I + don't know what's made me talk to you like this. I 'eard the other day + you was keeping company with a young woman.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, I won't say as I ain't,” replied the other, busying + himself over the fire.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“An' the best thing, too, my lad,” said the old man, warmly. “It + keeps you stiddy, keeps you out of public-'ouses; not as they ain't + good in moderation—I 'ope you'll be 'appy.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>A friendship sprang up between the two men which puzzled the + remainder of the crew not a little.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook thanked him, and noticed that Mr. Lister was fidgeting + with a piece of paper.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A little something I wrote the other day,” said the old man, + catching his eye. “If I let you see it, will you promise not to tell a + soul about it, and not to give me no thanks?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The wondering cook promised, and, the old man being somewhat + emphatic on the subject, backed his promise with a home made affidavit + of singular power and profanity.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Here it is, then,” said Mr. Lister.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook took the paper, and as he read the letters danced + before him. He blinked his eyes and started again, slowly. In plain + black and white and nondescript-coloured finger-marks, Mr. Lister, + after a general statement as to his bodily and mental health, left the + whole of his estate to the cook. The will was properly dated and + witnessed, and the cook's voice shook with excitement and emotion as + he offered to hand it back.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't know what I've done for you to do this,” he said.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Lister waved it away again. “Keep it,” he said, simply; + “while you've got it on you, you'll know it's safe.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>From this moment a friendship sprang up between the two men + which puzzled the remainder of the crew not a little. The attitude of + the cook was as that of a son to a father: the benignancy of Mr. + Lister beautiful to behold. It was noticed, too, that he had abandoned + the reprehensible practice of hanging round tavern doors in favour of + going inside and drinking the cook's health.</span> + </p> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 67%" id="figure-185"> + <span + id="a-friendship-sprang-up-between-the-two-men-which-puzzled-the-remainder-of-the-crew-not-a-little"></span><img + class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " + src="images/015.jpg" /> + </div> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>For about six months the cook, although always in somewhat + straitened circumstances, was well content with the tacit bargain, and + then, bit by bit, the character of Mr. Lister was revealed to him. It + was not a nice character, but subtle; and when he made the startling + discovery that a will could be rendered invalid by the simple process + of making another one the next day, he became as a man possessed. When + he ascertained that Mr. Lister when at home had free quarters at the + house of a married niece, he used to sit about alone, and try and + think of ways and means of securing capital sunk in a concern which + seemed to show no signs of being wound-up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've got a touch of the 'art again, lad,” said the elderly + invalid, as they sat alone in the forecastle one night at Seacole.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You move about too much,” said the cook. “Why not turn in and + rest?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Lister, who had not expected this, fidgeted. “I think I'll + go ashore a bit and try the air,” he said, suggestively. “I'll just go + as far as the Black Horse and back. You won't have me long now, my + lad.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No, I know,” said the cook; “that's what's worrying me a bit.” + “Don't worry about me,” said the old man, pausing with his hand on the + other's shoulder; “I'm not worth it. Don't look so glum, lad.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've got something on my mind, Jem,” said the cook, staring + straight in front of him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What is it?” inquired Mr. Lister.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You know what you told me about those pains in your inside?” + said the cook, without looking at him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Jem groaned and felt his side.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And what you said about its being a relief to die,” continued + the other, “only you was afraid to commit suicide?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well?” said Mr. Lister.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It used to worry me,” continued the cook, earnestly. “I used to + say to myself, 'Poor old Jem,' I ses, 'why should 'e suffer like this + when he wants to die? It seemed 'ard.'”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It is 'ard,” said Mr. Lister, “but what about it?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The other made no reply, but looking at him for the first time, + surveyed him with a troubled expression.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What about it?” repeated Mr. Lister, with some emphasis.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You did say you wanted to die, didn't you?” said the cook. “Now + suppose suppose——”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Suppose what?” inquired the old man, sharply. “Why don't you + say what you're agoing to say?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Suppose,” said the cook, “some one what liked you, Jem—what + liked you, mind—'eard you say this over and over again, an' see you + sufferin' and 'eard you groanin' and not able to do nothin' for you + except lend you a few shillings here and there for medicine, or stand + you a few glasses o' rum; suppose they knew a chap in a chemist's + shop?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Suppose they did?” said the other, turning pale.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A chap what knows all about p'isons,” continued the cook, + “p'isons what a man can take without knowing it in 'is grub. Would it + be wrong, do you think, if that friend I was speaking about put it in + your food to put you out of your misery?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wrong,” said Mr. Lister, with glassy eyes. “Wrong. Look 'ere, + cook—”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't mean anything to give him pain,” said the other, waving + his hand; “you ain't felt no pain lately, 'ave you, Jem?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Do you mean to say!” shouted Mr. Lister.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't mean to say anything,” said the cook. “Answer my + question. You ain't felt no pain lately, 'ave you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Have—you—been—putting—p'ison—in—my—wittles?” demanded Mr. + Lister, in trembling accents.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“If I 'ad, Jem, supposin' that I 'ad,” said the cook, in accents + of reproachful surprise, “do you mean to say that you'd mind?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“MIND,” said Mr. Lister, with fervour. “I'd 'ave you 'ung!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“But you said you wanted to die,” said the surprised cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Lister swore at him with startling vigour. “I'll 'ave you + 'ung,” he repeated, wildly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Me,” said the cook, artlessly. “What for?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“For giving me p'ison,” said Mr. Lister, frantically. “Do you + think you can deceive me by your roundabouts? Do you think I can't see + through you?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The other with a sphinx-like smile sat unmoved. “Prove it,” he + said, darkly. “But supposin' if anybody 'ad been givin' you p'ison, + would you like to take something to prevent its acting?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'd take gallons of it,” said Mr. Lister, feverishly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The other sat pondering, while the old man watched him + anxiously. “It's a pity you don't know your own mind, Jem,” he said, + at length; “still, you know your own business best. But it's very + expensive stuff.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“How much?” inquired the other.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, they won't sell more than two shillings-worth at a time,” + said the cook, trying to speak carelessly, “but if you like to let me + 'ave the money, I'll go ashore to the chemist's and get the first lot + now.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Mr. Lister's face was a study in emotions, which the other tried + in vain to decipher.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Then he slowly extracted the amount from his trousers-pocket, + and handed it over with-out a word.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll go at once,” said the cook, with a little feeling, “and + I'll never take a man at his word again, Jem.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He ran blithely up on deck, and stepping ashore, spat on the + coins for luck and dropped them in his pocket. Down below, Mr. Lister, + with his chin in his hand, sat in a state of mind pretty evenly + divided between rage and fear.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook, who was in no mood for company, missed the rest of the + crew by two public-houses, and having purchased a baby's teething + powder and removed the label, had a congratulatory drink or two before + going on board again. A chatter of voices from the forecastle warned + him that the crew had returned, but the tongues ceased abruptly as he + descended, and three pairs of eyes surveyed him in grim silence.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What's up?” he demanded.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot 'ave you been doin' to poor old Jem?” demanded Henshaw, + sternly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Nothin',” said the other, shortly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You ain't been p'isoning 'im?” demanded Henshaw.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Certainly not,” said the cook, emphatically.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He ses you told 'im you p'isoned 'im,” said Henshaw, solemnly, + “and 'e give you two shillings to get something to cure 'im. It's too + late now.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What?” stammered the bewildered cook. He looked round anxiously + at the men.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They were all very grave, and the silence became oppressive. + “Where is he?” he demanded.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Henshaw and the others exchanged glances. “He's gone mad,” said + he, slowly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Mad?” repeated the horrified cook, and, seeing the aversion of + the crew, in a broken voice he narrated the way in which he had been + victimized.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, you've done it now,” said Henshaw, when he had finished. + “He's gone right orf 'is 'ed.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Where is he?” inquired the cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Where you can't follow him,” said the other, slowly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Heaven?” hazarded the unfortunate cook. “No; skipper's bunk,” + said Lea.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Oh, can't I foller 'im?” said the cook, starting up. “I'll soon + 'ave 'im out o' that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Better leave 'im alone,” said Henshaw. “He was that wild we + couldn't do nothing with 'im, singing an' larfin' and crying all + together—I certainly thought he was p'isoned.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll swear I ain't touched him,” said the cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, you've upset his reason,” said Henshaw; “there'll be an + awful row when the skipper comes aboard and finds 'im in 'is bed.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Well, come an' 'elp me to get 'im out,” said the cook.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I ain't going to be mixed up in it,” said Henshaw, shaking his + head.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't you, Bill,” said the other two.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot the skipper'll say I don't know,” said Henshaw; “anyway, + it'll be said to you, not——”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll go and get 'im out if 'e was five madmen,” said the cook, + compressing his lips.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You'll harve to carry 'im out, then,” said Henshaw. “I don't + wish you no 'arm, cook, and perhaps it would be as well to get 'im out + afore the skipper or mate comes aboard. If it was me, I know what I + should do.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What?” inquired the cook, breathlessly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Draw a sack over his head,” said Henshaw, impressively; “he'll + scream like blazes as soon as you touch him, and rouse the folks + ashore if you don't. Besides that, if you draw it well down it'll keep + his arms fast.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook thanked him fervently, and routing out a sack, rushed + hastily on deck, his departure being the signal for Mr. Henshaw and + his friends to make preparations for retiring for the night so hastily + as almost to savour of panic.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook, after a hasty glance ashore, went softly below with + the sack over his arm and felt his way in the darkness to the + skipper's bunk. The sound of deep and regular breathing reassured him, + and without undue haste he opened the mouth of the sack and gently + raised the sleeper's head.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Eh? Wha——” began a sleepy voice.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The next moment the cook had bagged him, and gripping him + tightly round the middle, turned a deaf ear to the smothered cries of + his victim as he strove to lift him out of the bunk. In the exciting + time which followed, he had more than one reason for thinking that he + had caught a centipede.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Now, you keep still,” he cried, breathlessly. “I'm not going to + hurt you.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He got his burden out of bed at last, and staggered to the foot + of the companion-ladder with it. Then there was a halt, two legs + sticking obstinately across the narrow way and refusing to be moved, + while a furious humming proceeded from the other end of the sack.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Four times did the exhausted cook get his shoulder under his + burden and try and push it up the ladder, and four times did it + wriggle and fight its way down again. Half crazy with fear and rage, + he essayed it for the fifth time, and had got it half-way up when + there was a sudden exclamation of surprise from above, and the voice + of the mate sharply demanding an explanation.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What the blazes are you up to?” he cried.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's all right, sir,” said the panting cook; “old Jem's had a + drop too much and got down aft, and I'm getting 'im for'ard again.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Jem?” said the astonished mate. “Why, he's sitting up here on + the fore-hatch. He came aboard with me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Sitting,” began the horrified cook; “sit—oh, lor!”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He stood with his writhing burden wedged between his body and + the ladder, and looked up despairingly at the mate.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm afraid I've made a mistake,” he said in a trembling voice.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The mate struck a match and looked down.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Take that sack off,” he demanded, sternly.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cook placed his burden upon its feet, and running up the + ladder stood by the mate shivering. The latter struck another match, + and the twain watched in breathless silence the writhings of the + strange creature below as the covering worked slowly upwards. In the + fourth match it got free, and revealed the empurpled visage of the + master of the Susannah. For the fraction of a second the cook gazed at + him in speechless horror, and then, with a hopeless cry, sprang ashore + and ran for it, hotly pursued by his enraged victim. At the time of + sailing he was still absent, and the skipper, loth to part two such + friends, sent Mr. James Lister, at the urgent request of the anxious + crew, to look for him.</span> + </p> + </div> + <div class="level-2 section" id="the-white-cat"> + <h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"> + <a class="toc-backref" href="#id23"><span>THE WHITE CAT</span></a> + </h2> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 51%" id="figure-186"> + <span id="id12"></span><img class="align-center block" + style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/016.jpg" /> + </div> + <div class="clearpage"> + </div> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 6.00em">T</span><span + class="dropspan">he traveller stood looking</span><span> from the + tap-room window of the Cauliflower at the falling rain. The village + street below was empty, and everything was quiet with the exception of + the garrulous old man smoking with much enjoyment on the settle behind + him.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It'll do a power o' good,” said the ancient, craning his neck + round the edge of the settle and turning a bleared eye on the window. + “I ain't like some folk; I never did mind a drop o' rain.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The traveller grunted and, returning to the settle opposite the + old man, fell to lazily stroking a cat which had strolled in attracted + by the warmth of the small fire which smouldered in the grate.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's a good mouser,” said the old man, “but I expect that Smith + the landlord would sell 'im to anybody for arf a crown; but we 'ad a + cat in Claybury once that you couldn't ha' bought for a hundred golden + sovereigns.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The traveller continued to caress the cat.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“A white cat, with one yaller eye and one blue one,” continued + the old man. “It sounds queer, but it's as true as I sit 'ere wishing + that I 'ad another mug o' ale as good as the last you gave me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The traveller, with a start that upset the cat's nerves, + finished his own mug, and then ordered both to be refilled. He stirred + the fire into a blaze, and, lighting his pipe and putting one foot on + to the hob, prepared to listen.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It used to belong to old man Clark, young Joe Clark's uncle, + said the ancient, smacking his lips delicately over the ale and + extending a tremulous claw to the tobacco-pouch pushed towards him; + and he was never tired of showing it off to people. He used to call it + 'is blue-eyed darling, and the fuss 'e made o' that cat was sinful.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Young Joe Clark couldn't bear it, but being down in 'is uncle's + will for five cottages and a bit o' land bringing in about forty + pounds a year, he 'ad to 'ide his feelings and pretend as he loved it. + He used to take it little drops o' cream and tit-bits o' meat, and old + Clark was so pleased that 'e promised 'im that he should 'ave the cat + along with all the other property when 'e was dead.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Young Joe said he couldn't thank 'im enough, and the old man, + who 'ad been ailing a long time, made 'im come up every day to teach + 'im 'ow to take care of it arter he was gone. He taught Joe 'ow to + cook its meat and then chop it up fine; 'ow it liked a clean saucer + every time for its milk; and 'ow he wasn't to make a noise when it was + asleep.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Take care your children don't worry it, Joe,” he ses one day, + very sharp. “One o' your boys was pulling its tail this morning, and I + want you to clump his 'ead for 'im.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Which one was it?” ses Joe.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“The slobbery-nosed one,” ses old Clark.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll give 'im a clout as soon as I get 'ome,” ses Joe, who was + very fond of 'is children.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Go and fetch 'im and do it 'ere,” ses the old man; “that'll + teach 'im to love animals.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Joe went off 'ome to fetch the boy, and arter his mother 'ad + washed his face, and wiped his nose, an' put a clean pinneyfore on + 'im, he took 'im to 'is uncle's and clouted his 'ead for 'im. Arter + that Joe and 'is wife 'ad words all night long, and next morning old + Clark, coming in from the garden, was just in time to see 'im kick the + cat right acrost the kitchen.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He could 'ardly speak for a minute, and when 'e could Joe see + plain wot a fool he'd been. Fust of all 'e called Joe every name he + could think of— which took 'im a long time—and then he ordered 'im out + of 'is house.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You shall 'ave my money wen your betters have done with it,” he + ses, “and not afore. That's all you've done for yourself.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Joe Clark didn't know wot he meant at the time, but when old + Clark died three months arterwards 'e found out. His uncle 'ad made a + new will and left everything to old George Barstow for as long as the + cat lived, providing that he took care of it. When the cat was dead + the property was to go to Joe.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cat was only two years old at the time, and George Barstow, + who was arf crazy with joy, said it shouldn't be 'is fault if it + didn't live another twenty years.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The funny thing was the quiet way Joe Clark took it. He didn't + seem to be at all cut up about it, and when Henery Walker said it was + a shame, 'e said he didn't mind, and that George Barstow was a old + man, and he was quite welcome to 'ave the property as long as the cat + lived.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It must come to me by the time I'm an old man,” he ses, “ard + that's all I care about.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Henery Walker went off, and as 'e passed the cottage where old + Clark used to live, and which George Barstow 'ad moved into, 'e spoke + to the old man over the palings and told 'im wot Joe Clark 'ad said. + George Barstow only grunted and went on stooping and prying over 'is + front garden.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Bin and lost something?” ses Henery Walker, watching 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“No; I'm finding,” ses George Barstow, very fierce, and picking + up something. “That's the fifth bit o' powdered liver I've found in my + garden this morning.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Henery Walker went off whistling, and the opinion he'd 'ad o' + Joe Clark began to improve. He spoke to Joe about it that arternoon, + and Joe said that if 'e ever accused 'im o' such a thing again he'd + knock 'is 'ead off. He said that he 'oped the cat 'ud live to be a + hundred, and that 'e'd no more think of giving it poisoned meat than + Henery Walker would of paying for 'is drink so long as 'e could get + anybody else to do it for 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They 'ad bets up at this 'ere Cauliflower public-'ouse that + evening as to 'ow long that cat 'ud live. Nobody gave it more than a + month, and Bill Chambers sat and thought o' so many ways o' killing it + on the sly that it was wunnerful to hear 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George Barstow took fright when he 'eard of them, and the care + 'e took o' that cat was wunnerful to behold. Arf its time it was shut + up in the back bedroom, and the other arf George Barstow was fussing + arter it till that cat got to hate 'im like pison. Instead o' giving + up work as he'd thought to do, 'e told Henery Walker that 'e'd never + worked so 'ard in his life.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot about fresh air and exercise for it?” ses Henery.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot about Joe Clark?” ses George Bar-stow. “I'm tied 'and and + foot. I dursent leave the house for a moment. I ain't been to the + Cauliflower since I've 'ad it, and three times I got out o' bed last + night to see if it was safe.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Mark my words,” ses Henery Walker; “if that cat don't 'ave + exercise, you'll lose it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I shall lose it if it does 'ave exercise,” ses George Barstow, + “that I know.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He sat down thinking arter Henery Walker 'ad gone, and then he + 'ad a little collar and chain made for it, and took it out for a walk. + Pretty nearly every dog in Claybury went with 'em, and the cat was in + such a state o' mind afore they got 'ome he couldn't do anything with + it. It 'ad a fit as soon as they got indoors, and George Barstow, who + 'ad read about children's fits in the almanac, gave it a warm bath. It + brought it round immediate, and then it began to tear round the room + and up and downstairs till George Barstow was afraid to go near it.</span> + </p> + <div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 70%" id="figure-187"> + <span + id="he-ad-a-little-collar-and-chain-made-for-it-and-took-it-out-for-a-walk"></span><img + class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " + src="images/017.jpg" /> + </div> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It was so bad that evening, sneezing, that George Barstow sent + for Bill Chambers, who'd got a good name for doctoring animals, and + asked 'im to give it something. Bill said he'd got some powders at + 'ome that would cure it at once, and he went and fetched 'em and mixed + one up with a bit o' butter.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That's the way to give a cat medicine,” he ses; “smear it with + the butter and then it'll lick it off, powder and all.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He was just going to rub it on the cat when George Barstow + caught 'old of 'is arm and stopped 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“How do I know it ain't pison?” he ses. “You're a friend o' Joe + Clark's, and for all I know he may ha' paid you to pison it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I wouldn't do such a thing,” ses Bill. “You ought to know me + better than that.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“All right,” ses George Barstow; “you eat it then, and I'll give + you two shillings in stead o' one. You can easy mix some more.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not me,” ses Bill Chambers, making a face.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, three shillings, then,” ses George Barstow, getting more + and more suspicious like; “four shillings—five shillings.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bill Chambers shook his 'ead, and George Barstow, more and more + certain that he 'ad caught 'im trying to kill 'is cat and that 'e + wouldn't eat the stuff, rose 'im up to ten shillings.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bill looked at the butter and then 'e looked at the ten + shillings on the table, and at last he shut 'is eyes and gulped it + down and put the money in 'is pocket.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You see, I 'ave to be careful, Bill,” ses George Barstow, + rather upset.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bill Chambers didn't answer 'im. He sat there as white as a + sheet, and making such extraordinary faces that George was arf afraid + of 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Anything wrong, Bill?” he ses at last.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bill sat staring at 'im, and then all of a sudden he clapped 'is + 'andkerchief to 'is mouth and, getting up from his chair, opened the + door and rushed out. George Barstow thought at fust that he 'ad eaten + pison for the sake o' the ten shillings, but when 'e remembered that + Bill Chambers 'ad got the most delikit stummick in Claybury he altered + 'is mind.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The cat was better next morning, but George Barstow had 'ad such + a fright about it 'e wouldn't let it go out of 'is sight, and Joe + Clark began to think that 'e would 'ave to wait longer for that + property than 'e had thought, arter all. To 'ear 'im talk anybody'd + ha' thought that 'e loved that cat. We didn't pay much attention to it + up at the Cauliflower 'ere, except maybe to wink at 'im—a thing he + couldn't a bear—but at 'ome, o' course, his young 'uns thought as + everything he said was Gospel; and one day, coming 'ome from work, as + he was passing George Barstow's he was paid out for his deceitfulness.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've wronged you, Joe Clark,” ses George Barstow, coming to the + door, “and I'm sorry for it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Oh!” ses Joe, staring.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Give that to your little Jimmy,” ses George Barstow, giving 'im + a shilling. “I've give 'im one, but I thought arterwards it wasn't + enough.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“What for?” ses Joe, staring at 'im agin.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“For bringing my cat 'ome,” ses George Barstow. “'Ow it got out + I can't think, but I lost it for three hours, and I'd about given it + up when your little Jimmy brought it to me in 'is arms. He's a fine + little chap and 'e does you credit.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Joe Clark tried to speak, but he couldn't get a word out, and + Henery Walker, wot 'ad just come up and 'eard wot passed, took hold of + 'is arm and helped 'im home. He walked like a man in a dream, but + arf-way he stopped and cut a stick from the hedge to take 'ome to + little Jimmy. He said the boy 'ad been asking him for a stick for some + time, but up till then 'e'd always forgotten it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>At the end o' the fust year that cat was still alive, to + everybody's surprise; but George Barstow took such care of it 'e never + let it out of 'is sight. Every time 'e went out he took it with 'im in + a hamper, and, to prevent its being pisoned, he paid Isaac Sawyer, who + 'ad the biggest family in Claybury, sixpence a week to let one of 'is + boys taste its milk before it had it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>The second year it was ill twice, but the horse-doctor that + George Barstow got for it said that it was as 'ard as nails, and with + care it might live to be twenty. He said that it wanted more fresh air + and exercise; but when he 'eard 'ow George Barstow come by it he said + that p'r'aps it would live longer indoors arter all.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>At last one day, when George Barstow 'ad been living on the fat + o' the land for nearly three years, that cat got out agin. George 'ad + raised the front-room winder two or three inches to throw something + outside, and, afore he knew wot was 'appening, the cat was out-side + and going up the road about twenty miles an hour.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George Barstow went arter it, but he might as well ha' tried to + catch the wind. The cat was arf wild with joy at getting out agin, and + he couldn't get within arf a mile of it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He stayed out all day without food or drink, follering it about + until it came on dark, and then, o' course, he lost sight of it, and, + hoping against 'ope that it would come home for its food, he went 'ome + and waited for it. He sat up all night dozing in a chair in the front + room with the door left open, but it was all no use; and arter + thinking for a long time wot was best to do, he went out and told some + o' the folks it was lost and offered a reward of five pounds for it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>You never saw such a hunt then in all your life. Nearly every + man, woman, and child in Claybury left their work or school and went + to try and earn that five pounds. By the arternoon George Barstow made + it ten pounds provided the cat was brought 'ome safe and sound, and + people as was too old to walk stood at their cottage doors to snap it + up as it came by.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Joe Clark was hunting for it 'igh and low, and so was 'is wife + and the boys. In fact, I b'lieve that everybody in Claybury excepting + the parson and Bob Pretty was trying to get that ten pounds.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>O' course, we could understand the parson—'is pride wouldn't let + 'im; but a low, poaching, thieving rascal like Bob Pretty turning up + 'is nose at ten pounds was more than we could make out. Even on the + second day, when George Barstow made it ten pounds down and a shilling + a week for a year besides, he didn't offer to stir; all he did was to + try and make fun o' them as was looking for it.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Have you looked everywhere you can think of for it, Bill?” he + ses to Bill Chambers. “Yes, I 'ave,” ses Bill.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, then, you want to look everywhere else,” ses Bob Pretty. + “I know where I should look if I wanted to find it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Why don't you find it, then?” ses Bill.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Cos I don't want to make mischief,” ses Bob Pretty. “I don't + want to be unneighbourly to Joe Clark by interfering at all.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not for all that money?” ses Bill.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not for fifty pounds,” ses Bob Pretty; “you ought to know me + better than that, Bill Chambers.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's my belief that you know more about where that cat is than + you ought to,” ses Joe Gubbins.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You go on looking for it, Joe,” ses Bob Pretty, grinning; “it's + good exercise for you, and you've only lost two days' work.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll give you arf a crown if you let me search your 'ouse, + Bob,” ses Bill Chambers, looking at 'im very 'ard.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I couldn't do it at the price, Bill,” ses Bob Pretty, shaking + his 'ead. “I'm a pore man, but I'm very partikler who I 'ave come into + my 'ouse.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>O' course, everybody left off looking at once when they heard + about Bob— not that they believed that he'd be such a fool as to keep + the cat in his 'ouse; and that evening, as soon as it was dark, Joe + Clark went round to see 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't tell me as that cat's found, Joe,” ses Bob Pretty, as Joe + opened the door.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not as I've 'eard of,” said Joe, stepping inside. “I wanted to + speak to you about it; the sooner it's found the better I shall be + pleased.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It does you credit, Joe Clark,” ses Bob Pretty.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's my belief that it's dead,” ses Joe, looking at 'im very + 'ard; “but I want to make sure afore taking over the property.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bob Pretty looked at 'im and then he gave a little cough. “Oh, + you want it to be found dead,” he ses. “Now, I wonder whether that + cat's worth most dead or alive?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Joe Clark coughed then. “Dead, I should think,” he ses at last. + “George Barstow's just 'ad bills printed offering fifteen pounds for + it,” ses Bob Pretty.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll give that or more when I come into the property,” ses Joe + Clark.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's nothing like ready-money, though, is there?” ses Bob.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'll promise it to you in writing, Bob,” ses Joe, trembling.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“There's some things that don't look well in writing, Joe,” says + Bob Pretty, considering; “besides, why should you promise it to me?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“O' course, I meant if you found it,” ses Joe.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Well, I'll do my best, Joe,” ses Bob Pretty; “and none of us + can do no more than that, can they?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>They sat talking and argufying over it for over an hour, and + twice Bob Pretty got up and said 'e was going to see whether George + Barstow wouldn't offer more. By the time they parted they was as thick + as thieves, and next morning Bob Pretty was wearing Joe Clark's watch + and chain, and Mrs. Pretty was up at Joe's 'ouse to see whether there + was any of 'is furniture as she 'ad a fancy for.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>She didn't seem to be able to make up 'er mind at fust between a + chest o' drawers that 'ad belonged to Joe's mother and a grand-father + clock. She walked from one to the other for about ten minutes, and + then Bob, who 'ad come in to 'elp her, told 'er to 'ave both.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You're quite welcome,” he ses; “ain't she, Joe?”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Joe Clark said “Yes,” and arter he 'ad helped them carry 'em + 'ome the Prettys went back and took the best bedstead to pieces, cos + Bob said as it was easier to carry that way. Mrs. Clark 'ad to go and + sit down at the bottom o' the garden with the neck of 'er dress undone + to give herself air, but when she saw the little Prettys each walking + 'ome with one of 'er best chairs on their 'eads she got and walked up + and down like a mad thing.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I'm sure I don't know where we are to put it all,” ses Bob + Pretty to Joe Gubbins, wot was looking on with other folks, “but Joe + Clark is that generous he won't 'ear of our leaving anything.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Has 'e gorn mad?” ses Bill Chambers, staring at 'im.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Not as I knows on,” ses Bob Pretty. “It's 'is good-'artedness, + that's all. He feels sure that that cat's dead, and that he'll 'ave + George Barstow's cottage and furniture. I told 'im he'd better wait + till he'd made sure, but 'e wouldn't.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Before they'd finished the Prettys 'ad picked that 'ouse as + clean as a bone, and Joe Clark 'ad to go and get clean straw for his + wife and children to sleep on; not that Mrs. Clark 'ad any sleep that + night, nor Joe neither.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Henery Walker was the fust to see what it really meant, and he + went rushing off as fast as 'e could run to tell George Barstow. + George couldn't believe 'im at fust, but when 'e did he swore that if + a 'air of that cat's head was harmed 'e'd 'ave the law o' Bob Pretty, + and arter Henery Walker 'ad gone 'e walked round to tell 'im so.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You're not yourself, George Barstow, else you wouldn't try and + take away my character like that,” ses Bob Pretty.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot did Joe Clark give you all them things for?” ses George, + pointing to the furniture.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Took a fancy to me, I s'pose,” ses Bob. “People do sometimes. + There's something about me at times that makes 'em like me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He gave 'em to you to kill my cat,” ses George Barstow. “It's + plain enough for any-body to see.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bob Pretty smiled. “I expect it'll turn up safe and sound one o' + these days,” he ses, “and then you'll come round and beg my pardon. + P'r'aps—”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“P'r'aps wot?” ses George Barstow, arter waiting a bit.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“P'r'aps somebody 'as got it and is keeping it till you've + drawed the fifteen pounds out o' the bank,” ses Bob, looking at 'im + very hard.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I've taken it out o' the bank,” ses George, starting; “if that + cat's alive, Bob, and you've got it, there's the fifteen pounds the + moment you 'and it over.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot d'ye mean—me got it?” ses Bob Pretty. “You be careful o' my + character.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I mean if you know where it is,” ses George Barstow trembling + all over.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I don't say I couldn't find it, if that's wot you mean,” ses + Bob. “I can gin'rally find things when I want to.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“You find me that cat, alive and well, and the money's yours, + Bob,” ses George, 'ardly able to speak, now that 'e fancied the cat + was still alive.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Bob Pretty shook his 'ead. “No; that won't do,” he ses. “S'pose + I did 'ave the luck to find that pore animal, you'd say I'd had it all + the time and refuse to pay.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I swear I wouldn't, Bob,” ses George Barstow, jumping up.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Best thing you can do if you want me to try and find that cat,” + says Bob Pretty, “is to give me the fifteen pounds now, and I'll go + and look for it at once. I can't trust you, George Barstow.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“And I can't trust you,” ses George Barstow.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Very good,” ses Bob, getting up; “there's no 'arm done. P'r'aps + Joe Clark 'll find the cat is dead and p'r'aps you'll find it's alive. + It's all one to me.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George Barstow walked off 'ome, but he was in such a state o' + mind 'e didn't know wot to do. Bob Pretty turning up 'is nose at + fifteen pounds like that made 'im think that Joe Clark 'ad promised to + pay 'im more if the cat was dead; and at last, arter worrying about it + for a couple o' hours, 'e came up to this 'ere Cauliflower and offered + Bob the fifteen pounds.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Wot's this for?” ses Bob.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“For finding my cat,” ses George.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Look here,” ses Bob, handing it back, “I've 'ad enough o' your + insults; I don't know where your cat is.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I mean for trying to find it, Bob,” ses George Barstow.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Oh, well, I don't mind that,” ses Bob, taking it. “I'm a + 'ard-working man, and I've got to be paid for my time; it's on'y fair + to my wife and children. I'll start now.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He finished up 'is beer, and while the other chaps was telling + George Barstow wot a fool he was Joe Clark slipped out arter Bob + Pretty and began to call 'im all the names he could think of.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Don't you worry,” ses Bob; “the cat ain't found yet.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“Is it dead?” ses Joe Clark, 'ardly able to speak.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“'Ow should I know?” ses Bob; “that's wot I've got to try and + find out. That's wot you gave me your furniture for, and wot George + Barstow gave me the fifteen pounds for, ain't it? Now, don't you stop + me now, 'cos I'm goin' to begin looking.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>He started looking there and then, and for the next two or three + days George Barstow and Joe Clark see 'im walking up and down with his + 'ands in 'is pockets looking over garden fences and calling “Puss.” He + asked everybody 'e see whether they 'ad seen a white cat with one blue + eye and one yaller one, and every time 'e came into the Cauliflower he + put his 'ead over the bar and called “Puss,” 'cos, as 'e said, it was + as likely to be there as anywhere else.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>It was about a week after the cat 'ad disappeared that George + Barstow was standing at 'is door talking to Joe Clark, who was saying + the cat must be dead and 'e wanted 'is property, when he sees a man + coming up the road carrying a basket stop and speak to Bill Chambers. + Just as 'e got near them an awful “miaow” come from the basket and + George Barstow and Joe Clark started as if they'd been shot.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“He's found it?” shouts Bill Chambers, pointing to the man.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“It's been living with me over at Ling for a week pretty + nearly,” ses the man. “I tried to drive it away several times, not + knowing that there was fifteen pounds offered for it.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George Barstow tried to take 'old of the basket.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“I want that fifteen pounds fust,” ses the man.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>“That's on'y right and fair, George,” ses Bob Pretty, who 'ad + just come up. “You've got all the luck, mate. We've been hunting 'igh + and low for that cat for a week.”</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>Then George Barstow tried to explain to the man and call Bob + Pretty names at the same time; but it was all no good. The man said it + 'ad nothing to do with 'im wot he 'ad paid to Bob Pretty; and at last + they fetched Policeman White over from Cudford, and George Barstow + signed a paper to pay five shillings a week till the reward was paid.</span> + </p> + <p class="pnext"> + <span>George Barstow 'ad the cat for five years arter that, but he + never let it get away agin. They got to like each other in time and + died within a fortnight of each other, so that Joe Clark got 'is + property arter all.</span> + </p> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAINS ALL ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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Jacobs + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: Captains All and Others + +Author: W.W. Jacobs + +Release Date: October 30, 2006 [EBook #11191] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAINS ALL AND OTHERS *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + +CAPTAINS ALL + +Complete + +By W.W. Jacobs + + + +Contents: + Captains All + The Boatswain's Mate + The Nest Egg + The Constable's Move + Bob's Redemption + Over The Side + The Four Pigeons + The Temptation Of Samuel Burge + The Madness Of Mr. Lister + The White Cat + + + + +CAPTAINS ALL + +[Illustration: "Captains All."] + +Every sailorman grumbles about the sea, said the night-watchman, +thoughtfully. It's human nature to grumble, and I s'pose they keep on +grumbling and sticking to it because there ain't much else they can do. +There's not many shore-going berths that a sailorman is fit for, and +those that they are--such as a night-watchman's, for instance--wants such +a good character that there's few as are to equal it. + +Sometimes they get things to do ashore. I knew one man that took up +butchering, and 'e did very well at it till the police took him up. +Another man I knew gave up the sea to marry a washerwoman, and they +hadn't been married six months afore she died, and back he 'ad to go to +sea agin, pore chap. + +A man who used to grumble awful about the sea was old Sam Small--a man +I've spoke of to you before. To hear 'im go on about the sea, arter he +'ad spent four or five months' money in a fortnight, was 'artbreaking. +He used to ask us wot was going to happen to 'im in his old age, and when +we pointed out that he wouldn't be likely to 'ave any old age if he +wasn't more careful of 'imself he used to fly into a temper and call us +everything 'e could lay his tongue to. + +One time when 'e was ashore with Peter Russet and Ginger Dick he seemed +to 'ave got it on the brain. He started being careful of 'is money +instead o' spending it, and three mornings running he bought a newspaper +and read the advertisements, to see whether there was any comfortable +berth for a strong, good-'arted man wot didn't like work. + +He actually went arter one situation, and, if it hadn't ha' been for +seventy-nine other men, he said he believed he'd ha' had a good chance of +getting it. As it was, all 'e got was a black eye for shoving another +man, and for a day or two he was so down-'arted that 'e was no company at +all for the other two. + +For three or four days 'e went out by 'imself, and then, all of a sudden, +Ginger Dick and Peter began to notice a great change in him. He seemed +to 'ave got quite cheerful and 'appy. He answered 'em back pleasant when +they spoke to 'im, and one night he lay in 'is bed whistling comic songs +until Ginger and Peter Russet 'ad to get out o' bed to him. When he +bought a new necktie and a smart cap and washed 'imself twice in one day +they fust began to ask each other wot was up, and then they asked him. + +"Up?" ses Sam; "nothing." + +"He's in love," ses Peter Russet. + +"You're a liar," ses Sam, without turning round. + +"He'll 'ave it bad at 'is age," ses Ginger. + +Sam didn't say nothing, but he kept fidgeting about as though 'e'd got +something on his mind. Fust he looked out o' the winder, then he 'ummed +a tune, and at last, looking at 'em very fierce, he took a tooth-brush +wrapped in paper out of 'is pocket and began to clean 'is teeth. + +"He is in love," ses Ginger, as soon as he could speak. + +"Or else 'e's gorn mad," ses Peter, watching 'im. "Which is it, Sam?" + +Sam made believe that he couldn't answer 'im because o' the tooth-brush, +and arter he'd finished he 'ad such a raging toothache that 'e sat in a +corner holding 'is face and looking the pictur' o' misery. They couldn't +get a word out of him till they asked 'im to go out with them, and then +he said 'e was going to bed. Twenty minutes arterwards, when Ginger Dick +stepped back for 'is pipe, he found he 'ad gorn. + +He tried the same game next night, but the other two wouldn't 'ave it, +and they stayed in so long that at last 'e lost 'is temper, and, arter +wondering wot Ginger's father and mother could ha' been a-thinking about, +and saying that he believed Peter Russet 'ad been changed at birth for a +sea-sick monkey, he put on 'is cap and went out. Both of 'em follered +'im sharp, but when he led 'em to a mission-hall, and actually went +inside, they left 'im and went off on their own. + +They talked it over that night between themselves, and next evening they +went out fust and hid themselves round the corner. Ten minutes +arterwards old Sam came out, walking as though 'e was going to catch a +train; and smiling to think 'ow he 'ad shaken them off. At the corner of +Commercial Road he stopped and bought 'imself a button-hole for 'is coat, +and Ginger was so surprised that 'e pinched Peter Russet to make sure +that he wasn't dreaming. + +Old Sam walked straight on whistling, and every now and then looking down +at 'is button-hole, until by-and-by he turned down a street on the right +and went into a little shop. Ginger Dick and Peter waited for 'im at the +corner, but he was inside for so long that at last they got tired o' +waiting and crept up and peeped through the winder. + +It was a little tobacconist's shop, with newspapers and penny toys and +such-like; but, as far as Ginger could see through two rows o' pipes and +the Police News, it was empty. They stood there with their noses pressed +against the glass for some time, wondering wot had 'appened to Sam, but +by-and-by a little boy went in and then they began to 'ave an idea wot +Sam's little game was. + +As the shop-bell went the door of a little parlour at the back of the +shop opened, and a stout and uncommon good-looking woman of about forty +came out. Her 'ead pushed the _Police News_ out o' the way and her 'and +came groping into the winder arter a toy. + +Ginger 'ad a good look at 'er out o' the corner of one eye, while he +pretended to be looking at a tobacco-jar with the other. As the little +boy came out 'im and Peter Russet went in. + +"I want a pipe, please," he ses, smiling at 'er; "a clay pipe--one o' your +best." The woman handed 'im down a box to choose from, and just then +Peter, wot 'ad been staring in at the arf-open door at a boot wot wanted +lacing up, gave a big start and ses, "Why! Halloa!" + +"Wot's the matter?" ses the woman, looking at 'im. + +"I'd know that foot anywhere," ses Peter, still staring at it; and the +words was hardly out of 'is mouth afore the foot 'ad moved itself away +and tucked itself under its chair. "Why, that's my dear old friend Sam +Small, ain't it?" + +"Do you know the captin?" ses the woman, smiling at 'im. + +"Cap----?" ses Peter. "Cap----? Oh, yes; why, he's the biggest friend +I've got." "'Ow strange!" ses the woman. + +"We've been wanting to see 'im for some time," ses Ginger. "He was kind +enough to lend me arf a crown the other day, and I've been wanting to pay +'im." + +"Captin Small," ses the woman, pushing open the door, "here's some old +friends o' yours." + +Old Sam turned 'is face round and looked at 'em, and if looks could ha' +killed, as the saying is, they'd ha' been dead men there and then. + +"Oh, yes," he ses, in a choking voice; "'ow are you?" + +"Pretty well, thank you, captin," ses Ginger, grinning at 'im; "and 'ow's +yourself arter all this long time?" + +He held out 'is hand and Sam shook it, and then shook 'ands with Peter +Russet, who was grinning so 'ard that he couldn't speak. + +"These are two old friends o' mine, Mrs. Finch," ses old Sam, giving 'em +a warning look; "Captin Dick and Captin Russet, two o' the oldest and +best friends a man ever 'ad." + +"Captin Dick 'as got arf a crown for you," ses Peter Russet, still +grinning. + +"There now," ses Ginger, looking vexed, "if I ain't been and forgot it; +I've on'y got arf a sovereign." + +"I can give you change, sir," ses Mrs. Finch. "P'r'aps you'd like to sit +down for five minutes?" + +Ginger thanked 'er, and 'im and Peter Russet took a chair apiece in front +o' the fire and began asking old Sam about 'is 'ealth, and wot he'd been +doing since they saw 'im last. + +"Fancy your reckernizing his foot," ses Mrs. Finch, coming in with the +change. + +"I'd know it anywhere," ses Peter, who was watching Ginger pretending to +give Sam Small the 'arf-dollar, and Sam pretending in a most lifelike +manner to take it. + +Ginger Dick looked round the room. It was a comfortable little place, +with pictures on the walls and antimacassars on all the chairs, and a row +of pink vases on the mantelpiece. Then 'e looked at Mrs. Finch, and +thought wot a nice-looking woman she was. + +"This is nicer than being aboard ship with a crew o' nasty, troublesome +sailormen to look arter, Captin Small," he ses. + +"It's wonderful the way he manages 'em," ses Peter Russet to Mrs. Finch. +"Like a lion he is." + +"A roaring lion," ses Ginger, looking at Sam. "He don't know wot fear +is." + +Sam began to smile, and Mrs. Finch looked at 'im so pleased that Peter +Russet, who 'ad been looking at 'er and the room, and thinking much the +same way as Ginger, began to think that they was on the wrong tack. + +"Afore 'e got stout and old," he ses, shaking his 'ead, "there wasn't a +smarter skipper afloat." + +"We all 'ave our day," ses Ginger, shaking his 'ead too. + +"I dessay he's good for another year or two afloat, yet," ses Peter +Russet, considering. "With care," ses Ginger. + +Old Sam was going to say something, but 'e stopped himself just in time. +"They will 'ave their joke," he ses, turning to Mrs. Finch and trying to +smile. "I feel as young as ever I did." + +Mrs. Finch said that anybody with arf an eye could see that, and then she +looked at a kettle that was singing on the 'ob. + +"I s'pose you gentlemen wouldn't care for a cup o' cocoa?" she ses, +turning to them. + +Ginger Dick and Peter both said that they liked it better than anything +else, and, arter she 'ad got out the cups and saucers and a tin o' cocoa, +Ginger held the kettle and poured the water in the cups while she stirred +them, and old Sam sat looking on 'elpless. + +"It does seem funny to see you drinking cocoa, captin," ses Ginger, as +old Sam took his cup. + +"Ho!" ses Sam, firing up; "and why, if I might make so bold as to ask?" + +"'Cos I've generally seen you drinking something out of a bottle," ses +Ginger. + +"Now, look 'ere," ses Sam, starting up and spilling some of the hot cocoa +over 'is lap. + +"A ginger-beer bottle," ses Peter Russet, making faces at Ginger to keep +quiet. + +"Yes, o' course, that's wot I meant," ses Ginger. + +Old Sam wiped the cocoa off 'is knees without saying a word, but his +weskit kept going up and down till Peter Russet felt quite sorry for 'im. + +"There's nothing like it," he ses to Mrs. Finch. "It was by sticking to +ginger-beer and milk and such-like that Captain Small 'ad command of a +ship afore 'e was twenty-five." + +"Lor'!" ses Mrs. Finch. + +She smiled at old Sam till Peter got uneasy agin, and began to think +p'r'aps 'e'd been praising 'im too much. + +"Of course, I'm speaking of long ago now," he ses. + +"Years and years afore you was born, ma'am," ses Ginger. + +Old Sam was going to say something, but Mrs. Finch looked so pleased that +'e thought better of it. Some o' the cocoa 'e was drinking went the +wrong way, and then Ginger patted 'im on the back and told 'im to be +careful not to bring on 'is brownchitis agin. Wot with temper and being +afraid to speak for fear they should let Mrs. Finch know that 'e wasn't a +captin, he could 'ardly bear 'imself, but he very near broke out when +Peter Russet advised 'im to 'ave his weskit lined with red flannel. They +all stayed on till closing time, and by the time they left they 'ad made +theirselves so pleasant that Mrs. Finch said she'd be pleased to see them +any time they liked to look in. + +Sam Small waited till they 'ad turned the corner, and then he broke out +so alarming that they could 'ardly do anything with 'im. Twice policemen +spoke to 'im and advised 'im to go home afore they altered their minds; +and he 'ad to hold 'imself in and keep quiet while Ginger and Peter +Russet took 'is arms and said they were seeing him 'ome. + +He started the row agin when they got in-doors, and sat up in 'is bed +smacking 'is lips over the things he'd like to 'ave done to them if he +could. And then, arter saying 'ow he'd like to see Ginger boiled alive +like a lobster, he said he knew that 'e was a noble-'arted feller who +wouldn't try and cut an old pal out, and that it was a case of love at +first sight on top of a tram-car. + +"She's too young for you," ses Ginger; "and too good-looking besides." + +"It's the nice little bisness he's fallen in love with, Ginger," ses +Peter Russet. "I'll toss you who 'as it." + +Ginger, who was siting on the foot o' Sam's bed, said "no" at fust, but +arter a time he pulled out arf a dollar and spun it in the air. + +That was the last 'e see of it, although he 'ad Sam out o' bed and all +the clothes stripped off of it twice. He spent over arf an hour on his +'ands and knees looking for it, and Sam said when he was tired of playing +bears p'r'aps he'd go to bed and get to sleep like a Christian. + +They 'ad it all over agin next morning, and at last, as nobody would +agree to keep quiet and let the others 'ave a fair chance, they made up +their minds to let the best man win. Ginger Dick bought a necktie that +took all the colour out o' Sam's, and Peter Russet went in for a collar +so big that 'e was lost in it. + +They all strolled into the widow's shop separate that night. Ginger Dick +'ad smashed his pipe and wanted another; Peter Russet wanted some +tobacco; and old Sam Small walked in smiling, with a little silver brooch +for 'er, that he said 'e had picked up. + +It was a very nice brooch, and Mrs. Finch was so pleased with it that +Ginger and Peter sat there as mad as they could be because they 'adn't +thought of the same thing. + +"Captain Small is very lucky at finding things," ses Ginger, at last. + +"He's got the name for it," ses Peter Russet. + +"It's a handy 'abit," ses Ginger; "it saves spending money. Who did you +give that gold bracelet to you picked up the other night, captin?" he +ses, turning to Sam. + +"Gold bracelet?" ses Sam. "I didn't pick up no gold bracelet. Wot are +you talking about?" + +"All right, captin; no offence," ses Ginger, holding up his 'and. "I +dreamt I saw one on your mantelpiece, I s'pose. P'r'aps I oughtn't to +ha' said anything about it." + +Old Sam looked as though he'd like to eat 'im, especially as he noticed +Mrs. Finch listening and pretending not to. "Oh! that one," he ses, +arter a bit o' hard thinking. "Oh! I found out who it belonged to. You +wouldn't believe 'ow pleased they was at getting it back agin." + +Ginger Dick coughed and began to think as 'ow old Sam was sharper than he +'ad given 'im credit for, but afore he could think of anything else to +say Mrs. Finch looked at old Sam and began to talk about 'is ship, and to +say 'ow much she should like to see over it. + +"I wish I could take you," ses Sam, looking at the other two out o' the +corner of his eye, "but my ship's over at Dunkirk, in France. I've just +run over to London for a week or two to look round." + +"And mine's there too," ses Peter Russet, speaking a'most afore old Sam +'ad finished; "side by side they lay in the harbour." + +"Oh, dear," ses Mrs. Finch, folding her 'ands and shaking her 'cad. "I +should like to go over a ship one arternoon. I'd quite made up my mind +to it, knowing three captins." + +She smiled and looked at Ginger; and Sam and Peter looked at 'im too, +wondering whether he was going to berth his ship at Dunkirk alongside o' +theirs. + +"Ah, I wish I 'ad met you a fortnight ago," ses Ginger, very sad. "I +gave up my ship, the High flyer, then, and I'm waiting for one my owners +are 'aving built for me at New-castle. They said the High flyer wasn't +big enough for me. She was a nice little ship, though. I believe I've +got 'er picture somewhere about me!" + +He felt in 'is pocket and pulled out a little, crumpled-up photograph of +a ship he'd been fireman aboard of some years afore, and showed it to +'er. + +"That's me standing on the bridge," he ses, pointing out a little dot +with the stem of 'is pipe. + +"It's your figger," ses Mrs. Finch, straining her eyes. "I should know +it anywhere." + +"You've got wonderful eyes, ma'am," ses old Sam, choking with 'is pipe. + +"Anybody can see that," ses Ginger. "They're the largest and the bluest +I've ever seen." + +Mrs. Finch told 'im not to talk nonsense, but both Sam and Peter Russet +could see 'ow pleased she was. + +"Truth is truth," ses Ginger. "I'm a plain man, and I speak my mind." + +"Blue is my fav'rit' colour," ses old Sam, in a tender voice. "True +blue." + +Peter Russet began to feel out of it. "I thought brown was," he ses. + +"Ho!" ses Sam, turning on 'im; "and why?" + +"I 'ad my reasons," ses Peter, nodding, and shutting 'is mouth very firm. + +"I thought brown was 'is fav'rit colour too," ses Ginger. "I don't know +why. It's no use asking me; because if you did I couldn't tell you." + +"Brown's a very nice colour," ses Mrs. Finch, wondering wot was the +matter with old Sam. + +"Blue," ses Ginger; "big blue eyes--they're the ones for me. Other +people may 'ave their blacks and their browns," he ses, looking at Sam +and Peter Russet, "but give me blue." + +They went on like that all the evening, and every time the shop-bell went +and the widow 'ad to go out to serve a customer they said in w'ispers wot +they thought of each other; and once when she came back rather sudden +Ginger 'ad to explain to 'er that 'e was showing Peter Russet a scratch +on his knuckle. + +Ginger Dick was the fust there next night, and took 'er a little chiney +teapot he 'ad picked up dirt cheap because it was cracked right acrost +the middle; but, as he explained that he 'ad dropped it in hurrying to +see 'er, she was just as pleased. She stuck it up on the mantelpiece, +and the things she said about Ginger's kindness and generosity made Peter +Russet spend good money that he wanted for 'imself on a painted +flower-pot next evening. + +With three men all courting 'er at the same time Mrs. Finch had 'er hands +full, but she took to it wonderful considering. She was so nice and kind +to 'em all that even arter a week's 'ard work none of 'em was really +certain which she liked best. + +They took to going in at odd times o' the day for tobacco and such-like. +They used to go alone then, but they all met and did the polite to each +other there of an evening, and then quarrelled all the way 'ome. + +Then all of a sudden, without any warning, Ginger Dick and Peter Russet +left off going there. The fust evening Sam sat expecting them every +minute, and was so surprised that he couldn't take any advantage of it; +but on the second, beginning by squeezing Mrs. Finch's 'and at ha'-past +seven, he 'ad got best part of his arm round 'er waist by a quarter to +ten. He didn't do more that night because she told him to be'ave +'imself, and threatened to scream if he didn't leave off. + +He was arf-way home afore 'e thought of the reason for Ginger Dick and +Peter Russet giving up, and then he went along smiling to 'imself to such +an extent that people thought 'e was mad. He went off to sleep with the +smile still on 'is lips, and when Peter and Ginger came in soon arter +closing time and 'e woke up and asked them where they'd been, 'e was +still smiling. + +"I didn't 'ave the pleasure o' seeing you at Mrs. Finch's to-night," he +ses. + +"No," ses Ginger, very short. "We got tired of it." + +"So un'ealthy sitting in that stuffy little room every evening," ses +Peter. + +Old Sam put his 'ead under the bedclothes and laughed till the bed shook; +and every now and then he'd put his 'ead out and look at Peter and Ginger +and laugh agin till he choked. + +"I see 'ow it is," he ses, sitting up and wiping his eyes on the sheet. +"Well, we cant all win." + +"Wot d'ye mean?" ses Ginger, very disagreeable. + +"She wouldn't 'ave you, Sam, thats wot I mean. And I don't wonder at +it. I wouldn't 'ave you if I was a gal." + +"You're dreaming, ses Peter Russet, sneering at 'im. + +"That flower-pot o' yours'll come in handy," ses Sam, thinking 'ow he 'ad +put 'is arm round the widow's waist; "and I thank you kindly for the +teapot, Ginger. + +"You don't mean to say as you've asked 'er to marry you?" ses Ginger, +looking at Peter Russet. + +"Not quite; but I'm going to," ses Sam, "and I'll bet you even arf-crowns +she ses 'yes.'" + +Ginger wouldn't take 'im, and no more would Peter, not even when he raised +it to five shillings; and the vain way old Sam lay there boasting and +talking about 'is way with the gals made 'em both feel ill. + +"I wouldn't 'ave her if she asked me on 'er bended knees," ses Ginger, +holding up his 'ead. + +"Nor me," ses Peter. "You're welcome to 'er, Sam. When I think of the +evenings I've wasted over a fat old woman I feel----" + +"That'll do," ses old Sam, very sharp; "that ain't the way to speak of a +lady, even if she 'as said 'no.'" + +"All right, Sam," ses Ginger. "You go in and win if you think you're so +precious clever." + +Old Sam said that that was wot 'e was going to do, and he spent so much +time next morning making 'imself look pretty that the other two could +'ardly be civil to him. + +He went off a'most direckly arter breakfast, and they didn't see 'im agin +till twelve o'clock that night. He 'ad brought a bottle o' whisky in +with 'im, and he was so 'appy that they see plain wot had 'appened. + +"She said 'yes' at two o'clock in the arternoon," ses old Sam, smiling, +arter they had 'ad a glass apiece. "I'd nearly done the trick at one +o'clock, and then the shop-bell went, and I 'ad to begin all over agin. +Still, it wasn't unpleasant." + +"Do you mean to tell us you've asked 'er to marry you?" ses Ginger, +'olding out 'is glass to be filled agin. + +"I do," ses Sam; "but I 'ope there's no ill-feeling. You never 'ad a +chance, neither of you; she told me so." + +Ginger Dick and Peter Russet stared at each other. + +"She said she 'ad been in love with me all along," ses Sam, filling their +glasses agin to cheer 'em up. "We went out arter tea and bought the +engagement-ring, and then she got somebody to mind the shop and we went +to the Pagoda music-'all." + +"I 'ope you didn't pay much for the ring, Sam," ses Ginger, who always +got very kind-'arted arter two or three glasses o' whisky. "If I'd known +you was going to be in such a hurry I might ha' told you before." + +"We ought to ha' done," ses Peter, shaking his 'ead. + +"Told me?" ses Sam, staring at 'em. "Told me wot?" + +"Why me and Peter gave it up," ses Ginger; "but, o' course, p'r'aps you +don't mind." + +"Mind wot?" ses Sam. + +"It's wonderful 'ow quiet she kept it," ses Peter. + +Old Sam stared at 'em agin, and then he asked 'em to speak in plain +English wot they'd got to say, and not to go taking away the character of +a woman wot wasn't there to speak up for herself. + +"It's nothing agin 'er character," ses Ginger. "It's a credit to her, +looked at properly," ses Peter Russet. + +"And Sam'll 'ave the pleasure of bringing of 'em up," ses Ginger. + +"Bringing of 'em up?" ses Sam, in a trembling voice and turning pale; +"bringing who up?" + +"Why, 'er children," ses Ginger. "Didn't she tell you? She's got nine +of 'em." + +Sam pretended not to believe 'em at fust, and said they was jealous; but +next day he crept down to the greengrocer's shop in the same street, +where Ginger had 'appened to buy some oranges one day, and found that it +was only too true. Nine children, the eldest of 'em only fifteen, was +staying with diff'rent relations owing to scarlet-fever next door. + +Old Sam crept back 'ome like a man in a dream, with a bag of oranges he +didn't want, and, arter making a present of the engagement-ring to +Ginger--if 'e could get it--he took the fust train to Tilbury and signed +on for a v'y'ge to China. + + + + + +THE BOATSWAIN'S MATE + +[Illustration: "The Boatswain's Mate"] + +Mr. George Benn, retired boat-swain, sighed noisily, and with a +despondent gesture, turned to the door and stood with the handle in his +hand; Mrs. Waters, sitting behind the tiny bar in a tall Windsor-chair, +eyed him with some heat. + +"My feelings'll never change," said the boatswain. + +"Nor mine either," said the landlady, sharply. "It's a strange thing, +Mr. Benn, but you always ask me to marry you after the third mug." + +"It's only to get my courage up," pleaded the boatswain. "Next time I'll +do it afore I 'ave a drop; that'll prove to you I'm in earnest." + +He stepped outside and closed the door before the landlady could make a +selection from the many retorts that crowded to her lips. + +After the cool bar, with its smell of damp saw-dust, the road seemed hot +and dusty; but the boatswain, a prey to gloom natural to a man whose hand +has been refused five times in a fortnight, walked on unheeding. His +steps lagged, but his brain was active. + +He walked for two miles deep in thought, and then coming to a shady bank +took a seat upon an inviting piece of turf and lit his pipe. The heat +and the drowsy hum of bees made him nod; his pipe hung from the corner of +his mouth, and his eyes closed. + +He opened them at the sound of approaching footsteps, and, feeling in his +pocket for matches, gazed lazily at the intruder. He saw a tall man +carrying a small bundle over his shoulder, and in the erect carriage, the +keen eyes, and bronzed face had little difficulty in detecting the old +soldier. + +The stranger stopped as he reached the seated boatswain and eyed him +pleasantly. + +"Got a pipe o' baccy, mate?" he inquired. + +The boatswain handed him the small metal box in which he kept that +luxury. + +"Lobster, ain't you?" he said, affably. + +The tall man nodded. "Was," he replied. "Now I'm my own commander-in- +chief." + +"Padding it?" suggested the boatswain, taking the box from him and +refilling his pipe. + +The other nodded, and with the air of one disposed to conversation +dropped his bundle in the ditch and took a seat beside him. "I've got +plenty of time," he remarked. + +Mr. Benn nodded, and for a while smoked on in silence. A dim idea which +had been in his mind for some time began to clarify. He stole a glance +at his companion--a man of about thirty-eight, clear eyes, with humorous +wrinkles at the corners, a heavy moustache, and a cheerful expression +more than tinged with recklessness. + +"Ain't over and above fond o' work?" suggested the boatswain, when he had +finished his inspection. + +"I love it," said the other, blowing a cloud of smoke in the air, "but we +can't have all we want in this world; it wouldn't be good for us." + +The boatswain thought of Mrs. Waters, and sighed. Then he rattled his +pocket. + +"Would arf a quid be any good to you?" he inquired. + +"Look here," began the soldier; "just because I asked you for a pipe o' +baccy--" + +"No offence," said the other, quickly. "I mean if you earned it?" + +The soldier nodded and took his pipe from his mouth. "Gardening and +windows?" he hazarded, with a shrug of his shoulders. + +The boatswain shook his head. + +"Scrubbing, p'r'aps?" said the soldier, with a sigh of resignation. +"Last house I scrubbed out I did it so thoroughly they accused me of +pouching the soap. Hang 'em!" + +"And you didn't?" queried the boatswain, eyeing him keenly. + +The soldier rose and, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, gazed at him +darkly. "I can't give it back to you," he said, slowly, "because I've +smoked some of it, and I can't pay you for it because I've only got +twopence, and that I want for myself. So long, matey, and next time +a poor wretch asks you for a pipe, be civil." + +"I never see such a man for taking offence in all my born days," +expostulated the boat-swain. "I 'ad my reasons for that remark, mate. +Good reasons they was." + +The soldier grunted and, stooping, picked up his bundle. + +"I spoke of arf a sovereign just now," continued the boatswain, +impressively, "and when I tell you that I offer it to you to do a bit o' +burgling, you'll see 'ow necessary it is for me to be certain of your +honesty." + +"_Burgling?_" gasped the astonished soldier. "_Honesty?_ 'Struth; are +you drunk or am I?" + +"Meaning," said the boatswain, waving the imputation away with his hand, +"for you to pretend to be a burglar." + +"We're both drunk, that's what it is," said the other, resignedly. + +The boatswain fidgeted. "If you don't agree, mum's the word and no 'arm +done," he said, holding out his hand. + +"Mum's the word," said the soldier, taking it. "My name's Ned Travers, +and, barring cells for a spree now and again, there's nothing against it. +Mind that." + +"Might 'appen to anybody," said Mr. Benn, soothingly. "You fill your +pipe and don't go chucking good tobacco away agin." + +Mr. Travers took the offered box and, with economy born of adversity, +stooped and filled up first with the plug he had thrown away. Then he +resumed his seat and, leaning back luxuriously, bade the other "fire +away." + +"I ain't got it all ship-shape and proper yet," said Mr. Benn, slowly, +"but it's in my mind's eye. It's been there off and on like for some +time." + +He lit his pipe again and gazed fixedly at the opposite hedge. "Two +miles from here, where I live," he said, after several vigorous puffs, +"there's a little public-'ouse called the Beehive, kept by a lady wot +I've got my eye on." + +The soldier sat up. + +"She won't 'ave me," said the boatswain, with an air of mild surprise. + +The soldier leaned back again. + +"She's a lone widder," continued Mr. Benn, shaking his head, "and the +Beehive is in a lonely place. It's right through the village, and the +nearest house is arf a mile off." + +"Silly place for a pub," commented Mr. Travers. + +"I've been telling her 'ow unsafe it is," said the boatswain. "I've been +telling her that she wants a man to protect her, and she only laughs at +me. She don't believe it; d'ye see? Likewise I'm a small man--small, +but stiff. She likes tall men." + +"Most women do," said Mr. Travers, sitting upright and instinctively +twisting his moustache. "When I was in the ranks--" + +"My idea is," continued the boatswain, slightly raising his voice, "to +kill two birds with one stone--prove to her that she does want being +protected, and that I'm the man to protect her. D'ye take my meaning, +mate?" + +The soldier reached out a hand and felt the other's biceps. "Like a lump +o' wood," he said, approvingly. + +"My opinion is," said the boatswain, with a faint smirk, "that she loves +me without knowing it." + +"They often do," said Mr. Travers, with a grave shake of his head. + +"Consequently I don't want 'er to be disappointed," said the other. + +"It does you credit," remarked Mr. Travers. + +"I've got a good head," said Mr. Benn, "else I shouldn't 'ave got my +rating as boatswain as soon as I did; and I've been turning it over in my +mind, over and over agin, till my brain-pan fair aches with it. Now, if +you do what I want you to to-night and it comes off all right, damme I'll +make it a quid." + +"Go on, Vanderbilt," said Mr. Travers; "I'm listening." + +The boatswain gazed at him fixedly. "You meet me 'ere in this spot at +eleven o'clock to-night," he said, solemnly; "and I'll take you to her +'ouse and put you through a little winder I know of. You goes upstairs +and alarms her, and she screams for help. I'm watching the house, +faithful-like, and hear 'er scream. I dashes in at the winder, knocks +you down, and rescues her. D'ye see?" + +"I hear," corrected Mr. Travers, coldly. + +"She clings to me," continued the boat-swain, with a rapt expression of +face, "in her gratitood, and, proud of my strength and pluck, she marries +me." + +"An' I get a five years' honeymoon," said the soldier. + +The boatswain shook his head and patted the other's shoulder. "In the +excitement of the moment you spring up and escape," he said, with a +kindly smile. "I've thought it all out. You can run much faster than I +can; any-ways, you will. The nearest 'ouse is arf a mile off, as I said, +and her servant is staying till to-morrow at 'er mother's, ten miles +away." + +Mr. Travers rose to his feet and stretched himself. "Time I was +toddling," he said, with a yawn. "Thanks for amusing me, mate." + +"You won't do it?" said the boatswain, eyeing him with much concern. + +"I'm hanged if I do," said the soldier, emphatically. "Accidents will +happen, and then where should I be?" + +"If they did," said the boatswain, "I'd own up and clear you." + +"You might," said Mr. Travers, "and then again you mightn't. So long, +mate." + +"I--I'll make it two quid," said the boat-swain, trembling with +eagerness. "I've took a fancy to you; you're just the man for the job." + +The soldier, adjusting his bundle, glanced at him over his shoulder. +"Thankee," he said, with mock gratitude. + +"Look 'ere," said the boatswain, springing up and catching him by the +sleeve; "I'll give it to you in writing. Come, you ain't faint-hearted? +Why, a bluejacket 'ud do it for the fun o' the thing. If I give it to +you in writing, and there should be an accident, it's worse for me than +it is for you, ain't it?" + +Mr. Travers hesitated and, pushing his cap back, scratched his head. + +"I gives you the two quid afore you go into the house," continued the +boatswain, hastily following up the impression he had made. "I'd give +'em to you now if I'd got 'em with me. That's my confidence in you; I +likes the look of you. Soldier or sailor, when there is a man's work to +be done, give 'em to me afore anybody." + +[Illustration: "'I gives you the two quid afore you go into the house,' +continued the boatswain."] + +The soldier seated himself again and let his bundle fall to the ground. +"Go on," he said, slowly. "Write it out fair and square and sign it, and +I'm your man." + +The boatswain clapped him on the shoulder and produced a bundle of papers +from his pocket. "There's letters there with my name and address on +'em," he said. "It's all fair, square, and above-board. When you've +cast your eyes over them I'll give you the writing." + +Mr. Travers took them and, re-lighting his pipe, smoked in silence, with +various side glances at his companion as that enthusiast sucked his +pencil and sat twisting in the agonies of composition. The document +finished--after several failures had been retrieved and burnt by the +careful Mr. Travers--the boat-swain heaved a sigh of relief, and handing +it over to him, leaned back with a complacent air while he read it. + +"Seems all right," said the soldier, folding it up and putting it in his +waistcoat-pocket. "I'll be here at eleven to-night." + +"Eleven it is," said the boatswain, briskly, "and, between pals--here's +arf a dollar to go on with." + +He patted him on the shoulder again, and with a caution to keep out of +sight as much as possible till night walked slowly home. His step was +light, but he carried a face in which care and exultation were strangely +mingled. + +By ten o'clock that night care was in the ascendant, and by eleven, when +he discerned the red glow of Mr. Travers's pipe set as a beacon against a +dark background of hedge, the boatswain was ready to curse his inventive +powers. Mr. Travers greeted him cheerily and, honestly attributing the +fact to good food and a couple of pints of beer he had had since the +boatswain left him, said that he was ready for anything. + +Mr. Benn grunted and led the way in silence. There was no moon, but the +night was clear, and Mr. Travers, after one or two light-hearted attempts +at conversation, abandoned the effort and fell to whistling softly +instead. + +Except for one lighted window the village slept in darkness, but the +boatswain, who had been walking with the stealth of a Red Indian on the +war-path, breathed more freely after they had left it behind. A renewal +of his antics a little farther on apprised Mr. Travers that they were +approaching their destination, and a minute or two later they came to a +small inn standing just off the road. "All shut up and Mrs. Waters abed, +bless her," whispered the boatswain, after walking care-fully round the +house. "How do you feel?" + +"I'm all right," said Mr. Travers. "I feel as if I'd been burgling all +my life. How do you feel?" + +"Narvous," said Mr. Benn, pausing under a small window at the rear of the +house. "This is the one." + +Mr. Travers stepped back a few paces and gazed up at the house. All was +still. For a few moments he stood listening and then re-joined the +boatswain. + +"Good-bye, mate," he said, hoisting himself on to the sill. "Death or +victory." + +The boatswain whispered and thrust a couple of sovereigns into his hand. +"Take your time; there's no hurry," he muttered. "I want to pull myself +together. Frighten 'er enough, but not too much. When she screams I'll +come in." + +Mr. Travers slipped inside and then thrust his head out of the window. +"Won't she think it funny you should be so handy?" he inquired. + +"No; it's my faithful 'art," said the boat-swain, "keeping watch over her +every night, that's the ticket. She won't know no better." + +Mr. Travers grinned, and removing his boots passed them out to the other. +"We don't want her to hear me till I'm upstairs," he whispered. "Put 'em +outside, handy for me to pick up." + +The boatswain obeyed, and Mr. Travers--who was by no means a good hand at +darning socks--shivered as he trod lightly over a stone floor. Then, +following the instructions of Mr. Benn, he made his way to the stairs and +mounted noiselessly. + +But for a slight stumble half-way up his progress was very creditable for +an amateur. He paused and listened and, all being silent, made his way +to the landing and stopped out-side a door. Despite himself his heart +was beating faster than usual. + +He pushed the door open slowly and started as it creaked. Nothing +happening he pushed again, and standing just inside saw, by a small ewer +silhouetted against the casement, that he was in a bedroom. He listened +for the sound of breathing, but in vain. + +"Quiet sleeper," he reflected; "or perhaps it is an empty room. Now, I +wonder whether--" + +The sound of an opening door made him start violently, and he stood +still, scarcely breathing, with his ears on the alert. A light shone on +the landing, and peeping round the door he saw a woman coming along the +corridor--a younger and better-looking woman than he had expected to +see. In one hand she held aloft a candle, in the other she bore a +double-barrelled gun. Mr. Travers withdrew into the room and, as the +light came nearer, slipped into a big cupboard by the side of the +fireplace and, standing bolt upright, waited. The light came into the +room. + +"Must have been my fancy," said a pleasant voice. + +"Bless her," smiled Mr. Travers. + +His trained ear recognized the sound of cocking triggers. The next +moment a heavy body bumped against the door of the cupboard and the key +turned in the lock. + +"Got you!" said the voice, triumphantly. "Keep still; if you try and +break out I shall shoot you." + +"All right," said Mr. Travers, hastily; "I won't move." + +"Better not," said the voice. "Mind, I've got a gun pointing straight at +you." + +"Point it downwards, there's a good girl," said Mr. Travers, earnestly; +"and take your finger off the trigger. If anything happened to me you'd +never forgive yourself." + +"It's all right so long as you don't move," said the voice; "and I'm not +a girl," it added, sternly. + +"Yes, you are," said the prisoner. "I saw you. I thought it was an +angel at first. I saw your little bare feet and--" + +A faint scream interrupted him. + +"You'll catch cold," urged Mr. Travers. + +"Don't you trouble about me," said the voice, tartly. + +"I won't give any trouble," said Mr. Travers, who began to think it was +time for the boatswain to appear on the scene. "Why don't you call for +help? I'll go like a lamb." + +"I don't want your advice," was the reply. "I know what to do. Now, +don't you try and break out. I'm going to fire one barrel out of the +window, but I've got the other one for you if you move." + +"My dear girl," protested the horrified Mr. Travers, "you'll alarm the +neighbourhood." + +"Just what I want to do," said the voice. "Keep still, mind." + +Mr. Travers hesitated. The game was up, and it was clear that in any +case the stratagem of the ingenious Mr. Benn would have to be disclosed. + +"Stop!" he said, earnestly. "Don't do anything rash. I'm not a burglar; +I'm doing this for a friend of yours--Mr. Benn." + +"What?" said an amazed voice. + +"True as I stand here," asseverated Mr. Travers. "Here, here's my +instructions. I'll put 'em under the door, and if you go to the back +window you'll see him in the garden waiting." + +He rustled the paper under the door, and it was at once snatched from his +fingers. He regained an upright position and stood listening to the +startled and indignant exclamations of his gaoler as she read the +boatswain's permit: + + "_This is to give notice that I, George Benn, being of sound mind + and body, have told Ned Travers to pretend to be a burglar at Mrs. + Waters's. He ain't a burglar, and I shall be outside all the time. + It's all above-board and ship-shape. + + "(Signed) George Benn_" + +"Sound mind--above-board--ship-shape," repeated a dazed voice. "Where is +he?" + +"Out at the back," replied Mr. Travers. "If you go to the window you can +see him. Now, do put something round your shoulders, there's a good +girl." + +There was no reply, but a board creaked. He waited for what seemed a +long time, and then the board creaked again. + +"Did you see him?" he inquired. + +"I did," was the sharp reply. "You both ought to be ashamed of +yourselves. You ought to be punished." + +"There is a clothes-peg sticking into the back of my head," remarked Mr. +Travers. "What are you going to do?" + +There was no reply. + +"What are you going to do?" repeated Mr. Travers, somewhat uneasily. +"You look too nice to do anything hard; leastways, so far as I can judge +through this crack." + +There was a smothered exclamation, and then sounds of somebody moving +hastily about the room and the swish of clothing hastily donned. + +"You ought to have done it before," commented the thoughtful Mr. Travers. +"It's enough to give you your death of cold." + +"Mind your business," said the voice, sharply. "Now, if I let you out, +will you promise to do exactly as I tell you?" + +"Honour bright," said Mr. Travers, fervently. + +"I'm going to give Mr. Benn a lesson he won't forget," proceeded the +other, grimly. "I'm going to fire off this gun, and then run down and +tell him I've killed you." + +"Eh?" said the amazed Mr. Travers. "Oh, Lord!" + +"H'sh! Stop that laughing," commanded the voice. "He'll hear you. Be +quiet!" + +The key turned in the lock, and Mr. Travers, stepping forth, clapped his +hand over his mouth and endeavoured to obey. Mrs. Waters, stepping back +with the gun ready, scrutinized him closely. + +"Come on to the landing," said Mr. Travers, eagerly. "We don't want +anybody else to hear. Fire into this." + +He snatched a patchwork rug from the floor and stuck it up against the +balusters. "You stay here," said Mrs. Waters. He nodded. + +She pointed the gun at the hearth-rug, the walls shook with the +explosion, and, with a shriek that set Mr. Travers's teeth on edge, she +rushed downstairs and, drawing back the bolts of the back door, tottered +outside and into the arms of the agitated boatswain. + +"Oh! oh! oh!" she cried. + +"What--what's the matter?" gasped the boatswain. + +The widow struggled in his arms. "A burglar," she said, in a tense +whisper. "But it's all right; I've killed him." + +"Kill--" stuttered the other. "Kill----_Killed him?_" + +Mrs. Waters nodded and released herself, "First shot," she said, with a +satisfied air. + +The boatswain wrung his hands. "Good heavens!" he said, moving slowly +towards the door. "Poor fellow!" + +"Come back," said the widow, tugging at his coat. + +"I was--was going to see--whether I could do anything for 'im," quavered +the boatswain. "Poor fellow!" + +"You stay where you are," commanded Mrs. Waters. "I don't want any +witnesses. I don't want this house to have a bad name. I'm going to +keep it quiet." + +"Quiet?" said the shaking boatswain. "How?" + +"First thing to do," said the widow, thoughtfully, "is to get rid of the +body. I'll bury him in the garden, I think. There's a very good bit of +ground behind those potatoes. You'll find the spade in the tool-house." + +The horrified Mr. Benn stood stock-still regarding her. + +"While you're digging the grave," continued Mrs. 'Waters, calmly, "I'll +go in and clean up the mess." + +The boatswain reeled and then fumbled with trembling fingers at his +collar. + +Like a man in a dream he stood watching as she ran to the tool-house and +returned with a spade and pick; like a man in a dream he followed her on +to the garden. + +"Be careful," she said, sharply; "you're treading down my potatoes." + +The boatswain stopped dead and stared at her. Apparently unconscious of +his gaze, she began to pace out the measurements and then, placing the +tools in his hands, urged him to lose no time. + +"I'll bring him down when you're gone," she said, looking towards the +house. + +The boatswain wiped his damp brow with the back of his hand. "How are +you going to get it downstairs?" he breathed. + +"Drag it," said Mrs. Waters, briefly. + +"Suppose he isn't dead?" said the boat-swain, with a gleam of hope. + +"Fiddlesticks!" said Mrs. Waters. "Do you think I don't know? Now, +don't waste time talking; and mind you dig it deep. I'll put a few +cabbages on top afterwards--I've got more than I want." + +She re-entered the house and ran lightly upstairs. The candle was still +alight and the gun was leaning against the bed-post; but the visitor had +disappeared. Conscious of an odd feeling of disappointment, she looked +round the empty room. + +"Come and look at him," entreated a voice, and she turned and beheld the +amused countenance of her late prisoner at the door. + +"I've been watching from the back window," he said, nodding. "You're a +wonder; that's what you are. Come and look at him." + +Mrs. Waters followed, and leaning out of the window watched with simple +pleasure the efforts of the amateur sexton. Mr. Benn was digging like +one possessed, only pausing at intervals to straighten his back and to +cast a fearsome glance around him. The only thing that marred her +pleasure was the behaviour of Mr. Travers, who was struggling for a place +with all the fervour of a citizen at the Lord Mayor's show. + +"Get back," she said, in a fierce whisper. "He'll see you." + +Mr. Travers with obvious reluctance obeyed, just as the victim looked up. + +"Is that you, Mrs. Waters?" inquired the boatswain, fearfully. + +"Yes, of course it is," snapped the widow. "Who else should it be, do +you think? Go on! What are you stopping for?" + +Mr. Benn's breathing as he bent to his task again was distinctly audible. +The head of Mr. Travers ranged itself once more alongside the widow's. +For a long time they watched in silence. + +"Won't you come down here, Mrs. Waters?" called the boatswain, looking up +so suddenly that Mr. Travers's head bumped painfully against the side of +the window. "It's a bit creepy, all alone." + +"I'm all right," said Mrs. Waters. + +"I keep fancying there's something dodging behind them currant bushes," +pursued the unfortunate Mr. Benn, hoarsely. "How you can stay there +alone I can't think. I thought I saw something looking over your +shoulder just now. Fancy if it came creeping up behind and caught hold +of you! The widow gave a sudden faint scream. + +"If you do that again," she said, turning fiercely on Mr. Travers. + +"He put it into my head," said the culprit, humbly; "I should never have +thought of such a thing by myself. I'm one of the quietest and +best-behaved----" + +"Make haste, Mr. Benn," said the widow, turning to the window again; +"I've got a lot to do when you've finished." + +The boatswain groaned and fell to digging again, and Mrs. Waters, after +watching a little while longer, gave Mr. Travers some pointed +instructions about the window and went down to the garden again. + +"That will do, I think," she said, stepping into the hole and regarding +it critically. "Now you'd better go straight off home, and, mind, not a +word to a soul about this." + +She put her hand on his shoulder, and noticing with pleasure that he +shuddered at her touch led the way to the gate. The boat-swain paused +for a moment, as though about to speak, and then, apparently thinking +better of it, bade her good-bye in a hoarse voice and walked feebly up +the road. Mrs. Waters stood watching until his steps died away in the +distance, and then, returning to the garden, took up the spade and stood +regarding with some dismay the mountainous result of his industry. Mr. +Travers, who was standing just inside the back door, joined her. + +"Let me," he said, gallantly. + +The day was breaking as he finished his task. The clean, sweet air and +the exercise had given him an appetite to which the smell of cooking +bacon and hot coffee that proceeded from the house had set a sharper +edge. He took his coat from a bush and put it on. Mrs. Waters appeared +at the door. + +"You had better come in and have some breakfast before you go," she said, +brusquely; "there's no more sleep for me now." + +Mr. Travers obeyed with alacrity, and after a satisfying wash in the +scullery came into the big kitchen with his face shining and took a seat +at the table. The cloth was neatly laid, and Mrs. Waters, fresh and +cool, with a smile upon her pleasant face, sat behind the tray. She +looked at her guest curiously, Mr. Travers's spirits being somewhat +higher than the state of his wardrobe appeared to justify. + +"Why don't you get some settled work?" she inquired, with gentle +severity, as he imparted snatches of his history between bites. + +"Easier said than done," said Mr. Travers, serenely. "But don't you run +away with the idea that I'm a beggar, because I'm not. I pay my way, +such as it is. And, by-the-bye, I s'pose I haven't earned that two +pounds Benn gave me?" + +His face lengthened, and he felt uneasily in his pocket. + +"I'll give them to him when I'm tired of the joke," said the widow, +holding out her hand and watching him closely. + +Mr. Travers passed the coins over to her. "Soft hand you've got," he +said, musingly. "I don't wonder Benn was desperate. I dare say I should +have done the same in his place." + +Mrs. Waters bit her lip and looked out at the window; Mr. Travers resumed +his breakfast. + +"There's only one job that I'm really fit for, now that I'm too old for +the Army," he said, confidentially, as, breakfast finished, he stood at +the door ready to depart. + +"Playing at burglars?" hazarded Mrs. Waters. + +"Landlord of a little country public-house," said Mr. Travers, simply. + +Mrs. Waters fell back and regarded him with open-eyed amazement. + +"Good morning," she said, as soon as she could trust her voice. + +"Good-bye," said Mr. Travers, reluctantly. "I should like to hear how +old Benn takes this joke, though." + +Mrs. Waters retreated into the house and stood regarding him. "If you're +passing this way again and like to look in--I'll tell you," she said, +after a long pause. "Good-bye." + +"I'll look in in a week's time," said Mr. Travers. + +He took the proffered hand and shook it warmly. "It would be the best +joke of all," he said, turning away. + +"What would?" + +The soldier confronted her again. + +"For old Benn to come round here one evening and find me landlord. Think +it over." + +Mrs. Waters met his gaze soberly. "I'll think it over when you have +gone," she said, softly. "Now go." + + + + + +THE NEST EGG + +[Illustration: "The Nest Egg."] + +"Artfulness," said the night-watch-man, smoking placidly, "is a gift; but +it don't pay always. I've met some artful ones in my time--plenty of +'em; but I can't truthfully say as 'ow any of them was the better for +meeting me." + +He rose slowly from the packing-case on which he had been sitting and, +stamping down the point of a rusty nail with his heel, resumed his seat, +remarking that he had endured it for some time under the impression that +it was only a splinter. + +"I've surprised more than one in my time," he continued, slowly. "When I +met one of these 'ere artful ones I used fust of all to pretend to be +more stupid than wot I really am." + +He stopped and stared fixedly. + +"More stupid than I looked," he said. He stopped again. + +"More stupid than wot they thought I looked," he said, speaking with +marked deliberation. And I'd let 'em go on and on until I thought I had +'ad about enough, and then turn round on 'em. Nobody ever got the better +o' me except my wife, and that was only before we was married. Two +nights arterwards she found a fish-hook in my trouser-pocket, and arter +that I could ha' left untold gold there--if I'd ha' had it. It spoilt +wot some people call the honey-moon, but it paid in the long run. + +One o' the worst things a man can do is to take up artfulness all of a +sudden. I never knew it to answer yet, and I can tell you of a case +that'll prove my words true. + +It's some years ago now, and the chap it 'appened to was a young man, a +shipmate o' mine, named Charlie Tagg. Very steady young chap he was, too +steady for most of 'em. That's 'ow it was me and 'im got to be such +pals. + +He'd been saving up for years to get married, and all the advice we could +give 'im didn't 'ave any effect. He saved up nearly every penny of 'is +money and gave it to his gal to keep for 'im, and the time I'm speaking +of she'd got seventy-two pounds of 'is and seventeen-and-six of 'er own +to set up house-keeping with. + +Then a thing happened that I've known to 'appen to sailormen afore. At +Sydney 'e got silly on another gal, and started walking out with her, and +afore he knew wot he was about he'd promised to marry 'er too. + +Sydney and London being a long way from each other was in 'is favour, but +the thing that troubled 'im was 'ow to get that seventy-two pounds out of +Emma Cook, 'is London gal, so as he could marry the other with it. It +worried 'im all the way home, and by the time we got into the London +river 'is head was all in a maze with it. Emma Cook 'ad got it all saved +up in the bank, to take a little shop with when they got spliced, and 'ow +to get it he could not think. + +He went straight off to Poplar, where she lived, as soon as the ship was +berthed. He walked all the way so as to 'ave more time for thinking, but +wot with bumping into two old gentlemen with bad tempers, and being +nearly run over by a cabman with a white 'orse and red whiskers, he got +to the house without 'aving thought of anything. + +They was just finishing their tea as 'e got there, and they all seemed so +pleased to see 'im that it made it worse than ever for 'im. Mrs. Cook, +who 'ad pretty near finished, gave 'im her own cup to drink out of, and +said that she 'ad dreamt of 'im the night afore last, and old Cook said +that he 'ad got so good-looking 'e shouldn't 'ave known him. + +"I should 'ave passed 'im in the street," he ses. "I never see such an +alteration." + +"They'll be a nice-looking couple," ses his wife, looking at a young +chap, named George Smith, that 'ad been sitting next to Emma. + +Charlie Tagg filled 'is mouth with bread and butter, and wondered 'ow he +was to begin. He squeezed Emma's 'and just for the sake of keeping up +appearances, and all the time 'e was thinking of the other gal waiting +for 'im thousands o' miles away. + +"You've come 'ome just in the nick o' time," ses old Cook; "if you'd done +it o' purpose you couldn't 'ave arranged it better." + +"Somebody's birthday?" ses Charlie, trying to smile. + +Old Cook shook his 'ead. "Though mine is next Wednesday," he ses, "and +thank you for thinking of it. No; you're just in time for the biggest +bargain in the chandlery line that anybody ever 'ad a chance of. If you +'adn't ha' come back we should have 'ad to ha' done it without you." + +"Eighty pounds," ses Mrs. Cook, smiling at Charlie. "With the money +Emma's got saved and your wages this trip you'll 'ave plenty. You must +come round arter tea and 'ave a look at it." + +"Little place not arf a mile from 'ere," ses old Cook. "Properly worked +up, the way Emma'll do it, it'll be a little fortune. I wish I'd had a +chance like it in my young time." + +He sat shaking his 'ead to think wot he'd lost, and Charlie Tagg sat +staring at 'im and wondering wot he was to do. + +"My idea is for Charlie to go for a few more v'y'ges arter they're +married while Emma works up the business," ses Mrs. Cook; "she'll be all +right with young Bill and Sarah Ann to 'elp her and keep 'er company +while he's away." + +"We'll see as she ain't lonely," ses George Smith, turning to Charlie. + +Charlie Tagg gave a bit of a cough and said it wanted considering. He +said it was no good doing things in a 'urry and then repenting of 'em all +the rest of your life. And 'e said he'd been given to understand that +chandlery wasn't wot it 'ad been, and some of the cleverest people 'e +knew thought that it would be worse before it was better. By the time +he'd finished they was all looking at 'im as though they couldn't believe +their ears. + +"You just step round and 'ave a look at the place," ses old Cook; "if +that don't make you alter your tune, call me a sinner." + +Charlie Tagg felt as though 'e could ha' called 'im a lot o' worse things +than that, but he took up 'is hat and Mrs. Cook and Emma got their +bonnets on and they went round. + +"I don't think much of it for eighty pounds," ses Charlie, beginning his +artfulness as they came near a big shop, with plate-glass and a double +front. + +"Eh?" ses old Cook, staring at 'im. "Why, that ain't the place. Why, +you wouldn't get that for eight 'undred." + +"Well, I don't think much of it," ses Charlie; "if it's worse than that I +can't look at it--I can't, indeed." + +"You ain't been drinking, Charlie?" ses old Cook, in a puzzled voice. + +"Certainly not," ses Charlie. + +He was pleased to see 'ow anxious they all looked, and when they did come +to the shop 'e set up a laugh that old Cook said chilled the marrer in +'is bones. He stood looking in a 'elpless sort o' way at his wife and +Emma, and then at last he ses, "There it is; and a fair bargain at the +price." + +"I s'pose you ain't been drinking?" ses Charlie. + +"Wot's the matter with it?" ses Mrs. Cook flaring up. + +"Come inside and look at it," ses Emma, taking 'old of his arm. + +"Not me," ses Charlie, hanging back. "Why, I wouldn't take it at a +gift." + +He stood there on the kerbstone, and all they could do 'e wouldn't budge. +He said it was a bad road and a little shop, and 'ad got a look about it +he didn't like. They walked back 'ome like a funeral procession, and +Emma 'ad to keep saying "_H's!_" in w'ispers to 'er mother all the way. + +[Illustration: "He said it was a bad road and a little shop, and 'ad got +a look about it he didn't like."] + +"I don't know wot Charlie does want, I'm sure," ses Mrs. Cook, taking off +'er bonnet as soon as she got indoors and pitching it on the chair he was +just going to set down on. + +"It's so awk'ard," ses old Cook, rubbing his 'cad. "Fact is, Charlie, we +pretty near gave 'em to understand as we'd buy it." + +"It's as good as settled," ses Mrs. Cook, trembling all over with temper. + +"They won't settle till they get the money," ses Charlie. "You may make +your mind easy about that." + +"Emma's drawn it all out of the bank ready," ses old Cook, eager like. + +Charlie felt 'ot and cold all over. "I'd better take care of it," he +ses, in a trembling voice. "You might be robbed." + +"So might you be," ses Mrs. Cook. "Don't you worry; it's in a safe +place." + +"Sailormen are always being robbed," ses George Smith, who 'ad been +helping young Bill with 'is sums while they 'ad gone to look at the shop. +"There's more sailormen robbed than all the rest put together." + +"They won't rob Charlie," ses Mrs. Cook, pressing 'er lips together. +"I'll take care o' that." + +Charlie tried to laugh, but 'e made such a queer noise that young Bill +made a large blot on 'is exercise-book, and old Cook, wot was lighting +his pipe, burnt 'is fingers through not looking wot 'e was doing. + +"You see," ses Charlie, "if I was robbed, which ain't at all likely, it +'ud only be me losing my own money; but if you was robbed of it you'd +never forgive yourselves." + +"I dessay I should get over it," ses Mrs. Cook, sniffing. "I'd 'ave a +try, at all events." + +Charlie started to laugh agin, and old Cook, who had struck another +match, blew it out and waited till he'd finished. + +"The whole truth is," ses Charlie, looking round, "I've got something +better to do with the money. I've got a chance offered me that'll make +me able to double it afore you know where you are." + +"Not afore I know where I am," ses Mrs. Cook, with a laugh that was worse +than Charlie's. + +"The chance of a lifetime," ses Charlie, trying to keep 'is temper. "I +can't tell you wot it is, because I've promised to keep it secret for a +time. You'll be surprised when I do tell you." + +"If I wait till then till I'm surprised," ses Mrs. Cook, "I shall 'ave to +wait a long time. My advice to you is to take that shop and ha' done +with it." + +Charlie sat there arguing all the evening, but it was no good, and the +idea o' them people sitting there and refusing to let 'im have his own +money pretty near sent 'im crazy. It was all 'e could do to kiss Emma +good-night, and 'e couldn't have 'elped slamming the front door if he'd +been paid for it. The only comfort he 'ad got left was the Sydney gal's +photygraph, and he took that out and looked at it under nearly every +lamp-post he passed. + +He went round the next night and 'ad an-other try to get 'is money, but +it was no use; and all the good he done was to make Mrs. Cook in such a +temper that she 'ad to go to bed before he 'ad arf finished. It was no +good talking to old Cook and Emma, because they daren't do anything +without 'er, and it was no good calling things up the stairs to her +because she didn't answer. Three nights running Mrs. Cook went off to +bed afore eight o'clock, for fear she should say something to 'im as +she'd be sorry for arterwards; and for three nights Charlie made 'imself +so disagreeable that Emma told 'im plain the sooner 'e went back to sea +agin the better she should like it. The only one who seemed to enjoy it +was George Smith, and 'e used to bring bits out o' newspapers and read to +'em, showing 'ow silly people was done out of their money. + +On the fourth night Charlie dropped it and made 'imself so amiable that +Mrs. Cook stayed up and made 'im a Welsh rare-bit for 'is supper, and +made 'im drink two glasses o' beer instead o' one, while old Cook sat and +drank three glasses o' water just out of temper, and to show that 'e +didn't mind. When she started on the chandler's shop agin Charlie said +he'd think it over, and when 'e went away Mrs. Cook called 'im her +sailor-boy and wished 'im pleasant dreams. + +But Charlie Tagg 'ad got better things to do than to dream, and 'e sat up +in bed arf the night thinking out a new plan he'd thought of to get that +money. When 'e did fall asleep at last 'e dreamt of taking a little farm +in Australia and riding about on 'orseback with the Sydney gal watching +his men at work. + +In the morning he went and hunted up a shipmate of 'is, a young feller +named Jack Bates. Jack was one o' these 'ere chaps, nobody's enemy but +their own, as the saying is; a good-'arted, free-'anded chap as you could +wish to see. Everybody liked 'im, and the ship's cat loved 'im. He'd +ha' sold the shirt off 'is back to oblige a pal, and three times in one +week he got 'is face scratched for trying to prevent 'usbands knocking +their wives about. + +Charlie Tagg went to 'im because he was the only man 'e could trust, and +for over arf an hour he was telling Jack Bates all 'is troubles, and at +last, as a great favour, he let 'im see the Sydney gal's photygraph, and +told him that all that pore gal's future 'appiness depended upon 'im. + +"I'll step round to-night and rob 'em of that seventy-two pounds," ses +Jack; "it's your money, and you've a right to it." + +Charlie shook his 'ead. "That wouldn't do," he ses; "besides, I don't +know where they keep it. No; I've got a better plan than that. Come +round to the Crooked Billet, so as we can talk it over in peace and +quiet." + +He stood Jack three or four arf-pints afore 'e told 'im his plan, and +Jack was so pleased with it that he wanted to start at once, but Charlie +persuaded 'im to wait. + +"And don't you spare me, mind, out o' friendship," ses Charlie, "because +the blacker you paint me the better I shall like it." + +"You trust me, mate," ses Jack Bates; "if I don't get that seventy-two +pounds for you, you may call me a Dutchman. Why, it's fair robbery, I +call it, sticking to your money like that." + +They spent the rest o' the day together, and when evening came Charlie +went off to the Cooks'. Emma 'ad arf expected they was going to a +theayter that night, but Charlie said he wasn't feeling the thing, and he +sat there so quiet and miserable they didn't know wot to make of 'im. + +"'Ave you got any trouble on your mind, Charlie," ses Mrs. Cook, "or is +it the tooth-ache?" + +"It ain't the toothache," ses Charlie. + +He sat there pulling a long face and staring at the floor, but all Mrs. +Cook and Emma could do 'e wouldn't tell them wot was the matter with 'im. +He said 'e didn't want to worry other people with 'is troubles; let +everybody bear their own, that was 'is motto. Even when George Smith +offered to go to the theayter with Emma instead of 'im he didn't fire up, +and, if it 'adn't ha' been for Mrs. Cook, George wouldn't ha' been sorry +that 'e spoke. + +"Theayters ain't for me," ses Charlie, with a groan. "I'm more likely to +go to gaol, so far as I can see, than a theayter." + +Mrs. Cook and Emma both screamed and Sarah Ann did 'er first +highstericks, and very well, too, considering that she 'ad only just +turned fifteen. + +"Gaol!" ses old Cook, as soon as they 'ad quieted Sarah Ann with a bowl +o' cold water that young Bill 'ad the presence o' mind to go and fetch. +"Gaol! What for?" + +"You wouldn't believe if I was to tell you." ses Charlie, getting up to +go, "and besides, I don't want any of you to think as 'ow I am worse than +wot I am." + +He shook his 'cad at them sorrowful-like, and afore they could stop 'im +he 'ad gone. Old Cook shouted arter 'im, but it was no use, and the +others was running into the scullery to fill the bowl agin for Emma. + +Mrs. Cook went round to 'is lodgings next morning, but found that 'e was +out. They began to fancy all sorts o' things then, but Charlie turned up +agin that evening more miserable than ever. + +"I went round to see you this morning," ses Mrs. Cook, "but you wasn't at +'ome." + +"I never am, 'ardly," ses Charlie. "I can't be--it ain't safe." + +"Why not?" ses Mrs. Cook, fidgeting. + +"If I was to tell you, you'd lose your good opinion of me," ses Charlie. + +"It wouldn't be much to lose," ses Mrs. Cook, firing up. + +Charlie didn't answer 'er. When he did speak he spoke to the old man, +and he was so down-'arted that 'e gave 'im the chills a'most, He 'ardly +took any notice of Emma, and, when Mrs. Cook spoke about the shop agin, +said that chandlers' shops was for happy people, not for 'im. + +By the time they sat down to supper they was nearly all as miserable as +Charlie 'imself. From words he let drop they all seemed to 'ave the idea +that the police was arter 'im, and Mrs. Cook was just asking 'im for wot +she called the third and last time, but wot was more likely the hundred +and third, wot he'd done, when there was a knock at the front door, so +loud and so sudden that old Cook and young Bill both cut their mouths at +the same time. + +"Anybody 'ere o' the name of Emma Cook?" ses a man's voice, when young +Bill opened the door. + +"She's inside," ses the boy, and the next moment Jack Bates followed 'im +into the room, and then fell back with a start as 'e saw Charlie Tagg. + +"Ho, 'ere you are, are you?" he ses, looking at 'im very black. +"Wot's the matter?" ses Mrs. Cook, very sharp. + +"I didn't expect to 'ave the pleasure o' seeing you 'ere, my lad," ses +Jack, still staring at Charlie, and twisting 'is face up into awful +scowls. "Which is Emma Cook?" + +"Miss Cook is my name," ses Emma, very sharp. "Wot d'ye want?" + +"Very good," ses Jack Bates, looking at Charlie agin; "then p'r'aps +you'll do me the kindness of telling that lie o' yours agin afore this +young lady." + +"It's the truth," ses Charlie, looking down at 'is plate. + +"If somebody don't tell me wot all this is about in two minutes, I shall +do something desprit," ses Mrs. Cook, getting up. + +"This 'ere--er--man," ses Jack Bates, pointing at Charlie, "owes me +seventy-five pounds and won't pay. When I ask 'im for it he ses a party +he's keeping company with, by the name of Emma Cook, 'as got it, and he +can't get it." + +"So she has," ses Charlie, without looking up. + +"Wot does 'e owe you the money for?" ses Mrs. Cook. + +"'Cos I lent it to 'im," ses Jack. + +"Lent it? What for?" ses Mrs. Cook. + +"'Cos I was a fool, I s'pose," ses jack Bates; "a good-natured fool. +Anyway, I'm sick and tired of asking for it, and if I don't get it +to-night I'm going to see the police about it." + +He sat down on a chair with 'is hat cocked over one eye, and they all sat +staring at 'im as though they didn't know wot to say next. + +"So this is wot you meant when you said you'd got the chance of a +lifetime, is it?" ses Mrs. Cook to Charlie. "This is wot you wanted it +for, is it? Wot did you borrow all that money for?" + +"Spend," ses Charlie, in a sulky voice. + +"Spend!" ses Mrs. Cook, with a scream; "wot in?" + +"Drink and cards mostly," ses Jack Bates, remembering wot Charlie 'ad +told 'im about blackening 'is character. + +You might ha' heard a pin drop a'most, and Charlie sat there without +saying a word. + +"Charlie's been led away," ses Mrs. Cook, looking 'ard at Jack Bates. "I +s'pose you lent 'im the money to win it back from 'im at cards, didn't +you?" + +"And gave 'im too much licker fust," ses old Cook. "I've 'eard of your +kind. If Charlie takes my advice 'e won't pay you a farthing. I should +let you do your worst if I was 'im; that's wot I should do. You've got a +low face; a nasty, ugly, low face." + +"One o' the worst I ever see," ses Mrs. Cook. "It looks as though it +might ha' been cut out o' the Police News." + +"'Owever could you ha' trusted a man with a face like that, Charlie?" ses +old Cook. "Come away from 'im, Bill; I don't like such a chap in the +room." + +Jack Bates began to feel very awk'ard. They was all glaring at 'im as +though they could eat 'im, and he wasn't used to such treatment. And, as +a matter o' fact, he'd got a very good-'arted face. + +"You go out o' that door," ses old Cook, pointing to it. "Go and do your +worst. You won't get any money 'ere." + +"Stop a minute," ses Emma, and afore they could stop 'er she ran +upstairs. Mrs. Cook went arter 'er and 'igh words was heard up in the +bedroom, but by-and-by Emma came down holding her head very 'igh and +looking at Jack Bates as though he was dirt. + +"How am I to know Charlie owes you this money?" she ses. + +Jack Bates turned very red, and arter fumbling in 'is pockets took out +about a dozen dirty bits o' paper, which Charlie 'ad given 'im for +I O U's. Emma read 'em all, and then she threw a little parcel on the +table. + +"There's your money," she ses; "take it and go." + +Mrs. Cook and 'er father began to call out, but it was no good. + +"There's seventy-two pounds there," ses Emma, who was very pale; "and +'ere's a ring you can have to 'elp make up the rest." And she drew +Charlie's ring off and throwed it on the table. "I've done with 'im for +good," she ses, with a look at 'er mother. + +Jack Bates took up the money and the ring and stood there looking at 'er +and trying to think wot to say. He'd always been uncommon partial to the +sex, and it did seem 'ard to stand there and take all that on account of +Charlie Tagg. + +"I only wanted my own," he ses, at last, shuffling about the floor. + +"Well, you've got it," ses Mrs. Cook, "and now you can go." + +"You're pi'soning the air of my front parlour," ses old Cook, opening the +winder a little at the top. + +"P'r'aps I ain't so bad as you think I am," ses Jack Bates, still looking +at Emma, and with that 'e walked over to Charlie and dumped down the +money on the table in front of 'im. "Take it," he ses, "and don't borrow +any more. I make you a free gift of it. P'r'aps my 'art ain't as black +as my face," he ses, turning to Mrs. Cook. + +They was all so surprised at fust that they couldn't speak, but old Cook +smiled at 'im and put the winder up agin. And Charlie Tagg sat there arf +mad with temper, locking as though 'e could eat Jack Bates without any +salt, as the saying is. + +"I--I can't take it," he ses at last, with a stammer. + +"Can't take it? Why not?" ses old Cook, staring. "This gentleman 'as +given it to you." "A free gift," ses Mrs. Cook, smiling at Jack +very sweet. + +"I can't take it," ses Charlie, winking at Jack to take the money up and +give it to 'im quiet, as arranged. "I 'ave my pride." + +"So 'ave I," ses Jack. "Are you going to take it?" + +Charlie gave another look. "No," he ses, "I cant take a favour. I +borrowed the money and I'll pay it back. + +"Very good," ses Jack, taking it up. "It's my money, ain't it?" + +"Yes," ses Charlie, taking no notice of Mrs. Cook and 'er husband, wot +was both talking to 'im at once, and trying to persuade 'im to alter his +mind. + +"Then I give it to Miss Emma Cook," ses Jack Bates, putting it into her +hands. "Good-night everybody and good luck." + +He slammed the front door behind 'im and they 'eard 'im go off down the +road as if 'e was going for fire-engines. Charlie sat there for a moment +struck all of a heap, and then 'e jumped up and dashed arter 'im. He +just saw 'im disappearing round a corner, and he didn't see 'im agin for +a couple o' year arterwards, by which time the Sydney gal had 'ad three +or four young men arter 'im, and Emma, who 'ad changed her name to Smith, +was doing one o' the best businesses in the chandlery line in Poplar. + + + + + +THE CONSTABLE'S MOVE + +[Illustration: "The Constable's Move."] + +Mr. Bob Grummit sat in the kitchen with his corduroy-clad legs stretched +on the fender. His wife's half-eaten dinner was getting cold on the +table; Mr. Grummit, who was badly in need of cheering up, emptied her +half-empty glass of beer and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. + +"Come away, I tell you," he called. "D'ye hear? Come away. You'll be +locked up if you don't." + +He gave a little laugh at the sarcasm, and sticking his short pipe in his +mouth lurched slowly to the front-room door and scowled at his wife as +she lurked at the back of the window watching intently the furniture +which was being carried in next door. + +"Come away or else you'll be locked up," repeated Mr. Grummit. "You +mustn't look at policemen's furniture; it's agin the law." + +Mrs. Grummit made no reply, but, throwing appearances to the winds, +stepped to the window until her nose touched, as a walnut sideboard with +bevelled glass back was tenderly borne inside under the personal +supervision of Police-Constable Evans. + +"They'll be 'aving a pianner next," said the indignant Mr. Grummit, +peering from the depths of the room. + +"They've got one," responded his wife; "there's the end if it stickin' up +in the van." + +Mr. Grummit advanced and regarded the end fixedly. "Did you throw all +them tin cans and things into their yard wot I told you to?" he demanded. + +"He picked up three of 'em while I was upstairs," replied his wife. "I +'eard 'im tell her that they'd come in handy for paint and things." + +"That's 'ow coppers get on and buy pianners," said the incensed Mr. +Grummit, "sneaking other people's property. I didn't tell you to throw +good 'uns over, did I? Wot d'ye mean by it?" + +Mrs. Grummit made no reply, but watched with bated breath the triumphal +entrance of the piano. The carman set it tenderly on the narrow +footpath, while P. C. Evans, stooping low, examined it at all points, and +Mrs. Evans, raising the lid, struck a few careless chords. + +"Showing off," explained Mrs. Grummit, with a half turn; "and she's got +fingers like carrots." + +"It's a disgrace to Mulberry Gardens to 'ave a copper come and live in +it," said the indignant Grummit; "and to come and live next to me!-- +that's what I can't get over. To come and live next door to a man wot +has been fined twice, and both times wrong. Why, for two pins I'd go in +and smash 'is pianner first and 'im after it. He won't live 'ere long, +you take my word for it." + +"Why not?" inquired his wife. + +"Why?" repeated Mr. Grummit. "Why? Why, becos I'll make the place too +'ot to hold him. Ain't there enough houses in Tunwich without 'im +a-coming and living next door to me?" + +For a whole week the brain concealed in Mr. Grummit's bullet-shaped head +worked in vain, and his temper got correspondingly bad. The day after +the Evans' arrival he had found his yard littered with tins which he +recognized as old acquaintances, and since that time they had travelled +backwards and forwards with monotonous regularity. They sometimes made +as many as three journeys a day, and on one occasion the heavens opened +to drop a battered tin bucket on the back of Mr. Grummit as he was tying +his bootlace. Five minutes later he spoke of the outrage to Mr. Evans, +who had come out to admire the sunset. + +"I heard something fall," said the constable, eyeing the pail curiously. + +"You threw it," said Mr. Grummit, breathing furiously. + +"Me? Nonsense," said the other, easily. "I was having tea in the +parlour with my wife and my mother-in-law, and my brother Joe and his +young lady." + +"Any more of 'em?" demanded the hapless Mr. Grummit, aghast at this list +of witnesses for an alibi. + +"It ain't a bad pail, if you look at it properly," said the constable. +"I should keep it if I was you; unless the owner offers a reward for it. +It'll hold enough water for your wants." + +Mr. Grummit flung indoors and, after wasting some time concocting +impossible measures of retaliation with his sympathetic partner, went off +to discuss affairs with his intimates at the _Bricklayers' Arms_. The +company, although unanimously agreeing that Mr. Evans ought to be boiled, +were miserably deficient in ideas as to the means by which such a +desirable end was to be attained. + +"Make 'im a laughing-stock, that's the best thing," said an elderly +labourer. "The police don't like being laughed at." + +"'Ow?" demanded Mr. Grummit, with some asperity. + +"There's plenty o' ways," said the old man. + +"I should find 'em out fast enough if I 'ad a bucket dropped on my back, +I know." + +Mr. Grummit made a retort the feebleness of which was somewhat balanced +by its ferocity, and subsided into glum silence. His back still ached, +but, despite that aid to intellectual effort, the only ways he could +imagine of making the constable look foolish contained an almost certain +risk of hard labour for himself. + +He pondered the question for a week, and meanwhile the tins--to the +secret disappointment of Mr. Evans--remained untouched in his yard. For +the whole of the time he went about looking, as Mrs. Grummit expressed +it, as though his dinner had disagreed with him. + +"I've been talking to old Bill Smith," he said, suddenly, as he came in +one night. + +Mrs. Grummit looked up, and noticed with wifely pleasure that he was +looking almost cheerful. + +"He's given me a tip," said Mr. Grummit, with a faint smile; "a copper +mustn't come into a free-born Englishman's 'ouse unless he's invited." + +"Wot of it?" inquired his wife. "You wasn't think of asking him in, was +you?" + +Mr. Grummit regarded her almost play-fully. "If a copper comes in +without being told to," he continued, "he gets into trouble for it. Now +d'ye see?" + +"But he won't come," said the puzzled Mrs. Grummit. + +Mr. Grummit winked. "Yes 'e will if you scream loud enough," he +retorted. "Where's the copper-stick?" + +"Have you gone mad?" demanded his wife, "or do you think I 'ave?" + +"You go up into the bedroom," said Mr. Grummit, emphasizing his remarks +with his forefinger. "I come up and beat the bed black and blue with the +copper-stick; you scream for mercy and call out 'Help!' 'Murder!' and +things like that. Don't call out 'Police!' cos Bill ain't sure about +that part. Evans comes bursting in to save your life--I'll leave the +door on the latch--and there you are. He's sure to get into trouble for +it. Bill said so. He's made a study o' that sort o' thing." + +Mrs. Grummit pondered this simple plan so long that her husband began to +lose patience. At last, against her better sense, she rose and fetched +the weapon in question. + +"And you be careful what you're hitting," she said, as they went upstairs +to bed. "We'd better have 'igh words first, I s'pose?" + +"You pitch into me with your tongue," said Mr. Grummit, amiably. + +Mrs. Grummit, first listening to make sure that the constable and his +wife were in the bedroom the other side of the flimsy wall, complied, and +in a voice that rose gradually to a piercing falsetto told Mr. Grummit +things that had been rankling in her mind for some months. She raked up +misdemeanours that he had long since forgotten, and, not content with +that, had a fling at the entire Grummit family, beginning with her +mother-in-law and ending with Mr. Grummit's youngest sister. The hand +that held the copper-stick itched. + +"Any more to say?" demanded Mr. Grummit advancing upon her. + +Mrs. Grummit emitted a genuine shriek, and Mr. Grummit, suddenly +remembering himself, stopped short and attacked the bed with +extraordinary fury. The room resounded with the blows, and the efforts +of Mrs. Grummit were a revelation even to her husband. + +[Illustration: "Mr. Grummit, suddenly remembering himself, stopped short +and attacked the bed with extraordinary fury."] + +"I can hear 'im moving," whispered Mr. Grummit, pausing to take breath. + +"Mur--der!" wailed his wife. "Help! Help!" + +Mr. Grummit, changing the stick into his left hand, renewed the attack; +Mrs. Grummit, whose voice was becoming exhausted, sought a temporary +relief in moans. + +"Is--he----deaf?" panted the wife-beater, "or wot?" + +He knocked over a chair, and Mrs. Grummit contrived another frenzied +scream. A loud knocking sounded on the wall. + +"Hel--lp!" moaned Mrs. Grummit. + +"Halloa, there!" came the voice of the constable. "Why don't you keep +that baby quiet? We can't get a wink of sleep." + +Mr. Grummit dropped the stick on the bed and turned a dazed face to his +wife. + +"He--he's afraid--to come in," he gasped. "Keep it up, old gal." + +He took up the stick again and Mrs. Grummit did her best, but the heart +had gone out of the thing, and he was about to give up the task as +hopeless when the door below was heard to open with a bang. + +"Here he is," cried the jubilant Grummit. "Now!" + +His wife responded, and at the same moment the bedroom door was flung +open, and her brother, who had been hastily fetched by the neighbours on +the other side, burst into the room and with one hearty blow sent Mr. +Grummit sprawling. + +"Hit my sister, will you?" he roared, as the astounded Mr. Grummit rose. +"Take that!" + +Mr. Grummit took it, and several other favours, while his wife, tugging +at her brother, endeavoured to explain. It was not, however, until Mr. +Grummit claimed the usual sanctuary of the defeated by refusing to rise +that she could make herself heard. + +"Joke?" repeated her brother, incredulously. "Joke?" + +Mrs. Grummit in a husky voice explained. + +Her brother passed from incredulity to amazement and from amazement to +mirth. He sat down gurgling, and the indignant face of the injured +Grummit only added to his distress. + +"Best joke I ever heard in my life," he said, wiping his eyes. "Don't +look at me like that, Bob; I can't bear it." + +"Get off 'ome," responded Mr. Grummit, glowering at him. + +"There's a crowd outside, and half the doors in the place open," said the +other. "Well, it's a good job there's no harm done. So long." + +He passed, beaming, down the stairs, and Mr. Grummit, drawing near the +window, heard him explaining in a broken voice to the neighbours outside. +Strong men patted him on the back and urged him gruffly to say what he +had to say and laugh afterwards. Mr. Grummit turned from the window, and +in a slow and stately fashion prepared to retire for the night. Even the +sudden and startling disappearance of Mrs. Grummit as she got into bed +failed to move him. + +"The bed's broke, Bob," she said faintly. + +"Beds won't last for ever," he said, shortly; "sleep on the floor." + +Mrs. Grummit clambered out, and after some trouble secured the bedclothes +and made up a bed in a corner of the room. In a short time she was fast +asleep; but her husband, broad awake, spent the night in devising further +impracticable schemes for the discomfiture of the foe next door. + +He saw Mr. Evans next morning as he passed on his way to work. The +constable was at the door smoking in his shirt-sleeves, and Mr. Grummit +felt instinctively that he was waiting there to see him pass. + +"I heard you last night," said the constable, playfully. "My word! Good +gracious!" + +"Wot's the matter with you?" demanded Mr. Grummit, stopping short. + +The constable stared at him. "She has been knocking you about," he +gasped. "Why, it must ha' been you screaming, then! I thought it +sounded loud. Why don't you go and get a summons and have her locked up? +I should be pleased to take her." + +Mr. Grummit faced him, quivering with passion. "Wot would it cost if I +set about you?" he demanded, huskily. + +"Two months," said Mr. Evans, smiling serenely; "p'r'aps three." + +Mr. Grummit hesitated and his fists clenched nervously. The constable, +lounging against his door-post, surveyed him with a dispassionate smile. +"That would be besides what you'd get from me," he said, softly. + +"Come out in the road," said Mr. Grummit, with sudden violence. + +"It's agin the rules," said Mr. Evans; "sorry I can't. Why not go and +ask your wife's brother to oblige you?" + +He went in laughing and closed the door, and Mr. Grummit, after a +frenzied outburst, proceeded on his way, returning the smiles of such +acquaintances as he passed with an icy stare or a strongly-worded offer +to make them laugh the other side of their face. The rest of the day he +spent in working so hard that he had no time to reply to the anxious +inquiries of his fellow-workmen. + +He came home at night glum and silent, the hardship of not being able to +give Mr. Evans his deserts without incurring hard labour having weighed +on his spirits all day. To avoid the annoyance of the piano next door, +which was slowly and reluctantly yielding up "_The Last Rose of Summer_" +note by note, he went out at the back, and the first thing he saw was Mr. +Evans mending his path with tins and other bric-a-brac. + +"Nothing like it," said the constable, looking up. "Your missus gave 'em +to us this morning. A little gravel on top, and there you are." + +He turned whistling to his work again, and the other, after endeavouring +in vain to frame a suitable reply, took a seat on an inverted wash-tub +and lit his pipe. His one hope was that Constable Evans was going to try +and cultivate a garden. + +The hope was realized a few days later, and Mr. Grummit at the back +window sat gloating over a dozen fine geraniums, some lobelias and +calceolarias, which decorated the constable's plot of ground. He could +not sleep for thinking of them. + +He rose early the next morning, and, after remarking to Mrs. Grummit that +Mr. Evans's flowers looked as though they wanted rain, went off to his +work. The cloud which had been on his spirits for some time had lifted, +and he whistled as he walked. The sight of flowers in front windows +added to his good humour. + +He was still in good spirits when he left off work that afternoon, but +some slight hesitation about returning home sent him to the Brick-layers' +firms instead. He stayed there until closing time, and then, being still +disinclined for home, paid a visit to Bill Smith, who lived the other +side of Tunwich. By the time he started for home it was nearly midnight. + +The outskirts of the town were deserted and the houses in darkness. The +clock of Tunwich church struck twelve, and the last stroke was just dying +away as he turned a corner and ran almost into the arms of the man he had +been trying to avoid. + +"Halloa!" said Constable Evans, sharply. "Here, I want a word with you." + +Mr. Grummit quailed. "With me, sir?" he said, with involuntary respect. + +"What have you been doing to my flowers?" demanded the other, hotly. + +"Flowers?" repeated Mr. Grummit, as though the word were new to him. +"Flowers? What flowers?" + +"You know well enough," retorted the constable. "You got over my fence +last night and smashed all my flowers down." + +"You be careful wot you're saying," urged Mr. Grummit. "Why, I love +flowers. You don't mean to tell me that all them beautiful flowers wot +you put in so careful 'as been spoiled?" + +"You know all about it," said the constable, choking. "I shall take out +a summons against you for it." + +"Ho!" said Mr. Grummit. "And wot time do you say it was when I done it?" + +"Never you mind the time," said the other. + +"Cos it's important," said Mr. Grummit. + +"My wife's brother--the one you're so fond of--slept in my 'ouse last +night. He was ill arf the night, pore chap; but, come to think of it, +it'll make 'im a good witness for my innocence." + +"If I wasn't a policeman," said Mr. Evans, speaking with great +deliberation, "I'd take hold o' you, Bob Grummit, and I'd give you the +biggest hiding you've ever had in your life." + +"If you wasn't a policeman," said Mr. Grummit, yearningly, "I'd arf +murder you." + +The two men eyed each other wistfully, loth to part. + +"If I gave you what you deserve I should get into trouble," said the +constable. + +"If I gave you a quarter of wot you ought to 'ave I should go to quod," +sighed Mr. Grummit. + +"I wouldn't put you there," said the constable, earnestly; "I swear I +wouldn't." + +"Everything's beautiful and quiet," said Mr. Grummit, trembling with +eagerness, "and I wouldn't say a word to a soul. I'll take my solemn +davit I wouldn't." + +"When I think o' my garden--" began the constable. With a sudden +movement he knocked off Mr. Grummit's cap, and then, seizing him by the +coat, began to hustle him along the road. In the twinkling of an eye +they had closed. + +Tunwich church chimed the half-hour as they finished, and Mr. Grummit, +forgetting his own injuries, stood smiling at the wreck before him. The +constable's helmet had been smashed and trodden on; his uniform was torn +and covered with blood and dirt, and his good looks marred for a +fortnight at least. He stooped with a groan, and, recovering his helmet, +tried mechanically to punch it into shape. He stuck the battered relic +on his head, and Mr. Grummit fell back--awed, despite himself. + +"It was a fair fight," he stammered. + +The constable waved him away. "Get out o' my sight before I change my +mind," he said, fiercely; "and mind, if you say a word about this it'll +be the worse for you." + +"Do you think I've gone mad?" said the other. He took another look at +his victim and, turning away, danced fantastically along the road home. +The constable, making his way to a gas-lamp, began to inspect damages. + +They were worse even than he had thought, and, leaning against the +lamp-post, he sought in vain for an explanation that, in the absence of a +prisoner, would satisfy the inspector. A button which was hanging by a +thread fell tinkling on to the footpath, and he had just picked it up and +placed it in his pocket when a faint distant outcry broke upon his ear. + +He turned and walked as rapidly as his condition would permit in the +direction of the noise. It became louder and more imperative, and cries +of "Police!" became distinctly audible. He quickened into a run, and +turning a corner beheld a little knot of people standing at the gate of a +large house. Other people only partially clad were hastening to-wards +them. The constable arrived out of breath. + +"Better late than never," said the owner of the house, sarcastically. + +Mr. Evans, breathing painfully, supported himself with his hand on the +fence. + +"They went that way, but I suppose you didn't see them," continued the +householder. "Halloa!" he added, as somebody opened the hall door and +the constable's damaged condition became visible in the gas-light. "Are +you hurt?" + +"Yes," said Mr. Evans, who was trying hard to think clearly. To gain +time he blew a loud call on his whistle. + +"The rascals!" continued the other. "I think I should know the big chap +with a beard again, but the others were too quick for me." + +Mr. Evans blew his whistle again--thoughtfully. The opportunity seemed +too good to lose. + +"Did they get anything?" he inquired. + +"Not a thing," said the owner, triumphantly. "I was disturbed just in +time." + +The constable gave a slight gulp. "I saw the three running by the side +of the road," he said, slowly. "Their behaviour seemed suspicious, so I +collared the big one, but they set on me like wild cats. They had me +down three times; the last time I laid my head open against the kerb, and +when I came to my senses again they had gone." + +He took off his battered helmet with a flourish and, amid a murmur of +sympathy, displayed a nasty cut on his head. A sergeant and a constable, +both running, appeared round the corner and made towards' them. + +"Get back to the station and make your report," said the former, as +Constable Evans, in a somewhat defiant voice, repeated his story. +"You've done your best; I can see that." + +Mr. Evans, enacting to perfection the part of a wounded hero, limped +painfully off, praying devoutly as he went that the criminals might make +good their escape. If not, he reflected that the word of a policeman was +at least equal to that of three burglars. + +He repeated his story at the station, and, after having his head dressed, +was sent home and advised to keep himself quiet for a day or two. He was +off duty for four days, and, the Tunwich Gazette having devoted a column +to the affair, headed "A Gallant Constable," modestly secluded himself +from the public gaze for the whole of that time. + +To Mr. Grummit, who had read the article in question until he could have +repeated it backwards, this modesty was particularly trying. The +constable's yard was deserted and the front door ever closed. Once Mr. +Grummit even went so far as to tap with his nails on the front parlour +window, and the only response was the sudden lowering of the blind. It +was not until a week afterwards that his eyes were gladdened by a sight +of the constable sitting in his yard; and fearing that even then he might +escape him, he ran out on tip-toe and put his face over the fence before +the latter was aware of his presence. + +"Wot about that 'ere burglary?" he demanded in truculent tones. + +"Good evening, Grummit," said the constable, with a patronizing air. + +"Wot about that burglary?" repeated Mr. Grummit, with a scowl. "I don't +believe you ever saw a burglar." + +Mr. Evans rose and stretched himself gracefully. "You'd better run +indoors, my good man," he said, slowly. + +"Telling all them lies about burglars," continued the indignant Mr. +Grummit, producing his newspaper and waving it. "Why, I gave you that +black eye, I smashed your 'elmet, I cut your silly 'ead open, I----" + +"You've been drinking," said the other, severely. + +"You mean to say I didn't?" demanded Mr. Grummit, ferociously. + +Mr. Evans came closer and eyed him steadily. "I don't know what you're +talking about," he said, calmly. + +Mr. Grummit, about to speak, stopped appalled at such hardihood. + +"Of course, if you mean to say that you were one o' them burglars," +continued the constable, "why, say it and I'll take you with pleasure. +Come to think of it, I did seem to remember one o' their voices." + +Mr. Grummit, with his eyes fixed on the other's, backed a couple of yards +and breathed heavily. + +"About your height, too, he was," mused the constable. "I hope for your +sake you haven't been saying to anybody else what you said to me just +now." + +Mr. Grummit shook his head. "Not a word," he faltered. + +"That's all right, then," said Mr. Evans. "I shouldn't like to be hard +on a neighbour; not that we shall be neighbours much longer." + +Mr. Grummit, feeling that a reply was expected of him, gave utterance to +a feeble "Oh!" + +"No," said Mr. Evans, looking round disparagingly. "It ain't good enough +for us now; I was promoted to sergeant this morning. A sergeant can't +live in a common place like this." + +Mr. Grummit, a prey to a sickening fear, drew near the fence again. "A-- +a sergeant?" he stammered. + +Mr. Evans smiled and gazed carefully at a distant cloud. "For my bravery +with them burglars the other night, Grummit," he said, modestly. "I +might have waited years if it hadn't been for them." + +He nodded to the frantic Grummit and turned away; Mr. Grummit, without +any adieu at all, turned and crept back to the house. + + + + + +BOB'S REDEMPTION + +[Illustration: "Bob's Redemption."] + +"GRATITOODE!" said the night-watchman, with a hard laugh. "_Hmf!_ Don't +talk to me about gratitoode; I've seen too much of it. If people wot +I've helped in my time 'ad only done arf their dooty--arf, mind you--I +should be riding in my carriage." + +Forgetful of the limitations of soap-boxes he attempted to illustrate his +remark by lolling, and nearly went over backwards. Recovering himself by +an effort he gazed sternly across the river and smoked fiercely. It was +evident that he was brooding over an ill-used past. + +'Arry Thomson was one of them, he said, at last. For over six months I +wrote all 'is love-letters for him, 'e being an iggernerant sort of man +and only being able to do the kisses at the end, which he always insisted +on doing 'imself: being jealous. Only three weeks arter he was married +'e come up to where I was standing one day and set about me without +saying a word. I was a single man at the time and I didn't understand +it. My idea was that he 'ad gone mad, and, being pretty artful and +always 'aving a horror of mad people, I let 'im chase me into a +police-station. Leastways, I would ha' let 'im, but he didn't come, +and I all but got fourteen days for being drunk and disorderly. + +Then there was Bill Clark. He 'ad been keeping comp'ny with a gal and +got tired of it, and to oblige 'im I went to her and told 'er he was a +married man with five children. Bill was as pleased as Punch at fust, +but as soon as she took up with another chap he came round to see me and +said as I'd ruined his life. We 'ad words about it--naturally--and I did +ruin it then to the extent of a couple o' ribs. I went to see 'im in the +horsepittle--place I've always been fond of--and the langwidge he used to +me was so bad that they sent for the Sister to 'ear it. + +That's on'y two out of dozens I could name. Arf the unpleasantnesses in +my life 'ave come out of doing kindnesses to people, and all the +gratitoode I've 'ad for it I could put in a pint-pot with a pint o' beer +already in it. + +The only case o' real gratitoode I ever heard of 'appened to a shipmate +o' mine--a young chap named Bob Evans. Coming home from Auckland in a +barque called the _Dragon Fly_ he fell overboard, and another chap named +George Crofts, one o' the best swimmers I ever knew, went overboard arter +'im and saved his life. + +We was hardly moving at the time, and the sea was like a duck pond, but +to 'ear Bob Evans talk you'd ha' thought that George Crofts was the +bravest-'arted chap that ever lived. He 'adn't liked him afore, same as +the rest of us, George being a sly, mean sort o' chap; but arter George +'ad saved his life 'e couldn't praise 'im enough. He said that so long +as he 'ad a crust George should share it, and wotever George asked 'im he +should have. + +The unfortnit part of it was that George took 'im at his word, and all +the rest of the v'y'ge he acted as though Bob belonged to 'im, and by the +time we got into the London river Bob couldn't call his soul 'is own. He +used to take a room when he was ashore and live very steady, as 'e was +saving up to get married, and as soon as he found that out George invited +'imself to stay with him. + +"It won't cost you a bit more," he ses, "not if you work it properly." + +Bob didn't work it properly, but George having saved his life, and never +letting 'im forget it, he didn't like to tell him so. He thought he'd +let 'im see gradual that he'd got to be careful because of 'is gal, and +the fust evening they was ashore 'e took 'im along with 'im there to tea. + +Gerty Mitchell--that was the gal's name--'adn't heard of Bob's accident, +and when she did she gave a little scream, and putting 'er arms round his +neck, began to kiss 'im right in front of George and her mother. + +"You ought to give him one too," ses Mrs. Mitchell, pointing to George. + +George wiped 'is mouth on the back of his 'and, but Gerty pretended not +to 'ear. + +"Fancy if you'd been drownded!" she ses, hugging Bob agin. + +"He was pretty near," ses George, shaking his 'ead. "I'm a pore swimmer, +but I made up my mind either to save 'im or else go down to a watery +grave myself." + +He wiped his mouth on the back of his 'and agin, but all the notice Gerty +took of it was to send her young brother Ted out for some beer. Then +they all 'ad supper together, and Mrs. Mitchell drank good luck to George +in a glass o' beer, and said she 'oped that 'er own boy would grow up +like him. "Let 'im grow up a good and brave man, that's all I ask," she +ses. "I don't care about 'is looks." + +"He might have both," ses George, sharp-like. "Why not?" + +Mrs. Mitchell said she supposed he might, and then she cuffed young Ted's +ears for making a noise while 'e was eating, and then cuffed 'im agin for +saying that he'd finished 'is supper five minutes ago. + +George and Bob walked 'ome together, and all the way there George said +wot a pretty gal Gerty was and 'ow lucky it was for Bob that he 'adn't +been drownded. He went round to tea with 'im the next day to Mrs. +Mitchell's, and arter tea, when Bob and Gerty said they was going out to +spend the evening together, got 'imself asked too. + +They took a tram-car and went to a music-hall, and Bob paid for the three +of 'em. George never seemed to think of putting his 'and in his pocket, +and even arter the music-hall, when they all went into a shop and 'ad +stewed eels, he let Bob pay. + +As I said afore, Bob Evans was chock-full of gratefulness, and it seemed +only fair that he shouldn't grumble at spending a little over the man wot +'ad risked 'is life to save his; but wot with keeping George at his room, +and paying for 'im every time they went out, he was spending a lot more +money than 'e could afford. + +"You're on'y young once, Bob," George said to him when 'e made a remark +one arternoon as to the fast way his money was going, "and if it hadn't +ha' been for me you'd never 'ave lived to grow old." + +Wot with spending the money and always 'aving George with them when they +went out, it wasn't long afore Bob and Gerty 'ad a quarrel. "I don't +like a pore-spirited man," she ses. "Two's company and three's none, +and, besides, why can't he pay for 'imself? He's big enough. Why should +you spend your money on 'im? He never pays a farthing." + +Bob explained that he couldn't say anything because 'e owed his life to +George, but 'e might as well 'ave talked to a lamp-post. The more he +argued the more angry Gerty got, and at last she ses, "Two's company and +three's none, and if you and me can't go out without George Crofts, then +me and 'im 'll go out with-out you." + +She was as good as her word, too, and the next night, while Bob 'ad gone +out to get some 'bacca, she went off alone with George. It was ten +o'clock afore they came back agin, and Gerty's eyes were all shining and +'er cheeks as pink as roses. She shut 'er mother up like a concertina +the moment she began to find fault with 'er, and at supper she sat next +to George and laughed at everything 'e said. + +George and Bob walked all the way 'ome arter supper without saying a +word, but arter they got to their room George took a side-look at Bob, +and then he ses, suddenlike, "Look 'ere! I saved your life, didn't I?" + +"You did," ses Bob, "and I thank you for it." + +"I saved your life," ses George agin, very solemn. "If it hadn't ha' +been for me you couldn't ha' married anybody." + +"That's true," ses Bob. + +"Me and Gerty 'ave been having a talk," ses George, bending down to undo +his boots. "We've been getting on very well together; you can't 'elp +your feelings, and the long and the short of it is, the pore gal has +fallen in love with me." + +Bob didn't say a word. + +"If you look at it this way it's fair enough," ses George. "I gave you +your life and you give me your gal. We're quits now. You don't owe me +anything and I don't owe you anything. That's the way Gerty puts it, and +she told me to tell you so." + +"If--if she don't want me I'm agreeable," ses Bob, in a choking voice. +"We'll call it quits, and next time I tumble overboard I 'ope you won't +be handy." + +He took Gerty's photygraph out of 'is box and handed it to George. +"You've got more right to it now than wot I 'ave," he ses. "I shan't go +round there any more; I shall look out for a ship to-morrow." + +George Crofts said that perhaps it was the best thing he could do, and 'e +asked 'im in a offhand sort o' way 'ow long the room was paid up for. + +Mrs. Mitchell 'ad a few words to say about it next day, but Gerty told +'er to save 'er breath for walking upstairs. The on'y thing that George +didn't like when they went out was that young Ted was with them, but +Gerty said she preferred it till she knew 'im better; and she 'ad so much +to say about his noble behaviour in saving life that George gave way. +They went out looking at the shops, George thinking that that was the +cheapest way of spending an evening, and they were as happy as possible +till Gerty saw a brooch she liked so much in a window that he couldn't +get 'er away. + +"It is a beauty," she ses. "I don't know when I've seen a brooch I liked +better. Look here! Let's all guess the price and then go in and see +who's right." + +They 'ad their guesses, and then they went in and asked, and as soon as +Gerty found that it was only three-and-sixpence she began to feel in her +pocket for 'er purse, just like your wife does when you go out with 'er, +knowing all the time that it's on the mantelpiece with twopence-ha'penny +and a cough lozenge in it. + +"I must ha' left it at 'ome," she ses, looking at George. + +"Just wot I've done," ses George, arter patting 'is pockets. + +Gerty bit 'er lips and, for a minute or two, be civil to George she could +not. Then she gave a little smile and took 'is arm agin, and they walked +on talking and laughing till she turned round of a sudden and asked a big +chap as was passing wot 'e was shoving 'er for. + +"Shoving you?" ses he. "Wot do you think I want to shove you for?" + +"Don't you talk to me," ses Gerty, firing up. "George, make 'im beg my +pardon." + +"You ought to be more careful," ses George, in a gentle sort o' way. + +"Make 'im beg my pardon," ses Gerty, stamping 'er foot; "if he don't, +knock 'im down." + +"Yes, knock 'im down," ses the big man, taking hold o' George's cap and +rumpling his 'air. + +Pore George, who was never much good with his fists, hit 'im in the +chest, and the next moment he was on 'is back in the middle o' the road +wondering wot had 'appened to 'im. By the time 'e got up the other man +was arf a mile away; and young Ted stepped up and wiped 'im down with a +pocket-'andkerchief while Gerty explained to 'im 'ow she saw 'im slip on +a piece o' banana peel. + +"It's 'ard lines," she ses; "but never mind, you frightened 'im away, +and I don't wonder at it. You do look terrible when you're angry, +George; I didn't know you." + +She praised 'im all the way 'ome, and if it 'adn't been for his mouth and +nose George would 'ave enjoyed it more than 'e did. She told 'er mother +how 'e had flown at a big man wot 'ad insulted her, and Mrs. Mitchell +shook her 'ead at 'im and said his bold spirit would lead 'im into +trouble afore he 'ad done. + +They didn't seem to be able to make enough of 'im, and next day when he +went round Gerty was so upset at the sight of 'is bruises that he thought +she was going to cry. When he had 'ad his tea she gave 'im a cigar she +had bought for 'im herself, and when he 'ad finished smoking it she +smiled at him, and said that she was going to take 'im out for a pleasant +evening to try and make up to 'im for wot he 'ad suffered for 'er. + +"We're all going to stand treat to each other," she ses. "Bob always +would insist on paying for everything, but I like to feel a bit +independent. Give and take--that's the way I like to do things." + +"There's nothing like being independent," ses George. "Bob ought to ha' +known that." + +"I'm sure it's the best plan," ses Gerty. "Now, get your 'at on. We're +going to a theayter, and Ted shall pay the 'bus fares." + +George wanted to ask about the theayter, but 'e didn't like to, and arter +Gerty was dressed they went out and Ted paid the 'bus fares like a man. + +"Here you are," ses Gerty, as the 'bus stopped outside the theayter. +"Hurry up and get the tickets, George; ask for three upper circles." + +She bustled George up to the pay place, and as soon as she 'ad picked out +the seats she grabbed 'old of the tickets and told George to make haste. + +"Twelve shillings it is," ses the man, as George put down arf a crown. + +"Twelve?" ses George, beginning to stammer. "Twelve? Twelve? Twel--?" + +"Twelve shillings," ses the man; "three upper circles you've 'ad." + +George was going to fetch Gerty back and 'ave cheaper seats, but she 'ad +gone inside with young Ted, and at last, arter making an awful fuss, he +paid the rest o' the money and rushed in arter her, arf crazy at the idea +o' spending so much money. + +"Make 'aste," ses Gerty, afore he could say anything; "the band 'as just +begun." + +She started running upstairs, and she was so excited that, when they got +their seats and George started complaining about the price, she didn't +pay any attention to wot he was saying, but kept pointing out ladies' +dresses to 'im in w'ispers and wondering wot they 'ad paid for them. +George gave it up at last, and then he sat wondering whether he 'ad done +right arter all in taking Bob's gal away from him. + +Gerty enjoyed it very much, but when the curtain came down after the +first act she leaned back in her chair and looked up at George and said +she felt faint and thought she'd like to 'ave an ice-cream. "And you +'ave one too, dear," she ses, when young Ted 'ad got up and beckoned to +the gal, "and Ted 'ud like one too, I'm sure." + +She put her 'ead on George's shoulder and looked up at 'im. Then she put +her 'and on his and stroked it, and George, reckoning that arter all +ice-creams were on'y a ha'penny or at the most a penny each, altered 'is +mind about not spending any more money and ordered three. + +The way he carried on when the gal said they was three shillings was +alarming. At fust 'e thought she was 'aving a joke with 'im, and it took +another gal and the fireman and an old gentleman wot was sitting behind +'im to persuade 'im different. He was so upset that 'e couldn't eat his +arter paying for it, and Ted and Gerty had to finish it for 'im. + +"They're expensive, but they're worth the money," ses Gerty. "You are +good to me, George. I could go on eating 'em all night, but you mustn't +fling your money away like this always." + +"I'll see to that," ses George, very bitter. + +"I thought we was going to stand treat to each other? That was the idea, +I understood." + +"So we are," ses Gerty. "Ted stood the 'bus fares, didn't he?" + +"He did," ses George, "wot there was of 'em; but wot about you?" + +"Me?" ses Gerty, drawing her 'ead back and staring at 'im. "Why, 'ave +you forgot that cigar already, George?" + +George opened 'is mouth, but 'e couldn't speak a word. He sat looking at +'er and making a gasping noise in 'is throat, and fortunately just as 'e +got 'is voice back the curtain went up agin, and everybody said, +"_H'sh!_" + +He couldn't enjoy the play at all, 'e was so upset, and he began to see +more than ever 'ow wrong he 'ad been in taking Bob's gal away from 'im. +He walked downstairs into the street like a man in a dream, with Gerty +sticking to 'is arm and young Ted treading on 'is heels behind. + +"Now, you mustn't waste any more money, George," ses Gerty, when they got +outside. "We'll walk 'ome." + +George 'ad got arf a mind to say something about a 'bus, but he +remembered in time that very likely young Ted hadn't got any more money. +Then Gerty said she knew a short cut, and she took them, walking along +little, dark, narrow streets and places, until at last, just as George +thought they must be pretty near 'ome, she began to dab her eyes with 'er +pocket-'andkerchief and say she'd lost 'er way. + +"You two go 'ome and leave me," she ses, arf crying. "I can't walk +another step." + +"Where are we?" ses George, looking round. + +"I don't know," ses Gerty. "I couldn't tell you if you paid me. I must +'ave taken a wrong turning. Oh, hurrah! Here's a cab!" + +Afore George could stop 'er she held up 'er umbrella, and a 'ansom cab, +with bells on its horse, crossed the road and pulled up in front of 'em. +Ted nipped in first and Gerty followed 'im. + +"Tell 'im the address, dear, and make 'aste and get in," ses Gerty. + +George told the cabman, and then he got in and sat on Ted's knee, partly +on Gerty's umbrella, and mostly on nothing. + +"You are good to me, George," ses Gerty, touching the back of 'is neck +with the brim of her hat. "It ain't often I get a ride in a cab. All +the time I was keeping company with Bob we never 'ad one once. I only +wish I'd got the money to pay for it." + +George, who was going to ask a question, stopped 'imself, and then he +kept striking matches and trying to read all about cab fares on a bill in +front of 'im. + +"'Ow are we to know 'ow many miles it is?" he ses, at last. + +"I don't know," ses Gerty; "leave it to the cabman. It's his bisness, +ain't it? And if 'e don't know he must suffer for it." + +There was hardly a soul in Gerty's road when they got there, but afore +George 'ad settled with the cabman there was a policeman moving the crowd +on and arf the winders in the road up. By the time George had paid 'im +and the cabman 'ad told him wot 'e looked like, Gerty and Ted 'ad +disappeared indoors, all the lights was out, and, in a state o' mind that +won't bear thinking of, George walked 'ome to his lodging. + +[Illustration: "Afore George had settled with the cabman, there was a +policeman moving the crowd on."] + +Bob was asleep when he got there, but 'e woke 'im up and told 'im about +it, and then arter a time he said that he thought Bob ought to pay arf +because he 'ad saved 'is life. + +"Cert'nly not," ses Bob. "We're quits now; that was the arrangement. +I only wish it was me spending the money on her; I shouldn't grumble." + +George didn't get a wink o' sleep all night for thinking of the money he +'ad spent, and next day when he went round he 'ad almost made up 'is mind +to tell Bob that if 'e liked to pay up the money he could 'ave Gerty +back; but she looked so pretty, and praised 'im up so much for 'is +generosity, that he began to think better of it. One thing 'e was +determined on, and that was never to spend money like that agin for fifty +Gertys. + +There was a very sensible man there that evening that George liked very +much. His name was Uncle Joe, and when Gerty was praising George to 'is +face for the money he 'ad been spending, Uncle Joe, instead o' looking +pleased, shook his 'ead over it. + +"Young people will be young people, I know," he ses, "but still I don't +approve of extravagance. Bob Evans would never 'ave spent all that money +over you." + +"Bob Evans ain't everybody," ses Mrs. Mitchell, standing up for Gerty. + +"He was steady, anyway," ses Uncle Joe. "Besides, Gerty ought not to ha' +let Mr. Crofts spend his money like that. She could ha' prevented it if +she'd ha' put 'er foot down and insisted on it." + +He was so solemn about it that everybody began to feel a bit upset, and +Gerty borrowed Ted's pocket-'andkerchief, and then wiped 'er eyes on the +cuff of her dress instead. + +"Well, well," ses Uncle Joe; "I didn't mean to be 'ard, but don't do it +no more. You are young people, and can't afford it." + +"We must 'ave a little pleasure sometimes," ses Gerty. + +"Yes, I know," ses Uncle Joe; "but there's moderation in everything. +Look 'ere, it's time somebody paid for Mr. Crofts. To-morrow's Saturday, +and, if you like, I'll take you all to the Crystal Palace." + +Gerty jumped up off of 'er chair and kissed 'im, while Mrs. Mitchell said +she knew 'is bark was worse than 'is bite, and asked 'im who was wasting +his money now? + +"You meet me at London Bridge Station at two o'clock," ses Uncle Joe, +getting up to go. "It ain't extravagance for a man as can afford it." + +He shook 'ands with George Crofts and went, and, arter George 'ad stayed +long enough to hear a lot o' things about Uncle Joe which made 'im think +they'd get on very well together, he went off too. + +They all turned up very early the next arternoon, and Gerty was dressed +so nice that George couldn't take his eyes off of her. Besides her there +was Mrs. Mitchell and Ted and a friend of 'is named Charlie Smith. + +They waited some time, but Uncle Joe didn't turn up, and they all got +looking at the clock and talking about it, and 'oping he wouldn't make +'em miss the train. + +"Here he comes!" ses Ted, at last. + +Uncle Joe came rushing in, puffing and blowing as though he'd bust. +"Take 'em on by this train, will you?" he ses, catching 'old o' George by +the arm. "I've just been stopped by a bit o' business I must do, and +I'll come on by the next, or as soon arter as I can." + +He rushed off again, puffing and blowing his 'ardest, in such a hurry +that he forgot to give George the money for the tickets. However, George +borrowed a pencil of Mrs. Mitchell in the train, and put down on paper +'ow much they cost, and Mrs. Mitchell said if George didn't like to +remind 'im she would. + +They left young Ted and Charlie to stay near the station when they got to +the Palace, Uncle Joe 'aving forgotten to say where he'd meet 'em, but +train arter train came in without 'im, and at last the two boys gave it +up. + +"We're sure to run across 'im sooner or later," ses Gerty. "Let's 'ave +something to eat; I'm so hungry." + +George said something about buns and milk, but Gerty took 'im up sharp. +"Buns and milk?" she ses. "Why, uncle would never forgive us if we +spoilt his treat like that." + +She walked into a refreshment place and they 'ad cold meat and bread and +pickles and beer and tarts and cheese, till even young Ted said he'd 'ad +enough, but still they couldn't see any signs of Uncle Joe. They went on +to the roundabouts to look for 'im, and then into all sorts o' shows at +sixpence a head, but still there was no signs of 'im, and George had 'ad +to start on a fresh bit o' paper to put down wot he'd spent. + +"I suppose he must ha' been detained on important business," ses Gerty, +at last. + +"Unless it's one of 'is jokes," ses Mrs. Mitchell, shaking her 'ead. +"You know wot your uncle is, Gerty." + +"There now, I never thought o' that," ses Gerty, with a start; "p'r'aps +it is." + +"Joke?" ses George, choking and staring from one to the other. + +"I was wondering where he'd get the money from," ses Mrs. Mitchell to +Gerty. "I see it all now; I never see such a man for a bit o' fun in all +my born days. And the solemn way he went on last night, too. Why, he +must ha' been laughing in 'is sleeve all the time. It's as good as a +play." + +"Look here!" ses George, 'ardly able to speak; "do you mean to tell me he +never meant to come?" + +"I'm afraid not," ses Mrs. Mitchell, "knowing wot he is. But don't you +worry; I'll give him a bit o' my mind when I see 'im." + +George Crofts felt as though he'd burst, and then 'e got his breath, and +the things 'e said about Uncle Joe was so awful that Mrs. Mitchell told +the boys to go away. + +"How dare you talk of my uncle like that?" ses Gerty, firing up. + +"You forget yourself, George," ses Mrs. Mitchell. "You'll like 'im when +you get to know 'im better." + +"Don't you call me George," ses George Crofts, turning on 'er. "I've +been done, that's wot I've been. I 'ad fourteen pounds when I was paid +off, and it's melting like butter." + +"Well, we've enjoyed ourselves," ses Gerty, "and that's what money was +given us for. I'm sure those two boys 'ave had a splendid time, thanks +to you. Don't go and spoil all by a little bit o' temper." + +"Temper!" ses George, turning on her. "I've done with you, I wouldn't +marry you if you was the on'y gal in the world. I wouldn't marry you if +you paid me." + +"Oh, indeed!" ses Gerty; "but if you think you can get out of it like +that you're mistaken. I've lost my young man through you, and I'm not +going to lose you too. I'll send my two big cousins round to see you +to-morrow." + +"They won't put up with no nonsense, I can tell you," ses Mrs. Mitchell. + +She called the boys to her, and then she and Gerty, arter holding their +'eads very high and staring at George, went off and left 'im alone. He +went straight off 'ome, counting 'is money all the way and trying to make +it more, and, arter telling Bob 'ow he'd been treated, and trying hard to +get 'im to go shares in his losses, packed up his things and cleared out, +all boiling over with temper. + +Bob was so dazed he couldn't make head or tail out of it, but 'e went +round to see Gerty the first thing next morning, and she explained things +to him. + +"I don't know when I've enjoyed myself so much," she ses, wiping her +eyes, "but I've had enough gadding about for once, and if you come round +this evening we'll have a nice quiet time together looking at the +furniture shops." + + + + + +OVER THE SIDE + +[Illustration: "Over the Side."] + +Of all classes of men, those who follow the sea are probably the most +prone to superstition. Afloat upon the black waste of waters, at the +mercy of wind and sea, with vast depths and strange creatures below them, +a belief in the supernatural is easier than ashore, under the cheerful +gas-lamps. Strange stories of the sea are plentiful, and an incident +which happened within my own experience has made me somewhat chary of +dubbing a man fool or coward because he has encountered something he +cannot explain. There are stories of the supernatural with prosaic +sequels; there are others to which the sequel has never been published. + +I was fifteen years old at the time, and as my father, who had a strong +objection to the sea, would not apprentice me to it, I shipped before the +mast on a sturdy little brig called the _Endeavour,_ bound for Riga. She +was a small craft, but the skipper was as fine a seaman as one could wish +for, and, in fair weather, an easy man to sail under. Most boys have a +rough time of it when they first go to sea, but, with a strong sense of +what was good for me, I had attached myself to a brawny, good-natured +infant, named Bill Smith, and it was soon understood that whoever hit me +struck Bill by proxy. Not that the crew were particularly brutal, but a +sound cuffing occasionally is held by most seamen to be beneficial to a +lad's health and morals. The only really spiteful fellow among them was +a man named Jem Dadd. He was a morose, sallow-looking man, of about +forty, with a strong taste for the supernatural, and a stronger taste +still for frightening his fellows with it. I have seen Bill almost +afraid to go on deck of a night for his trick at the wheel, after a few +of his reminiscences. Rats were a favourite topic with him, and he would +never allow one to be killed if he could help it, for he claimed for them +that they were the souls of drowned sailors, hence their love of ships +and their habit of leaving them when they became unseaworthy. He was a +firm believer in the transmigration of souls, some idea of which he had, +no doubt, picked up in Eastern ports, and gave his shivering auditors to +understand that his arrangements for his own immediate future were +already perfected. + +We were six or seven days out when a strange thing happened. Dadd had +the second watch one night, and Bill was to relieve him. They were not +very strict aboard the brig in fair weather, and when a man's time was +up he just made the wheel fast, and, running for'ard, shouted down the +fo'c's'le. On this night I happened to awake suddenly, in time to see +Bill slip out of his bunk and stand by me, rubbing his red eyelids with +his knuckles. + +"Dadd's giving me a long time," he whispered, seeing that I was awake; +"it's a whole hour after his time." + +He pattered up on deck, and I was just turning over, thankful that I was +too young to have a watch to keep, when he came softly down again, and, +taking me by the shoulders, shook me roughly. + +"Jack," he whispered. "Jack." + +I raised myself on my elbows, and, in the light of the smoking lamp, saw +that he was shaking all over. + +"Come on deck," he said, thickly. + +I put on my clothes, and followed him quietly to the sweet, cool air +above. It was a beautiful clear night, but, from his manner, I looked +nervously around for some cause of alarm. I saw nothing. The deck was +deserted, except for the solitary figure at the wheel. + +"Look at him," whispered Bill, bending a contorted face to mine. + +I walked aft a few steps, and Bill followed slowly. Then I saw that Jem +Dadd was leaning forward clumsily on the wheel, with his hands clenched +on the spokes. + +"He's asleep," said I, stopping short. + +Bill breathed hard. "He's in a queer sleep," said he; "kind o' trance +more like. Go closer." + +I took fast hold of Bill's sleeve, and we both went. The light of the +stars was sufficient to show that Dadd's face was very white, and that +his dim, black eyes were wide open, and staring in a very strange and +dreadful manner straight before him. + +"Dadd," said I, softly, "Dadd!" + +There was no reply, and, with a view of arousing him, I tapped one sinewy +hand as it gripped the wheel, and even tried to loosen it. + +He remained immovable, and, suddenly with a great cry, my courage +deserted me, and Bill and I fairly bolted down into the cabin and woke +the skipper. + +Then we saw how it was with Jem, and two strong seamen forcibly loosened +the grip of those rigid fingers, and, laying him on the deck, covered him +with a piece of canvas. The rest of the night two men stayed at the +wheel, and, gazing fearfully at the outline of the canvas, longed for +dawn. + +It came at last, and, breakfast over, the body was sewn up in canvas, and +the skipper held a short service compiled from a Bible which belonged to +the mate, and what he remembered of the Burial Service proper. Then the +corpse went overboard with a splash, and the men, after standing +awkwardly together for a few minutes, slowly dispersed to their duties. + +For the rest of that day we were all very quiet and restrained; pity for +the dead man being mingled with a dread of taking the wheel when night +came. + +"The wheel's haunted," said the cook, solemnly; "mark my words, there's +more of you will be took the same way Dadd was." + +The cook, like myself, had no watch to keep. + +The men bore up pretty well until night came on again, and then they +unanimously resolved to have a double watch. The cook, sorely against +his will, was impressed into the service, and I, glad to oblige my +patron, agreed to stay up with Bill. + +Some of the pleasure had vanished by the time night came, and I seemed +only just to have closed my eyes when Bill came, and, with a rough shake +or two, informed me that the time had come. Any hope that I might have +had of escaping the ordeal was at once dispelled by his expectant +demeanour, and the helpful way in which he assisted me with my clothes, +and, yawning terribly, I followed him on deck. + +The night was not so clear as the preceding one, and the air was chilly, +with a little moisture in it. I buttoned up my jacket, and thrust my +hands in my pockets. + +"Everything quiet?" asked Bill as he stepped up and took the wheel. + +"Ay, ay," said Roberts, "quiet as the grave," and, followed by his +willing mate, he went below. + +I sat on the deck by Bill's side as, with a light touch on the wheel, +he kept the brig to her course. It was weary work sitting there, doing +nothing, and thinking of the warm berth below, and I believe that I +should have fallen asleep, but that my watchful companion stirred me with +his foot whenever he saw me nodding. + +I suppose I must have sat there, shivering and yawning, for about an +hour, when, tired of inactivity, I got up and went and leaned over the +side of the vessel. The sound of the water gurgling and lapping by was +so soothing that I began to doze. + +I was recalled to my senses by a smothered cry from Bill, and, running to +him, I found him staring to port in an intense and uncomfortable fashion. +At my approach, he took one hand from the wheel, and gripped my arm so +tightly that I was like to have screamed with the pain of it. + +"Jack," said he, in a shaky voice, "while you was away something popped +its head up, and looked over the ship's side." + +"You've been dreaming," said I, in a voice which was a very fair +imitation of Bill's own. + +"Dreaming," repeated Bill, "dreaming! Ah, look there!" + +He pointed with outstretched finger, and my heart seemed to stop beating +as I saw a man's head appear above the side. For a brief space it peered +at us in silence, and then a dark figure sprang like a cat on to the +deck, and stood crouching a short distance away. + +A mist came before my eyes, and my tongue failed me, but Bill let off a +roar, such as I have never heard before or since. It was answered from +below, both aft and for'ard, and the men came running up on deck just as +they left their beds. + +"What's up?" shouted the skipper, glancing aloft. + +For answer, Bill pointed to the intruder, and the men, who had just +caught sight of him, came up and formed a compact knot by the wheel. + +"Come over the side, it did," panted Bill, "come over like a ghost out of +the sea." + +The skipper took one of the small lamps from the binnacle, and, holding +it aloft, walked boldly up to the cause of alarm. In the little patch of +light we saw a ghastly black-bearded man, dripping with water, regarding +us with unwinking eyes, which glowed red in the light of the lamp. + +"Where did you come from?" asked the skipper. + +The figure shook its head. + +"Where did you come from?" he repeated, walking up, and laying his hand +on the other's shoulder. + +Then the intruder spoke, but in a strange fashion and in strange words. +We leaned forward to listen, but, even when he repeated them, we could +make nothing of them. + +"He's a furriner," said Roberts. + +"Blest if I've ever 'eard the lingo afore," said Bill. "Does anybody +rekernize it?" + +Nobody did, and the skipper, after another attempt, gave it up, and, +falling back upon the universal language of signs, pointed first to the +man and then to the sea. The other understood him, and, in a heavy, +slovenly fashion, portrayed a man drifting in an open boat, and clutching +and clambering up the side of a passing ship. As his meaning dawned upon +us, we rushed to the stern, and, leaning over, peered into the gloom, but +the night was dark, and we saw nothing. + +"Well," said the skipper, turning to Bill, with a mighty yawn, "take him +below, and give him some grub, and the next time a gentleman calls on +you, don't make such a confounded row about it." + +He went below, followed by the mate, and after some slight hesitation, +Roberts stepped up to the intruder, and signed to him to follow. He came +stolidly enough, leaving a trail of water on the deck, and, after +changing into the dry things we gave him, fell to, but without much +appearance of hunger, upon some salt beef and biscuits, regarding us +between bites with black, lack-lustre eyes. + +"He seems as though he's a-walking in his sleep," said the cook. + +"He ain't very hungry," said one of the men; "he seems to mumble his +food." + +"Hungry!" repeated Bill, who had just left the wheel. "Course he ain't +famished. He had his tea last night." + +The men stared at him in bewilderment. + +"Don't you see?" said Bill, still in a hoarse whisper; "ain't you ever +seen them eyes afore? Don't you know what he used to say about dying? +It's Jem Dadd come back to us. Jem Dadd got another man's body, as he +always said he would." + +"Rot!" said Roberts, trying to speak bravely, but he got up, and, with +the others, huddled together at the end of the fo'c's'le, and stared in a +bewildered fashion at the sodden face and short, squat figure of our +visitor. For his part, having finished his meal, he pushed his plate +from him, and, leaning back on the locker, looked at the empty bunks. + +Roberts caught his eye, and, with a nod and a wave of his hand, indicated +the bunks. The fellow rose from the locker, and, amid a breathless +silence, climbed into one of them--Jem Dadd's! + +He slept in the dead sailor's bed that night, the only man in the +fo'c's'le who did sleep properly, and turned out heavily and lumpishly in +the morning for breakfast. + +The skipper had him on deck after the meal, but could make nothing of +him. To all his questions he replied in the strange tongue of the night +before, and, though our fellows had been to many ports, and knew a word +or two of several languages, none of them recognized it. The skipper +gave it up at last, and, left to himself, he stared about him for some +time, regardless of our interest in his movements, and then, leaning +heavily against the side of the ship, stayed there so long that we +thought he must have fallen asleep. + +"He's half-dead now!" whispered Roberts. + +"Hush!" said Bill, "mebbe he's been in the water a week or two, and can't +quite make it out. See how he's looking at it now." + +He stayed on deck all day in the sun, but, as night came on, returned to +the warmth of the fo'c's'le. The food we gave him remained untouched, +and he took little or no notice of us, though I fancied that he saw the +fear we had of him. He slept again in the dead man's bunk, and when +morning came still lay there. + +Until dinner-time, nobody interfered with him, and then Roberts, pushed +forward by the others, approached him with some food. He motioned, it +away with a dirty, bloated hand, and, making signs for water, drank it +eagerly. + +For two days he stayed there quietly, the black eyes always open, the +stubby fingers always on the move. On the third morning Bill, who had +conquered his fear sufficiently to give him water occasionally, called +softly to us. + +"Come and look at him," said he. "What's the matter with him?" + +"He's dying!" said the cook, with a shudder. + +"He can't be going to die yet!" said Bill, blankly. + +As he spoke the man's eyes seemed to get softer and more life-like, and +he looked at us piteously and helplessly. From face to face he gazed in +mute inquiry, and then, striking his chest feebly with his fist, uttered +two words. + +We looked at each other blankly, and he repeated them eagerly, and again +touched his chest. + +"It's his name," said the cook, and we all repeated them. + +He smiled in an exhausted fashion, and then, rallying his energies, held +up a forefinger; as we stared at this new riddle, he lowered it, and held +up all four fingers, doubled. + +"Come away," quavered the cook; "he's putting a spell on us." + +We drew back at that, and back farther still, as he repeated the motions. +Then Bill's face cleared suddenly, and he stepped towards him. + +"He means his wife and younkers!" he shouted eagerly. "This ain't no Jem +Dadd!" + +It was good then to see how our fellows drew round the dying sailor, and +strove to cheer him. Bill, to show he understood the finger business, +nodded cheerily, and held his hand at four different heights from the +floor. The last was very low, so low that the man set his lips together, +and strove to turn his heavy head from us. + +"Poor devil!" said Bill, "he wants us to tell his wife and children +what's become of him. He must ha' been dying when he come aboard. What +was his name, again?" + +But the name was not easy to English lips, and we had already forgotten +it. + +"Ask him again," said the cook, "and write it down. Who's got a pen?" + +He went to look for one as Bill turned to the sailor to get him to repeat +it. Then he turned round again, and eyed us blankly, for, by this time, +the owner had himself forgotten it. + + + + + +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. + + + + + +THE TEMPTATION OF SAMUEL BURGE + +[Illustration: "The Temptation of Samuel Burge."] + +Mr. Higgs, jeweller, sat in the small parlour behind his shop, gazing +hungrily at a supper-table which had been laid some time before. It was +a quarter to ten by the small town clock on the mantelpiece, and the +jeweller rubbing his hands over the fire tried in vain to remember what +etiquette had to say about starting a meal before the arrival of an +expected guest. + +"He must be coming by the last train after all, sir," said the +housekeeper entering the room and glancing at the clock. "I suppose +these London gentlemen keep such late hours they don't understand us +country folk wanting to get to bed in decent time. You must be wanting +your supper, sir." + +Mr. Higgs sighed. "I shall be glad of my supper," he said slowly, "but I +dare say our friend is hungrier still. Travelling is hungry work." + +"Perhaps he is thinking over his words for the seventh day," said the +housekeeper solemnly. "Forgetting hunger and thirst and all our poor +earthly feelings in the blessedness of his work." + +"Perhaps so," assented the other, whose own earthly feelings were +particularly strong just at that moment. + +"Brother Simpson used to forget all about meal-times when he stayed +here," said the housekeeper, clasping her hands. "He used to sit by the +window with his eyes half-closed and shake his head at the smell from the +kitchen and call it flesh-pots of Egypt. He said that if it wasn't for +keeping up his strength for the work, luscious bread and fair water was +all he wanted. I expect Brother Burge will be a similar sort of man." + +"Brother Clark wrote and told me that he only lives for the work," said +the jeweller, with another glance at the clock. "The chapel at +Clerkenwell is crowded to hear him. It's a blessed favour and privilege +to have such a selected instrument staying in the house. I'm curious to +see him; from what Brother Clark said I rather fancy that he was a little +bit wild in his younger days." + +"Hallelujah!" exclaimed the housekeeper with fervour. "I mean to think +as he's seen the error of his ways," she added sharply, as her master +looked up. + +"There he is," said the latter, as the bell rang. + +The housekeeper went to the side-door, and drawing back the bolt admitted +the gentleman whose preaching had done so much for the small but select +sect known as the Seventh Day Primitive Apostles. She came back into the +room followed by a tall stout man, whose upper lip and short stubby beard +streaked with grey seemed a poor match for the beady eyes which lurked +behind a pair of clumsy spectacles. + +"Brother Samuel Burge?" inquired the jeweller, rising. + +The visitor nodded, and regarding him with a smile charged with fraternal +love, took his hand in a huge grip and shook it fervently. + +"I am glad to see you, Brother Higgs," he said, regarding him fondly. +"Oh, 'ow my eyes have yearned to be set upon you! Oh, 'ow my ears 'ave +longed to hearken unto the words of your voice!" + +He breathed thickly, and taking a seat sat with his hands upon his knees, +looking at a fine piece of cold beef which the housekeeper had just +placed upon the table. + +"Is Brother Clark well?" inquired the jeweller, placing a chair for him +at the table and taking up his carving-knife. + +"Dear Brother Clark is in excellent 'ealth, I thank you," said the other, +taking the proffered chair. "Oh! what a man he is; what a instrument for +good. Always stretching out them blessed hands of 'is to make one of the +fallen a Seventh Day Primitive." + +"And success attends his efforts?" said the jeweller. + +"Success, Brother!" repeated Mr. Burge, eating rapidly and gesticulating +with his knife. "Success ain't no name for it. Why, since this day last +week he has saved three pick-pockets, two Salvationists, one bigamist and +a Roman Catholic." + +Brother Higgs murmured his admiration. "You are also a power for good," +he said wistfully. "Brother Clark tells me in his letter that your +exhortations have been abundantly blessed." + +Mr. Burge shook his head. "A lot of it falls by the wayside," he said +modestly, "but some of it is an eye-opener to them as don't entirely shut +their ears. Only the day before yesterday I 'ad two jemmies and a dark +lantern sent me with a letter saying as 'ow the owner had no further use +for 'em." + +The jeweller's eyes glistened with admiration not quite untinged with +envy. "Have you expounded the Word for long?" he inquired. + +"Six months," replied the other. "It come to me quite natural--I was on +the penitent bench on the Saturday, and the Wednesday afterwards I +preached as good a sermon as ever I've preached in my life. Brother +Clark said it took 'is breath away." + +"And he's a judge too," said the admiring jeweller. + +"Now," continued Brother Burge, helping himself plentifully to pickled +walnuts. "Now there ain't standing room in our Bethel when I'm +expounding. People come to hear me from all parts--old and young--rich +and poor--and the Apostles that don't come early 'ave to stand outside +and catch the crumbs I throw 'em through the winders." + +"It is enough," sighed Brother Higgs, whose own audience was frequently +content to be on the wrong side of the window, "it is enough to make a +man vain." + +"I struggle against it, Brother," said Mr. Burge, passing his cup up for +some more tea. "I fight against it hard, but once the Evil One was +almost too much for me; and in spite of myself, and knowing besides that +it was a plot of 'is, I nearly felt uplifted." + +Brother Higgs, passing him some more beef, pressed for details. + +"He sent me two policemen," replied the other, scowling darkly at the +meanness of the trick. "One I might 'ave stood, but two come to being +pretty near too much for me. They sat under me while I gave 'em the Word +'ot and strong, and the feeling I had standing up there and telling +policemen what they ought to do I shall never forget." + +"But why should policemen make you proud?" asked his puzzled listener. + +Mr. Burge looked puzzled in his turn. "Why, hasn't Brother Clark told +you about me?" he inquired. + +Mr. Higgs shook his head. "He sort of--suggested that--that you had been +a little bit wild before you came to us," he murmured apologetically. + +"A--little--bit--wild?" repeated Brother Burge, in horrified accents. +"ME? a little bit wild?" + +"No doubt he exaggerated a little," said the jeweller hurriedly. "Being +such a good man himself, no doubt things would seem wild to him that +wouldn't to us--to me, I mean." + +"A little bit wild," said his visitor again. "Sam Burge, the Converted +Burglar, a little bit wild. Well, well!" + +"Converted what?" shouted the jeweller, half-rising from his chair. + +"Burglar," said the other shortly. "Why, I should think I know more +about the inside o' gaols than anybody in England; I've pretty near +killed three policemen, besides breaking a gent's leg and throwing a +footman out of window, and then Brother Clark goes and says I've been a +little bit wild. I wonder what he would 'ave?" + +"But you--you've quite reformed now?" said the jeweller, resuming his +seat and making a great effort to hide his consternation. + +"I 'ope so," said Mr. Burge, with alarming humility; "but it's an +uncertain world, and far be it from me to boast. That's why I've come +here." + +Mr. Higgs, only half-comprehending, sat back gasping. + +"If I can stand this," pursued Brother Burge, gesticulating wildly in the +direction of the shop, "if I can stand being here with all these 'ere +pretty little things to be 'ad for the trouble of picking of 'em up, I +can stand anything. Tempt me, I says to Brother Clark. Put me in the +way o' temptation, I says. Let me see whether the Evil One or me is the +strongest; let me 'ave a good old up and down with the Powers o' +Darkness, and see who wins." + +Mr. Higgs, gripping the edge of the table with both hands, gazed at this +new Michael in speechless consternation. + +"I think I see his face now," said Brother Burge, with tender enthusiasm. +"All in a glow it was, and he patted me on the shoulder and says, 'I'll +send you on a week's mission to Duncombe,' he says, and 'you shall stop +with Brother Higgs who 'as a shop full o' cunning wrought vanities in +silver and gold.'" + +"But suppose," said the jeweller, finding his voice by a great effort, +"suppose victory is not given unto you." + +"It won't make any difference," replied his visitor. "Brother Clark +promised that it shouldn't. 'If you fall, Brother,' he says, 'we'll help +you up again. When you are tired of sin come back to us--there's always +a welcome.'" + +"But--" began the dismayed jeweller. + +"We can only do our best," said Brother Burge, "the rest we must leave. +I 'ave girded my loins for the fray, and taken much spiritual sustenance +on the way down from this little hymn-book." + +Mr. Higgs paid no heed. He sat marvelling over the fatuousness of +Brother Clark and trying to think of ways and means out of the dilemma +into which that gentleman's perverted enthusiasm had placed him. He +wondered whether it would be possible to induce Brother Burge to sleep +elsewhere by offering to bear his hotel expenses, and at last, after some +hesitation, broached the subject. + +"What!" exclaimed the other, pushing his plate from him and regarding him +with great severity. "Go and sleep at a hotel? After Brother Clark has +been and took all this trouble? Why, I wouldn't think of doing such a +thing." + +"Brother Clark has no right to expose you to such a trial," said Mr. +Higgs with great warmth. + +"I wonder what he'd say if he 'eard you," remarked Mr. Burge sternly. +"After his going and making all these arrangements, for you to try and go +and upset 'em. To ask me to shun the fight like a coward; to ask me to +go and hide in the rear-ranks in a hotel with everything locked up, or a +Coffer Pallis with nothing to steal." + +"I should sleep far more comfortably if I knew that you were not +undergoing this tremendous strain," said the unhappy Mr. Higgs, "and +besides that, if you did give way, it would be a serious business for me +--that's what I want you to look at. I am afraid that if--if unhappily +you did fall, I couldn't prevent you." + +"I'm sure you couldn't," said the other cordially. "That's the beauty of +it; that's when the Evil One's whispers get louder and louder. Why, I +could choke you between my finger and thumb. If unfortunately my fallen +nature should be too strong for me, don't interfere whatever you do. I +mightn't be myself." + +Mr. Higgs rose and faced him gasping. + +"Not even--call for--the police--I suppose," he jerked out. + +"That would be interfering," said Brother Burge coldly. + +The jeweller tried to think. It was past eleven. The housekeeper had +gone to spend the night with an ailing sister, and a furtive glance at +Brother Burge's small shifty eyes and fat unwholesome face was sufficient +to deter him from leaving him alone with his property, while he went to +ask the police to give an eye to his house for the night. Besides, it +was more than probable that Mr. Burge would decline to allow such a +proceeding. With a growing sense of his peril he resolved to try +flattery. + +"It was a great thing for the Brethren to secure a man like you," he +said. + +"I never thought they'd ha' done it," said Mr. Burge frankly. "I've 'ad +all sorts trying to convert me; crying over me and praying over me. I +remember the first dear good man that called me a lorst lamb. He didn't +say anything else for a month." + +"So upset," hazarded the jeweller. + +"I broke his jor, pore feller," said Brother Burge, a sad but withal +indulgent smile lighting up his face at the vagaries of his former +career. "What time do you go to bed, Brother?" + +"Any time," said the other reluctantly. "I suppose you are tired with +your journey?" + +Mr. Burge assented, and rising from his chair yawned loudly and stretched +himself. In the small room with his huge arms raised he looked colossal. + +"I suppose," said the jeweller, still seeking to re-assure himself, "I +suppose dear Brother Clark felt pretty certain of you, else he wouldn't +have sent you here?" + +"Brother Clark said 'What is a jeweller's shop compared with a 'uman +soul, a priceless 'uman soul?'" replied Mr. Burge. "What is a few +gew-gaws to decorate them that perish, and make them vain, when you come +to consider the opportunity of such a trial, and the good it'll do and +the draw it'll be--if I do win--and testify to the congregation to that +effect? Why, there's sermons for a lifetime in it." + +"So there is," said the jeweller, trying to look cheerful. "You've got a +good face, Brother Burge, and you'll do a lot of good by your preaching. +There is honesty written in every feature." + +Mr. Burge turned and surveyed himself in the small pier-glass. "Yes," he +said, somewhat discontentedly, "I don't look enough like a burglar to +suit some of 'em." + +"Some people are hard to please," said the other warmly. + +Mr. Burge started and eyed him thoughtfully, and then as Mr. Higgs after +some hesitation walked into the shop to turn the gas out, stood in the +doorway watching him. A smothered sigh as he glanced round the shop bore +witness to the state of his feelings. + +The jeweller hesitated again in the parlour, and then handing Brother +Burge his candle turned out the gas, and led the way slowly upstairs to +the room which had been prepared for the honoured visitor. He shook +hands at the door and bade him an effusive good-night, his voice +trembling despite himself as he expressed a hope that Mr. Burge would +sleep well. He added casually that he himself was a very light sleeper. + +To-night sleep of any kind was impossible. He had given up the front +room to his guest, and his own window looked out on an over-grown garden. +He sat trying to read, with his ears alert for the slightest sound. +Brother Burge seemed to be a long time undressing. For half an hour +after he had retired he could hear him moving restlessly about his room. + +Twelve o'clock struck from the tower of the parish church, and was +followed almost directly by the tall clock standing in the hall +down-stairs. Scarcely had the sounds died away than a low moaning from +the next room caused the affrighted jeweller to start from his chair and +place his ear against the wall. Two or three hollow groans came through +the plaster, followed by ejaculations which showed clearly that Brother +Burge was at that moment engaged in a terrified combat with the Powers +of Darkness to decide whether he should, or should not, rifle his host's +shop. His hands clenched and his ear pressed close to the wall, the +jeweller listened to a monologue which increased in interest with every +word. + +"I tell you I won't," said the voice in the next room with a groan, "I +won't. Get thee behind me--Get thee--No, and don't shove me over to the +door; if you can't get behind me without doing that, stay where you are. +Yes, I know it's a fortune as well as what you do; but it ain't mine." + +The listener caught his breath painfully. + +"Diamond rings," continued Brother Burge in a suffocating voice. "Stop +it, I tell you. No, I won't just go and look at 'em." + +A series of groans which the jeweller noticed to his horror got weaker +and weaker testified to the greatness of the temptation. He heard +Brother Burge rise, and then a succession of panting snarls seemed to +indicate a fierce bodily encounter. + +"I don't--want to look at 'em," said Brother Burge in an exhausted voice. +"What's--the good of--looking at 'em? It's like you, you know diamonds +are my weakness. What does it matter if he is asleep? What's my knife +got to do with you?" + +Brother Higgs reeled back and a mist passed before his eyes. He came to +himself at the sound of a door opening, and impelled with a vague idea of +defending his property, snatched up his candle and looked out on to the +landing. + +The light fell on Brother Burge, fully dressed and holding his boots in +his hand. For a moment they gazed at each other in silence; then the +jeweller found his voice. + +"I thought you were ill, Brother," he faltered. + +An ugly scowl lit up the other's features. "Don't you tell me any of +your lies," he said fiercely. "You're watching me; that's what you're +doing. Spying on me." + +"I thought that you were being tempted," confessed the trembling Mr. +Higgs. + +An expression of satisfaction which he strove to suppress appeared on Mr. +Burge's face. + +"So I was," he said sternly. "So I was; but that's my business. I don't +want your assistance; I can fight my own battles. You go to bed--I'm +going to tell the congregation I won the fight single-'anded." + +"So you have, Brother," said the other eagerly; "but it's doing me good +to see it. It's a lesson to me; a lesson to all of us the way you +wrestled." + +"I thought you was asleep," growled Brother Burge, turning back to his +room and speaking over his shoulder. "You get back to bed; the fight +ain't half over yet. Get back to bed and keep quiet." + +The door closed behind him, and Mr. Higgs, still trembling, regained his +room and looked in agony at the clock. It was only half-past twelve and +the sun did not rise until six. He sat and shivered until a second +instalment of groans in the next room brought him in desperation to his +feet. + +Brother Burge was in the toils again, and the jeweller despite his fears +could not help realizing what a sensation the story of his temptation +would create. Brother Burge was now going round and round his room like +an animal in a cage, and sounds as of a soul wrought almost beyond +endurance smote upon the listener's quivering ear. Then there was a long +silence more alarming even than the noise of the conflict. Had Brother +Burge won, and was he now sleeping the sleep of the righteous, or---- +Mr. Higgs shivered and put his other ear to the wall. Then he heard his +guest move stealthily across the floor; the boards creaked and the handle +of the door turned. + +Mr. Higgs started, and with a sudden flash of courage born of anger and +desperation seized a small brass poker from the fire-place, and taking +the candle in his other hand went out on to the landing again. Brother +Burge was closing his door softly, and his face when he turned it upon +the jeweller was terrible in its wrath. His small eyes snapped with +fury, and his huge hands opened and shut convulsively. + +"What, agin!" he said in a low growl. "After all I told you!" + +Mr. Higgs backed slowly as he advanced. + +"No noise," said Mr. Burge in a dreadful whisper. "One scream and I'll-- +What were you going to do with that poker?" + +He took a stealthy step forward. + +"I--I," began the jeweller. His voice failed him. "Burglars," he +mouthed, "downstairs." + +"What?" said the other, pausing. + +Mr. Higgs threw truth to the winds. "I heard them in the shop," he said, +recovering, "that's why I took up the poker. Can't you hear them?" + +Mr. Burge listened for the fraction of a second. "Nonsense," he said +huskily. + +"I heard them talking," said the other recklessly. "Let's go down and +call the police." + +"Call 'em from the winder," said Brother Burge, backing with some haste, +"they might 'ave pistols or something, and they're ugly customers when +they're disturbed." + +He stood with strained face listening. + +"Here they come," whispered the jeweller with a sudden movement of alarm. + +Brother Burge turned, and bolting into his room clapped the door to and +locked it. The jeweller stood dumbfounded on the landing; then he heard +the window go up and the voice of Brother Burge, much strengthened by the +religious exercises of the past six months, bellowing lustily for the +police. + +For a few seconds Mr. Higgs stood listening and wondering what +explanation he should give. Still thinking, he ran downstairs, and, +throwing open the pantry window, unlocked the door leading into the shop +and scattered a few of his cherished possessions about the floor. By the +time he had done this, people were already beating upon the street-door +and exchanging hurried remarks with Mr. Burge at the window above. The +jeweller shot back the bolts, and half-a-dozen neighbours, headed by the +butcher opposite, clad in his nightgown and armed with a cleaver, burst +into the passage. A constable came running up just as the pallid face of +Brother Burge peered over the balusters. The constable went upstairs +three at a time, and twisting his hand in the ex-burglar's neck-cloth +bore him backwards. + +"I've got one," he shouted. "Come up and hold him while I look round." + +The butcher was beside him in a moment; Brother Burge struggling wildly, +called loudly upon the name of Brother Higgs. + +"That's all right, constable," said the latter, "that's a friend of +mine." + +"Friend o' yours, sir?" said the disappointed officer, still holding him. + +The jeweller nodded. "Mr. Samuel Burge the Converted Burglar," he said +mechanically. + +"Conver----" gasped the astonished constable. "Converted burglar? +Here!" + +"He is a preacher now," added Mr. Higgs. + +"Preacher?" retorted the constable. "Why it's as plain as a pikestaff. +Confederates: his part was to go down and let 'em in." + +Mr. Burge raised a piteous outcry. "I hope you may be forgiven for them +words," he cried piously. + +"What time did you go up to bed?" pursued the constable. + +"About half-past eleven," replied Mr. Higgs. + +The other grunted with satisfaction. "And he's fully dressed, with his +boots off," he remarked. "Did you hear him go out of his room at all?" + +"He did go out," said the jeweller truth-fully, "but----" + +"I thought so," said the constable, turning to his prisoner with +affectionate solicitude. "Now you come along o' me. Come quietly, +because it'll be the best for you in the end." + +"You won't get your skull split open then," added the butcher, toying +with his cleaver. + +The jeweller hesitated. He had no desire to be left alone with Mr. Burge +again; and a sense of humour, which many years' association with the +Primitive Apostles had not quite eradicated, strove for hearing. + +"Think of the sermon it'll make," he said encouragingly to the frantic +Mr. Burge, "think of the congregation!" + +Brother Burge replied in language which he had not used in public since +he had joined the Apostles. The butcher and another man stood guard over +him while the constable searched the premises and made all secure again. +Then with a final appeal to Mr. Higgs who was keeping in the background, +he was pitched to the police-station by the energetic constable and five +zealous assistants. + +A diffidence, natural in the circumstances, prevented him from narrating +the story of his temptation to the magistrates next morning, and Mr. +Higgs was equally reticent. He was put back while the police +communicated with London, and in the meantime Brother Clark and a band +of Apostles flanked down to his support. + +On his second appearance before the magistrates he was confronted with +his past; and his past to the great astonishment of the Brethren being +free from all blemish with the solitary exception of fourteen days for +stealing milk-cans, he was discharged with a caution. The disillusioned +Primitive Apostles also gave him his freedom. + + + + + +THE MADNESS OF MR. LISTER + +[Illustration: "The Madness of Mr. Lister."] + +Old Jem Lister, of the _Susannah,_ was possessed of two devils--the love +of strong drink and avarice--and the only thing the twain had in common +was to get a drink without paying for it. When Mr. Lister paid for a +drink, the demon of avarice masquerading as conscience preached a +teetotal lecture, and when he showed signs of profiting by it, the demon +of drink would send him hanging round public-house doors cadging for +drinks in a way which his shipmates regarded as a slur upon the entire +ship's company. Many a healthy thirst reared on salt beef and tickled +with strong tobacco had been spoiled by the sight of Mr. Lister standing +by the entrance, with a propitiatory smile, waiting to be invited in to +share it, and on one occasion they had even seen him (him, Jem Lister, +A.B.) holding a horse's head, with ulterior motives. + +It was pointed out to Mr. Lister at last that his conduct was reflecting +discredit upon men who were fully able to look after themselves in that +direction, without having any additional burden thrust upon them. Bill +Henshaw was the spokesman, and on the score of violence (miscalled +firmness) his remarks left little to be desired. On the score of +profanity, Bill might recall with pride that in the opinion of his +fellows he had left nothing unsaid. + +"You ought to ha' been a member o' Parliament, Bill," said Harry Lea, +when he had finished. + +"It wants money," said Henshaw, shaking his head. + +Mr. Lister laughed, a senile laugh, but not lacking in venom. + +"That's what we've got to say," said Henshaw, turning upon him suddenly. +"If there's anything I hate in this world, it's a drinking miser. You +know our opinion, and the best thing you can do is to turn over a new +leaf now." + +"Take us all in to the Goat and Compasses," urged Lea; "bring out some o' +those sovrins you've been hoarding." + +Mr. Lister gazed at him with frigid scorn, and finding that the +conversation still seemed to centre round his unworthy person, went up on +deck and sat glowering over the insults which had been heaped upon him. +His futile wrath when Bill dogged his footsteps ashore next day and +revealed his character to a bibulous individual whom he had almost +persuaded to be a Christian--from his point of view--bordered upon the +maudlin, and he wandered back to the ship, wild-eyed and dry of throat. + +For the next two months it was safe to say that every drink he had he +paid for. His eyes got brighter and his complexion clearer, nor was +he as pleased as one of the other sex might have been when the +self-satisfied Henshaw pointed out these improvements to his companions, +and claimed entire responsibility for them. It is probable that Mr. +Lister, under these circumstances, might in time have lived down his +taste for strong drink, but that at just that time they shipped a new +cook. + +He was a big, cadaverous young fellow, who looked too closely after his +own interests to be much of a favourite with the other men forward. On +the score of thrift, it was soon discovered that he and Mr. Lister had +much in common, and the latter, pleased to find a congenial spirit, was +disposed to make the most of him, and spent, despite the heat, much of +his spare time in the galley. + +"You keep to it," said the greybeard impressively; "money was made to be +took care of; if you don't spend your money you've always got it. I've +always been a saving man--what's the result?" + +The cook, waiting some time in patience to be told, gently inquired what +it was. + +"'Ere am I," said Mr. Lister, good-naturedly helping him to cut a +cabbage, "at the age of sixty-two with a bank-book down below in my +chest, with one hundered an' ninety pounds odd in it." + +"One 'undered and ninety pounds!" repeated the cook, with awe. + +"To say nothing of other things," continued Mr. Lister, with joyful +appreciation of the effect he was producing. "Altogether I've got a +little over four 'undered pounds." + +The cook gasped, and with gentle firmness took the cabbage from him as +being unfit work for a man of such wealth. + +"It's very nice," he said, slowly. "It's very nice. You'll be able to +live on it in your old age." + +Mr. Lister shook his head mournfully, and his eyes became humid. + +"There's no old age for me," he said, sadly; "but you needn't tell them," +and he jerked his thumb towards the forecastle. + +"No, no," said the cook. + +"I've never been one to talk over my affairs," said Mr. Lister, in a low +voice. "I've never yet took fancy enough to anybody so to do. No, my +lad, I'm saving up for somebody else." + +"What are you going to live on when you're past work then?" demanded the +other. + +Mr. Lister took him gently by the sleeve, and his voice sank with the +solemnity of his subject: "I'm not going to have no old age," he said, +resignedly. + +"Not going to live!" repeated the cook, gazing uneasily at a knife by his +side. "How do you know?" + +"I went to a orsepittle in London," said Mr. Lister. "I've been to two +or three altogether, while the money I've spent on doctors is more than I +like to think of, and they're all surprised to think that I've lived so +long. I'm so chock-full o' complaints, that they tell me I can't live +more than two years, and I might go off at any moment." + +"Well, you've got money," said the cook, "why don't you knock off work +now and spend the evenin' of your life ashore? Why should you save up +for your relatives?" + +"I've got no relatives," said Mr. Lister; "I'm all alone. I 'spose I +shall leave my money to some nice young feller, and I hope it'll do 'im +good." + +With the dazzling thoughts which flashed through the cook's brain the +cabbage dropped violently into the saucepan, and a shower of cooling +drops fell on both men. + +"I 'spose you take medicine?" he said, at length. + +"A little rum," said Mr. Lister, faintly; "the doctors tell me that it is +the only thing that keeps me up--o' course, the chaps down there "--he +indicated the forecastle again with a jerk of his head--"accuse me o' +taking too much." + +"What do ye take any notice of 'em for?" inquired the other, indignantly. + +"I 'spose it is foolish," admitted Mr. Lister; "but I don't like being +misunderstood. I keep my troubles to myself as a rule, cook. I don't +know what's made me talk to you like this. I 'eard the other day you was +keeping company with a young woman." + +"Well, I won't say as I ain't," replied the other, busying himself over +the fire. + +"An' the best thing, too, my lad," said the old man, warmly. "It keeps +you stiddy, keeps you out of public-'ouses; not as they ain't good in +moderation--I 'ope you'll be 'appy." + +A friendship sprang up between the two men which puzzled the remainder +of the crew not a little. + +The cook thanked him, and noticed that Mr. Lister was fidgeting with a +piece of paper. + +"A little something I wrote the other day," said the old man, catching +his eye. "If I let you see it, will you promise not to tell a soul about +it, and not to give me no thanks?" + +The wondering cook promised, and, the old man being somewhat emphatic on +the subject, backed his promise with a home made affidavit of singular +power and profanity. + +"Here it is, then," said Mr. Lister. + +The cook took the paper, and as he read the letters danced before him. +He blinked his eyes and started again, slowly. In plain black and white +and nondescript-coloured finger-marks, Mr. Lister, after a general +statement as to his bodily and mental health, left the whole of his +estate to the cook. The will was properly dated and witnessed, and the +cook's voice shook with excitement and emotion as he offered to hand it +back. + +"I don't know what I've done for you to do this," he said. + +Mr. Lister waved it away again. "Keep it," he said, simply; "while +you've got it on you, you'll know it's safe." + +From this moment a friendship sprang up between the two men which puzzled +the remainder of the crew not a little. The attitude of the cook was as +that of a son to a father: the benignancy of Mr. Lister beautiful to +behold. It was noticed, too, that he had abandoned the reprehensible +practice of hanging round tavern doors in favour of going inside and +drinking the cook's health. + +[Illustration: "A friendship sprang up between the two men which puzzled +the remainder of the crew not a little."] + +For about six months the cook, although always in somewhat straitened +circumstances, was well content with the tacit bargain, and then, bit by +bit, the character of Mr. Lister was revealed to him. It was not a nice +character, but subtle; and when he made the startling discovery that a +will could be rendered invalid by the simple process of making another +one the next day, he became as a man possessed. When he ascertained that +Mr. Lister when at home had free quarters at the house of a married +niece, he used to sit about alone, and try and think of ways and means of +securing capital sunk in a concern which seemed to show no signs of being +wound-up. + +"I've got a touch of the 'art again, lad," said the elderly invalid, as +they sat alone in the forecastle one night at Seacole. + +"You move about too much," said the cook. "Why not turn in and rest?" + +Mr. Lister, who had not expected this, fidgeted. "I think I'll go ashore +a bit and try the air," he said, suggestively. "I'll just go as far as +the Black Horse and back. You won't have me long now, my lad." + +"No, I know," said the cook; "that's what's worrying me a bit." +"Don't worry about me," said the old man, pausing with his hand on the +other's shoulder; "I'm not worth it. Don't look so glum, lad." + +"I've got something on my mind, Jem," said the cook, staring straight in +front of him. + +"What is it?" inquired Mr. Lister. + +"You know what you told me about those pains in your inside?" said the +cook, without looking at him. + +Jem groaned and felt his side. + +"And what you said about its being a relief to die," continued the other, +"only you was afraid to commit suicide?" + +"Well?" said Mr. Lister. + +"It used to worry me," continued the cook, earnestly. "I used to say to +myself, 'Poor old Jem,' I ses, 'why should 'e suffer like this when he +wants to die? It seemed 'ard.'" + +"It is 'ard," said Mr. Lister, "but what about it?" + +The other made no reply, but looking at him for the first time, surveyed +him with a troubled expression. + +"What about it?" repeated Mr. Lister, with some emphasis. + +"You did say you wanted to die, didn't you?" said the cook. "Now +suppose suppose----" + +"Suppose what?" inquired the old man, sharply. "Why don't you say what +you're agoing to say?" + +"Suppose," said the cook, "some one what liked you, Jem--what liked you, +mind--'eard you say this over and over again, an' see you sufferin' and +'eard you groanin' and not able to do nothin' for you except lend you a +few shillings here and there for medicine, or stand you a few glasses o' +rum; suppose they knew a chap in a chemist's shop?" + +"Suppose they did?" said the other, turning pale. + +"A chap what knows all about p'isons," continued the cook, "p'isons what +a man can take without knowing it in 'is grub. Would it be wrong, do you +think, if that friend I was speaking about put it in your food to put you +out of your misery?" + +"Wrong," said Mr. Lister, with glassy eyes. "Wrong. Look 'ere, cook--" + +"I don't mean anything to give him pain," said the other, waving his +hand; "you ain't felt no pain lately, 'ave you, Jem?" + +"Do you mean to say," shouted Mr. Lister. + +"I don't mean to say anything," said the cook. "Answer my question. You +ain't felt no pain lately, 'ave you?" + +"Have--you--been--putting--p'ison--in--my--wittles?" demanded Mr. Lister, +in trembling accents. + +"If I 'ad, Jem, supposin' that I 'ad," said the cook, in accents of +reproachful surprise, "do you mean to say that you'd mind?" + +"MIND," said Mr. Lister, with fervour. "I'd 'ave you 'ung!" + +"But you said you wanted to die," said the surprised cook. + +Mr. Lister swore at him with startling vigour. "I'll 'ave you 'ung," he +repeated, wildly. + +"Me," said the cook, artlessly. "What for?" + +"For giving me p'ison," said Mr. Lister, frantically. "Do you think you +can deceive me by your roundabouts? Do you think I can't see through +you?" + +The other with a sphinx-like smile sat unmoved. "Prove it," he said, +darkly. "But supposin' if anybody 'ad been givin' you p'ison, would you +like to take something to prevent its acting?" + +"I'd take gallons of it," said Mr. Lister, feverishly. + +The other sat pondering, while the old man watched him anxiously. "It's +a pity you don't know your own mind, Jem," he said, at length; "still, +you know your own business best. But it's very expensive stuff." + +"How much?" inquired the other. + +"Well, they won't sell more than two shillings-worth at a time," said the +cook, trying to speak carelessly, "but if you like to let me 'ave the +money, I'll go ashore to the chemist's and get the first lot now." + +Mr. Lister's face was a study in emotions, which the other tried in vain +to decipher. + +Then he slowly extracted the amount from his trousers-pocket, and handed +it over with-out a word. + +"I'll go at once," said the cook, with a little feeling, "and I'll never +take a man at his word again, Jem." + +He ran blithely up on deck, and stepping ashore, spat on the coins for +luck and dropped them in his pocket. Down below, Mr. Lister, with his +chin in his hand, sat in a state of mind pretty evenly divided between +rage and fear. + +The cook, who was in no mood for company, missed the rest of the crew by +two public-houses, and having purchased a baby's teething powder and +removed the label, had a congratulatory drink or two before going on +board again. A chatter of voices from the forecastle warned him that the +crew had returned, but the tongues ceased abruptly as he descended, and +three pairs of eyes surveyed him in grim silence. + +"What's up?" he demanded. + +"Wot 'ave you been doin' to poor old Jem?" demanded Henshaw, sternly. + +"Nothin'," said the other, shortly. + +"You ain't been p'isoning 'im?" demanded Henshaw. + +"Certainly not," said the cook, emphatically. + +"He ses you told 'im you p'isoned 'im," said Henshaw, solemnly, "and 'e +give you two shillings to get something to cure 'im. It's too late now." + +"What?" stammered the bewildered cook. He looked round anxiously at the +men. + +They were all very grave, and the silence became oppressive. +"Where is he?" he demanded. + +Henshaw and the others exchanged glances. "He's gone mad," said he, +slowly. + +"Mad?" repeated the horrified cook, and, seeing the aversion of the crew, +in a broken voice he narrated the way in which he had been victimized. + +"Well, you've done it now," said Henshaw, when he had finished. "He's +gone right orf 'is 'ed." + +"Where is he?" inquired the cook. + +"Where you can't follow him," said the other, slowly. + +"Heaven?" hazarded the unfortunate cook. "No; skipper's bunk," said Lea. + +"Oh, can't I foller 'im?" said the cook, starting up. "I'll soon 'ave +'im out o' that." + +"Better leave 'im alone," said Henshaw. "He was that wild we couldn't do +nothing with 'im, singing an' larfin' and crying all together--I +certainly thought he was p'isoned." + +"I'll swear I ain't touched him," said the cook. + +"Well, you've upset his reason," said Henshaw; "there'll be an awful row +when the skipper comes aboard and finds 'im in 'is bed. + +"'Well, come an' 'elp me to get 'im out," said the cook. + +"I ain't going to be mixed up in it," said Henshaw, shaking his head. + +"Don't you, Bill," said the other two. + +"Wot the skipper'll say I don't know," said Henshaw; "anyway, it'll be +said to you, not----" + +"I'll go and get 'im out if 'e was five madmen," said the cook, +compressing his lips. + +"You'll harve to carry 'im out, then," said Henshaw. "I don't wish you +no 'arm, cook, and perhaps it would be as well to get 'im out afore the +skipper or mate comes aboard. If it was me, I know what I should do." + +"What?" inquired the cook, breathlessly. + +"Draw a sack over his head," said Henshaw, impressively; "he'll scream +like blazes as soon as you touch him, and rouse the folks ashore if you +don't. Besides that, if you draw it well down it'll keep his arms fast." + +The cook thanked him fervently, and routing out a sack, rushed hastily on +deck, his departure being the signal for Mr. Henshaw and his friends to +make preparations for retiring for the night so hastily as almost to +savour of panic. + +The cook, after a hasty glance ashore, went softly below with the sack +over his arm and felt his way in the darkness to the skipper's bunk. The +sound of deep and regular breathing reassured him, and without undue +haste he opened the mouth of the sack and gently raised the sleeper's +head. + +"Eh? Wha----" began a sleepy voice. + +The next moment the cook had bagged him, and gripping him tightly round +the middle, turned a deaf ear to the smothered cries of his victim as he +strove to lift him out of the bunk. In the exciting time which followed, +he had more than one reason for thinking that he had caught a centipede. + +"Now, you keep still," he cried, breathlessly. "I'm not going to hurt +you." + +He got his burden out of bed at last, and staggered to the foot of the +companion-ladder with it. Then there was a halt, two legs sticking +obstinately across the narrow way and refusing to be moved, while a +furious humming proceeded from the other end of the sack. + +Four times did the exhausted cook get his shoulder under his burden and +try and push it up the ladder, and four times did it wriggle and fight +its way down again. Half crazy with fear and rage, he essayed it for the +fifth time, and had got it half-way up when there was a sudden +exclamation of surprise from above, and the voice of the mate sharply +demanding an explanation. + +"What the blazes are you up to?" he cried. + +"It's all right, sir," said the panting cook; "old Jem's had a drop too +much and got down aft, and I'm getting 'im for'ard again." + +"Jem?" said the astonished mate. "Why, he's sitting up here on the +fore-hatch. He came aboard with me." + +"Sitting," began the horrified cook; "sit--oh, lor!" + +He stood with his writhing burden wedged between his body and the ladder, +and looked up despairingly at the mate. + +"I'm afraid I've made a mistake," he said in a trembling voice. + +The mate struck a match and looked down. + +"Take that sack off," he demanded, sternly. + +The cook placed his burden upon its feet, and running up the ladder stood +by the mate shivering. The latter struck another match, and the twain +watched in breathless silence the writhings of the strange creature below +as the covering worked slowly upwards. In the fourth match it got free, +and revealed the empurpled visage of the master of the _Susannah_. For +the fraction of a second the cook gazed at him in speechless horror, and +then, with a hopeless cry, sprang ashore and ran for it, hotly pursued by +his enraged victim. At the time of sailing he was still absent, and the +skipper, loth to part two such friends, sent Mr. James Lister, at the +urgent request of the anxious crew, to look for him. + + + + + +THE WHITE CAT + +[Illustration: "The White Cat."] + +The traveller stood looking from the tap-room window of the _Cauliflower_ +at the falling rain. The village street below was empty, and everything +was quiet with the exception of the garrulous old man smoking with much +enjoyment on the settle behind him. + +"It'll do a power o' good," said the ancient, craning his neck round the +edge of the settle and turning a bleared eye on the window. "I ain't +like some folk; I never did mind a drop o' rain." + +The traveller grunted and, returning to the settle opposite the old man, +fell to lazily stroking a cat which had strolled in attracted by the +warmth of the small fire which smouldered in the grate. + +"He's a good mouser," said the old man, "but I expect that Smith the +landlord would sell 'im to anybody for arf a crown; but we 'ad a cat in +Claybury once that you couldn't ha' bought for a hundred golden +sovereigns." + +The traveller continued to caress the cat. + +"A white cat, with one yaller eye and one blue one," continued the old +man. "It sounds queer, but it's as true as I sit 'ere wishing that I 'ad +another mug o' ale as good as the last you gave me." + +The traveller, with a start that upset the cat's nerves, finished his own +mug, and then ordered both to be refilled. He stirred the fire into a +blaze, and, lighting his pipe and putting one foot on to the hob, +prepared to listen. + +It used to belong to old man Clark, young Joe Clark's uncle, said the +ancient, smacking his lips delicately over the ale and extending a +tremulous claw to the tobacco-pouch pushed towards him; and he was never +tired of showing it off to people. He used to call it 'is blue-eyed +darling, and the fuss 'e made o' that cat was sinful. + +Young Joe Clark couldn't bear it, but being down in 'is uncle's will for +five cottages and a bit o' land bringing in about forty pounds a year, he +'ad to 'ide his feelings and pretend as he loved it. He used to take it +little drops o' cream and tit-bits o' meat, and old Clark was so pleased +that 'e promised 'im that he should 'ave the cat along with all the other +property when 'e was dead. + +Young Joe said he couldn't thank 'im enough, and the old man, who 'ad +been ailing a long time, made 'im come up every day to teach 'im 'ow to +take care of it arter he was gone. He taught Joe 'ow to cook its meat +and then chop it up fine; 'ow it liked a clean saucer every time for its +milk; and 'ow he wasn't to make a noise when it was asleep. + +"Take care your children don't worry it, Joe," he ses one day, very +sharp. "One o' your boys was pulling its tail this morning, and I want +you to clump his 'ead for 'im." + +"Which one was it?" ses Joe. + +"The slobbery-nosed one," ses old Clark. + +"I'll give 'im a clout as soon as I get 'ome," ses Joe, who was very fond +of 'is children. + +"Go and fetch 'im and do it 'ere," ses the old man; "that'll teach 'im to +love animals." + +Joe went off 'ome to fetch the boy, and arter his mother 'ad washed his +face, and wiped his nose, an' put a clean pinneyfore on 'im, he took 'im +to 'is uncle's and clouted his 'ead for 'im. Arter that Joe and 'is wife +'ad words all night long, and next morning old Clark, coming in from the +garden, was just in time to see 'im kick the cat right acrost the +kitchen. + +He could 'ardly speak for a minute, and when 'e could Joe see plain wot a +fool he'd been. Fust of all 'e called Joe every name he could think of-- +which took 'im a long time--and then he ordered 'im out of 'is house. + +"You shall 'ave my money wen your betters have done with it," he ses, +"and not afore. That's all you've done for yourself." + +Joe Clark didn't know wot he meant at the time, but when old Clark died +three months arterwards 'e found out. His uncle 'ad made a new will and +left everything to old George Barstow for as long as the cat lived, +providing that he took care of it. When the cat was dead the property +was to go to Joe. + +The cat was only two years old at the time, and George Barstow, who was +arf crazy with joy, said it shouldn't be 'is fault if it didn't live +another twenty years. + +The funny thing was the quiet way Joe Clark took it. He didn't seem to +be at all cut up about it, and when Henery Walker said it was a shame, +'e said he didn't mind, and that George Barstow was a old man, and he was +quite welcome to 'ave the property as long as the cat lived. + +"It must come to me by the time I'm an old man," he ses, "ard that's all +I care about." + +Henery Walker went off, and as 'e passed the cottage where old Clark used +to live, and which George Barstow 'ad moved into, 'e spoke to the old man +over the palings and told 'im wot Joe Clark 'ad said. George Barstow +only grunted and went on stooping and prying over 'is front garden. + +"Bin and lost something?" ses Henery Walker, watching 'im. + +"No; I'm finding," ses George Barstow, very fierce, and picking up +something. "That's the fifth bit o' powdered liver I've found in my +garden this morning." + +Henery Walker went off whistling, and the opinion he'd 'ad o' Joe Clark +began to improve. He spoke to Joe about it that arternoon, and Joe said +that if 'e ever accused 'im o' such a thing again he'd knock 'is 'ead +off. He said that he 'oped the cat 'ud live to be a hundred, and that +'e'd no more think of giving it poisoned meat than Henery Walker would of +paying for 'is drink so long as 'e could get anybody else to do it for +'im. + +They 'ad bets up at this 'ere _Cauliflower_ public-'ouse that evening as to +'ow long that cat 'ud live. Nobody gave it more than a month, and Bill +Chambers sat and thought o' so many ways o' killing it on the sly that it +was wunnerful to hear 'im. + +George Barstow took fright when he 'eard of them, and the care 'e took o' +that cat was wunnerful to behold. Arf its time it was shut up in the +back bedroom, and the other arf George Barstow was fussing arter it till +that cat got to hate 'im like pison. Instead o' giving up work as he'd +thought to do, 'e told Henery Walker that 'e'd never worked so 'ard in +his life. + +"Wot about fresh air and exercise for it?" ses Henery. + +"Wot about Joe Clark?" ses George Bar-stow. "I'm tied 'and and foot. I +dursent leave the house for a moment. I ain't been to the _Cauliflower_ +since I've 'ad it, and three times I got out o' bed last night to see if +it was safe." + +"Mark my words," ses Henery Walker; "if that cat don't 'ave exercise, +you'll lose it. + +"I shall lose it if it does 'ave exercise," ses George Barstow, "that I +know." + +He sat down thinking arter Henery Walker 'ad gone, and then he 'ad a +little collar and chain made for it, and took it out for a walk. Pretty +nearly every dog in Claybury went with 'em, and the cat was in such a +state o' mind afore they got 'ome he couldn't do anything with it. It +'ad a fit as soon as they got indoors, and George Barstow, who 'ad read +about children's fits in the almanac, gave it a warm bath. It brought it +round immediate, and then it began to tear round the room and up and +downstairs till George Barstow was afraid to go near it. + +[Illustration: "He 'ad a little collar and chain made for it, and took it +out for a walk."] + +It was so bad that evening, sneezing, that George Barstow sent for Bill +Chambers, who'd got a good name for doctoring animals, and asked 'im to +give it something. Bill said he'd got some powders at 'ome that would +cure it at once, and he went and fetched 'em and mixed one up with a bit +o' butter. + +"That's the way to give a cat medicine," he ses; "smear it with the +butter and then it'll lick it off, powder and all." + +He was just going to rub it on the cat when George Barstow caught 'old of +'is arm and stopped 'im. + +"How do I know it ain't pison?" he ses. "You're a friend o' Joe Clark's, +and for all I know he may ha' paid you to pison it." + +"I wouldn't do such a thing," ses Bill. "You ought to know me better +than that." + +"All right," ses George Barstow; "you eat it then, and I'll give you two +shillings in stead o' one. You can easy mix some more." + +"Not me," ses Bill Chambers, making a face. + +"Well, three shillings, then," ses George Barstow, getting more and more +suspicious like; "four shillings--five shillings." + +Bill Chambers shook his 'ead, and George Barstow, more and more certain +that he 'ad caught 'im trying to kill 'is cat and that 'e wouldn't eat +the stuff, rose 'im up to ten shillings. + +Bill looked at the butter and then 'e looked at the ten shillings on the +table, and at last he shut 'is eyes and gulped it down and put the money +in 'is pocket. + +"You see, I 'ave to be careful, Bill," ses George Barstow, rather upset. + +Bill Chambers didn't answer 'im. He sat there as white as a sheet, and +making such extraordinary faces that George was arf afraid of 'im. + +"Anything wrong, Bill?" he ses at last. + +Bill sat staring at 'im, and then all of a sudden he clapped 'is +'andkerchief to 'is mouth and, getting up from his chair, opened the door +and rushed out. George Barstow thought at fust that he 'ad eaten pison +for the sake o' the ten shillings, but when 'e remembered that Bill +Chambers 'ad got the most delikit stummick in Claybury he altered 'is +mind. + +The cat was better next morning, but George Barstow had 'ad such a fright +about it 'e wouldn't let it go out of 'is sight, and Joe Clark began to +think that 'e would 'ave to wait longer for that property than 'e had +thought, arter all. To 'ear 'im talk anybody'd ha' thought that 'e loved +that cat. We didn't pay much attention to it up at the _Cauliflower_ +'ere, except maybe to wink at 'im--a thing he couldn't a bear--but at +'ome, o' course, his young 'uns thought as everything he said was +Gospel; and one day, coming 'ome from work, as he was passing George +Barstow's he was paid out for his deceitfulness. + +"I've wronged you, Joe Clark," ses George Barstow, coming to the door, +"and I'm sorry for it." + +"Oh!" ses Joe, staring. + +"Give that to your little Jimmy," ses George Barstow, giving 'im a +shilling. "I've give 'im one, but I thought arterwards it wasn't +enough." + +"What for?" ses Joe, staring at 'im agin. + +"For bringing my cat 'ome," ses George Barstow. "'Ow it got out I can't +think, but I lost it for three hours, and I'd about given it up when your +little Jimmy brought it to me in 'is arms. He's a fine little chap and +'e does you credit." + +Joe Clark tried to speak, but he couldn't get a word out, and Henery +Walker, wot 'ad just come up and 'eard wot passed, took hold of 'is arm +and helped 'im home. He walked like a man in a dream, but arf-way he +stopped and cut a stick from the hedge to take 'ome to little Jimmy. He +said the boy 'ad been asking him for a stick for some time, but up till +then 'e'd always forgotten it. + +At the end o' the fust year that cat was still alive, to everybody's +surprise; but George Barstow took such care of it 'e never let it out of +'is sight. Every time 'e went out he took it with 'im in a hamper, and, +to prevent its being pisoned, he paid Isaac Sawyer, who 'ad the biggest +family in Claybury, sixpence a week to let one of 'is boys taste its milk +before it had it. + +The second year it was ill twice, but the horse-doctor that George +Barstow got for it said that it was as 'ard as nails, and with care it +might live to be twenty. He said that it wanted more fresh air and +exercise; but when he 'eard 'ow George Barstow come by it he said that +p'r'aps it would live longer indoors arter all. + +At last one day, when George Barstow 'ad been living on the fat o' the +land for nearly three years, that cat got out agin. George 'ad raised +the front-room winder two or three inches to throw something outside, +and, afore he knew wot was 'appening, the cat was out-side and going up +the road about twenty miles an hour. + +George Barstow went arter it, but he might as well ha' tried to catch the +wind. The cat was arf wild with joy at getting out agin, and he couldn't +get within arf a mile of it. + +He stayed out all day without food or drink, follering it about until it +came on dark, and then, o' course, he lost sight of it, and, hoping +against 'ope that it would come home for its food, he went 'ome and +waited for it. He sat up all night dozing in a chair in the front room +with the door left open, but it was all no use; and arter thinking for a +long time wot was best to do, he went out and told some o' the folks it +was lost and offered a reward of five pounds for it. + +You never saw such a hunt then in all your life. Nearly every man, +woman, and child in Claybury left their work or school and went to try +and earn that five pounds. By the arternoon George Barstow made it ten +pounds provided the cat was brought 'ome safe and sound, and people as +was too old to walk stood at their cottage doors to snap it up as it came +by. + +Joe Clark was hunting for it 'igh and low, and so was 'is wife and the +boys. In fact, I b'lieve that everybody in Claybury excepting the parson +and Bob Pretty was trying to get that ten pounds. + +O' course, we could understand the parson--'is pride wouldn't let 'im; +but a low, poaching, thieving rascal like Bob Pretty turning up 'is nose +at ten pounds was more than we could make out. Even on the second day, +when George Barstow made it ten pounds down and a shilling a week for a +year besides, he didn't offer to stir; all he did was to try and make fun +o' them as was looking for it. + +"Have you looked everywhere you can think of for it, Bill?" he ses to +Bill Chambers. "Yes, I 'ave," ses Bill. + +"Well, then, you want to look everywhere else," ses Bob Pretty. "I know +where I should look if I wanted to find it." + +"Why don't you find it, then?" ses Bill. + +"'Cos I don't want to make mischief," ses Bob Pretty. "I don't want to +be unneighbourly to Joe Clark by interfering at all." + +"Not for all that money?" ses Bill. + +"Not for fifty pounds," ses Bob Pretty; "you ought to know me better than +that, Bill Chambers." + +"It's my belief that you know more about where that cat is than you ought +to," ses Joe Gubbins. + +"You go on looking for it, Joe," ses Bob Pretty, grinning; "it's good +exercise for you, and you've only lost two days' work." + +"I'll give you arf a crown if you let me search your 'ouse, Bob," ses +Bill Chambers, looking at 'im very 'ard. + +"I couldn't do it at the price, Bill," ses Bob Pretty, shaking his 'ead. +"I'm a pore man, but I'm very partikler who I 'ave come into my 'ouse." + +O' course, everybody left off looking at once when they heard about Bob-- +not that they believed that he'd be such a fool as to keep the cat in his +'ouse; and that evening, as soon as it was dark, Joe Clark went round to +see 'im. + +"Don't tell me as that cat's found, Joe," ses Bob Pretty, as Joe opened +the door. + +"Not as I've 'eard of," said Joe, stepping inside. "I wanted to speak to +you about it; the sooner it's found the better I shall be pleased." + +"It does you credit, Joe Clark," ses Bob Pretty. + +"It's my belief that it's dead," ses Joe, looking at 'im very 'ard; "but +I want to make sure afore taking over the property." + +Bob Pretty looked at 'im and then he gave a little cough. "Oh, you want +it to be found dead," he ses. "Now, I wonder whether that cat's worth +most dead or alive?" + +Joe Clark coughed then. "Dead, I should think," he ses at last. +"George Barstow's just 'ad bills printed offering fifteen pounds for it," +ses Bob Pretty. + +"I'll give that or more when I come into the property," ses Joe Clark. + +"There's nothing like ready-money, though, is there?" ses Bob. + +"I'll promise it to you in writing, Bob," ses Joe, trembling. + +"There's some things that don't look well in writing, Joe," says Bob +Pretty, considering; "besides, why should you promise it to me?" + +"O' course, I meant if you found it," ses Joe. + +"Well, I'll do my best, Joe," ses Bob Pretty; "and none of us can do no +more than that, can they?" + +They sat talking and argufying over it for over an hour, and twice Bob +Pretty got up and said 'e was going to see whether George Barstow +wouldn't offer more. By the time they parted they was as thick as +thieves, and next morning Bob Pretty was wearing Joe Clark's watch and +chain, and Mrs. Pretty was up at Joe's 'ouse to see whether there was any +of 'is furniture as she 'ad a fancy for. + +She didn't seem to be able to make up 'er mind at fust between a chest o' +drawers that 'ad belonged to Joe's mother and a grand-father clock. She +walked from one to the other for about ten minutes, and then Bob, who 'ad +come in to 'elp her, told 'er to 'ave both. + +"You're quite welcome," he ses; "ain't she, Joe?" + +Joe Clark said "Yes," and arter he 'ad helped them carry 'em 'ome the +Prettys went back and took the best bedstead to pieces, cos Bob said as +it was easier to carry that way. Mrs. Clark 'ad to go and sit down at +the bottom o' the garden with the neck of 'er dress undone to give +herself air, but when she saw the little Prettys each walking 'ome with +one of 'er best chairs on their 'eads she got and walked up and down like +a mad thing. + +"I'm sure I don't know where we are to put it all," ses Bob Pretty to Joe +Gubbins, wot was looking on with other folks, "but Joe Clark is that +generous he won't 'ear of our leaving anything." + +"Has 'e gorn mad?" ses Bill Chambers, staring at 'im. + +"Not as I knows on," ses Bob Pretty. "It's 'is good-'artedness, that's +all. He feels sure that that cat's dead, and that he'll 'ave George +Barstow's cottage and furniture. I told 'im he'd better wait till he'd +made sure, but 'e wouldn't." + +Before they'd finished the Prettys 'ad picked that 'ouse as clean as a +bone, and Joe Clark 'ad to go and get clean straw for his wife and +children to sleep on; not that Mrs. Clark 'ad any sleep that night, nor +Joe neither. + +Henery Walker was the fust to see what it really meant, and he went +rushing off as fast as 'e could run to tell George Barstow. George +couldn't believe 'im at fust, but when 'e did he swore that if a 'air of +that cat's head was harmed 'e'd 'ave the law o' Bob Pretty, and arter +Henery Walker 'ad gone 'e walked round to tell 'im so. + +"You're not yourself, George Barstow, else you wouldn't try and take away +my character like that," ses Bob Pretty. + +"Wot did Joe Clark give you all them things for?" ses George, pointing to +the furniture. + +"Took a fancy to me, I s'pose," ses Bob. "People do sometimes. There's +something about me at times that makes 'em like me." + +"He gave 'em to you to kill my cat," ses George Barstow. "It's plain +enough for any-body to see." + +Bob Pretty smiled. "I expect it'll turn up safe and sound one o' these +days," he ses, "and then you'll come round and beg my pardon. P'r'aps--" + +"P'r'aps wot?" ses George Barstow, arter waiting a bit. + +"P'r'aps somebody 'as got it and is keeping it till you've drawed the +fifteen pounds out o' the bank," ses Bob, looking at 'im very hard. + +"I've taken it out o' the bank," ses George, starting; "if that cat's +alive, Bob, and you've got it, there's the fifteen pounds the moment you +'and it over." + +"Wot d'ye mean--me got it?" ses Bob Pretty. "You be careful o' my +character." + +"I mean if you know where it is," ses George Barstow trembling all over. + +"I don't say I couldn't find it, if that's wot you mean," ses Bob. "I +can gin'rally find things when I want to." + +"You find me that cat, alive and well, and the money's yours, Bob," ses +George, 'ardly able to speak, now that 'e fancied the cat was still +alive. + +Bob Pretty shook his 'ead. "No; that won't do," he ses. "S'pose I did +'ave the luck to find that pore animal, you'd say I'd had it all the time +and refuse to pay." + +"I swear I wouldn't, Bob," ses George Barstow, jumping up. + +"Best thing you can do if you want me to try and find that cat," says Bob +Pretty, "is to give me the fifteen pounds now, and I'll go and look for +it at once. I can't trust you, George Barstow." + +"And I can't trust you," ses George Barstow. + +"Very good," ses Bob, getting up; "there's no 'arm done. P'r'aps Joe +Clark 'll find the cat is dead and p'r'aps you'll find it's alive. It's +all one to me." + +George Barstow walked off 'ome, but he was in such a state o' mind 'e +didn't know wot to do. Bob Pretty turning up 'is nose at fifteen pounds +like that made 'im think that Joe Clark 'ad promised to pay 'im more if +the cat was dead; and at last, arter worrying about it for a couple o' +hours, 'e came up to this 'ere _Cauliflower_ and offered Bob the fifteen +pounds. + +"Wot's this for?" ses Bob. + +"For finding my cat," ses George. + +"Look here," ses Bob, handing it back, "I've 'ad enough o' your insults; +I don't know where your cat is." + +"I mean for trying to find it, Bob," ses George Barstow. + +"Oh, well, I don't mind that," ses Bob, taking it. "I'm a 'ard-working +man, and I've got to be paid for my time; it's on'y fair to my wife and +children. I'll start now." + +He finished up 'is beer, and while the other chaps was telling George +Barstow wot a fool he was Joe Clark slipped out arter Bob Pretty and +began to call 'im all the names he could think of. + +"Don't you worry," ses Bob; "the cat ain't found yet." + +"Is it dead?" ses Joe Clark, 'ardly able to speak. + +"'Ow should I know?" ses Bob; "that's wot I've got to try and find out. +That's wot you gave me your furniture for, and wot George Barstow gave me +the fifteen pounds for, ain't it? Now, don't you stop me now, 'cos I'm +goin' to begin looking." + +He started looking there and then, and for the next two or three days +George Barstow and Joe Clark see 'im walking up and down with his 'ands +in 'is pockets looking over garden fences and calling "Puss." He asked +everybody 'e see whether they 'ad seen a white cat with one blue eye and +one yaller one, and every time 'e came into the _Cauliflower_ he put his +'ead over the bar and called "Puss," 'cos, as 'e said, it was as likely +to be there as anywhere else. + +It was about a week after the cat 'ad disappeared that George Barstow was +standing at 'is door talking to Joe Clark, who was saying the cat must be +dead and 'e wanted 'is property, when he sees a man coming up the road +carrying a basket stop and speak to Bill Chambers. Just as 'e got near +them an awful "miaow" come from the basket and George Barstow and Joe +Clark started as if they'd been shot. + +"He's found it?" shouts Bill Chambers, pointing to the man. + +"It's been living with me over at Ling for a week pretty nearly," ses the +man. "I tried to drive it away several times, not knowing that there was +fifteen pounds offered for it." + +George Barstow tried to take 'old of the basket. + +"I want that fifteen pounds fust," ses the man. + +"That's on'y right and fair, George," ses Bob Pretty, who 'ad just come +up. "You've got all the luck, mate. We've been hunting 'igh and low for +that cat for a week." + +Then George Barstow tried to explain to the man and call Bob Pretty names +at the same time; but it was all no good. The man said it 'ad nothing to +do with 'im wot he 'ad paid to Bob Pretty; and at last they fetched +Policeman White over from Cudford, and George Barstow signed a paper to +pay five shillings a week till the reward was paid. + +George Barstow 'ad the cat for five years arter that, but he never let it +get away agin. They got to like each other in time and died within a +fortnight of each other, so that Joe Clark got 'is property arter all. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Captains All and Others, by W.W. Jacobs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAINS ALL AND OTHERS *** + +***** This file should be named 11191.txt or 11191.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.net/1/1/1/9/11191/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + http://www.gutenberg.net/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + http://www.gutenberg.net/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + http://www.gutenberg.net/GUTINDEX.ALL + + diff --git a/old/old/11191-h-2006-10-30/11191-h.htm b/old/old/11191-h-2006-10-30/11191-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd6a061 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/11191-h-2006-10-30/11191-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7087 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" + content="text/html; charset=us-ascii"> +<title> + Captains All, + by W.W. Jacobs. +</title> +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {background:#faebd7;} + * { font-family: Times; + } + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin: 15%; + margin-top: .75em; + font-size: 14pt; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; color:#A82C28;} + HR { width: 33%; } + PRE { font-family: Courier, monospaced;} + .toc { margin-left: 15%; font-size: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0em;} + CENTER { padding: 10px;} + // --> +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Captains All and Others, by W.W. Jacobs + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: Captains All and Others + +Author: W.W. Jacobs + +Release Date: October 30, 2006 [EBook #11191] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAINS ALL AND OTHERS *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1> + CAPTAINS ALL +</h1> +<br /> +<h2> + By W.W. Jacobs +</h2> +<br /><br /> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="title (79K)" src="images/title.jpg" height="884" width="533" /> +</center> +<br><br> + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="frontis (94K)" src="images/frontis.jpg" height="906" width="532" /> +</center> +<br><br> + + + +<br /><br /> +<hr> +<br /><br /> + +<h2>Contents:</h2> + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_1"> +CAPTAINS ALL +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_2"> +THE BOATSWAIN'S MATE +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_3"> +THE NEST EGG +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_4"> +THE CONSTABLE'S MOVE +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_5"> +BOB'S REDEMPTION +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_6"> +OVER THE SIDE +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_7"> +THE FOUR PIGEONS +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_8"> +THE TEMPTATION OF SAMUEL BURGE +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_9"> +THE MADNESS OF MR. LISTER +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_10"> +THE WHITE CAT +</a></p> + + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + +<br /><br /> +<hr> +<br /><br /> + +<h2>List of Illustrations</h2> + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + + +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-1"> +"Captains All." +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-2"> +"The Boatswain's Mate" +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-3"> +"'I Gives You the Two Quid Afore You Go Into The House,' +Continued the Boatswain." +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-4"> +"The Nest Egg." +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-5"> +"He Said It Was a Bad Road and A Little Shop, And 'ad Got +A Look About It he Didn't Like." +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-6"> +"The Constable's Move." +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-7"> +"Mr. Grummit, Suddenly Remembering Himself, Stopped Short +And Attacked the Bed With Extraordinary Fury." +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-8"> +"Bob's Redemption." +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-9"> +"Afore George Had Settled With the Cabman, There Was A +Policeman Moving the Crowd On." +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-10"> +"Over the Side." +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-11"> +"The Four Pigeons." +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-12"> +"The Fust Bob Pretty 'eard of It Was up at The +<i>cauliflower</i> at Eight O'clock That Evening." +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-13"> +"The Temptation of Samuel Burge." +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-14"> +"The Madness of Mr. Lister." +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-15"> +"A Friendship Sprang up Between the Two Men Which Puzzled +The Remainder of the Crew Not a Little." +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-16"> +"The White Cat." +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-17"> +"He 'ad a Little Collar and Chain Made for It, And Took It +Out for a Walk." +</a></p> + + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + +<br /><br /> +<hr> + + + + + +<a name="2H_4_1"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + CAPTAINS ALL +</h2> +<a name="image-1"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/001.jpg" height="462" width="536" +alt="'captains All.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + Every sailorman grumbles about the sea, said the night-watchman, + thoughtfully. It's human nature to grumble, and I s'pose they keep on + grumbling and sticking to it because there ain't much else they can do. + There's not many shore-going berths that a sailorman is fit for, and + those that they are—such as a night-watchman's, for instance—wants such + a good character that there's few as are to equal it. +</p> +<p> + Sometimes they get things to do ashore. I knew one man that took up + butchering, and 'e did very well at it till the police took him up. + Another man I knew gave up the sea to marry a washerwoman, and they + hadn't been married six months afore she died, and back he 'ad to go to + sea agin, pore chap. +</p> +<p> + A man who used to grumble awful about the sea was old Sam Small—a man + I've spoke of to you before. To hear 'im go on about the sea, arter he + 'ad spent four or five months' money in a fortnight, was 'artbreaking. + He used to ask us wot was going to happen to 'im in his old age, and when + we pointed out that he wouldn't be likely to 'ave any old age if he + wasn't more careful of 'imself he used to fly into a temper and call us + everything 'e could lay his tongue to. +</p> +<p> + One time when 'e was ashore with Peter Russet and Ginger Dick he seemed + to 'ave got it on the brain. He started being careful of 'is money + instead o' spending it, and three mornings running he bought a newspaper + and read the advertisements, to see whether there was any comfortable + berth for a strong, good-'arted man wot didn't like work. +</p> +<p> + He actually went arter one situation, and, if it hadn't ha' been for + seventy-nine other men, he said he believed he'd ha' had a good chance of + getting it. As it was, all 'e got was a black eye for shoving another + man, and for a day or two he was so down-'arted that 'e was no company at + all for the other two. +</p> +<p> + For three or four days 'e went out by 'imself, and then, all of a sudden, + Ginger Dick and Peter began to notice a great change in him. He seemed + to 'ave got quite cheerful and 'appy. He answered 'em back pleasant when + they spoke to 'im, and one night he lay in 'is bed whistling comic songs + until Ginger and Peter Russet 'ad to get out o' bed to him. When he + bought a new necktie and a smart cap and washed 'imself twice in one day + they fust began to ask each other wot was up, and then they asked him. +</p> +<p> + "Up?" ses Sam; "nothing." +</p> +<p> + "He's in love," ses Peter Russet. +</p> +<p> + "You're a liar," ses Sam, without turning round. +</p> +<p> + "He'll 'ave it bad at 'is age," ses Ginger. +</p> +<p> + Sam didn't say nothing, but he kept fidgeting about as though 'e'd got + something on his mind. Fust he looked out o' the winder, then he 'ummed + a tune, and at last, looking at 'em very fierce, he took a tooth-brush + wrapped in paper out of 'is pocket and began to clean 'is teeth. +</p> +<p> + "He is in love," ses Ginger, as soon as he could speak. +</p> +<p> + "Or else 'e's gorn mad," ses Peter, watching 'im. "Which is it, Sam?" +</p> +<p> + Sam made believe that he couldn't answer 'im because o' the tooth-brush, + and arter he'd finished he 'ad such a raging toothache that 'e sat in a + corner holding 'is face and looking the pictur' o' misery. They couldn't + get a word out of him till they asked 'im to go out with them, and then + he said 'e was going to bed. Twenty minutes arterwards, when Ginger Dick + stepped back for 'is pipe, he found he 'ad gorn. +</p> +<p> + He tried the same game next night, but the other two wouldn't 'ave it, + and they stayed in so long that at last 'e lost 'is temper, and, arter + wondering wot Ginger's father and mother could ha' been a-thinking about, + and saying that he believed Peter Russet 'ad been changed at birth for a + sea-sick monkey, he put on 'is cap and went out. Both of 'em follered + 'im sharp, but when he led 'em to a mission-hall, and actually went + inside, they left 'im and went off on their own. +</p> +<p> + They talked it over that night between themselves, and next evening they + went out fust and hid themselves round the corner. Ten minutes + arterwards old Sam came out, walking as though 'e was going to catch a + train; and smiling to think 'ow he 'ad shaken them off. At the corner of + Commercial Road he stopped and bought 'imself a button-hole for 'is coat, + and Ginger was so surprised that 'e pinched Peter Russet to make sure + that he wasn't dreaming. +</p> +<p> + Old Sam walked straight on whistling, and every now and then looking down + at 'is button-hole, until by-and-by he turned down a street on the right + and went into a little shop. Ginger Dick and Peter waited for 'im at the + corner, but he was inside for so long that at last they got tired o' + waiting and crept up and peeped through the winder. +</p> +<p> + It was a little tobacconist's shop, with newspapers and penny toys and + such-like; but, as far as Ginger could see through two rows o' pipes and + the Police News, it was empty. They stood there with their noses pressed + against the glass for some time, wondering wot had 'appened to Sam, but + by-and-by a little boy went in and then they began to 'ave an idea wot + Sam's little game was. +</p> +<p> + As the shop-bell went the door of a little parlour at the back of the + shop opened, and a stout and uncommon good-looking woman of about forty + came out. Her 'ead pushed the <i>Police News</i> out o' the way and her 'and + came groping into the winder arter a toy. +</p> +<p> + Ginger 'ad a good look at 'er out o' the corner of one eye, while he + pretended to be looking at a tobacco-jar with the other. As the little + boy came out 'im and Peter Russet went in. +</p> +<p> + "I want a pipe, please," he ses, smiling at 'er; "a clay pipe—one o' your + best." The woman handed 'im down a box to choose from, and just then + Peter, wot 'ad been staring in at the arf-open door at a boot wot wanted + lacing up, gave a big start and ses, "Why! Halloa!" +</p> +<p> + "Wot's the matter?" ses the woman, looking at 'im. +</p> +<p> + "I'd know that foot anywhere," ses Peter, still staring at it; and the + words was hardly out of 'is mouth afore the foot 'ad moved itself away + and tucked itself under its chair. "Why, that's my dear old friend Sam + Small, ain't it?" +</p> +<p> + "Do you know the captin?" ses the woman, smiling at 'im. +</p> +<p> + "Cap——?" ses Peter. "Cap——? Oh, yes; why, he's the biggest friend + I've got." "'Ow strange!" ses the woman. +</p> +<p> + "We've been wanting to see 'im for some time," ses Ginger. "He was kind + enough to lend me arf a crown the other day, and I've been wanting to pay + 'im." +</p> +<p> + "Captin Small," ses the woman, pushing open the door, "here's some old + friends o' yours." +</p> +<p> + Old Sam turned 'is face round and looked at 'em, and if looks could ha' + killed, as the saying is, they'd ha' been dead men there and then. +</p> +<p> + "Oh, yes," he ses, in a choking voice; "'ow are you?" +</p> +<p> + "Pretty well, thank you, captin," ses Ginger, grinning at 'im; "and 'ow's + yourself arter all this long time?" +</p> +<p> + He held out 'is hand and Sam shook it, and then shook 'ands with Peter + Russet, who was grinning so 'ard that he couldn't speak. +</p> +<p> + "These are two old friends o' mine, Mrs. Finch," ses old Sam, giving 'em + a warning look; "Captin Dick and Captin Russet, two o' the oldest and + best friends a man ever 'ad." +</p> +<p> + "Captin Dick 'as got arf a crown for you," ses Peter Russet, still + grinning. +</p> +<p> + "There now," ses Ginger, looking vexed, "if I ain't been and forgot it; + I've on'y got arf a sovereign." +</p> +<p> + "I can give you change, sir," ses Mrs. Finch. "P'r'aps you'd like to sit + down for five minutes?" +</p> +<p> + Ginger thanked 'er, and 'im and Peter Russet took a chair apiece in front + o' the fire and began asking old Sam about 'is 'ealth, and wot he'd been + doing since they saw 'im last. +</p> +<p> + "Fancy your reckernizing his foot," ses Mrs. Finch, coming in with the + change. +</p> +<p> + "I'd know it anywhere," ses Peter, who was watching Ginger pretending to + give Sam Small the 'arf-dollar, and Sam pretending in a most lifelike + manner to take it. +</p> +<p> + Ginger Dick looked round the room. It was a comfortable little place, + with pictures on the walls and antimacassars on all the chairs, and a row + of pink vases on the mantelpiece. Then 'e looked at Mrs. Finch, and + thought wot a nice-looking woman she was. +</p> +<p> + "This is nicer than being aboard ship with a crew o' nasty, troublesome + sailormen to look arter, Captin Small," he ses. +</p> +<p> + "It's wonderful the way he manages 'em," ses Peter Russet to Mrs. Finch. + "Like a lion he is." +</p> +<p> + "A roaring lion," ses Ginger, looking at Sam. "He don't know wot fear + is." +</p> +<p> + Sam began to smile, and Mrs. Finch looked at 'im so pleased that Peter + Russet, who 'ad been looking at 'er and the room, and thinking much the + same way as Ginger, began to think that they was on the wrong tack. +</p> +<p> + "Afore 'e got stout and old," he ses, shaking his 'ead, "there wasn't a + smarter skipper afloat." +</p> +<p> + "We all 'ave our day," ses Ginger, shaking his 'ead too. +</p> +<p> + "I dessay he's good for another year or two afloat, yet," ses Peter + Russet, considering. "With care," ses Ginger. +</p> +<p> + Old Sam was going to say something, but 'e stopped himself just in time. + "They will 'ave their joke," he ses, turning to Mrs. Finch and trying to + smile. "I feel as young as ever I did." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Finch said that anybody with arf an eye could see that, and then she + looked at a kettle that was singing on the 'ob. +</p> +<p> + "I s'pose you gentlemen wouldn't care for a cup o' cocoa?" she ses, + turning to them. +</p> +<p> + Ginger Dick and Peter both said that they liked it better than anything + else, and, arter she 'ad got out the cups and saucers and a tin o' cocoa, + Ginger held the kettle and poured the water in the cups while she stirred + them, and old Sam sat looking on 'elpless. +</p> +<p> + "It does seem funny to see you drinking cocoa, captin," ses Ginger, as + old Sam took his cup. +</p> +<p> + "Ho!" ses Sam, firing up; "and why, if I might make so bold as to ask?" +</p> +<p> + "'Cos I've generally seen you drinking something out of a bottle," ses + Ginger. +</p> +<p> + "Now, look 'ere," ses Sam, starting up and spilling some of the hot cocoa + over 'is lap. +</p> +<p> + "A ginger-beer bottle," ses Peter Russet, making faces at Ginger to keep + quiet. +</p> +<p> + "Yes, o' course, that's wot I meant," ses Ginger. +</p> +<p> + Old Sam wiped the cocoa off 'is knees without saying a word, but his + weskit kept going up and down till Peter Russet felt quite sorry for 'im. +</p> +<p> + "There's nothing like it," he ses to Mrs. Finch. "It was by sticking to + ginger-beer and milk and such-like that Captain Small 'ad command of a + ship afore 'e was twenty-five." +</p> +<p> + "Lor'!" ses Mrs. Finch. +</p> +<p> + She smiled at old Sam till Peter got uneasy agin, and began to think + p'r'aps 'e'd been praising 'im too much. +</p> +<p> + "Of course, I'm speaking of long ago now," he ses. +</p> +<p> + "Years and years afore you was born, ma'am," ses Ginger. +</p> +<p> + Old Sam was going to say something, but Mrs. Finch looked so pleased that + 'e thought better of it. Some o' the cocoa 'e was drinking went the + wrong way, and then Ginger patted 'im on the back and told 'im to be + careful not to bring on 'is brownchitis agin. Wot with temper and being + afraid to speak for fear they should let Mrs. Finch know that 'e wasn't a + captin, he could 'ardly bear 'imself, but he very near broke out when + Peter Russet advised 'im to 'ave his weskit lined with red flannel. They + all stayed on till closing time, and by the time they left they 'ad made + theirselves so pleasant that Mrs. Finch said she'd be pleased to see them + any time they liked to look in. +</p> +<p> + Sam Small waited till they 'ad turned the corner, and then he broke out + so alarming that they could 'ardly do anything with 'im. Twice policemen + spoke to 'im and advised 'im to go home afore they altered their minds; + and he 'ad to hold 'imself in and keep quiet while Ginger and Peter + Russet took 'is arms and said they were seeing him 'ome. +</p> +<p> + He started the row agin when they got in-doors, and sat up in 'is bed + smacking 'is lips over the things he'd like to 'ave done to them if he + could. And then, arter saying 'ow he'd like to see Ginger boiled alive + like a lobster, he said he knew that 'e was a noble-'arted feller who + wouldn't try and cut an old pal out, and that it was a case of love at + first sight on top of a tram-car. +</p> +<p> + "She's too young for you," ses Ginger; "and too good-looking besides." +</p> +<p> + "It's the nice little bisness he's fallen in love with, Ginger," ses + Peter Russet. "I'll toss you who 'as it." +</p> +<p> + Ginger, who was siting on the foot o' Sam's bed, said "no" at fust, but + arter a time he pulled out arf a dollar and spun it in the air. +</p> +<p> + That was the last 'e see of it, although he 'ad Sam out o' bed and all + the clothes stripped off of it twice. He spent over arf an hour on his + 'ands and knees looking for it, and Sam said when he was tired of playing + bears p'r'aps he'd go to bed and get to sleep like a Christian. +</p> +<p> + They 'ad it all over agin next morning, and at last, as nobody would + agree to keep quiet and let the others 'ave a fair chance, they made up + their minds to let the best man win. Ginger Dick bought a necktie that + took all the colour out o' Sam's, and Peter Russet went in for a collar + so big that 'e was lost in it. +</p> +<p> + They all strolled into the widow's shop separate that night. Ginger Dick + 'ad smashed his pipe and wanted another; Peter Russet wanted some + tobacco; and old Sam Small walked in smiling, with a little silver brooch + for 'er, that he said 'e had picked up. +</p> +<p> + It was a very nice brooch, and Mrs. Finch was so pleased with it that + Ginger and Peter sat there as mad as they could be because they 'adn't + thought of the same thing. +</p> +<p> + "Captain Small is very lucky at finding things," ses Ginger, at last. +</p> +<p> + "He's got the name for it," ses Peter Russet. +</p> +<p> + "It's a handy 'abit," ses Ginger; "it saves spending money. Who did you + give that gold bracelet to you picked up the other night, captin?" he + ses, turning to Sam. +</p> +<p> + "Gold bracelet?" ses Sam. "I didn't pick up no gold bracelet. Wot are + you talking about?" +</p> +<p> + "All right, captin; no offence," ses Ginger, holding up his 'and. "I + dreamt I saw one on your mantelpiece, I s'pose. P'r'aps I oughtn't to + ha' said anything about it." +</p> +<p> + Old Sam looked as though he'd like to eat 'im, especially as he noticed + Mrs. Finch listening and pretending not to. "Oh! that one," he ses, + arter a bit o' hard thinking. "Oh! I found out who it belonged to. You + wouldn't believe 'ow pleased they was at getting it back agin." +</p> +<p> + Ginger Dick coughed and began to think as 'ow old Sam was sharper than he + 'ad given 'im credit for, but afore he could think of anything else to + say Mrs. Finch looked at old Sam and began to talk about 'is ship, and to + say 'ow much she should like to see over it. +</p> +<p> + "I wish I could take you," ses Sam, looking at the other two out o' the + corner of his eye, "but my ship's over at Dunkirk, in France. I've just + run over to London for a week or two to look round." +</p> +<p> + "And mine's there too," ses Peter Russet, speaking a'most afore old Sam + 'ad finished; "side by side they lay in the harbour." +</p> +<p> + "Oh, dear," ses Mrs. Finch, folding her 'ands and shaking her 'cad. "I + should like to go over a ship one arternoon. I'd quite made up my mind + to it, knowing three captins." +</p> +<p> + She smiled and looked at Ginger; and Sam and Peter looked at 'im too, + wondering whether he was going to berth his ship at Dunkirk alongside o' + theirs. +</p> +<p> + "Ah, I wish I 'ad met you a fortnight ago," ses Ginger, very sad. "I + gave up my ship, the High flyer, then, and I'm waiting for one my owners + are 'aving built for me at New-castle. They said the High flyer wasn't + big enough for me. She was a nice little ship, though. I believe I've + got 'er picture somewhere about me!" +</p> +<p> + He felt in 'is pocket and pulled out a little, crumpled-up photograph of + a ship he'd been fireman aboard of some years afore, and showed it to + 'er. +</p> +<p> + "That's me standing on the bridge," he ses, pointing out a little dot + with the stem of 'is pipe. +</p> +<p> + "It's your figger," ses Mrs. Finch, straining her eyes. "I should know + it anywhere." +</p> +<p> + "You've got wonderful eyes, ma'am," ses old Sam, choking with 'is pipe. +</p> +<p> + "Anybody can see that," ses Ginger. "They're the largest and the bluest + I've ever seen." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Finch told 'im not to talk nonsense, but both Sam and Peter Russet + could see 'ow pleased she was. +</p> +<p> + "Truth is truth," ses Ginger. "I'm a plain man, and I speak my mind." +</p> +<p> + "Blue is my fav'rit' colour," ses old Sam, in a tender voice. "True + blue." +</p> +<p> + Peter Russet began to feel out of it. "I thought brown was," he ses. +</p> +<p> + "Ho!" ses Sam, turning on 'im; "and why?" +</p> +<p> + "I 'ad my reasons," ses Peter, nodding, and shutting 'is mouth very firm. +</p> +<p> + "I thought brown was 'is fav'rit colour too," ses Ginger. "I don't know + why. It's no use asking me; because if you did I couldn't tell you." +</p> +<p> + "Brown's a very nice colour," ses Mrs. Finch, wondering wot was the + matter with old Sam. +</p> +<p> + "Blue," ses Ginger; "big blue eyes—they're the ones for me. Other + people may 'ave their blacks and their browns," he ses, looking at Sam + and Peter Russet, "but give me blue." +</p> +<p> + They went on like that all the evening, and every time the shop-bell went + and the widow 'ad to go out to serve a customer they said in w'ispers wot + they thought of each other; and once when she came back rather sudden + Ginger 'ad to explain to 'er that 'e was showing Peter Russet a scratch + on his knuckle. +</p> +<p> + Ginger Dick was the fust there next night, and took 'er a little chiney + teapot he 'ad picked up dirt cheap because it was cracked right acrost + the middle; but, as he explained that he 'ad dropped it in hurrying to + see 'er, she was just as pleased. She stuck it up on the mantelpiece, + and the things she said about Ginger's kindness and generosity made Peter + Russet spend good money that he wanted for 'imself on a painted + flower-pot next evening. +</p> +<p> + With three men all courting 'er at the same time Mrs. Finch had 'er hands + full, but she took to it wonderful considering. She was so nice and kind + to 'em all that even arter a week's 'ard work none of 'em was really + certain which she liked best. +</p> +<p> + They took to going in at odd times o' the day for tobacco and such-like. + They used to go alone then, but they all met and did the polite to each + other there of an evening, and then quarrelled all the way 'ome. +</p> +<p> + Then all of a sudden, without any warning, Ginger Dick and Peter Russet + left off going there. The fust evening Sam sat expecting them every + minute, and was so surprised that he couldn't take any advantage of it; + but on the second, beginning by squeezing Mrs. Finch's 'and at ha'-past + seven, he 'ad got best part of his arm round 'er waist by a quarter to + ten. He didn't do more that night because she told him to be'ave + 'imself, and threatened to scream if he didn't leave off. +</p> +<p> + He was arf-way home afore 'e thought of the reason for Ginger Dick and + Peter Russet giving up, and then he went along smiling to 'imself to such + an extent that people thought 'e was mad. He went off to sleep with the + smile still on 'is lips, and when Peter and Ginger came in soon arter + closing time and 'e woke up and asked them where they'd been, 'e was + still smiling. +</p> +<p> + "I didn't 'ave the pleasure o' seeing you at Mrs. Finch's to-night," he + ses. +</p> +<p> + "No," ses Ginger, very short. "We got tired of it." +</p> +<p> + "So un'ealthy sitting in that stuffy little room every evening," ses + Peter. +</p> +<p> + Old Sam put his 'ead under the bedclothes and laughed till the bed shook; + and every now and then he'd put his 'ead out and look at Peter and Ginger + and laugh agin till he choked. +</p> +<p> + "I see 'ow it is," he ses, sitting up and wiping his eyes on the sheet. + "Well, we cant all win." +</p> +<p> + "Wot d'ye mean?" ses Ginger, very disagreeable. +</p> +<p> + "She wouldn't 'ave you, Sam, thats wot I mean. And I don't wonder at + it. I wouldn't 'ave you if I was a gal." +</p> +<p> + "You're dreaming, ses Peter Russet, sneering at 'im. +</p> +<p> + "That flower-pot o' yours'll come in handy," ses Sam, thinking 'ow he 'ad + put 'is arm round the widow's waist; "and I thank you kindly for the + teapot, Ginger. +</p> +<p> + "You don't mean to say as you've asked 'er to marry you?" ses Ginger, + looking at Peter Russet. +</p> +<p> + "Not quite; but I'm going to," ses Sam, "and I'll bet you even arf-crowns + she ses 'yes.'" +</p> +<p> + Ginger wouldn't take 'im, and no more would Peter, not even when he raised + it to five shillings; and the vain way old Sam lay there boasting and + talking about 'is way with the gals made 'em both feel ill. +</p> +<p> + "I wouldn't 'ave her if she asked me on 'er bended knees," ses Ginger, + holding up his 'ead. +</p> +<p> + "Nor me," ses Peter. "You're welcome to 'er, Sam. When I think of the + evenings I've wasted over a fat old woman I feel——" +</p> +<p> + "That'll do," ses old Sam, very sharp; "that ain't the way to speak of a + lady, even if she 'as said 'no.'" +</p> +<p> + "All right, Sam," ses Ginger. "You go in and win if you think you're so + precious clever." +</p> +<p> + Old Sam said that that was wot 'e was going to do, and he spent so much + time next morning making 'imself look pretty that the other two could + 'ardly be civil to him. +</p> +<p> + He went off a'most direckly arter breakfast, and they didn't see 'im agin + till twelve o'clock that night. He 'ad brought a bottle o' whisky in + with 'im, and he was so 'appy that they see plain wot had 'appened. +</p> +<p> + "She said 'yes' at two o'clock in the arternoon," ses old Sam, smiling, + arter they had 'ad a glass apiece. "I'd nearly done the trick at one + o'clock, and then the shop-bell went, and I 'ad to begin all over agin. + Still, it wasn't unpleasant." +</p> +<p> + "Do you mean to tell us you've asked 'er to marry you?" ses Ginger, + 'olding out 'is glass to be filled agin. +</p> +<p> + "I do," ses Sam; "but I 'ope there's no ill-feeling. You never 'ad a + chance, neither of you; she told me so." +</p> +<p> + Ginger Dick and Peter Russet stared at each other. +</p> +<p> + "She said she 'ad been in love with me all along," ses Sam, filling their + glasses agin to cheer 'em up. "We went out arter tea and bought the + engagement-ring, and then she got somebody to mind the shop and we went + to the Pagoda music-'all." +</p> +<p> + "I 'ope you didn't pay much for the ring, Sam," ses Ginger, who always + got very kind-'arted arter two or three glasses o' whisky. "If I'd known + you was going to be in such a hurry I might ha' told you before." +</p> +<p> + "We ought to ha' done," ses Peter, shaking his 'ead. +</p> +<p> + "Told me?" ses Sam, staring at 'em. "Told me wot?" +</p> +<p> + "Why me and Peter gave it up," ses Ginger; "but, o' course, p'r'aps you + don't mind." +</p> +<p> + "Mind wot?" ses Sam. +</p> +<p> + "It's wonderful 'ow quiet she kept it," ses Peter. +</p> +<p> + Old Sam stared at 'em agin, and then he asked 'em to speak in plain + English wot they'd got to say, and not to go taking away the character of + a woman wot wasn't there to speak up for herself. +</p> +<p> + "It's nothing agin 'er character," ses Ginger. "It's a credit to her, + looked at properly," ses Peter Russet. +</p> +<p> + "And Sam'll 'ave the pleasure of bringing of 'em up," ses Ginger. +</p> +<p> + "Bringing of 'em up?" ses Sam, in a trembling voice and turning pale; + "bringing who up?" +</p> +<p> + "Why, 'er children," ses Ginger. "Didn't she tell you? She's got nine + of 'em." +</p> +<p> + Sam pretended not to believe 'em at fust, and said they was jealous; but + next day he crept down to the greengrocer's shop in the same street, + where Ginger had 'appened to buy some oranges one day, and found that it + was only too true. Nine children, the eldest of 'em only fifteen, was + staying with diff'rent relations owing to scarlet-fever next door. +</p> +<p> + Old Sam crept back 'ome like a man in a dream, with a bag of oranges he + didn't want, and, arter making a present of the engagement-ring to + Ginger—if 'e could get it—he took the fust train to Tilbury and signed + on for a v'y'ge to China. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_2"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + THE BOATSWAIN'S MATE +</h2> +<a name="image-2"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/002.jpg" height="459" width="534" +alt="'the Boatswain's Mate' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + Mr. George Benn, retired boat-swain, sighed noisily, and with a + despondent gesture, turned to the door and stood with the handle in his + hand; Mrs. Waters, sitting behind the tiny bar in a tall Windsor-chair, + eyed him with some heat. +</p> +<p> + "My feelings'll never change," said the boatswain. +</p> +<p> + "Nor mine either," said the landlady, sharply. "It's a strange thing, + Mr. Benn, but you always ask me to marry you after the third mug." +</p> +<p> + "It's only to get my courage up," pleaded the boatswain. "Next time I'll + do it afore I 'ave a drop; that'll prove to you I'm in earnest." +</p> +<p> + He stepped outside and closed the door before the landlady could make a + selection from the many retorts that crowded to her lips. +</p> +<p> + After the cool bar, with its smell of damp saw-dust, the road seemed hot + and dusty; but the boatswain, a prey to gloom natural to a man whose hand + has been refused five times in a fortnight, walked on unheeding. His + steps lagged, but his brain was active. +</p> +<p> + He walked for two miles deep in thought, and then coming to a shady bank + took a seat upon an inviting piece of turf and lit his pipe. The heat + and the drowsy hum of bees made him nod; his pipe hung from the corner of + his mouth, and his eyes closed. +</p> +<p> + He opened them at the sound of approaching footsteps, and, feeling in his + pocket for matches, gazed lazily at the intruder. He saw a tall man + carrying a small bundle over his shoulder, and in the erect carriage, the + keen eyes, and bronzed face had little difficulty in detecting the old + soldier. +</p> +<p> + The stranger stopped as he reached the seated boatswain and eyed him + pleasantly. +</p> +<p> + "Got a pipe o' baccy, mate?" he inquired. +</p> +<p> + The boatswain handed him the small metal box in which he kept that + luxury. +</p> +<p> + "Lobster, ain't you?" he said, affably. +</p> +<p> + The tall man nodded. "Was," he replied. "Now I'm my own commander-in-chief." +</p> +<p> + "Padding it?" suggested the boatswain, taking the box from him and + refilling his pipe. +</p> +<p> + The other nodded, and with the air of one disposed to conversation + dropped his bundle in the ditch and took a seat beside him. "I've got + plenty of time," he remarked. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Benn nodded, and for a while smoked on in silence. A dim idea which + had been in his mind for some time began to clarify. He stole a glance + at his companion—a man of about thirty-eight, clear eyes, with humorous + wrinkles at the corners, a heavy moustache, and a cheerful expression + more than tinged with recklessness. +</p> +<p> + "Ain't over and above fond o' work?" suggested the boatswain, when he had + finished his inspection. +</p> +<p> + "I love it," said the other, blowing a cloud of smoke in the air, "but we + can't have all we want in this world; it wouldn't be good for us." +</p> +<p> + The boatswain thought of Mrs. Waters, and sighed. Then he rattled his + pocket. +</p> +<p> + "Would arf a quid be any good to you?" he inquired. +</p> +<p> + "Look here," began the soldier; "just because I asked you for a pipe o' + baccy—" +</p> +<p> + "No offence," said the other, quickly. "I mean if you earned it?" +</p> +<p> + The soldier nodded and took his pipe from his mouth. "Gardening and + windows?" he hazarded, with a shrug of his shoulders. +</p> +<p> + The boatswain shook his head. +</p> +<p> + "Scrubbing, p'r'aps?" said the soldier, with a sigh of resignation. + "Last house I scrubbed out I did it so thoroughly they accused me of + pouching the soap. Hang 'em!" +</p> +<p> + "And you didn't?" queried the boatswain, eyeing him keenly. +</p> +<p> + The soldier rose and, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, gazed at him + darkly. "I can't give it back to you," he said, slowly, "because I've + smoked some of it, and I can't pay you for it because I've only got + twopence, and that I want for myself. So long, matey, and next time + a poor wretch asks you for a pipe, be civil." +</p> +<p> + "I never see such a man for taking offence in all my born days," + expostulated the boat-swain. "I 'ad my reasons for that remark, mate. + Good reasons they was." +</p> +<p> + The soldier grunted and, stooping, picked up his bundle. +</p> +<p> + "I spoke of arf a sovereign just now," continued the boatswain, + impressively, "and when I tell you that I offer it to you to do a bit o' + burgling, you'll see 'ow necessary it is for me to be certain of your + honesty." +</p> +<p> + "<i>Burgling?</i>" gasped the astonished soldier. "<i>Honesty?</i> 'Struth; are + you drunk or am I?" +</p> +<p> + "Meaning," said the boatswain, waving the imputation away with his hand, + "for you to pretend to be a burglar." +</p> +<p> + "We're both drunk, that's what it is," said the other, resignedly. +</p> +<p> + The boatswain fidgeted. "If you don't agree, mum's the word and no 'arm + done," he said, holding out his hand. +</p> +<p> + "Mum's the word," said the soldier, taking it. "My name's Ned Travers, + and, barring cells for a spree now and again, there's nothing against it. + Mind that." +</p> +<p> + "Might 'appen to anybody," said Mr. Benn, soothingly. "You fill your + pipe and don't go chucking good tobacco away agin." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Travers took the offered box and, with economy born of adversity, + stooped and filled up first with the plug he had thrown away. Then he + resumed his seat and, leaning back luxuriously, bade the other "fire + away." +</p> +<p> + "I ain't got it all ship-shape and proper yet," said Mr. Benn, slowly, + "but it's in my mind's eye. It's been there off and on like for some + time." +</p> +<p> + He lit his pipe again and gazed fixedly at the opposite hedge. "Two + miles from here, where I live," he said, after several vigorous puffs, + "there's a little public-'ouse called the Beehive, kept by a lady wot + I've got my eye on." +</p> +<p> + The soldier sat up. +</p> +<p> + "She won't 'ave me," said the boatswain, with an air of mild surprise. +</p> +<p> + The soldier leaned back again. +</p> +<p> + "She's a lone widder," continued Mr. Benn, shaking his head, "and the + Beehive is in a lonely place. It's right through the village, and the + nearest house is arf a mile off." +</p> +<p> + "Silly place for a pub," commented Mr. Travers. +</p> +<p> + "I've been telling her 'ow unsafe it is," said the boatswain. "I've been + telling her that she wants a man to protect her, and she only laughs at + me. She don't believe it; d'ye see? Likewise I'm a small man—small, + but stiff. She likes tall men." +</p> +<p> + "Most women do," said Mr. Travers, sitting upright and instinctively + twisting his moustache. "When I was in the ranks—" +</p> +<p> + "My idea is," continued the boatswain, slightly raising his voice, "to + kill two birds with one stone—prove to her that she does want being + protected, and that I'm the man to protect her. D'ye take my meaning, + mate?" +</p> +<p> + The soldier reached out a hand and felt the other's biceps. "Like a lump + o' wood," he said, approvingly. +</p> +<p> + "My opinion is," said the boatswain, with a faint smirk, "that she loves + me without knowing it." +</p> +<p> + "They often do," said Mr. Travers, with a grave shake of his head. +</p> +<p> + "Consequently I don't want 'er to be disappointed," said the other. +</p> +<p> + "It does you credit," remarked Mr. Travers. +</p> +<p> + "I've got a good head," said Mr. Benn, "else I shouldn't 'ave got my + rating as boatswain as soon as I did; and I've been turning it over in my + mind, over and over agin, till my brain-pan fair aches with it. Now, if + you do what I want you to to-night and it comes off all right, damme I'll + make it a quid." +</p> +<p> + "Go on, Vanderbilt," said Mr. Travers; "I'm listening." +</p> +<p> + The boatswain gazed at him fixedly. "You meet me 'ere in this spot at + eleven o'clock to-night," he said, solemnly; "and I'll take you to her + 'ouse and put you through a little winder I know of. You goes upstairs + and alarms her, and she screams for help. I'm watching the house, + faithful-like, and hear 'er scream. I dashes in at the winder, knocks + you down, and rescues her. D'ye see?" +</p> +<p> + "I hear," corrected Mr. Travers, coldly. +</p> +<p> + "She clings to me," continued the boat-swain, with a rapt expression of + face, "in her gratitood, and, proud of my strength and pluck, she marries + me." +</p> +<p> + "An' I get a five years' honeymoon," said the soldier. +</p> +<p> + The boatswain shook his head and patted the other's shoulder. "In the + excitement of the moment you spring up and escape," he said, with a + kindly smile. "I've thought it all out. You can run much faster than I + can; any-ways, you will. The nearest 'ouse is arf a mile off, as I said, + and her servant is staying till to-morrow at 'er mother's, ten miles + away." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Travers rose to his feet and stretched himself. "Time I was + toddling," he said, with a yawn. "Thanks for amusing me, mate." +</p> +<p> + "You won't do it?" said the boatswain, eyeing him with much concern. +</p> +<p> + "I'm hanged if I do," said the soldier, emphatically. "Accidents will + happen, and then where should I be?" +</p> +<p> + "If they did," said the boatswain, "I'd own up and clear you." +</p> +<p> + "You might," said Mr. Travers, "and then again you mightn't. So long, + mate." +</p> +<p> + "I—I'll make it two quid," said the boat-swain, trembling with + eagerness. "I've took a fancy to you; you're just the man for the job." +</p> +<p> + The soldier, adjusting his bundle, glanced at him over his shoulder. + "Thankee," he said, with mock gratitude. +</p> +<p> + "Look 'ere," said the boatswain, springing up and catching him by the + sleeve; "I'll give it to you in writing. Come, you ain't faint-hearted? + Why, a bluejacket 'ud do it for the fun o' the thing. If I give it to + you in writing, and there should be an accident, it's worse for me than + it is for you, ain't it?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Travers hesitated and, pushing his cap back, scratched his head. +</p> +<p> + "I gives you the two quid afore you go into the house," continued the + boatswain, hastily following up the impression he had made. "I'd give + 'em to you now if I'd got 'em with me. That's my confidence in you; I + likes the look of you. Soldier or sailor, when there is a man's work to + be done, give 'em to me afore anybody." +</p> +<a name="image-3"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/003.jpg" height="896" width="538" +alt="''i Gives You the Two Quid Afore You Go Into The House,' +Continued the Boatswain.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + The soldier seated himself again and let his bundle fall to the ground. + "Go on," he said, slowly. "Write it out fair and square and sign it, and + I'm your man." +</p> +<p> + The boatswain clapped him on the shoulder and produced a bundle of papers + from his pocket. "There's letters there with my name and address on + 'em," he said. "It's all fair, square, and above-board. When you've + cast your eyes over them I'll give you the writing." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Travers took them and, re-lighting his pipe, smoked in silence, with + various side glances at his companion as that enthusiast sucked his + pencil and sat twisting in the agonies of composition. The document + finished—after several failures had been retrieved and burnt by the + careful Mr. Travers—the boat-swain heaved a sigh of relief, and handing + it over to him, leaned back with a complacent air while he read it. +</p> +<p> + "Seems all right," said the soldier, folding it up and putting it in his + waistcoat-pocket. "I'll be here at eleven to-night." +</p> +<p> + "Eleven it is," said the boatswain, briskly, "and, between pals—here's + arf a dollar to go on with." +</p> +<p> + He patted him on the shoulder again, and with a caution to keep out of + sight as much as possible till night walked slowly home. His step was + light, but he carried a face in which care and exultation were strangely + mingled. +</p> +<p> + By ten o'clock that night care was in the ascendant, and by eleven, when + he discerned the red glow of Mr. Travers's pipe set as a beacon against a + dark background of hedge, the boatswain was ready to curse his inventive + powers. Mr. Travers greeted him cheerily and, honestly attributing the + fact to good food and a couple of pints of beer he had had since the + boatswain left him, said that he was ready for anything. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Benn grunted and led the way in silence. There was no moon, but the + night was clear, and Mr. Travers, after one or two light-hearted attempts + at conversation, abandoned the effort and fell to whistling softly + instead. +</p> +<p> + Except for one lighted window the village slept in darkness, but the + boatswain, who had been walking with the stealth of a Red Indian on the + war-path, breathed more freely after they had left it behind. A renewal + of his antics a little farther on apprised Mr. Travers that they were + approaching their destination, and a minute or two later they came to a + small inn standing just off the road. "All shut up and Mrs. Waters abed, + bless her," whispered the boatswain, after walking care-fully round the + house. "How do you feel?" +</p> +<p> + "I'm all right," said Mr. Travers. "I feel as if I'd been burgling all + my life. How do you feel?" +</p> +<p> + "Narvous," said Mr. Benn, pausing under a small window at the rear of the + house. "This is the one." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Travers stepped back a few paces and gazed up at the house. All was + still. For a few moments he stood listening and then re-joined the + boatswain. +</p> +<p> + "Good-bye, mate," he said, hoisting himself on to the sill. "Death or + victory." +</p> +<p> + The boatswain whispered and thrust a couple of sovereigns into his hand. + "Take your time; there's no hurry," he muttered. "I want to pull myself + together. Frighten 'er enough, but not too much. When she screams I'll + come in." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Travers slipped inside and then thrust his head out of the window. + "Won't she think it funny you should be so handy?" he inquired. +</p> +<p> + "No; it's my faithful 'art," said the boat-swain, "keeping watch over her + every night, that's the ticket. She won't know no better." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Travers grinned, and removing his boots passed them out to the other. + "We don't want her to hear me till I'm upstairs," he whispered. "Put 'em + outside, handy for me to pick up." +</p> +<p> + The boatswain obeyed, and Mr. Travers—who was by no means a good hand at + darning socks—shivered as he trod lightly over a stone floor. Then, + following the instructions of Mr. Benn, he made his way to the stairs and + mounted noiselessly. +</p> +<p> + But for a slight stumble half-way up his progress was very creditable for + an amateur. He paused and listened and, all being silent, made his way + to the landing and stopped out-side a door. Despite himself his heart + was beating faster than usual. +</p> +<p> + He pushed the door open slowly and started as it creaked. Nothing + happening he pushed again, and standing just inside saw, by a small ewer + silhouetted against the casement, that he was in a bedroom. He listened + for the sound of breathing, but in vain. +</p> +<p> + "Quiet sleeper," he reflected; "or perhaps it is an empty room. Now, I + wonder whether—" +</p> +<p> + The sound of an opening door made him start violently, and he stood + still, scarcely breathing, with his ears on the alert. A light shone on + the landing, and peeping round the door he saw a woman coming along the + corridor—a younger and better-looking woman than he had expected to + see. In one hand she held aloft a candle, in the other she bore a + double-barrelled gun. Mr. Travers withdrew into the room and, as the + light came nearer, slipped into a big cupboard by the side of the + fireplace and, standing bolt upright, waited. The light came into the + room. +</p> +<p> + "Must have been my fancy," said a pleasant voice. +</p> +<p> + "Bless her," smiled Mr. Travers. +</p> +<p> + His trained ear recognized the sound of cocking triggers. The next + moment a heavy body bumped against the door of the cupboard and the key + turned in the lock. +</p> +<p> + "Got you!" said the voice, triumphantly. "Keep still; if you try and + break out I shall shoot you." +</p> +<p> + "All right," said Mr. Travers, hastily; "I won't move." +</p> +<p> + "Better not," said the voice. "Mind, I've got a gun pointing straight at + you." +</p> +<p> + "Point it downwards, there's a good girl," said Mr. Travers, earnestly; + "and take your finger off the trigger. If anything happened to me you'd + never forgive yourself." +</p> +<p> + "It's all right so long as you don't move," said the voice; "and I'm not + a girl," it added, sternly. +</p> +<p> + "Yes, you are," said the prisoner. "I saw you. I thought it was an + angel at first. I saw your little bare feet and—" +</p> +<p> + A faint scream interrupted him. +</p> +<p> + "You'll catch cold," urged Mr. Travers. +</p> +<p> + "Don't you trouble about me," said the voice, tartly. +</p> +<p> + "I won't give any trouble," said Mr. Travers, who began to think it was + time for the boatswain to appear on the scene. "Why don't you call for + help? I'll go like a lamb." +</p> +<p> + "I don't want your advice," was the reply. "I know what to do. Now, + don't you try and break out. I'm going to fire one barrel out of the + window, but I've got the other one for you if you move." +</p> +<p> + "My dear girl," protested the horrified Mr. Travers, "you'll alarm the + neighbourhood." +</p> +<p> + "Just what I want to do," said the voice. "Keep still, mind." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Travers hesitated. The game was up, and it was clear that in any + case the stratagem of the ingenious Mr. Benn would have to be disclosed. +</p> +<p> + "Stop!" he said, earnestly. "Don't do anything rash. I'm not a burglar; + I'm doing this for a friend of yours—Mr. Benn." +</p> +<p> + "What?" said an amazed voice. +</p> +<p> + "True as I stand here," asseverated Mr. Travers. "Here, here's my + instructions. I'll put 'em under the door, and if you go to the back + window you'll see him in the garden waiting." +</p> +<p> + He rustled the paper under the door, and it was at once snatched from his + fingers. He regained an upright position and stood listening to the + startled and indignant exclamations of his gaoler as she read the + boatswain's permit: +</p> + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + + +<pre> + "<i>This is to give notice that I, George Benn, being of sound mind + and body, have told Ned Travers to pretend to be a burglar at Mrs. + Waters's. He ain't a burglar, and I shall be outside all the time. + It's all above-board and ship-shape. + + "(Signed) George Benn</i>" +</pre> + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + +<p> + "Sound mind—above-board—ship-shape," repeated a dazed voice. "Where is + he?" +</p> +<p> + "Out at the back," replied Mr. Travers. "If you go to the window you can + see him. Now, do put something round your shoulders, there's a good + girl." +</p> +<p> + There was no reply, but a board creaked. He waited for what seemed a + long time, and then the board creaked again. +</p> +<p> + "Did you see him?" he inquired. +</p> +<p> + "I did," was the sharp reply. "You both ought to be ashamed of + yourselves. You ought to be punished." +</p> +<p> + "There is a clothes-peg sticking into the back of my head," remarked Mr. + Travers. "What are you going to do?" +</p> +<p> + There was no reply. +</p> +<p> + "What are you going to do?" repeated Mr. Travers, somewhat uneasily. + "You look too nice to do anything hard; leastways, so far as I can judge + through this crack." +</p> +<p> + There was a smothered exclamation, and then sounds of somebody moving + hastily about the room and the swish of clothing hastily donned. +</p> +<p> + "You ought to have done it before," commented the thoughtful Mr. Travers. + "It's enough to give you your death of cold." +</p> +<p> + "Mind your business," said the voice, sharply. "Now, if I let you out, + will you promise to do exactly as I tell you?" +</p> +<p> + "Honour bright," said Mr. Travers, fervently. +</p> +<p> + "I'm going to give Mr. Benn a lesson he won't forget," proceeded the + other, grimly. "I'm going to fire off this gun, and then run down and + tell him I've killed you." +</p> +<p> + "Eh?" said the amazed Mr. Travers. "Oh, Lord!" +</p> +<p> + "H'sh! Stop that laughing," commanded the voice. "He'll hear you. Be + quiet!" +</p> +<p> + The key turned in the lock, and Mr. Travers, stepping forth, clapped his + hand over his mouth and endeavoured to obey. Mrs. Waters, stepping back + with the gun ready, scrutinized him closely. +</p> +<p> + "Come on to the landing," said Mr. Travers, eagerly. "We don't want + anybody else to hear. Fire into this." +</p> +<p> + He snatched a patchwork rug from the floor and stuck it up against the + balusters. "You stay here," said Mrs. Waters. He nodded. +</p> +<p> + She pointed the gun at the hearth-rug, the walls shook with the + explosion, and, with a shriek that set Mr. Travers's teeth on edge, she + rushed downstairs and, drawing back the bolts of the back door, tottered + outside and into the arms of the agitated boatswain. +</p> +<p> + "Oh! oh! oh!" she cried. +</p> +<p> + "What—what's the matter?" gasped the boatswain. +</p> +<p> + The widow struggled in his arms. "A burglar," she said, in a tense + whisper. "But it's all right; I've killed him." +</p> +<p> + "Kill—" stuttered the other. "Kill——<i>Killed him?</i>" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Waters nodded and released herself, "First shot," she said, with a + satisfied air. +</p> +<p> + The boatswain wrung his hands. "Good heavens!" he said, moving slowly + towards the door. "Poor fellow!" +</p> +<p> + "Come back," said the widow, tugging at his coat. +</p> +<p> + "I was—was going to see—whether I could do anything for 'im," quavered + the boatswain. "Poor fellow!" +</p> +<p> + "You stay where you are," commanded Mrs. Waters. "I don't want any + witnesses. I don't want this house to have a bad name. I'm going to + keep it quiet." +</p> +<p> + "Quiet?" said the shaking boatswain. "How?" +</p> +<p> + "First thing to do," said the widow, thoughtfully, "is to get rid of the + body. I'll bury him in the garden, I think. There's a very good bit of + ground behind those potatoes. You'll find the spade in the tool-house." +</p> +<p> + The horrified Mr. Benn stood stock-still regarding her. +</p> +<p> + "While you're digging the grave," continued Mrs. 'Waters, calmly, "I'll + go in and clean up the mess." +</p> +<p> + The boatswain reeled and then fumbled with trembling fingers at his + collar. +</p> +<p> + Like a man in a dream he stood watching as she ran to the tool-house and + returned with a spade and pick; like a man in a dream he followed her on + to the garden. +</p> +<p> + "Be careful," she said, sharply; "you're treading down my potatoes." +</p> +<p> + The boatswain stopped dead and stared at her. Apparently unconscious of + his gaze, she began to pace out the measurements and then, placing the + tools in his hands, urged him to lose no time. +</p> +<p> + "I'll bring him down when you're gone," she said, looking towards the + house. +</p> +<p> + The boatswain wiped his damp brow with the back of his hand. "How are + you going to get it downstairs?" he breathed. +</p> +<p> + "Drag it," said Mrs. Waters, briefly. +</p> +<p> + "Suppose he isn't dead?" said the boat-swain, with a gleam of hope. +</p> +<p> + "Fiddlesticks!" said Mrs. Waters. "Do you think I don't know? Now, + don't waste time talking; and mind you dig it deep. I'll put a few + cabbages on top afterwards—I've got more than I want." +</p> +<p> + She re-entered the house and ran lightly upstairs. The candle was still + alight and the gun was leaning against the bed-post; but the visitor had + disappeared. Conscious of an odd feeling of disappointment, she looked + round the empty room. +</p> +<p> + "Come and look at him," entreated a voice, and she turned and beheld the + amused countenance of her late prisoner at the door. +</p> +<p> + "I've been watching from the back window," he said, nodding. "You're a + wonder; that's what you are. Come and look at him." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Waters followed, and leaning out of the window watched with simple + pleasure the efforts of the amateur sexton. Mr. Benn was digging like + one possessed, only pausing at intervals to straighten his back and to + cast a fearsome glance around him. The only thing that marred her + pleasure was the behaviour of Mr. Travers, who was struggling for a place + with all the fervour of a citizen at the Lord Mayor's show. +</p> +<p> + "Get back," she said, in a fierce whisper. "He'll see you." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Travers with obvious reluctance obeyed, just as the victim looked up. +</p> +<p> + "Is that you, Mrs. Waters?" inquired the boatswain, fearfully. +</p> +<p> + "Yes, of course it is," snapped the widow. "Who else should it be, do + you think? Go on! What are you stopping for?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Benn's breathing as he bent to his task again was distinctly audible. + The head of Mr. Travers ranged itself once more alongside the widow's. + For a long time they watched in silence. +</p> +<p> + "Won't you come down here, Mrs. Waters?" called the boatswain, looking up + so suddenly that Mr. Travers's head bumped painfully against the side of + the window. "It's a bit creepy, all alone." +</p> +<p> + "I'm all right," said Mrs. Waters. +</p> +<p> + "I keep fancying there's something dodging behind them currant bushes," + pursued the unfortunate Mr. Benn, hoarsely. "How you can stay there + alone I can't think. I thought I saw something looking over your + shoulder just now. Fancy if it came creeping up behind and caught hold + of you! The widow gave a sudden faint scream. +</p> +<p> + "If you do that again!" she said, turning fiercely on Mr. Travers. +</p> +<p> + "He put it into my head," said the culprit, humbly; "I should never have + thought of such a thing by myself. I'm one of the quietest and + best-behaved——" +</p> +<p> + "Make haste, Mr. Benn," said the widow, turning to the window again; + "I've got a lot to do when you've finished." +</p> +<p> + The boatswain groaned and fell to digging again, and Mrs. Waters, after + watching a little while longer, gave Mr. Travers some pointed + instructions about the window and went down to the garden again. +</p> +<p> + "That will do, I think," she said, stepping into the hole and regarding + it critically. "Now you'd better go straight off home, and, mind, not a + word to a soul about this." +</p> +<p> + She put her hand on his shoulder, and noticing with pleasure that he + shuddered at her touch led the way to the gate. The boat-swain paused + for a moment, as though about to speak, and then, apparently thinking + better of it, bade her good-bye in a hoarse voice and walked feebly up + the road. Mrs. Waters stood watching until his steps died away in the + distance, and then, returning to the garden, took up the spade and stood + regarding with some dismay the mountainous result of his industry. Mr. + Travers, who was standing just inside the back door, joined her. +</p> +<p> + "Let me," he said, gallantly. +</p> +<p> + The day was breaking as he finished his task. The clean, sweet air and + the exercise had given him an appetite to which the smell of cooking + bacon and hot coffee that proceeded from the house had set a sharper + edge. He took his coat from a bush and put it on. Mrs. Waters appeared + at the door. +</p> +<p> + "You had better come in and have some breakfast before you go," she said, + brusquely; "there's no more sleep for me now." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Travers obeyed with alacrity, and after a satisfying wash in the + scullery came into the big kitchen with his face shining and took a seat + at the table. The cloth was neatly laid, and Mrs. Waters, fresh and + cool, with a smile upon her pleasant face, sat behind the tray. She + looked at her guest curiously, Mr. Travers's spirits being somewhat + higher than the state of his wardrobe appeared to justify. +</p> +<p> + "Why don't you get some settled work?" she inquired, with gentle + severity, as he imparted snatches of his history between bites. +</p> +<p> + "Easier said than done," said Mr. Travers, serenely. "But don't you run + away with the idea that I'm a beggar, because I'm not. I pay my way, + such as it is. And, by-the-bye, I s'pose I haven't earned that two + pounds Benn gave me?" +</p> +<p> + His face lengthened, and he felt uneasily in his pocket. +</p> +<p> + "I'll give them to him when I'm tired of the joke," said the widow, + holding out her hand and watching him closely. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Travers passed the coins over to her. "Soft hand you've got," he + said, musingly. "I don't wonder Benn was desperate. I dare say I should + have done the same in his place." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Waters bit her lip and looked out at the window; Mr. Travers resumed + his breakfast. +</p> +<p> + "There's only one job that I'm really fit for, now that I'm too old for + the Army," he said, confidentially, as, breakfast finished, he stood at + the door ready to depart. +</p> +<p> + "Playing at burglars?" hazarded Mrs. Waters. +</p> +<p> + "Landlord of a little country public-house," said Mr. Travers, simply. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Waters fell back and regarded him with open-eyed amazement. +</p> +<p> + "Good morning," she said, as soon as she could trust her voice. +</p> +<p> + "Good-bye," said Mr. Travers, reluctantly. "I should like to hear how + old Benn takes this joke, though." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Waters retreated into the house and stood regarding him. "If you're + passing this way again and like to look in—I'll tell you," she said, + after a long pause. "Good-bye." +</p> +<p> + "I'll look in in a week's time," said Mr. Travers. +</p> +<p> + He took the proffered hand and shook it warmly. "It would be the best + joke of all," he said, turning away. +</p> +<p> + "What would?" +</p> +<p> + The soldier confronted her again. +</p> +<p> + "For old Benn to come round here one evening and find me landlord. Think + it over." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Waters met his gaze soberly. "I'll think it over when you have + gone," she said, softly. "Now go." +</p> +<a name="2H_4_3"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + THE NEST EGG +</h2> +<a name="image-4"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/004.jpg" height="563" width="360" +alt="'the Nest Egg.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + "Artfulness," said the night-watch-man, smoking placidly, "is a gift; but + it don't pay always. I've met some artful ones in my time—plenty of + 'em; but I can't truthfully say as 'ow any of them was the better for + meeting me." +</p> +<p> + He rose slowly from the packing-case on which he had been sitting and, + stamping down the point of a rusty nail with his heel, resumed his seat, + remarking that he had endured it for some time under the impression that + it was only a splinter. +</p> +<p> + "I've surprised more than one in my time," he continued, slowly. "When I + met one of these 'ere artful ones I used fust of all to pretend to be + more stupid than wot I really am." +</p> +<p> + He stopped and stared fixedly. +</p> +<p> + "More stupid than I looked," he said. He stopped again. +</p> +<p> + "More stupid than wot they thought I looked," he said, speaking with + marked deliberation. And I'd let 'em go on and on until I thought I had + 'ad about enough, and then turn round on 'em. Nobody ever got the better + o' me except my wife, and that was only before we was married. Two + nights arterwards she found a fish-hook in my trouser-pocket, and arter + that I could ha' left untold gold there—if I'd ha' had it. It spoilt + wot some people call the honey-moon, but it paid in the long run. +</p> +<p> + One o' the worst things a man can do is to take up artfulness all of a + sudden. I never knew it to answer yet, and I can tell you of a case + that'll prove my words true. +</p> +<p> + It's some years ago now, and the chap it 'appened to was a young man, a + shipmate o' mine, named Charlie Tagg. Very steady young chap he was, too + steady for most of 'em. That's 'ow it was me and 'im got to be such + pals. +</p> +<p> + He'd been saving up for years to get married, and all the advice we could + give 'im didn't 'ave any effect. He saved up nearly every penny of 'is + money and gave it to his gal to keep for 'im, and the time I'm speaking + of she'd got seventy-two pounds of 'is and seventeen-and-six of 'er own + to set up house-keeping with. +</p> +<p> + Then a thing happened that I've known to 'appen to sailormen afore. At + Sydney 'e got silly on another gal, and started walking out with her, and + afore he knew wot he was about he'd promised to marry 'er too. +</p> +<p> + Sydney and London being a long way from each other was in 'is favour, but + the thing that troubled 'im was 'ow to get that seventy-two pounds out of + Emma Cook, 'is London gal, so as he could marry the other with it. It + worried 'im all the way home, and by the time we got into the London + river 'is head was all in a maze with it. Emma Cook 'ad got it all saved + up in the bank, to take a little shop with when they got spliced, and 'ow + to get it he could not think. +</p> +<p> + He went straight off to Poplar, where she lived, as soon as the ship was + berthed. He walked all the way so as to 'ave more time for thinking, but + wot with bumping into two old gentlemen with bad tempers, and being + nearly run over by a cabman with a white 'orse and red whiskers, he got + to the house without 'aving thought of anything. +</p> +<p> + They was just finishing their tea as 'e got there, and they all seemed so + pleased to see 'im that it made it worse than ever for 'im. Mrs. Cook, + who 'ad pretty near finished, gave 'im her own cup to drink out of, and + said that she 'ad dreamt of 'im the night afore last, and old Cook said + that he 'ad got so good-looking 'e shouldn't 'ave known him. +</p> +<p> + "I should 'ave passed 'im in the street," he ses. "I never see such an + alteration." +</p> +<p> + "They'll be a nice-looking couple," ses his wife, looking at a young + chap, named George Smith, that 'ad been sitting next to Emma. +</p> +<p> + Charlie Tagg filled 'is mouth with bread and butter, and wondered 'ow he + was to begin. He squeezed Emma's 'and just for the sake of keeping up + appearances, and all the time 'e was thinking of the other gal waiting + for 'im thousands o' miles away. +</p> +<p> + "You've come 'ome just in the nick o' time," ses old Cook; "if you'd done + it o' purpose you couldn't 'ave arranged it better." +</p> +<p> + "Somebody's birthday?" ses Charlie, trying to smile. +</p> +<p> + Old Cook shook his 'ead. "Though mine is next Wednesday," he ses, "and + thank you for thinking of it. No; you're just in time for the biggest + bargain in the chandlery line that anybody ever 'ad a chance of. If you + 'adn't ha' come back we should have 'ad to ha' done it without you." +</p> +<p> + "Eighty pounds," ses Mrs. Cook, smiling at Charlie. "With the money + Emma's got saved and your wages this trip you'll 'ave plenty. You must + come round arter tea and 'ave a look at it." +</p> +<p> + "Little place not arf a mile from 'ere," ses old Cook. "Properly worked + up, the way Emma'll do it, it'll be a little fortune. I wish I'd had a + chance like it in my young time." +</p> +<p> + He sat shaking his 'ead to think wot he'd lost, and Charlie Tagg sat + staring at 'im and wondering wot he was to do. +</p> +<p> + "My idea is for Charlie to go for a few more v'y'ges arter they're + married while Emma works up the business," ses Mrs. Cook; "she'll be all + right with young Bill and Sarah Ann to 'elp her and keep 'er company + while he's away." +</p> +<p> + "We'll see as she ain't lonely," ses George Smith, turning to Charlie. +</p> +<p> + Charlie Tagg gave a bit of a cough and said it wanted considering. He + said it was no good doing things in a 'urry and then repenting of 'em all + the rest of your life. And 'e said he'd been given to understand that + chandlery wasn't wot it 'ad been, and some of the cleverest people 'e + knew thought that it would be worse before it was better. By the time + he'd finished they was all looking at 'im as though they couldn't believe + their ears. +</p> +<p> + "You just step round and 'ave a look at the place," ses old Cook; "if + that don't make you alter your tune, call me a sinner." +</p> +<p> + Charlie Tagg felt as though 'e could ha' called 'im a lot o' worse things + than that, but he took up 'is hat and Mrs. Cook and Emma got their + bonnets on and they went round. +</p> +<p> + "I don't think much of it for eighty pounds," ses Charlie, beginning his + artfulness as they came near a big shop, with plate-glass and a double + front. +</p> +<p> + "Eh?" ses old Cook, staring at 'im. "Why, that ain't the place. Why, + you wouldn't get that for eight 'undred." +</p> +<p> + "Well, I don't think much of it," ses Charlie; "if it's worse than that I + can't look at it—I can't, indeed." +</p> +<p> + "You ain't been drinking, Charlie?" ses old Cook, in a puzzled voice. +</p> +<p> + "Certainly not," ses Charlie. +</p> +<p> + He was pleased to see 'ow anxious they all looked, and when they did come + to the shop 'e set up a laugh that old Cook said chilled the marrer in + 'is bones. He stood looking in a 'elpless sort o' way at his wife and + Emma, and then at last he ses, "There it is; and a fair bargain at the + price." +</p> +<p> + "I s'pose you ain't been drinking?" ses Charlie. +</p> +<p> + "Wot's the matter with it?" ses Mrs. Cook flaring up. +</p> +<p> + "Come inside and look at it," ses Emma, taking 'old of his arm. +</p> +<p> + "Not me," ses Charlie, hanging back. "Why, I wouldn't take it at a + gift." +</p> +<p> + He stood there on the kerbstone, and all they could do 'e wouldn't budge. + He said it was a bad road and a little shop, and 'ad got a look about it + he didn't like. They walked back 'ome like a funeral procession, and + Emma 'ad to keep saying "<i>H's!</i>" in w'ispers to 'er mother all the way. +</p> +<a name="image-5"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/005.jpg" height="870" width="523" +alt="'he Said It Was a Bad Road and A Little Shop, And 'ad Got +A Look About It he Didn't Like.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + "I don't know wot Charlie does want, I'm sure," ses Mrs. Cook, taking off + 'er bonnet as soon as she got indoors and pitching it on the chair he was + just going to set down on. +</p> +<p> + "It's so awk'ard," ses old Cook, rubbing his 'cad. "Fact is, Charlie, we + pretty near gave 'em to understand as we'd buy it." +</p> +<p> + "It's as good as settled," ses Mrs. Cook, trembling all over with temper. +</p> +<p> + "They won't settle till they get the money," ses Charlie. "You may make + your mind easy about that." +</p> +<p> + "Emma's drawn it all out of the bank ready," ses old Cook, eager like. +</p> +<p> + Charlie felt 'ot and cold all over. "I'd better take care of it," he + ses, in a trembling voice. "You might be robbed." +</p> +<p> + "So might you be," ses Mrs. Cook. "Don't you worry; it's in a safe + place." +</p> +<p> + "Sailormen are always being robbed," ses George Smith, who 'ad been + helping young Bill with 'is sums while they 'ad gone to look at the shop. + "There's more sailormen robbed than all the rest put together." +</p> +<p> + "They won't rob Charlie," ses Mrs. Cook, pressing 'er lips together. + "I'll take care o' that." +</p> +<p> + Charlie tried to laugh, but 'e made such a queer noise that young Bill + made a large blot on 'is exercise-book, and old Cook, wot was lighting + his pipe, burnt 'is fingers through not looking wot 'e was doing. +</p> +<p> + "You see," ses Charlie, "if I was robbed, which ain't at all likely, it + 'ud only be me losing my own money; but if you was robbed of it you'd + never forgive yourselves." +</p> +<p> + "I dessay I should get over it," ses Mrs. Cook, sniffing. "I'd 'ave a + try, at all events." +</p> +<p> + Charlie started to laugh agin, and old Cook, who had struck another + match, blew it out and waited till he'd finished. +</p> +<p> + "The whole truth is," ses Charlie, looking round, "I've got something + better to do with the money. I've got a chance offered me that'll make + me able to double it afore you know where you are." +</p> +<p> + "Not afore I know where I am," ses Mrs. Cook, with a laugh that was worse + than Charlie's. +</p> +<p> + "The chance of a lifetime," ses Charlie, trying to keep 'is temper. "I + can't tell you wot it is, because I've promised to keep it secret for a + time. You'll be surprised when I do tell you." +</p> +<p> + "If I wait till then till I'm surprised," ses Mrs. Cook, "I shall 'ave to + wait a long time. My advice to you is to take that shop and ha' done + with it." +</p> +<p> + Charlie sat there arguing all the evening, but it was no good, and the + idea o' them people sitting there and refusing to let 'im have his own + money pretty near sent 'im crazy. It was all 'e could do to kiss Emma + good-night, and 'e couldn't have 'elped slamming the front door if he'd + been paid for it. The only comfort he 'ad got left was the Sydney gal's + photygraph, and he took that out and looked at it under nearly every + lamp-post he passed. +</p> +<p> + He went round the next night and 'ad an-other try to get 'is money, but + it was no use; and all the good he done was to make Mrs. Cook in such a + temper that she 'ad to go to bed before he 'ad arf finished. It was no + good talking to old Cook and Emma, because they daren't do anything + without 'er, and it was no good calling things up the stairs to her + because she didn't answer. Three nights running Mrs. Cook went off to + bed afore eight o'clock, for fear she should say something to 'im as + she'd be sorry for arterwards; and for three nights Charlie made 'imself + so disagreeable that Emma told 'im plain the sooner 'e went back to sea + agin the better she should like it. The only one who seemed to enjoy it + was George Smith, and 'e used to bring bits out o' newspapers and read to + 'em, showing 'ow silly people was done out of their money. +</p> +<p> + On the fourth night Charlie dropped it and made 'imself so amiable that + Mrs. Cook stayed up and made 'im a Welsh rare-bit for 'is supper, and + made 'im drink two glasses o' beer instead o' one, while old Cook sat and + drank three glasses o' water just out of temper, and to show that 'e + didn't mind. When she started on the chandler's shop agin Charlie said + he'd think it over, and when 'e went away Mrs. Cook called 'im her + sailor-boy and wished 'im pleasant dreams. +</p> +<p> + But Charlie Tagg 'ad got better things to do than to dream, and 'e sat up + in bed arf the night thinking out a new plan he'd thought of to get that + money. When 'e did fall asleep at last 'e dreamt of taking a little farm + in Australia and riding about on 'orseback with the Sydney gal watching + his men at work. +</p> +<p> + In the morning he went and hunted up a shipmate of 'is, a young feller + named Jack Bates. Jack was one o' these 'ere chaps, nobody's enemy but + their own, as the saying is; a good-'arted, free-'anded chap as you could + wish to see. Everybody liked 'im, and the ship's cat loved 'im. He'd + ha' sold the shirt off 'is back to oblige a pal, and three times in one + week he got 'is face scratched for trying to prevent 'usbands knocking + their wives about. +</p> +<p> + Charlie Tagg went to 'im because he was the only man 'e could trust, and + for over arf an hour he was telling Jack Bates all 'is troubles, and at + last, as a great favour, he let 'im see the Sydney gal's photygraph, and + told him that all that pore gal's future 'appiness depended upon 'im. +</p> +<p> + "I'll step round to-night and rob 'em of that seventy-two pounds," ses + Jack; "it's your money, and you've a right to it." +</p> +<p> + Charlie shook his 'ead. "That wouldn't do," he ses; "besides, I don't + know where they keep it. No; I've got a better plan than that. Come + round to the Crooked Billet, so as we can talk it over in peace and + quiet." +</p> +<p> + He stood Jack three or four arf-pints afore 'e told 'im his plan, and + Jack was so pleased with it that he wanted to start at once, but Charlie + persuaded 'im to wait. +</p> +<p> + "And don't you spare me, mind, out o' friendship," ses Charlie, "because + the blacker you paint me the better I shall like it." +</p> +<p> + "You trust me, mate," ses Jack Bates; "if I don't get that seventy-two + pounds for you, you may call me a Dutchman. Why, it's fair robbery, I + call it, sticking to your money like that." +</p> +<p> + They spent the rest o' the day together, and when evening came Charlie + went off to the Cooks'. Emma 'ad arf expected they was going to a + theayter that night, but Charlie said he wasn't feeling the thing, and he + sat there so quiet and miserable they didn't know wot to make of 'im. +</p> +<p> + "'Ave you got any trouble on your mind, Charlie," ses Mrs. Cook, "or is + it the tooth-ache?" +</p> +<p> + "It ain't the toothache," ses Charlie. +</p> +<p> + He sat there pulling a long face and staring at the floor, but all Mrs. + Cook and Emma could do 'e wouldn't tell them wot was the matter with 'im. + He said 'e didn't want to worry other people with 'is troubles; let + everybody bear their own, that was 'is motto. Even when George Smith + offered to go to the theayter with Emma instead of 'im he didn't fire up, + and, if it 'adn't ha' been for Mrs. Cook, George wouldn't ha' been sorry + that 'e spoke. +</p> +<p> + "Theayters ain't for me," ses Charlie, with a groan. "I'm more likely to + go to gaol, so far as I can see, than a theayter." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Cook and Emma both screamed and Sarah Ann did 'er first + highstericks, and very well, too, considering that she 'ad only just + turned fifteen. +</p> +<p> + "Gaol!" ses old Cook, as soon as they 'ad quieted Sarah Ann with a bowl + o' cold water that young Bill 'ad the presence o' mind to go and fetch. + "Gaol! What for?" +</p> +<p> + "You wouldn't believe if I was to tell you." ses Charlie, getting up to + go, "and besides, I don't want any of you to think as 'ow I am worse than + wot I am." +</p> +<p> + He shook his 'cad at them sorrowful-like, and afore they could stop 'im + he 'ad gone. Old Cook shouted arter 'im, but it was no use, and the + others was running into the scullery to fill the bowl agin for Emma. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Cook went round to 'is lodgings next morning, but found that 'e was + out. They began to fancy all sorts o' things then, but Charlie turned up + agin that evening more miserable than ever. +</p> +<p> + "I went round to see you this morning," ses Mrs. Cook, "but you wasn't at + 'ome." +</p> +<p> + "I never am, 'ardly," ses Charlie. "I can't be—it ain't safe." +</p> +<p> + "Why not?" ses Mrs. Cook, fidgeting. +</p> +<p> + "If I was to tell you, you'd lose your good opinion of me," ses Charlie. +</p> +<p> + "It wouldn't be much to lose," ses Mrs. Cook, firing up. +</p> +<p> + Charlie didn't answer 'er. When he did speak he spoke to the old man, + and he was so down-'arted that 'e gave 'im the chills a'most, He 'ardly + took any notice of Emma, and, when Mrs. Cook spoke about the shop agin, + said that chandlers' shops was for happy people, not for 'im. +</p> +<p> + By the time they sat down to supper they was nearly all as miserable as + Charlie 'imself. From words he let drop they all seemed to 'ave the idea + that the police was arter 'im, and Mrs. Cook was just asking 'im for wot + she called the third and last time, but wot was more likely the hundred + and third, wot he'd done, when there was a knock at the front door, so + loud and so sudden that old Cook and young Bill both cut their mouths at + the same time. +</p> +<p> + "Anybody 'ere o' the name of Emma Cook?" ses a man's voice, when young + Bill opened the door. +</p> +<p> + "She's inside," ses the boy, and the next moment Jack Bates followed 'im + into the room, and then fell back with a start as 'e saw Charlie Tagg. +</p> +<p> + "Ho, 'ere you are, are you?" he ses, looking at 'im very black. + "Wot's the matter?" ses Mrs. Cook, very sharp. +</p> +<p> + "I didn't expect to 'ave the pleasure o' seeing you 'ere, my lad," ses + Jack, still staring at Charlie, and twisting 'is face up into awful + scowls. "Which is Emma Cook?" +</p> +<p> + "Miss Cook is my name," ses Emma, very sharp. "Wot d'ye want?" +</p> +<p> + "Very good," ses Jack Bates, looking at Charlie agin; "then p'r'aps + you'll do me the kindness of telling that lie o' yours agin afore this + young lady." +</p> +<p> + "It's the truth," ses Charlie, looking down at 'is plate. +</p> +<p> + "If somebody don't tell me wot all this is about in two minutes, I shall + do something desprit," ses Mrs. Cook, getting up. +</p> +<p> + "This 'ere—er—man," ses Jack Bates, pointing at Charlie, "owes me + seventy-five pounds and won't pay. When I ask 'im for it he ses a party + he's keeping company with, by the name of Emma Cook, 'as got it, and he + can't get it." +</p> +<p> + "So she has," ses Charlie, without looking up. +</p> +<p> + "Wot does 'e owe you the money for?" ses Mrs. Cook. +</p> +<p> + "'Cos I lent it to 'im," ses Jack. +</p> +<p> + "Lent it? What for?" ses Mrs. Cook. +</p> +<p> + "'Cos I was a fool, I s'pose," ses jack Bates; "a good-natured fool. + Anyway, I'm sick and tired of asking for it, and if I don't get it + to-night I'm going to see the police about it." +</p> +<p> + He sat down on a chair with 'is hat cocked over one eye, and they all sat + staring at 'im as though they didn't know wot to say next. +</p> +<p> + "So this is wot you meant when you said you'd got the chance of a + lifetime, is it?" ses Mrs. Cook to Charlie. "This is wot you wanted it + for, is it? Wot did you borrow all that money for?" +</p> +<p> + "Spend," ses Charlie, in a sulky voice. +</p> +<p> + "Spend!" ses Mrs. Cook, with a scream; "wot in?" +</p> +<p> + "Drink and cards mostly," ses Jack Bates, remembering wot Charlie 'ad + told 'im about blackening 'is character. +</p> +<p> + You might ha' heard a pin drop a'most, and Charlie sat there without + saying a word. +</p> +<p> + "Charlie's been led away," ses Mrs. Cook, looking 'ard at Jack Bates. "I + s'pose you lent 'im the money to win it back from 'im at cards, didn't + you?" +</p> +<p> + "And gave 'im too much licker fust," ses old Cook. "I've 'eard of your + kind. If Charlie takes my advice 'e won't pay you a farthing. I should + let you do your worst if I was 'im; that's wot I should do. You've got a + low face; a nasty, ugly, low face." +</p> +<p> + "One o' the worst I ever see," ses Mrs. Cook. "It looks as though it + might ha' been cut out o' the Police News." +</p> +<p> + "'Owever could you ha' trusted a man with a face like that, Charlie?" ses + old Cook. "Come away from 'im, Bill; I don't like such a chap in the + room." +</p> +<p> + Jack Bates began to feel very awk'ard. They was all glaring at 'im as + though they could eat 'im, and he wasn't used to such treatment. And, as + a matter o' fact, he'd got a very good-'arted face. +</p> +<p> + "You go out o' that door," ses old Cook, pointing to it. "Go and do your + worst. You won't get any money 'ere." +</p> +<p> + "Stop a minute," ses Emma, and afore they could stop 'er she ran + upstairs. Mrs. Cook went arter 'er and 'igh words was heard up in the + bedroom, but by-and-by Emma came down holding her head very 'igh and + looking at Jack Bates as though he was dirt. +</p> +<p> + "How am I to know Charlie owes you this money?" she ses. +</p> +<p> + Jack Bates turned very red, and arter fumbling in 'is pockets took out + about a dozen dirty bits o' paper, which Charlie 'ad given 'im for + I O U's. Emma read 'em all, and then she threw a little parcel on the + table. +</p> +<p> + "There's your money," she ses; "take it and go." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Cook and 'er father began to call out, but it was no good. +</p> +<p> + "There's seventy-two pounds there," ses Emma, who was very pale; "and + 'ere's a ring you can have to 'elp make up the rest." And she drew + Charlie's ring off and throwed it on the table. "I've done with 'im for + good," she ses, with a look at 'er mother. +</p> +<p> + Jack Bates took up the money and the ring and stood there looking at 'er + and trying to think wot to say. He'd always been uncommon partial to the + sex, and it did seem 'ard to stand there and take all that on account of + Charlie Tagg. +</p> +<p> + "I only wanted my own," he ses, at last, shuffling about the floor. +</p> +<p> + "Well, you've got it," ses Mrs. Cook, "and now you can go." +</p> +<p> + "You're pi'soning the air of my front parlour," ses old Cook, opening the + winder a little at the top. +</p> +<p> + "P'r'aps I ain't so bad as you think I am," ses Jack Bates, still looking + at Emma, and with that 'e walked over to Charlie and dumped down the + money on the table in front of 'im. "Take it," he ses, "and don't borrow + any more. I make you a free gift of it. P'r'aps my 'art ain't as black + as my face," he ses, turning to Mrs. Cook. +</p> +<p> + They was all so surprised at fust that they couldn't speak, but old Cook + smiled at 'im and put the winder up agin. And Charlie Tagg sat there arf + mad with temper, locking as though 'e could eat Jack Bates without any + salt, as the saying is. +</p> +<p> + "I—I can't take it," he ses at last, with a stammer. +</p> +<p> + "Can't take it? Why not?" ses old Cook, staring. "This gentleman 'as + given it to you." "A free gift," ses Mrs. Cook, smiling at Jack + very sweet. +</p> +<p> + "I can't take it," ses Charlie, winking at Jack to take the money up and + give it to 'im quiet, as arranged. "I 'ave my pride." +</p> +<p> + "So 'ave I," ses Jack. "Are you going to take it?" +</p> +<p> + Charlie gave another look. "No," he ses, "I cant take a favour. I + borrowed the money and I'll pay it back. +</p> +<p> + "Very good," ses Jack, taking it up. "It's my money, ain't it?" +</p> +<p> + "Yes," ses Charlie, taking no notice of Mrs. Cook and 'er husband, wot + was both talking to 'im at once, and trying to persuade 'im to alter his + mind. +</p> +<p> + "Then I give it to Miss Emma Cook," ses Jack Bates, putting it into her + hands. "Good-night everybody and good luck." +</p> +<p> + He slammed the front door behind 'im and they 'eard 'im go off down the + road as if 'e was going for fire-engines. Charlie sat there for a moment + struck all of a heap, and then 'e jumped up and dashed arter 'im. He + just saw 'im disappearing round a corner, and he didn't see 'im agin for + a couple o' year arterwards, by which time the Sydney gal had 'ad three + or four young men arter 'im, and Emma, who 'ad changed her name to Smith, + was doing one o' the best businesses in the chandlery line in Poplar. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_4"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + THE CONSTABLE'S MOVE +</h2> +<a name="image-6"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/006.jpg" height="475" width="541" +alt="'the Constable's Move.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + Mr. Bob Grummit sat in the kitchen with his corduroy-clad legs stretched + on the fender. His wife's half-eaten dinner was getting cold on the + table; Mr. Grummit, who was badly in need of cheering up, emptied her + half-empty glass of beer and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. +</p> +<p> + "Come away, I tell you," he called. "D'ye hear? Come away. You'll be + locked up if you don't." +</p> +<p> + He gave a little laugh at the sarcasm, and sticking his short pipe in his + mouth lurched slowly to the front-room door and scowled at his wife as + she lurked at the back of the window watching intently the furniture + which was being carried in next door. +</p> +<p> + "Come away or else you'll be locked up," repeated Mr. Grummit. "You + mustn't look at policemen's furniture; it's agin the law." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Grummit made no reply, but, throwing appearances to the winds, + stepped to the window until her nose touched, as a walnut sideboard with + bevelled glass back was tenderly borne inside under the personal + supervision of Police-Constable Evans. +</p> +<p> + "They'll be 'aving a pianner next," said the indignant Mr. Grummit, + peering from the depths of the room. +</p> +<p> + "They've got one," responded his wife; "there's the end if it stickin' up + in the van." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Grummit advanced and regarded the end fixedly. "Did you throw all + them tin cans and things into their yard wot I told you to?" he demanded. +</p> +<p> + "He picked up three of 'em while I was upstairs," replied his wife. "I + 'eard 'im tell her that they'd come in handy for paint and things." +</p> +<p> + "That's 'ow coppers get on and buy pianners," said the incensed Mr. + Grummit, "sneaking other people's property. I didn't tell you to throw + good 'uns over, did I? Wot d'ye mean by it?" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Grummit made no reply, but watched with bated breath the triumphal + entrance of the piano. The carman set it tenderly on the narrow + footpath, while P. C. Evans, stooping low, examined it at all points, and + Mrs. Evans, raising the lid, struck a few careless chords. +</p> +<p> + "Showing off," explained Mrs. Grummit, with a half turn; "and she's got + fingers like carrots." +</p> +<p> + "It's a disgrace to Mulberry Gardens to 'ave a copper come and live in + it," said the indignant Grummit; "and to come and live next to me!— + that's what I can't get over. To come and live next door to a man wot + has been fined twice, and both times wrong. Why, for two pins I'd go in + and smash 'is pianner first and 'im after it. He won't live 'ere long, + you take my word for it." +</p> +<p> + "Why not?" inquired his wife. +</p> +<p> + "Why?" repeated Mr. Grummit. "Why? Why, becos I'll make the place too + 'ot to hold him. Ain't there enough houses in Tunwich without 'im + a-coming and living next door to me?" +</p> +<p> + For a whole week the brain concealed in Mr. Grummit's bullet-shaped head + worked in vain, and his temper got correspondingly bad. The day after + the Evans' arrival he had found his yard littered with tins which he + recognized as old acquaintances, and since that time they had travelled + backwards and forwards with monotonous regularity. They sometimes made + as many as three journeys a day, and on one occasion the heavens opened + to drop a battered tin bucket on the back of Mr. Grummit as he was tying + his bootlace. Five minutes later he spoke of the outrage to Mr. Evans, + who had come out to admire the sunset. +</p> +<p> + "I heard something fall," said the constable, eyeing the pail curiously. +</p> +<p> + "You threw it," said Mr. Grummit, breathing furiously. +</p> +<p> + "Me? Nonsense," said the other, easily. "I was having tea in the + parlour with my wife and my mother-in-law, and my brother Joe and his + young lady." +</p> +<p> + "Any more of 'em?" demanded the hapless Mr. Grummit, aghast at this list + of witnesses for an alibi. +</p> +<p> + "It ain't a bad pail, if you look at it properly," said the constable. + "I should keep it if I was you; unless the owner offers a reward for it. + It'll hold enough water for your wants." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Grummit flung indoors and, after wasting some time concocting + impossible measures of retaliation with his sympathetic partner, went off + to discuss affairs with his intimates at the <i>Bricklayers' Arms</i>. The + company, although unanimously agreeing that Mr. Evans ought to be boiled, + were miserably deficient in ideas as to the means by which such a + desirable end was to be attained. +</p> +<p> + "Make 'im a laughing-stock, that's the best thing," said an elderly + labourer. "The police don't like being laughed at." +</p> +<p> + "'Ow?" demanded Mr. Grummit, with some asperity. +</p> +<p> + "There's plenty o' ways," said the old man. +</p> +<p> + "I should find 'em out fast enough if I 'ad a bucket dropped on my back, + I know." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Grummit made a retort the feebleness of which was somewhat balanced + by its ferocity, and subsided into glum silence. His back still ached, + but, despite that aid to intellectual effort, the only ways he could + imagine of making the constable look foolish contained an almost certain + risk of hard labour for himself. +</p> +<p> + He pondered the question for a week, and meanwhile the tins—to the + secret disappointment of Mr. Evans—remained untouched in his yard. For + the whole of the time he went about looking, as Mrs. Grummit expressed + it, as though his dinner had disagreed with him. +</p> +<p> + "I've been talking to old Bill Smith," he said, suddenly, as he came in + one night. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Grummit looked up, and noticed with wifely pleasure that he was + looking almost cheerful. +</p> +<p> + "He's given me a tip," said Mr. Grummit, with a faint smile; "a copper + mustn't come into a free-born Englishman's 'ouse unless he's invited." +</p> +<p> + "Wot of it?" inquired his wife. "You wasn't think of asking him in, was + you?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Grummit regarded her almost play-fully. "If a copper comes in + without being told to," he continued, "he gets into trouble for it. Now + d'ye see?" +</p> +<p> + "But he won't come," said the puzzled Mrs. Grummit. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Grummit winked. "Yes 'e will if you scream loud enough," he + retorted. "Where's the copper-stick?" +</p> +<p> + "Have you gone mad?" demanded his wife, "or do you think I 'ave?" +</p> +<p> + "You go up into the bedroom," said Mr. Grummit, emphasizing his remarks + with his forefinger. "I come up and beat the bed black and blue with the + copper-stick; you scream for mercy and call out 'Help!' 'Murder!' and + things like that. Don't call out 'Police!' cos Bill ain't sure about + that part. Evans comes bursting in to save your life—I'll leave the + door on the latch—and there you are. He's sure to get into trouble for + it. Bill said so. He's made a study o' that sort o' thing." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Grummit pondered this simple plan so long that her husband began to + lose patience. At last, against her better sense, she rose and fetched + the weapon in question. +</p> +<p> + "And you be careful what you're hitting," she said, as they went upstairs + to bed. "We'd better have 'igh words first, I s'pose?" +</p> +<p> + "You pitch into me with your tongue," said Mr. Grummit, amiably. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Grummit, first listening to make sure that the constable and his + wife were in the bedroom the other side of the flimsy wall, complied, and + in a voice that rose gradually to a piercing falsetto told Mr. Grummit + things that had been rankling in her mind for some months. She raked up + misdemeanours that he had long since forgotten, and, not content with + that, had a fling at the entire Grummit family, beginning with her + mother-in-law and ending with Mr. Grummit's youngest sister. The hand + that held the copper-stick itched. +</p> +<p> + "Any more to say?" demanded Mr. Grummit advancing upon her. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Grummit emitted a genuine shriek, and Mr. Grummit, suddenly + remembering himself, stopped short and attacked the bed with + extraordinary fury. The room resounded with the blows, and the efforts + of Mrs. Grummit were a revelation even to her husband. +</p> +<a name="image-7"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/007.jpg" height="903" width="535" +alt="'mr. Grummit, Suddenly Remembering Himself, Stopped Short +And Attacked the Bed With Extraordinary Fury.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + "I can hear 'im moving," whispered Mr. Grummit, pausing to take breath. +</p> +<p> + "Mur—der!" wailed his wife. "Help! Help!" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Grummit, changing the stick into his left hand, renewed the attack; + Mrs. Grummit, whose voice was becoming exhausted, sought a temporary + relief in moans. +</p> +<p> + "Is—he——deaf?" panted the wife-beater, "or wot?" +</p> +<p> + He knocked over a chair, and Mrs. Grummit contrived another frenzied + scream. A loud knocking sounded on the wall. +</p> +<p> + "Hel—lp!" moaned Mrs. Grummit. +</p> +<p> + "Halloa, there!" came the voice of the constable. "Why don't you keep + that baby quiet? We can't get a wink of sleep." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Grummit dropped the stick on the bed and turned a dazed face to his + wife. +</p> +<p> + "He—he's afraid—to come in," he gasped. "Keep it up, old gal." +</p> +<p> + He took up the stick again and Mrs. Grummit did her best, but the heart + had gone out of the thing, and he was about to give up the task as + hopeless when the door below was heard to open with a bang. +</p> +<p> + "Here he is," cried the jubilant Grummit. "Now!" +</p> +<p> + His wife responded, and at the same moment the bedroom door was flung + open, and her brother, who had been hastily fetched by the neighbours on + the other side, burst into the room and with one hearty blow sent Mr. + Grummit sprawling. +</p> +<p> + "Hit my sister, will you?" he roared, as the astounded Mr. Grummit rose. + "Take that!" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Grummit took it, and several other favours, while his wife, tugging + at her brother, endeavoured to explain. It was not, however, until Mr. + Grummit claimed the usual sanctuary of the defeated by refusing to rise + that she could make herself heard. +</p> +<p> + "Joke?" repeated her brother, incredulously. "Joke?" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Grummit in a husky voice explained. +</p> +<p> + Her brother passed from incredulity to amazement and from amazement to + mirth. He sat down gurgling, and the indignant face of the injured + Grummit only added to his distress. +</p> +<p> + "Best joke I ever heard in my life," he said, wiping his eyes. "Don't + look at me like that, Bob; I can't bear it." +</p> +<p> + "Get off 'ome," responded Mr. Grummit, glowering at him. +</p> +<p> + "There's a crowd outside, and half the doors in the place open," said the + other. "Well, it's a good job there's no harm done. So long." +</p> +<p> + He passed, beaming, down the stairs, and Mr. Grummit, drawing near the + window, heard him explaining in a broken voice to the neighbours outside. + Strong men patted him on the back and urged him gruffly to say what he + had to say and laugh afterwards. Mr. Grummit turned from the window, and + in a slow and stately fashion prepared to retire for the night. Even the + sudden and startling disappearance of Mrs. Grummit as she got into bed + failed to move him. +</p> +<p> + "The bed's broke, Bob," she said faintly. +</p> +<p> + "Beds won't last for ever," he said, shortly; "sleep on the floor." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Grummit clambered out, and after some trouble secured the bedclothes + and made up a bed in a corner of the room. In a short time she was fast + asleep; but her husband, broad awake, spent the night in devising further + impracticable schemes for the discomfiture of the foe next door. +</p> +<p> + He saw Mr. Evans next morning as he passed on his way to work. The + constable was at the door smoking in his shirt-sleeves, and Mr. Grummit + felt instinctively that he was waiting there to see him pass. +</p> +<p> + "I heard you last night," said the constable, playfully. "My word! Good + gracious!" +</p> +<p> + "Wot's the matter with you?" demanded Mr. Grummit, stopping short. +</p> +<p> + The constable stared at him. "She has been knocking you about," he + gasped. "Why, it must ha' been you screaming, then! I thought it + sounded loud. Why don't you go and get a summons and have her locked up? + I should be pleased to take her." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Grummit faced him, quivering with passion. "Wot would it cost if I + set about you?" he demanded, huskily. +</p> +<p> + "Two months," said Mr. Evans, smiling serenely; "p'r'aps three." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Grummit hesitated and his fists clenched nervously. The constable, + lounging against his door-post, surveyed him with a dispassionate smile. + "That would be besides what you'd get from me," he said, softly. +</p> +<p> + "Come out in the road," said Mr. Grummit, with sudden violence. +</p> +<p> + "It's agin the rules," said Mr. Evans; "sorry I can't. Why not go and + ask your wife's brother to oblige you?" +</p> +<p> + He went in laughing and closed the door, and Mr. Grummit, after a + frenzied outburst, proceeded on his way, returning the smiles of such + acquaintances as he passed with an icy stare or a strongly-worded offer + to make them laugh the other side of their face. The rest of the day he + spent in working so hard that he had no time to reply to the anxious + inquiries of his fellow-workmen. +</p> +<p> + He came home at night glum and silent, the hardship of not being able to + give Mr. Evans his deserts without incurring hard labour having weighed + on his spirits all day. To avoid the annoyance of the piano next door, + which was slowly and reluctantly yielding up "<i>The Last Rose of Summer</i>" + note by note, he went out at the back, and the first thing he saw was Mr. + Evans mending his path with tins and other bric-a-brac. +</p> +<p> + "Nothing like it," said the constable, looking up. "Your missus gave 'em + to us this morning. A little gravel on top, and there you are." +</p> +<p> + He turned whistling to his work again, and the other, after endeavouring + in vain to frame a suitable reply, took a seat on an inverted wash-tub + and lit his pipe. His one hope was that Constable Evans was going to try + and cultivate a garden. +</p> +<p> + The hope was realized a few days later, and Mr. Grummit at the back + window sat gloating over a dozen fine geraniums, some lobelias and + calceolarias, which decorated the constable's plot of ground. He could + not sleep for thinking of them. +</p> +<p> + He rose early the next morning, and, after remarking to Mrs. Grummit that + Mr. Evans's flowers looked as though they wanted rain, went off to his + work. The cloud which had been on his spirits for some time had lifted, + and he whistled as he walked. The sight of flowers in front windows + added to his good humour. +</p> +<p> + He was still in good spirits when he left off work that afternoon, but + some slight hesitation about returning home sent him to the Brick-layers' + firms instead. He stayed there until closing time, and then, being still + disinclined for home, paid a visit to Bill Smith, who lived the other + side of Tunwich. By the time he started for home it was nearly midnight. +</p> +<p> + The outskirts of the town were deserted and the houses in darkness. The + clock of Tunwich church struck twelve, and the last stroke was just dying + away as he turned a corner and ran almost into the arms of the man he had + been trying to avoid. +</p> +<p> + "Halloa!" said Constable Evans, sharply. "Here, I want a word with you." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Grummit quailed. "With me, sir?" he said, with involuntary respect. +</p> +<p> + "What have you been doing to my flowers?" demanded the other, hotly. +</p> +<p> + "Flowers?" repeated Mr. Grummit, as though the word were new to him. + "Flowers? What flowers?" +</p> +<p> + "You know well enough," retorted the constable. "You got over my fence + last night and smashed all my flowers down." +</p> +<p> + "You be careful wot you're saying," urged Mr. Grummit. "Why, I love + flowers. You don't mean to tell me that all them beautiful flowers wot + you put in so careful 'as been spoiled?" +</p> +<p> + "You know all about it," said the constable, choking. "I shall take out + a summons against you for it." +</p> +<p> + "Ho!" said Mr. Grummit. "And wot time do you say it was when I done it?" +</p> +<p> + "Never you mind the time," said the other. +</p> +<p> + "Cos it's important," said Mr. Grummit. +</p> +<p> + "My wife's brother—the one you're so fond of—slept in my 'ouse last + night. He was ill arf the night, pore chap; but, come to think of it, + it'll make 'im a good witness for my innocence." +</p> +<p> + "If I wasn't a policeman," said Mr. Evans, speaking with great + deliberation, "I'd take hold o' you, Bob Grummit, and I'd give you the + biggest hiding you've ever had in your life." +</p> +<p> + "If you wasn't a policeman," said Mr. Grummit, yearningly, "I'd arf + murder you." +</p> +<p> + The two men eyed each other wistfully, loth to part. +</p> +<p> + "If I gave you what you deserve I should get into trouble," said the + constable. +</p> +<p> + "If I gave you a quarter of wot you ought to 'ave I should go to quod," + sighed Mr. Grummit. +</p> +<p> + "I wouldn't put you there," said the constable, earnestly; "I swear I + wouldn't." +</p> +<p> + "Everything's beautiful and quiet," said Mr. Grummit, trembling with + eagerness, "and I wouldn't say a word to a soul. I'll take my solemn + davit I wouldn't." +</p> +<p> + "When I think o' my garden—" began the constable. With a sudden + movement he knocked off Mr. Grummit's cap, and then, seizing him by the + coat, began to hustle him along the road. In the twinkling of an eye + they had closed. +</p> +<p> + Tunwich church chimed the half-hour as they finished, and Mr. Grummit, + forgetting his own injuries, stood smiling at the wreck before him. The + constable's helmet had been smashed and trodden on; his uniform was torn + and covered with blood and dirt, and his good looks marred for a + fortnight at least. He stooped with a groan, and, recovering his helmet, + tried mechanically to punch it into shape. He stuck the battered relic + on his head, and Mr. Grummit fell back—awed, despite himself. +</p> +<p> + "It was a fair fight," he stammered. +</p> +<p> + The constable waved him away. "Get out o' my sight before I change my + mind," he said, fiercely; "and mind, if you say a word about this it'll + be the worse for you." +</p> +<p> + "Do you think I've gone mad?" said the other. He took another look at + his victim and, turning away, danced fantastically along the road home. + The constable, making his way to a gas-lamp, began to inspect damages. +</p> +<p> + They were worse even than he had thought, and, leaning against the + lamp-post, he sought in vain for an explanation that, in the absence of a + prisoner, would satisfy the inspector. A button which was hanging by a + thread fell tinkling on to the footpath, and he had just picked it up and + placed it in his pocket when a faint distant outcry broke upon his ear. +</p> +<p> + He turned and walked as rapidly as his condition would permit in the + direction of the noise. It became louder and more imperative, and cries + of "Police!" became distinctly audible. He quickened into a run, and + turning a corner beheld a little knot of people standing at the gate of a + large house. Other people only partially clad were hastening to-wards + them. The constable arrived out of breath. +</p> +<p> + "Better late than never," said the owner of the house, sarcastically. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Evans, breathing painfully, supported himself with his hand on the + fence. +</p> +<p> + "They went that way, but I suppose you didn't see them," continued the + householder. "Halloa!" he added, as somebody opened the hall door and + the constable's damaged condition became visible in the gas-light. "Are + you hurt?" +</p> +<p> + "Yes," said Mr. Evans, who was trying hard to think clearly. To gain + time he blew a loud call on his whistle. +</p> +<p> + "The rascals!" continued the other. "I think I should know the big chap + with a beard again, but the others were too quick for me." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Evans blew his whistle again—thoughtfully. The opportunity seemed + too good to lose. +</p> +<p> + "Did they get anything?" he inquired. +</p> +<p> + "Not a thing," said the owner, triumphantly. "I was disturbed just in + time." +</p> +<p> + The constable gave a slight gulp. "I saw the three running by the side + of the road," he said, slowly. "Their behaviour seemed suspicious, so I + collared the big one, but they set on me like wild cats. They had me + down three times; the last time I laid my head open against the kerb, and + when I came to my senses again they had gone." +</p> +<p> + He took off his battered helmet with a flourish and, amid a murmur of + sympathy, displayed a nasty cut on his head. A sergeant and a constable, + both running, appeared round the corner and made towards' them. +</p> +<p> + "Get back to the station and make your report," said the former, as + Constable Evans, in a somewhat defiant voice, repeated his story. + "You've done your best; I can see that." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Evans, enacting to perfection the part of a wounded hero, limped + painfully off, praying devoutly as he went that the criminals might make + good their escape. If not, he reflected that the word of a policeman was + at least equal to that of three burglars. +</p> +<p> + He repeated his story at the station, and, after having his head dressed, + was sent home and advised to keep himself quiet for a day or two. He was + off duty for four days, and, the Tunwich Gazette having devoted a column + to the affair, headed "A Gallant Constable," modestly secluded himself + from the public gaze for the whole of that time. +</p> +<p> + To Mr. Grummit, who had read the article in question until he could have + repeated it backwards, this modesty was particularly trying. The + constable's yard was deserted and the front door ever closed. Once Mr. + Grummit even went so far as to tap with his nails on the front parlour + window, and the only response was the sudden lowering of the blind. It + was not until a week afterwards that his eyes were gladdened by a sight + of the constable sitting in his yard; and fearing that even then he might + escape him, he ran out on tip-toe and put his face over the fence before + the latter was aware of his presence. +</p> +<p> + "Wot about that 'ere burglary?" he demanded in truculent tones. +</p> +<p> + "Good evening, Grummit," said the constable, with a patronizing air. +</p> +<p> + "Wot about that burglary?" repeated Mr. Grummit, with a scowl. "I don't + believe you ever saw a burglar." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Evans rose and stretched himself gracefully. "You'd better run + indoors, my good man," he said, slowly. +</p> +<p> + "Telling all them lies about burglars," continued the indignant Mr. + Grummit, producing his newspaper and waving it. "Why, I gave you that + black eye, I smashed your 'elmet, I cut your silly 'ead open, I——" +</p> +<p> + "You've been drinking," said the other, severely. +</p> +<p> + "You mean to say I didn't?" demanded Mr. Grummit, ferociously. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Evans came closer and eyed him steadily. "I don't know what you're + talking about," he said, calmly. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Grummit, about to speak, stopped appalled at such hardihood. +</p> +<p> + "Of course, if you mean to say that you were one o' them burglars," + continued the constable, "why, say it and I'll take you with pleasure. + Come to think of it, I did seem to remember one o' their voices." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Grummit, with his eyes fixed on the other's, backed a couple of yards + and breathed heavily. +</p> +<p> + "About your height, too, he was," mused the constable. "I hope for your + sake you haven't been saying to anybody else what you said to me just + now." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Grummit shook his head. "Not a word," he faltered. +</p> +<p> + "That's all right, then," said Mr. Evans. "I shouldn't like to be hard + on a neighbour; not that we shall be neighbours much longer." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Grummit, feeling that a reply was expected of him, gave utterance to + a feeble "Oh!" +</p> +<p> + "No," said Mr. Evans, looking round disparagingly. "It ain't good enough + for us now; I was promoted to sergeant this morning. A sergeant can't + live in a common place like this." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Grummit, a prey to a sickening fear, drew near the fence again. "A— + a sergeant?" he stammered. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Evans smiled and gazed carefully at a distant cloud. "For my bravery + with them burglars the other night, Grummit," he said, modestly. "I + might have waited years if it hadn't been for them." +</p> +<p> + He nodded to the frantic Grummit and turned away; Mr. Grummit, without + any adieu at all, turned and crept back to the house. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_5"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + BOB'S REDEMPTION +</h2> +<a name="image-8"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/008.jpg" height="375" width="375" +alt="'bob's Redemption.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + "GRATITOODE!" said the night-watchman, with a hard laugh. "<i>Hmf!</i> Don't + talk to me about gratitoode; I've seen too much of it. If people wot + I've helped in my time 'ad only done arf their dooty—arf, mind you—I + should be riding in my carriage." +</p> +<p> + Forgetful of the limitations of soap-boxes he attempted to illustrate his + remark by lolling, and nearly went over backwards. Recovering himself by + an effort he gazed sternly across the river and smoked fiercely. It was + evident that he was brooding over an ill-used past. +</p> +<p> + 'Arry Thomson was one of them, he said, at last. For over six months I + wrote all 'is love-letters for him, 'e being an iggernerant sort of man + and only being able to do the kisses at the end, which he always insisted + on doing 'imself: being jealous. Only three weeks arter he was married + 'e come up to where I was standing one day and set about me without + saying a word. I was a single man at the time and I didn't understand + it. My idea was that he 'ad gone mad, and, being pretty artful and + always 'aving a horror of mad people, I let 'im chase me into a + police-station. Leastways, I would ha' let 'im, but he didn't come, + and I all but got fourteen days for being drunk and disorderly. +</p> +<p> + Then there was Bill Clark. He 'ad been keeping comp'ny with a gal and + got tired of it, and to oblige 'im I went to her and told 'er he was a + married man with five children. Bill was as pleased as Punch at fust, + but as soon as she took up with another chap he came round to see me and + said as I'd ruined his life. We 'ad words about it—naturally—and I did + ruin it then to the extent of a couple o' ribs. I went to see 'im in the + horsepittle—place I've always been fond of—and the langwidge he used to + me was so bad that they sent for the Sister to 'ear it. +</p> +<p> + That's on'y two out of dozens I could name. Arf the unpleasantnesses in + my life 'ave come out of doing kindnesses to people, and all the + gratitoode I've 'ad for it I could put in a pint-pot with a pint o' beer + already in it. +</p> +<p> + The only case o' real gratitoode I ever heard of 'appened to a shipmate + o' mine—a young chap named Bob Evans. Coming home from Auckland in a + barque called the <i>Dragon Fly</i> he fell overboard, and another chap named + George Crofts, one o' the best swimmers I ever knew, went overboard arter + 'im and saved his life. +</p> +<p> + We was hardly moving at the time, and the sea was like a duck pond, but + to 'ear Bob Evans talk you'd ha' thought that George Crofts was the + bravest-'arted chap that ever lived. He 'adn't liked him afore, same as + the rest of us, George being a sly, mean sort o' chap; but arter George + 'ad saved his life 'e couldn't praise 'im enough. He said that so long + as he 'ad a crust George should share it, and wotever George asked 'im he + should have. +</p> +<p> + The unfortnit part of it was that George took 'im at his word, and all + the rest of the v'y'ge he acted as though Bob belonged to 'im, and by the + time we got into the London river Bob couldn't call his soul 'is own. He + used to take a room when he was ashore and live very steady, as 'e was + saving up to get married, and as soon as he found that out George invited + 'imself to stay with him. +</p> +<p> + "It won't cost you a bit more," he ses, "not if you work it properly." +</p> +<p> + Bob didn't work it properly, but George having saved his life, and never + letting 'im forget it, he didn't like to tell him so. He thought he'd + let 'im see gradual that he'd got to be careful because of 'is gal, and + the fust evening they was ashore 'e took 'im along with 'im there to tea. +</p> +<p> + Gerty Mitchell—that was the gal's name—'adn't heard of Bob's accident, + and when she did she gave a little scream, and putting 'er arms round his + neck, began to kiss 'im right in front of George and her mother. +</p> +<p> + "You ought to give him one too," ses Mrs. Mitchell, pointing to George. +</p> +<p> + George wiped 'is mouth on the back of his 'and, but Gerty pretended not + to 'ear. +</p> +<p> + "Fancy if you'd been drownded!" she ses, hugging Bob agin. +</p> +<p> + "He was pretty near," ses George, shaking his 'ead. "I'm a pore swimmer, + but I made up my mind either to save 'im or else go down to a watery + grave myself." +</p> +<p> + He wiped his mouth on the back of his 'and agin, but all the notice Gerty + took of it was to send her young brother Ted out for some beer. Then + they all 'ad supper together, and Mrs. Mitchell drank good luck to George + in a glass o' beer, and said she 'oped that 'er own boy would grow up + like him. "Let 'im grow up a good and brave man, that's all I ask," she + ses. "I don't care about 'is looks." +</p> +<p> + "He might have both," ses George, sharp-like. "Why not?" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Mitchell said she supposed he might, and then she cuffed young Ted's + ears for making a noise while 'e was eating, and then cuffed 'im agin for + saying that he'd finished 'is supper five minutes ago. +</p> +<p> + George and Bob walked 'ome together, and all the way there George said + wot a pretty gal Gerty was and 'ow lucky it was for Bob that he 'adn't + been drownded. He went round to tea with 'im the next day to Mrs. + Mitchell's, and arter tea, when Bob and Gerty said they was going out to + spend the evening together, got 'imself asked too. +</p> +<p> + They took a tram-car and went to a music-hall, and Bob paid for the three + of 'em. George never seemed to think of putting his 'and in his pocket, + and even arter the music-hall, when they all went into a shop and 'ad + stewed eels, he let Bob pay. +</p> +<p> + As I said afore, Bob Evans was chock-full of gratefulness, and it seemed + only fair that he shouldn't grumble at spending a little over the man wot + 'ad risked 'is life to save his; but wot with keeping George at his room, + and paying for 'im every time they went out, he was spending a lot more + money than 'e could afford. +</p> +<p> + "You're on'y young once, Bob," George said to him when 'e made a remark + one arternoon as to the fast way his money was going, "and if it hadn't + ha' been for me you'd never 'ave lived to grow old." +</p> +<p> + Wot with spending the money and always 'aving George with them when they + went out, it wasn't long afore Bob and Gerty 'ad a quarrel. "I don't + like a pore-spirited man," she ses. "Two's company and three's none, + and, besides, why can't he pay for 'imself? He's big enough. Why should + you spend your money on 'im? He never pays a farthing." +</p> +<p> + Bob explained that he couldn't say anything because 'e owed his life to + George, but 'e might as well 'ave talked to a lamp-post. The more he + argued the more angry Gerty got, and at last she ses, "Two's company and + three's none, and if you and me can't go out without George Crofts, then + me and 'im 'll go out with-out you." +</p> +<p> + She was as good as her word, too, and the next night, while Bob 'ad gone + out to get some 'bacca, she went off alone with George. It was ten + o'clock afore they came back agin, and Gerty's eyes were all shining and + 'er cheeks as pink as roses. She shut 'er mother up like a concertina + the moment she began to find fault with 'er, and at supper she sat next + to George and laughed at everything 'e said. +</p> +<p> + George and Bob walked all the way 'ome arter supper without saying a + word, but arter they got to their room George took a side-look at Bob, + and then he ses, suddenlike, "Look 'ere! I saved your life, didn't I?" +</p> +<p> + "You did," ses Bob, "and I thank you for it." +</p> +<p> + "I saved your life," ses George agin, very solemn. "If it hadn't ha' + been for me you couldn't ha' married anybody." +</p> +<p> + "That's true," ses Bob. +</p> +<p> + "Me and Gerty 'ave been having a talk," ses George, bending down to undo + his boots. "We've been getting on very well together; you can't 'elp + your feelings, and the long and the short of it is, the pore gal has + fallen in love with me." +</p> +<p> + Bob didn't say a word. +</p> +<p> + "If you look at it this way it's fair enough," ses George. "I gave you + your life and you give me your gal. We're quits now. You don't owe me + anything and I don't owe you anything. That's the way Gerty puts it, and + she told me to tell you so." +</p> +<p> + "If—if she don't want me I'm agreeable," ses Bob, in a choking voice. + "We'll call it quits, and next time I tumble overboard I 'ope you won't + be handy." +</p> +<p> + He took Gerty's photygraph out of 'is box and handed it to George. + "You've got more right to it now than wot I 'ave," he ses. "I shan't go + round there any more; I shall look out for a ship to-morrow." +</p> +<p> + George Crofts said that perhaps it was the best thing he could do, and 'e + asked 'im in a offhand sort o' way 'ow long the room was paid up for. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Mitchell 'ad a few words to say about it next day, but Gerty told + 'er to save 'er breath for walking upstairs. The on'y thing that George + didn't like when they went out was that young Ted was with them, but + Gerty said she preferred it till she knew 'im better; and she 'ad so much + to say about his noble behaviour in saving life that George gave way. + They went out looking at the shops, George thinking that that was the + cheapest way of spending an evening, and they were as happy as possible + till Gerty saw a brooch she liked so much in a window that he couldn't + get 'er away. +</p> +<p> + "It is a beauty," she ses. "I don't know when I've seen a brooch I liked + better. Look here! Let's all guess the price and then go in and see + who's right." +</p> +<p> + They 'ad their guesses, and then they went in and asked, and as soon as + Gerty found that it was only three-and-sixpence she began to feel in her + pocket for 'er purse, just like your wife does when you go out with 'er, + knowing all the time that it's on the mantelpiece with twopence-ha'penny + and a cough lozenge in it. +</p> +<p> + "I must ha' left it at 'ome," she ses, looking at George. +</p> +<p> + "Just wot I've done," ses George, arter patting 'is pockets. +</p> +<p> + Gerty bit 'er lips and, for a minute or two, be civil to George she could + not. Then she gave a little smile and took 'is arm agin, and they walked + on talking and laughing till she turned round of a sudden and asked a big + chap as was passing wot 'e was shoving 'er for. +</p> +<p> + "Shoving you?" ses he. "Wot do you think I want to shove you for?" +</p> +<p> + "Don't you talk to me," ses Gerty, firing up. "George, make 'im beg my + pardon." +</p> +<p> + "You ought to be more careful," ses George, in a gentle sort o' way. +</p> +<p> + "Make 'im beg my pardon," ses Gerty, stamping 'er foot; "if he don't, + knock 'im down." +</p> +<p> + "Yes, knock 'im down," ses the big man, taking hold o' George's cap and + rumpling his 'air. +</p> +<p> + Pore George, who was never much good with his fists, hit 'im in the + chest, and the next moment he was on 'is back in the middle o' the road + wondering wot had 'appened to 'im. By the time 'e got up the other man + was arf a mile away; and young Ted stepped up and wiped 'im down with a + pocket-'andkerchief while Gerty explained to 'im 'ow she saw 'im slip on + a piece o' banana peel. +</p> +<p> + "It's 'ard lines," she ses; "but never mind, you frightened 'im away, + and I don't wonder at it. You do look terrible when you're angry, + George; I didn't know you." +</p> +<p> + She praised 'im all the way 'ome, and if it 'adn't been for his mouth and + nose George would 'ave enjoyed it more than 'e did. She told 'er mother + how 'e had flown at a big man wot 'ad insulted her, and Mrs. Mitchell + shook her 'ead at 'im and said his bold spirit would lead 'im into + trouble afore he 'ad done. +</p> +<p> + They didn't seem to be able to make enough of 'im, and next day when he + went round Gerty was so upset at the sight of 'is bruises that he thought + she was going to cry. When he had 'ad his tea she gave 'im a cigar she + had bought for 'im herself, and when he 'ad finished smoking it she + smiled at him, and said that she was going to take 'im out for a pleasant + evening to try and make up to 'im for wot he 'ad suffered for 'er. +</p> +<p> + "We're all going to stand treat to each other," she ses. "Bob always + would insist on paying for everything, but I like to feel a bit + independent. Give and take—that's the way I like to do things." +</p> +<p> + "There's nothing like being independent," ses George. "Bob ought to ha' + known that." +</p> +<p> + "I'm sure it's the best plan," ses Gerty. "Now, get your 'at on. We're + going to a theayter, and Ted shall pay the 'bus fares." +</p> +<p> + George wanted to ask about the theayter, but 'e didn't like to, and arter + Gerty was dressed they went out and Ted paid the 'bus fares like a man. +</p> +<p> + "Here you are," ses Gerty, as the 'bus stopped outside the theayter. + "Hurry up and get the tickets, George; ask for three upper circles." +</p> +<p> + She bustled George up to the pay place, and as soon as she 'ad picked out + the seats she grabbed 'old of the tickets and told George to make haste. +</p> +<p> + "Twelve shillings it is," ses the man, as George put down arf a crown. +</p> +<p> + "Twelve?" ses George, beginning to stammer. "Twelve? Twelve? Twel—?" +</p> +<p> + "Twelve shillings," ses the man; "three upper circles you've 'ad." +</p> +<p> + George was going to fetch Gerty back and 'ave cheaper seats, but she 'ad + gone inside with young Ted, and at last, arter making an awful fuss, he + paid the rest o' the money and rushed in arter her, arf crazy at the idea + o' spending so much money. +</p> +<p> + "Make 'aste," ses Gerty, afore he could say anything; "the band 'as just + begun." +</p> +<p> + She started running upstairs, and she was so excited that, when they got + their seats and George started complaining about the price, she didn't + pay any attention to wot he was saying, but kept pointing out ladies' + dresses to 'im in w'ispers and wondering wot they 'ad paid for them. + George gave it up at last, and then he sat wondering whether he 'ad done + right arter all in taking Bob's gal away from him. +</p> +<p> + Gerty enjoyed it very much, but when the curtain came down after the + first act she leaned back in her chair and looked up at George and said + she felt faint and thought she'd like to 'ave an ice-cream. "And you + 'ave one too, dear," she ses, when young Ted 'ad got up and beckoned to + the gal, "and Ted 'ud like one too, I'm sure." +</p> +<p> + She put her 'ead on George's shoulder and looked up at 'im. Then she put + her 'and on his and stroked it, and George, reckoning that arter all + ice-creams were on'y a ha'penny or at the most a penny each, altered 'is + mind about not spending any more money and ordered three. +</p> +<p> + The way he carried on when the gal said they was three shillings was + alarming. At fust 'e thought she was 'aving a joke with 'im, and it took + another gal and the fireman and an old gentleman wot was sitting behind + 'im to persuade 'im different. He was so upset that 'e couldn't eat his + arter paying for it, and Ted and Gerty had to finish it for 'im. +</p> +<p> + "They're expensive, but they're worth the money," ses Gerty. "You are + good to me, George. I could go on eating 'em all night, but you mustn't + fling your money away like this always." +</p> +<p> + "I'll see to that," ses George, very bitter. +</p> +<p> + "I thought we was going to stand treat to each other? That was the idea, + I understood." +</p> +<p> + "So we are," ses Gerty. "Ted stood the 'bus fares, didn't he?" +</p> +<p> + "He did," ses George, "wot there was of 'em; but wot about you?" +</p> +<p> + "Me?" ses Gerty, drawing her 'ead back and staring at 'im. "Why, 'ave + you forgot that cigar already, George?" +</p> +<p> + George opened 'is mouth, but 'e couldn't speak a word. He sat looking at + 'er and making a gasping noise in 'is throat, and fortunately just as 'e + got 'is voice back the curtain went up agin, and everybody said, + "<i>H'sh!</i>" +</p> +<p> + He couldn't enjoy the play at all, 'e was so upset, and he began to see + more than ever 'ow wrong he 'ad been in taking Bob's gal away from 'im. + He walked downstairs into the street like a man in a dream, with Gerty + sticking to 'is arm and young Ted treading on 'is heels behind. +</p> +<p> + "Now, you mustn't waste any more money, George," ses Gerty, when they got + outside. "We'll walk 'ome." +</p> +<p> + George 'ad got arf a mind to say something about a 'bus, but he + remembered in time that very likely young Ted hadn't got any more money. + Then Gerty said she knew a short cut, and she took them, walking along + little, dark, narrow streets and places, until at last, just as George + thought they must be pretty near 'ome, she began to dab her eyes with 'er + pocket-'andkerchief and say she'd lost 'er way. +</p> +<p> + "You two go 'ome and leave me," she ses, arf crying. "I can't walk + another step." +</p> +<p> + "Where are we?" ses George, looking round. +</p> +<p> + "I don't know," ses Gerty. "I couldn't tell you if you paid me. I must + 'ave taken a wrong turning. Oh, hurrah! Here's a cab!" +</p> +<p> + Afore George could stop 'er she held up 'er umbrella, and a 'ansom cab, + with bells on its horse, crossed the road and pulled up in front of 'em. + Ted nipped in first and Gerty followed 'im. +</p> +<p> + "Tell 'im the address, dear, and make 'aste and get in," ses Gerty. +</p> +<p> + George told the cabman, and then he got in and sat on Ted's knee, partly + on Gerty's umbrella, and mostly on nothing. +</p> +<p> + "You are good to me, George," ses Gerty, touching the back of 'is neck + with the brim of her hat. "It ain't often I get a ride in a cab. All + the time I was keeping company with Bob we never 'ad one once. I only + wish I'd got the money to pay for it." +</p> +<p> + George, who was going to ask a question, stopped 'imself, and then he + kept striking matches and trying to read all about cab fares on a bill in + front of 'im. +</p> +<p> + "'Ow are we to know 'ow many miles it is?" he ses, at last. +</p> +<p> + "I don't know," ses Gerty; "leave it to the cabman. It's his bisness, + ain't it? And if 'e don't know he must suffer for it." +</p> +<p> + There was hardly a soul in Gerty's road when they got there, but afore + George 'ad settled with the cabman there was a policeman moving the crowd + on and arf the winders in the road up. By the time George had paid 'im + and the cabman 'ad told him wot 'e looked like, Gerty and Ted 'ad + disappeared indoors, all the lights was out, and, in a state o' mind that + won't bear thinking of, George walked 'ome to his lodging. +</p> +<a name="image-9"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/009.jpg" height="910" width="539" +alt="'afore George Had Settled With the Cabman, There Was A +Policeman Moving the Crowd On.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + Bob was asleep when he got there, but 'e woke 'im up and told 'im about + it, and then arter a time he said that he thought Bob ought to pay arf + because he 'ad saved 'is life. +</p> +<p> + "Cert'nly not," ses Bob. "We're quits now; that was the arrangement. + I only wish it was me spending the money on her; I shouldn't grumble." +</p> +<p> + George didn't get a wink o' sleep all night for thinking of the money he + 'ad spent, and next day when he went round he 'ad almost made up 'is mind + to tell Bob that if 'e liked to pay up the money he could 'ave Gerty + back; but she looked so pretty, and praised 'im up so much for 'is + generosity, that he began to think better of it. One thing 'e was + determined on, and that was never to spend money like that agin for fifty + Gertys. +</p> +<p> + There was a very sensible man there that evening that George liked very + much. His name was Uncle Joe, and when Gerty was praising George to 'is + face for the money he 'ad been spending, Uncle Joe, instead o' looking + pleased, shook his 'ead over it. +</p> +<p> + "Young people will be young people, I know," he ses, "but still I don't + approve of extravagance. Bob Evans would never 'ave spent all that money + over you." +</p> +<p> + "Bob Evans ain't everybody," ses Mrs. Mitchell, standing up for Gerty. +</p> +<p> + "He was steady, anyway," ses Uncle Joe. "Besides, Gerty ought not to ha' + let Mr. Crofts spend his money like that. She could ha' prevented it if + she'd ha' put 'er foot down and insisted on it." +</p> +<p> + He was so solemn about it that everybody began to feel a bit upset, and + Gerty borrowed Ted's pocket-'andkerchief, and then wiped 'er eyes on the + cuff of her dress instead. +</p> +<p> + "Well, well," ses Uncle Joe; "I didn't mean to be 'ard, but don't do it + no more. You are young people, and can't afford it." +</p> +<p> + "We must 'ave a little pleasure sometimes," ses Gerty. +</p> +<p> + "Yes, I know," ses Uncle Joe; "but there's moderation in everything. + Look 'ere, it's time somebody paid for Mr. Crofts. To-morrow's Saturday, + and, if you like, I'll take you all to the Crystal Palace." +</p> +<p> + Gerty jumped up off of 'er chair and kissed 'im, while Mrs. Mitchell said + she knew 'is bark was worse than 'is bite, and asked 'im who was wasting + his money now? +</p> +<p> + "You meet me at London Bridge Station at two o'clock," ses Uncle Joe, + getting up to go. "It ain't extravagance for a man as can afford it." +</p> +<p> + He shook 'ands with George Crofts and went, and, arter George 'ad stayed + long enough to hear a lot o' things about Uncle Joe which made 'im think + they'd get on very well together, he went off too. +</p> +<p> + They all turned up very early the next arternoon, and Gerty was dressed + so nice that George couldn't take his eyes off of her. Besides her there + was Mrs. Mitchell and Ted and a friend of 'is named Charlie Smith. +</p> +<p> + They waited some time, but Uncle Joe didn't turn up, and they all got + looking at the clock and talking about it, and 'oping he wouldn't make + 'em miss the train. +</p> +<p> + "Here he comes!" ses Ted, at last. +</p> +<p> + Uncle Joe came rushing in, puffing and blowing as though he'd bust. + "Take 'em on by this train, will you?" he ses, catching 'old o' George by + the arm. "I've just been stopped by a bit o' business I must do, and + I'll come on by the next, or as soon arter as I can." +</p> +<p> + He rushed off again, puffing and blowing his 'ardest, in such a hurry + that he forgot to give George the money for the tickets. However, George + borrowed a pencil of Mrs. Mitchell in the train, and put down on paper + 'ow much they cost, and Mrs. Mitchell said if George didn't like to + remind 'im she would. +</p> +<p> + They left young Ted and Charlie to stay near the station when they got to + the Palace, Uncle Joe 'aving forgotten to say where he'd meet 'em, but + train arter train came in without 'im, and at last the two boys gave it + up. +</p> +<p> + "We're sure to run across 'im sooner or later," ses Gerty. "Let's 'ave + something to eat; I'm so hungry." +</p> +<p> + George said something about buns and milk, but Gerty took 'im up sharp. + "Buns and milk?" she ses. "Why, uncle would never forgive us if we + spoilt his treat like that." +</p> +<p> + She walked into a refreshment place and they 'ad cold meat and bread and + pickles and beer and tarts and cheese, till even young Ted said he'd 'ad + enough, but still they couldn't see any signs of Uncle Joe. They went on + to the roundabouts to look for 'im, and then into all sorts o' shows at + sixpence a head, but still there was no signs of 'im, and George had 'ad + to start on a fresh bit o' paper to put down wot he'd spent. +</p> +<p> + "I suppose he must ha' been detained on important business," ses Gerty, + at last. +</p> +<p> + "Unless it's one of 'is jokes," ses Mrs. Mitchell, shaking her 'ead. + "You know wot your uncle is, Gerty." +</p> +<p> + "There now, I never thought o' that," ses Gerty, with a start; "p'r'aps + it is." +</p> +<p> + "Joke?" ses George, choking and staring from one to the other. +</p> +<p> + "I was wondering where he'd get the money from," ses Mrs. Mitchell to + Gerty. "I see it all now; I never see such a man for a bit o' fun in all + my born days. And the solemn way he went on last night, too. Why, he + must ha' been laughing in 'is sleeve all the time. It's as good as a + play." +</p> +<p> + "Look here!" ses George, 'ardly able to speak; "do you mean to tell me he + never meant to come?" +</p> +<p> + "I'm afraid not," ses Mrs. Mitchell, "knowing wot he is. But don't you + worry; I'll give him a bit o' my mind when I see 'im." +</p> +<p> + George Crofts felt as though he'd burst, and then 'e got his breath, and + the things 'e said about Uncle Joe was so awful that Mrs. Mitchell told + the boys to go away. +</p> +<p> + "How dare you talk of my uncle like that?" ses Gerty, firing up. +</p> +<p> + "You forget yourself, George," ses Mrs. Mitchell. "You'll like 'im when + you get to know 'im better." +</p> +<p> + "Don't you call me George," ses George Crofts, turning on 'er. "I've + been done, that's wot I've been. I 'ad fourteen pounds when I was paid + off, and it's melting like butter." +</p> +<p> + "Well, we've enjoyed ourselves," ses Gerty, "and that's what money was + given us for. I'm sure those two boys 'ave had a splendid time, thanks + to you. Don't go and spoil all by a little bit o' temper." +</p> +<p> + "Temper!" ses George, turning on her. "I've done with you, I wouldn't + marry you if you was the on'y gal in the world. I wouldn't marry you if + you paid me." +</p> +<p> + "Oh, indeed!" ses Gerty; "but if you think you can get out of it like + that you're mistaken. I've lost my young man through you, and I'm not + going to lose you too. I'll send my two big cousins round to see you + to-morrow." +</p> +<p> + "They won't put up with no nonsense, I can tell you," ses Mrs. Mitchell. +</p> +<p> + She called the boys to her, and then she and Gerty, arter holding their + 'eads very high and staring at George, went off and left 'im alone. He + went straight off 'ome, counting 'is money all the way and trying to make + it more, and, arter telling Bob 'ow he'd been treated, and trying hard to + get 'im to go shares in his losses, packed up his things and cleared out, + all boiling over with temper. +</p> +<p> + Bob was so dazed he couldn't make head or tail out of it, but 'e went + round to see Gerty the first thing next morning, and she explained things + to him. +</p> +<p> + "I don't know when I've enjoyed myself so much," she ses, wiping her + eyes, "but I've had enough gadding about for once, and if you come round + this evening we'll have a nice quiet time together looking at the + furniture shops." +</p> +<a name="2H_4_6"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + OVER THE SIDE +</h2> +<a name="image-10"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/010.jpg" height="779" width="360" +alt="'over the Side.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + Of all classes of men, those who follow the sea are probably the most + prone to superstition. Afloat upon the black waste of waters, at the + mercy of wind and sea, with vast depths and strange creatures below them, + a belief in the supernatural is easier than ashore, under the cheerful + gas-lamps. Strange stories of the sea are plentiful, and an incident + which happened within my own experience has made me somewhat chary of + dubbing a man fool or coward because he has encountered something he + cannot explain. There are stories of the supernatural with prosaic + sequels; there are others to which the sequel has never been published. +</p> +<p> + I was fifteen years old at the time, and as my father, who had a strong + objection to the sea, would not apprentice me to it, I shipped before the + mast on a sturdy little brig called the <i>Endeavour,</i> bound for Riga. She + was a small craft, but the skipper was as fine a seaman as one could wish + for, and, in fair weather, an easy man to sail under. Most boys have a + rough time of it when they first go to sea, but, with a strong sense of + what was good for me, I had attached myself to a brawny, good-natured + infant, named Bill Smith, and it was soon understood that whoever hit me + struck Bill by proxy. Not that the crew were particularly brutal, but a + sound cuffing occasionally is held by most seamen to be beneficial to a + lad's health and morals. The only really spiteful fellow among them was + a man named Jem Dadd. He was a morose, sallow-looking man, of about + forty, with a strong taste for the supernatural, and a stronger taste + still for frightening his fellows with it. I have seen Bill almost + afraid to go on deck of a night for his trick at the wheel, after a few + of his reminiscences. Rats were a favourite topic with him, and he would + never allow one to be killed if he could help it, for he claimed for them + that they were the souls of drowned sailors, hence their love of ships + and their habit of leaving them when they became unseaworthy. He was a + firm believer in the transmigration of souls, some idea of which he had, + no doubt, picked up in Eastern ports, and gave his shivering auditors to + understand that his arrangements for his own immediate future were + already perfected. +</p> +<p> + We were six or seven days out when a strange thing happened. Dadd had + the second watch one night, and Bill was to relieve him. They were not + very strict aboard the brig in fair weather, and when a man's time was + up he just made the wheel fast, and, running for'ard, shouted down the + fo'c's'le. On this night I happened to awake suddenly, in time to see + Bill slip out of his bunk and stand by me, rubbing his red eyelids with + his knuckles. +</p> +<p> + "Dadd's giving me a long time," he whispered, seeing that I was awake; + "it's a whole hour after his time." +</p> +<p> + He pattered up on deck, and I was just turning over, thankful that I was + too young to have a watch to keep, when he came softly down again, and, + taking me by the shoulders, shook me roughly. +</p> +<p> + "Jack," he whispered. "Jack." +</p> +<p> + I raised myself on my elbows, and, in the light of the smoking lamp, saw + that he was shaking all over. +</p> +<p> + "Come on deck," he said, thickly. +</p> +<p> + I put on my clothes, and followed him quietly to the sweet, cool air + above. It was a beautiful clear night, but, from his manner, I looked + nervously around for some cause of alarm. I saw nothing. The deck was + deserted, except for the solitary figure at the wheel. +</p> +<p> + "Look at him," whispered Bill, bending a contorted face to mine. +</p> +<p> + I walked aft a few steps, and Bill followed slowly. Then I saw that Jem + Dadd was leaning forward clumsily on the wheel, with his hands clenched + on the spokes. +</p> +<p> + "He's asleep," said I, stopping short. +</p> +<p> + Bill breathed hard. "He's in a queer sleep," said he; "kind o' trance + more like. Go closer." +</p> +<p> + I took fast hold of Bill's sleeve, and we both went. The light of the + stars was sufficient to show that Dadd's face was very white, and that + his dim, black eyes were wide open, and staring in a very strange and + dreadful manner straight before him. +</p> +<p> + "Dadd," said I, softly, "Dadd!" +</p> +<p> + There was no reply, and, with a view of arousing him, I tapped one sinewy + hand as it gripped the wheel, and even tried to loosen it. +</p> +<p> + He remained immovable, and, suddenly with a great cry, my courage + deserted me, and Bill and I fairly bolted down into the cabin and woke + the skipper. +</p> +<p> + Then we saw how it was with Jem, and two strong seamen forcibly loosened + the grip of those rigid fingers, and, laying him on the deck, covered him + with a piece of canvas. The rest of the night two men stayed at the + wheel, and, gazing fearfully at the outline of the canvas, longed for + dawn. +</p> +<p> + It came at last, and, breakfast over, the body was sewn up in canvas, and + the skipper held a short service compiled from a Bible which belonged to + the mate, and what he remembered of the Burial Service proper. Then the + corpse went overboard with a splash, and the men, after standing + awkwardly together for a few minutes, slowly dispersed to their duties. +</p> +<p> + For the rest of that day we were all very quiet and restrained; pity for + the dead man being mingled with a dread of taking the wheel when night + came. +</p> +<p> + "The wheel's haunted," said the cook, solemnly; "mark my words, there's + more of you will be took the same way Dadd was." +</p> +<p> + The cook, like myself, had no watch to keep. +</p> +<p> + The men bore up pretty well until night came on again, and then they + unanimously resolved to have a double watch. The cook, sorely against + his will, was impressed into the service, and I, glad to oblige my + patron, agreed to stay up with Bill. +</p> +<p> + Some of the pleasure had vanished by the time night came, and I seemed + only just to have closed my eyes when Bill came, and, with a rough shake + or two, informed me that the time had come. Any hope that I might have + had of escaping the ordeal was at once dispelled by his expectant + demeanour, and the helpful way in which he assisted me with my clothes, + and, yawning terribly, I followed him on deck. +</p> +<p> + The night was not so clear as the preceding one, and the air was chilly, + with a little moisture in it. I buttoned up my jacket, and thrust my + hands in my pockets. +</p> +<p> + "Everything quiet?" asked Bill as he stepped up and took the wheel. +</p> +<p> + "Ay, ay," said Roberts, "quiet as the grave," and, followed by his + willing mate, he went below. +</p> +<p> + I sat on the deck by Bill's side as, with a light touch on the wheel, + he kept the brig to her course. It was weary work sitting there, doing + nothing, and thinking of the warm berth below, and I believe that I + should have fallen asleep, but that my watchful companion stirred me with + his foot whenever he saw me nodding. +</p> +<p> + I suppose I must have sat there, shivering and yawning, for about an + hour, when, tired of inactivity, I got up and went and leaned over the + side of the vessel. The sound of the water gurgling and lapping by was + so soothing that I began to doze. +</p> +<p> + I was recalled to my senses by a smothered cry from Bill, and, running to + him, I found him staring to port in an intense and uncomfortable fashion. + At my approach, he took one hand from the wheel, and gripped my arm so + tightly that I was like to have screamed with the pain of it. +</p> +<p> + "Jack," said he, in a shaky voice, "while you was away something popped + its head up, and looked over the ship's side." +</p> +<p> + "You've been dreaming," said I, in a voice which was a very fair + imitation of Bill's own. +</p> +<p> + "Dreaming," repeated Bill, "dreaming! Ah, look there!" +</p> +<p> + He pointed with outstretched finger, and my heart seemed to stop beating + as I saw a man's head appear above the side. For a brief space it peered + at us in silence, and then a dark figure sprang like a cat on to the + deck, and stood crouching a short distance away. +</p> +<p> + A mist came before my eyes, and my tongue failed me, but Bill let off a + roar, such as I have never heard before or since. It was answered from + below, both aft and for'ard, and the men came running up on deck just as + they left their beds. +</p> +<p> + "What's up?" shouted the skipper, glancing aloft. +</p> +<p> + For answer, Bill pointed to the intruder, and the men, who had just + caught sight of him, came up and formed a compact knot by the wheel. +</p> +<p> + "Come over the side, it did," panted Bill, "come over like a ghost out of + the sea." +</p> +<p> + The skipper took one of the small lamps from the binnacle, and, holding + it aloft, walked boldly up to the cause of alarm. In the little patch of + light we saw a ghastly black-bearded man, dripping with water, regarding + us with unwinking eyes, which glowed red in the light of the lamp. +</p> +<p> + "Where did you come from?" asked the skipper. +</p> +<p> + The figure shook its head. +</p> +<p> + "Where did you come from?" he repeated, walking up, and laying his hand + on the other's shoulder. +</p> +<p> + Then the intruder spoke, but in a strange fashion and in strange words. + We leaned forward to listen, but, even when he repeated them, we could + make nothing of them. +</p> +<p> + "He's a furriner," said Roberts. +</p> +<p> + "Blest if I've ever 'eard the lingo afore," said Bill. "Does anybody + rekernize it?" +</p> +<p> + Nobody did, and the skipper, after another attempt, gave it up, and, + falling back upon the universal language of signs, pointed first to the + man and then to the sea. The other understood him, and, in a heavy, + slovenly fashion, portrayed a man drifting in an open boat, and clutching + and clambering up the side of a passing ship. As his meaning dawned upon + us, we rushed to the stern, and, leaning over, peered into the gloom, but + the night was dark, and we saw nothing. +</p> +<p> + "Well," said the skipper, turning to Bill, with a mighty yawn, "take him + below, and give him some grub, and the next time a gentleman calls on + you, don't make such a confounded row about it." +</p> +<p> + He went below, followed by the mate, and after some slight hesitation, + Roberts stepped up to the intruder, and signed to him to follow. He came + stolidly enough, leaving a trail of water on the deck, and, after + changing into the dry things we gave him, fell to, but without much + appearance of hunger, upon some salt beef and biscuits, regarding us + between bites with black, lack-lustre eyes. +</p> +<p> + "He seems as though he's a-walking in his sleep," said the cook. +</p> +<p> + "He ain't very hungry," said one of the men; "he seems to mumble his + food." +</p> +<p> + "Hungry!" repeated Bill, who had just left the wheel. "Course he ain't + famished. He had his tea last night." +</p> +<p> + The men stared at him in bewilderment. +</p> +<p> + "Don't you see?" said Bill, still in a hoarse whisper; "ain't you ever + seen them eyes afore? Don't you know what he used to say about dying? + It's Jem Dadd come back to us. Jem Dadd got another man's body, as he + always said he would." +</p> +<p> + "Rot!" said Roberts, trying to speak bravely, but he got up, and, with + the others, huddled together at the end of the fo'c's'le, and stared in a + bewildered fashion at the sodden face and short, squat figure of our + visitor. For his part, having finished his meal, he pushed his plate + from him, and, leaning back on the locker, looked at the empty bunks. +</p> +<p> + Roberts caught his eye, and, with a nod and a wave of his hand, indicated + the bunks. The fellow rose from the locker, and, amid a breathless + silence, climbed into one of them—Jem Dadd's! +</p> +<p> + He slept in the dead sailor's bed that night, the only man in the + fo'c's'le who did sleep properly, and turned out heavily and lumpishly in + the morning for breakfast. +</p> +<p> + The skipper had him on deck after the meal, but could make nothing of + him. To all his questions he replied in the strange tongue of the night + before, and, though our fellows had been to many ports, and knew a word + or two of several languages, none of them recognized it. The skipper + gave it up at last, and, left to himself, he stared about him for some + time, regardless of our interest in his movements, and then, leaning + heavily against the side of the ship, stayed there so long that we + thought he must have fallen asleep. +</p> +<p> + "He's half-dead now!" whispered Roberts. +</p> +<p> + "Hush!" said Bill, "mebbe he's been in the water a week or two, and can't + quite make it out. See how he's looking at it now." +</p> +<p> + He stayed on deck all day in the sun, but, as night came on, returned to + the warmth of the fo'c's'le. The food we gave him remained untouched, + and he took little or no notice of us, though I fancied that he saw the + fear we had of him. He slept again in the dead man's bunk, and when + morning came still lay there. +</p> +<p> + Until dinner-time, nobody interfered with him, and then Roberts, pushed + forward by the others, approached him with some food. He motioned, it + away with a dirty, bloated hand, and, making signs for water, drank it + eagerly. +</p> +<p> + For two days he stayed there quietly, the black eyes always open, the + stubby fingers always on the move. On the third morning Bill, who had + conquered his fear sufficiently to give him water occasionally, called + softly to us. +</p> +<p> + "Come and look at him," said he. "What's the matter with him?" +</p> +<p> + "He's dying!" said the cook, with a shudder. +</p> +<p> + "He can't be going to die yet!" said Bill, blankly. +</p> +<p> + As he spoke the man's eyes seemed to get softer and more life-like, and + he looked at us piteously and helplessly. From face to face he gazed in + mute inquiry, and then, striking his chest feebly with his fist, uttered + two words. +</p> +<p> + We looked at each other blankly, and he repeated them eagerly, and again + touched his chest. +</p> +<p> + "It's his name," said the cook, and we all repeated them. +</p> +<p> + He smiled in an exhausted fashion, and then, rallying his energies, held + up a forefinger; as we stared at this new riddle, he lowered it, and held + up all four fingers, doubled. +</p> +<p> + "Come away," quavered the cook; "he's putting a spell on us." +</p> +<p> + We drew back at that, and back farther still, as he repeated the motions. + Then Bill's face cleared suddenly, and he stepped towards him. +</p> +<p> + "He means his wife and younkers!" he shouted eagerly. "This ain't no Jem + Dadd!" +</p> +<p> + It was good then to see how our fellows drew round the dying sailor, and + strove to cheer him. Bill, to show he understood the finger business, + nodded cheerily, and held his hand at four different heights from the + floor. The last was very low, so low that the man set his lips together, + and strove to turn his heavy head from us. +</p> +<p> + "Poor devil!" said Bill, "he wants us to tell his wife and children + what's become of him. He must ha' been dying when he come aboard. What + was his name, again?" +</p> +<p> + But the name was not easy to English lips, and we had already forgotten + it. +</p> +<p> + "Ask him again," said the cook, "and write it down. Who's got a pen?" +</p> +<p> + He went to look for one as Bill turned to the sailor to get him to repeat + it. Then he turned round again, and eyed us blankly, for, by this time, + the owner had himself forgotten it. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_7"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + THE FOUR PIGEONS +</h2> +<a name="image-11"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/011.jpg" height="458" width="348" +alt="'the Four Pigeons.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + 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 <i>Cauliflower</i>. 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. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + One of the men nodded. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "It puts life into me," said the old man, raising it to his lips and + bowing. "It makes me talk." +</p> +<p> + "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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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 <i>Cauliflower</i> public-'ouse + and began to spend 'is money. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "There's plenty more where that came from," he ses, pulling out a handful + o' money. +</p> +<p> + Peter Gubbins looked at it, 'ardly able to speak. "It's worth while + being shot to 'ave all that money," he ses, at last. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "They're more careful now," ses Dicky Weed, the tailor. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "There won't be no more shot," ses Sam Jones. +</p> +<p> + "We're too careful," ses Peter Gubbins. +</p> +<p> + "Bob Pretty don't know everything," ses Dicky Weed. +</p> +<p> + "I'll bet you what you like there'll be some more of you shot," ses Bob + Pretty, in a temper. "Now, then." +</p> +<p> + "'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." +</p> +<p> + "Will you give me sixpence a week, too?" ses Henery Walker, jumping up. +</p> +<p> + "I will," ses Bob; "and anybody else that likes. And wot's more, I'll + pay in advance. Fust sixpences now." +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + The fust Bob Pretty 'eard of it was up at the <i>Cauliflower</i> 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. +</p> +<a name="image-12"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/012.jpg" height="896" width="536" +alt="'the Fust Bob Pretty 'eard of It Was up at The +<i>cauliflower</i> at Eight O'clock That Evening.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + "It's on'y me, old pal," he ses, smiling at 'im as Henery woke up and + shouted at 'im to get up. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "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. +</p> +<p> + "I shall want all that money," ses Henery in a weak voice. "I might 'ave + to have a wooden leg, Bob." +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + Bob stood treat up at the <i>Cauliflower</i> 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. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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 <i>Cauliflower</i> 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "There seems to be wounded men calling out all over the place," he ses, + in a temper. +</p> +<p> + "I think there is another one over there, sir," ses one o' the keepers, + pointing. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "Wot's the matter?" ses Mr. Sutton, shouting at 'im. +</p> +<p> + "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. +</p> +<p> + "But there oughtn't to be anybody 'ere," ses Mr. Sutton to one of the + keepers. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "I believe he's done it 'imself," says Mr. Sutton, stamping his foot. +</p> +<p> + "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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + There was a lot of talk up at the <i>Cauliflower,</i> 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. +</p> +<p> + Henery Walker began it. "I s'pose you've 'eard the dreadful news, Bob + Pretty?" he ses, looking at 'im. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "It's my luck, Henery," ses Bob, "always was lucky from a child." +</p> +<p> + "And I s'pose you think you're going to 'ave arf of the money they get?" + ses Henery Walker. +</p> +<p> + "Don't talk about money while them pore chaps is suffering," ses Bob. + "I'm surprised at you, Henery." +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "Don't you believe it, Henery," ses Bob, smiling at 'im. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "Speak for yourself, Henery," ses John Biggs, who thought Henery was + looking at 'im. +</p> +<p> + "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!" +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "Poor Henery; he's gorn mad," he ses, shaking his 'ead. +</p> +<p> + "You're a murderer," ses Ralph Thomson, shaking 'is fist at him. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "I shouldn't do that if I was you, Henery," ses Bob. +</p> +<p> + "I dessay," ses Henery Walker; "but then you see I am." +</p> +<p> + "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?" +</p> +<p> + Henery Walker, wot 'ad been standing up looking fierce at 'im, sat down + agin, struck all of a heap. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + 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." +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + 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." +</p> +<p> + 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 + <i>Cauliflower,</i> 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. +</p> +<p> + Peter Gubbins, with 'is arm tied up in a sling, was the fust one to turn + up at the <i>Cauliflower,</i> 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. +</p> +<p> + "I wonder 'ow they heard about it," ses Dicky Weed. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "A friend o' yours?" ses John Biggs, staring at 'im. "What for?" +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "Another?" ses Peter, who 'ad been tellin' everybody that 'e wouldn't + speak to 'im agin as long as he lived. "Wot about?" +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "You dursn't do it, Bob," ses Peter, all of a tremble. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_8"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + THE TEMPTATION OF SAMUEL BURGE +</h2> +<a name="image-13"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/013.jpg" height="406" width="389" +alt="'the Temptation of Samuel Burge.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + Mr. Higgs, jeweller, sat in the small parlour behind his shop, gazing + hungrily at a supper-table which had been laid some time before. It was + a quarter to ten by the small town clock on the mantelpiece, and the + jeweller rubbing his hands over the fire tried in vain to remember what + etiquette had to say about starting a meal before the arrival of an + expected guest. +</p> +<p> + "He must be coming by the last train after all, sir," said the + housekeeper entering the room and glancing at the clock. "I suppose + these London gentlemen keep such late hours they don't understand us + country folk wanting to get to bed in decent time. You must be wanting + your supper, sir." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Higgs sighed. "I shall be glad of my supper," he said slowly, "but I + dare say our friend is hungrier still. Travelling is hungry work." +</p> +<p> + "Perhaps he is thinking over his words for the seventh day," said the + housekeeper solemnly. "Forgetting hunger and thirst and all our poor + earthly feelings in the blessedness of his work." +</p> +<p> + "Perhaps so," assented the other, whose own earthly feelings were + particularly strong just at that moment. +</p> +<p> + "Brother Simpson used to forget all about meal-times when he stayed + here," said the housekeeper, clasping her hands. "He used to sit by the + window with his eyes half-closed and shake his head at the smell from the + kitchen and call it flesh-pots of Egypt. He said that if it wasn't for + keeping up his strength for the work, luscious bread and fair water was + all he wanted. I expect Brother Burge will be a similar sort of man." +</p> +<p> + "Brother Clark wrote and told me that he only lives for the work," said + the jeweller, with another glance at the clock. "The chapel at + Clerkenwell is crowded to hear him. It's a blessed favour and privilege + to have such a selected instrument staying in the house. I'm curious to + see him; from what Brother Clark said I rather fancy that he was a little + bit wild in his younger days." +</p> +<p> + "Hallelujah!" exclaimed the housekeeper with fervour. "I mean to think + as he's seen the error of his ways," she added sharply, as her master + looked up. +</p> +<p> + "There he is," said the latter, as the bell rang. +</p> +<p> + The housekeeper went to the side-door, and drawing back the bolt admitted + the gentleman whose preaching had done so much for the small but select + sect known as the Seventh Day Primitive Apostles. She came back into the + room followed by a tall stout man, whose upper lip and short stubby beard + streaked with grey seemed a poor match for the beady eyes which lurked + behind a pair of clumsy spectacles. +</p> +<p> + "Brother Samuel Burge?" inquired the jeweller, rising. +</p> +<p> + The visitor nodded, and regarding him with a smile charged with fraternal + love, took his hand in a huge grip and shook it fervently. +</p> +<p> + "I am glad to see you, Brother Higgs," he said, regarding him fondly. + "Oh, 'ow my eyes have yearned to be set upon you! Oh, 'ow my ears 'ave + longed to hearken unto the words of your voice!" +</p> +<p> + He breathed thickly, and taking a seat sat with his hands upon his knees, + looking at a fine piece of cold beef which the housekeeper had just + placed upon the table. +</p> +<p> + "Is Brother Clark well?" inquired the jeweller, placing a chair for him + at the table and taking up his carving-knife. +</p> +<p> + "Dear Brother Clark is in excellent 'ealth, I thank you," said the other, + taking the proffered chair. "Oh! what a man he is; what a instrument for + good. Always stretching out them blessed hands of 'is to make one of the + fallen a Seventh Day Primitive." +</p> +<p> + "And success attends his efforts?" said the jeweller. +</p> +<p> + "Success, Brother!" repeated Mr. Burge, eating rapidly and gesticulating + with his knife. "Success ain't no name for it. Why, since this day last + week he has saved three pick-pockets, two Salvationists, one bigamist and + a Roman Catholic." +</p> +<p> + Brother Higgs murmured his admiration. "You are also a power for good," + he said wistfully. "Brother Clark tells me in his letter that your + exhortations have been abundantly blessed." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Burge shook his head. "A lot of it falls by the wayside," he said + modestly, "but some of it is an eye-opener to them as don't entirely shut + their ears. Only the day before yesterday I 'ad two jemmies and a dark + lantern sent me with a letter saying as 'ow the owner had no further use + for 'em." +</p> +<p> + The jeweller's eyes glistened with admiration not quite untinged with + envy. "Have you expounded the Word for long?" he inquired. +</p> +<p> + "Six months," replied the other. "It come to me quite natural—I was on + the penitent bench on the Saturday, and the Wednesday afterwards I + preached as good a sermon as ever I've preached in my life. Brother + Clark said it took 'is breath away." +</p> +<p> + "And he's a judge too," said the admiring jeweller. +</p> +<p> + "Now," continued Brother Burge, helping himself plentifully to pickled + walnuts. "Now there ain't standing room in our Bethel when I'm + expounding. People come to hear me from all parts—old and young—rich + and poor—and the Apostles that don't come early 'ave to stand outside + and catch the crumbs I throw 'em through the winders." +</p> +<p> + "It is enough," sighed Brother Higgs, whose own audience was frequently + content to be on the wrong side of the window, "it is enough to make a + man vain." +</p> +<p> + "I struggle against it, Brother," said Mr. Burge, passing his cup up for + some more tea. "I fight against it hard, but once the Evil One was + almost too much for me; and in spite of myself, and knowing besides that + it was a plot of 'is, I nearly felt uplifted." +</p> +<p> + Brother Higgs, passing him some more beef, pressed for details. +</p> +<p> + "He sent me two policemen," replied the other, scowling darkly at the + meanness of the trick. "One I might 'ave stood, but two come to being + pretty near too much for me. They sat under me while I gave 'em the Word + 'ot and strong, and the feeling I had standing up there and telling + policemen what they ought to do I shall never forget." +</p> +<p> + "But why should policemen make you proud?" asked his puzzled listener. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Burge looked puzzled in his turn. "Why, hasn't Brother Clark told + you about me?" he inquired. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Higgs shook his head. "He sort of—suggested that—that you had been + a little bit wild before you came to us," he murmured apologetically. +</p> +<p> + "A—little—bit—wild?" repeated Brother Burge, in horrified accents. + "ME? a little bit wild?" +</p> +<p> + "No doubt he exaggerated a little," said the jeweller hurriedly. "Being + such a good man himself, no doubt things would seem wild to him that + wouldn't to us—to me, I mean." +</p> +<p> + "A little bit wild," said his visitor again. "Sam Burge, the Converted + Burglar, a little bit wild. Well, well!" +</p> +<p> + "Converted what?" shouted the jeweller, half-rising from his chair. +</p> +<p> + "Burglar," said the other shortly. "Why, I should think I know more + about the inside o' gaols than anybody in England; I've pretty near + killed three policemen, besides breaking a gent's leg and throwing a + footman out of window, and then Brother Clark goes and says I've been a + little bit wild. I wonder what he would 'ave?" +</p> +<p> + "But you—you've quite reformed now?" said the jeweller, resuming his + seat and making a great effort to hide his consternation. +</p> +<p> + "I 'ope so," said Mr. Burge, with alarming humility; "but it's an + uncertain world, and far be it from me to boast. That's why I've come + here." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Higgs, only half-comprehending, sat back gasping. +</p> +<p> + "If I can stand this," pursued Brother Burge, gesticulating wildly in the + direction of the shop, "if I can stand being here with all these 'ere + pretty little things to be 'ad for the trouble of picking of 'em up, I + can stand anything. Tempt me, I says to Brother Clark. Put me in the + way o' temptation, I says. Let me see whether the Evil One or me is the + strongest; let me 'ave a good old up and down with the Powers o' + Darkness, and see who wins." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Higgs, gripping the edge of the table with both hands, gazed at this + new Michael in speechless consternation. +</p> +<p> + "I think I see his face now," said Brother Burge, with tender enthusiasm. + "All in a glow it was, and he patted me on the shoulder and says, 'I'll + send you on a week's mission to Duncombe,' he says, and 'you shall stop + with Brother Higgs who 'as a shop full o' cunning wrought vanities in + silver and gold.'" +</p> +<p> + "But suppose," said the jeweller, finding his voice by a great effort, + "suppose victory is not given unto you." +</p> +<p> + "It won't make any difference," replied his visitor. "Brother Clark + promised that it shouldn't. 'If you fall, Brother,' he says, 'we'll help + you up again. When you are tired of sin come back to us—there's always + a welcome.'" +</p> +<p> + "But—" began the dismayed jeweller. +</p> +<p> + "We can only do our best," said Brother Burge, "the rest we must leave. + I 'ave girded my loins for the fray, and taken much spiritual sustenance + on the way down from this little hymn-book." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Higgs paid no heed. He sat marvelling over the fatuousness of + Brother Clark and trying to think of ways and means out of the dilemma + into which that gentleman's perverted enthusiasm had placed him. He + wondered whether it would be possible to induce Brother Burge to sleep + elsewhere by offering to bear his hotel expenses, and at last, after some + hesitation, broached the subject. +</p> +<p> + "What!" exclaimed the other, pushing his plate from him and regarding him + with great severity. "Go and sleep at a hotel? After Brother Clark has + been and took all this trouble? Why, I wouldn't think of doing such a + thing." +</p> +<p> + "Brother Clark has no right to expose you to such a trial," said Mr. + Higgs with great warmth. +</p> +<p> + "I wonder what he'd say if he 'eard you," remarked Mr. Burge sternly. + "After his going and making all these arrangements, for you to try and go + and upset 'em. To ask me to shun the fight like a coward; to ask me to + go and hide in the rear-ranks in a hotel with everything locked up, or a + Coffer Pallis with nothing to steal." +</p> +<p> + "I should sleep far more comfortably if I knew that you were not + undergoing this tremendous strain," said the unhappy Mr. Higgs, "and + besides that, if you did give way, it would be a serious business for me + —that's what I want you to look at. I am afraid that if—if unhappily + you did fall, I couldn't prevent you." +</p> +<p> + "I'm sure you couldn't," said the other cordially. "That's the beauty of + it; that's when the Evil One's whispers get louder and louder. Why, I + could choke you between my finger and thumb. If unfortunately my fallen + nature should be too strong for me, don't interfere whatever you do. I + mightn't be myself." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Higgs rose and faced him gasping. +</p> +<p> + "Not even—call for—the police—I suppose," he jerked out. +</p> +<p> + "That would be interfering," said Brother Burge coldly. +</p> +<p> + The jeweller tried to think. It was past eleven. The housekeeper had + gone to spend the night with an ailing sister, and a furtive glance at + Brother Burge's small shifty eyes and fat unwholesome face was sufficient + to deter him from leaving him alone with his property, while he went to + ask the police to give an eye to his house for the night. Besides, it + was more than probable that Mr. Burge would decline to allow such a + proceeding. With a growing sense of his peril he resolved to try + flattery. +</p> +<p> + "It was a great thing for the Brethren to secure a man like you," he + said. +</p> +<p> + "I never thought they'd ha' done it," said Mr. Burge frankly. "I've 'ad + all sorts trying to convert me; crying over me and praying over me. I + remember the first dear good man that called me a lorst lamb. He didn't + say anything else for a month." +</p> +<p> + "So upset," hazarded the jeweller. +</p> +<p> + "I broke his jor, pore feller," said Brother Burge, a sad but withal + indulgent smile lighting up his face at the vagaries of his former + career. "What time do you go to bed, Brother?" +</p> +<p> + "Any time," said the other reluctantly. "I suppose you are tired with + your journey?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Burge assented, and rising from his chair yawned loudly and stretched + himself. In the small room with his huge arms raised he looked colossal. +</p> +<p> + "I suppose," said the jeweller, still seeking to re-assure himself, "I + suppose dear Brother Clark felt pretty certain of you, else he wouldn't + have sent you here?" +</p> +<p> + "Brother Clark said 'What is a jeweller's shop compared with a 'uman + soul, a priceless 'uman soul?'" replied Mr. Burge. "What is a few + gew-gaws to decorate them that perish, and make them vain, when you come + to consider the opportunity of such a trial, and the good it'll do and + the draw it'll be—if I do win—and testify to the congregation to that + effect? Why, there's sermons for a lifetime in it." +</p> +<p> + "So there is," said the jeweller, trying to look cheerful. "You've got a + good face, Brother Burge, and you'll do a lot of good by your preaching. + There is honesty written in every feature." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Burge turned and surveyed himself in the small pier-glass. "Yes," he + said, somewhat discontentedly, "I don't look enough like a burglar to + suit some of 'em." +</p> +<p> + "Some people are hard to please," said the other warmly. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Burge started and eyed him thoughtfully, and then as Mr. Higgs after + some hesitation walked into the shop to turn the gas out, stood in the + doorway watching him. A smothered sigh as he glanced round the shop bore + witness to the state of his feelings. +</p> +<p> + The jeweller hesitated again in the parlour, and then handing Brother + Burge his candle turned out the gas, and led the way slowly upstairs to + the room which had been prepared for the honoured visitor. He shook + hands at the door and bade him an effusive good-night, his voice + trembling despite himself as he expressed a hope that Mr. Burge would + sleep well. He added casually that he himself was a very light sleeper. +</p> +<p> + To-night sleep of any kind was impossible. He had given up the front + room to his guest, and his own window looked out on an over-grown garden. + He sat trying to read, with his ears alert for the slightest sound. + Brother Burge seemed to be a long time undressing. For half an hour + after he had retired he could hear him moving restlessly about his room. +</p> +<p> + Twelve o'clock struck from the tower of the parish church, and was + followed almost directly by the tall clock standing in the hall + down-stairs. Scarcely had the sounds died away than a low moaning from + the next room caused the affrighted jeweller to start from his chair and + place his ear against the wall. Two or three hollow groans came through + the plaster, followed by ejaculations which showed clearly that Brother + Burge was at that moment engaged in a terrified combat with the Powers + of Darkness to decide whether he should, or should not, rifle his host's + shop. His hands clenched and his ear pressed close to the wall, the + jeweller listened to a monologue which increased in interest with every + word. +</p> +<p> + "I tell you I won't," said the voice in the next room with a groan, "I + won't. Get thee behind me—Get thee—No, and don't shove me over to the + door; if you can't get behind me without doing that, stay where you are. + Yes, I know it's a fortune as well as what you do; but it ain't mine." +</p> +<p> + The listener caught his breath painfully. +</p> +<p> + "Diamond rings," continued Brother Burge in a suffocating voice. "Stop + it, I tell you. No, I won't just go and look at 'em." +</p> +<p> + A series of groans which the jeweller noticed to his horror got weaker + and weaker testified to the greatness of the temptation. He heard + Brother Burge rise, and then a succession of panting snarls seemed to + indicate a fierce bodily encounter. +</p> +<p> + "I don't—want to look at 'em," said Brother Burge in an exhausted voice. + "What's—the good of—looking at 'em? It's like you, you know diamonds + are my weakness. What does it matter if he is asleep? What's my knife + got to do with you?" +</p> +<p> + Brother Higgs reeled back and a mist passed before his eyes. He came to + himself at the sound of a door opening, and impelled with a vague idea of + defending his property, snatched up his candle and looked out on to the + landing. +</p> +<p> + The light fell on Brother Burge, fully dressed and holding his boots in + his hand. For a moment they gazed at each other in silence; then the + jeweller found his voice. +</p> +<p> + "I thought you were ill, Brother," he faltered. +</p> +<p> + An ugly scowl lit up the other's features. "Don't you tell me any of + your lies," he said fiercely. "You're watching me; that's what you're + doing. Spying on me." +</p> +<p> + "I thought that you were being tempted," confessed the trembling Mr. + Higgs. +</p> +<p> + An expression of satisfaction which he strove to suppress appeared on Mr. + Burge's face. +</p> +<p> + "So I was," he said sternly. "So I was; but that's my business. I don't + want your assistance; I can fight my own battles. You go to bed—I'm + going to tell the congregation I won the fight single-'anded." +</p> +<p> + "So you have, Brother," said the other eagerly; "but it's doing me good + to see it. It's a lesson to me; a lesson to all of us the way you + wrestled." +</p> +<p> + "I thought you was asleep," growled Brother Burge, turning back to his + room and speaking over his shoulder. "You get back to bed; the fight + ain't half over yet. Get back to bed and keep quiet." +</p> +<p> + The door closed behind him, and Mr. Higgs, still trembling, regained his + room and looked in agony at the clock. It was only half-past twelve and + the sun did not rise until six. He sat and shivered until a second + instalment of groans in the next room brought him in desperation to his + feet. +</p> +<p> + Brother Burge was in the toils again, and the jeweller despite his fears + could not help realizing what a sensation the story of his temptation + would create. Brother Burge was now going round and round his room like + an animal in a cage, and sounds as of a soul wrought almost beyond + endurance smote upon the listener's quivering ear. Then there was a long + silence more alarming even than the noise of the conflict. Had Brother + Burge won, and was he now sleeping the sleep of the righteous, or—— + Mr. Higgs shivered and put his other ear to the wall. Then he heard his + guest move stealthily across the floor; the boards creaked and the handle + of the door turned. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Higgs started, and with a sudden flash of courage born of anger and + desperation seized a small brass poker from the fire-place, and taking + the candle in his other hand went out on to the landing again. Brother + Burge was closing his door softly, and his face when he turned it upon + the jeweller was terrible in its wrath. His small eyes snapped with + fury, and his huge hands opened and shut convulsively. +</p> +<p> + "What, agin!" he said in a low growl. "After all I told you!" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Higgs backed slowly as he advanced. +</p> +<p> + "No noise," said Mr. Burge in a dreadful whisper. "One scream and I'll— + What were you going to do with that poker?" +</p> +<p> + He took a stealthy step forward. +</p> +<p> + "I—I," began the jeweller. His voice failed him. "Burglars," he + mouthed, "downstairs." +</p> +<p> + "What?" said the other, pausing. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Higgs threw truth to the winds. "I heard them in the shop," he said, + recovering, "that's why I took up the poker. Can't you hear them?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Burge listened for the fraction of a second. "Nonsense," he said + huskily. +</p> +<p> + "I heard them talking," said the other recklessly. "Let's go down and + call the police." +</p> +<p> + "Call 'em from the winder," said Brother Burge, backing with some haste, + "they might 'ave pistols or something, and they're ugly customers when + they're disturbed." +</p> +<p> + He stood with strained face listening. +</p> +<p> + "Here they come," whispered the jeweller with a sudden movement of alarm. +</p> +<p> + Brother Burge turned, and bolting into his room clapped the door to and + locked it. The jeweller stood dumbfounded on the landing; then he heard + the window go up and the voice of Brother Burge, much strengthened by the + religious exercises of the past six months, bellowing lustily for the + police. +</p> +<p> + For a few seconds Mr. Higgs stood listening and wondering what + explanation he should give. Still thinking, he ran downstairs, and, + throwing open the pantry window, unlocked the door leading into the shop + and scattered a few of his cherished possessions about the floor. By the + time he had done this, people were already beating upon the street-door + and exchanging hurried remarks with Mr. Burge at the window above. The + jeweller shot back the bolts, and half-a-dozen neighbours, headed by the + butcher opposite, clad in his nightgown and armed with a cleaver, burst + into the passage. A constable came running up just as the pallid face of + Brother Burge peered over the balusters. The constable went upstairs + three at a time, and twisting his hand in the ex-burglar's neck-cloth + bore him backwards. +</p> +<p> + "I've got one," he shouted. "Come up and hold him while I look round." +</p> +<p> + The butcher was beside him in a moment; Brother Burge struggling wildly, + called loudly upon the name of Brother Higgs. +</p> +<p> + "That's all right, constable," said the latter, "that's a friend of + mine." +</p> +<p> + "Friend o' yours, sir?" said the disappointed officer, still holding him. +</p> +<p> + The jeweller nodded. "Mr. Samuel Burge the Converted Burglar," he said + mechanically. +</p> +<p> + "Conver——" gasped the astonished constable. "Converted burglar? + Here!" +</p> +<p> + "He is a preacher now," added Mr. Higgs. +</p> +<p> + "Preacher?" retorted the constable. "Why it's as plain as a pikestaff. + Confederates: his part was to go down and let 'em in." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Burge raised a piteous outcry. "I hope you may be forgiven for them + words," he cried piously. +</p> +<p> + "What time did you go up to bed?" pursued the constable. +</p> +<p> + "About half-past eleven," replied Mr. Higgs. +</p> +<p> + The other grunted with satisfaction. "And he's fully dressed, with his + boots off," he remarked. "Did you hear him go out of his room at all?" +</p> +<p> + "He did go out," said the jeweller truth-fully, "but——" +</p> +<p> + "I thought so," said the constable, turning to his prisoner with + affectionate solicitude. "Now you come along o' me. Come quietly, + because it'll be the best for you in the end." +</p> +<p> + "You won't get your skull split open then," added the butcher, toying + with his cleaver. +</p> +<p> + The jeweller hesitated. He had no desire to be left alone with Mr. Burge + again; and a sense of humour, which many years' association with the + Primitive Apostles had not quite eradicated, strove for hearing. +</p> +<p> + "Think of the sermon it'll make," he said encouragingly to the frantic + Mr. Burge, "think of the congregation!" +</p> +<p> + Brother Burge replied in language which he had not used in public since + he had joined the Apostles. The butcher and another man stood guard over + him while the constable searched the premises and made all secure again. + Then with a final appeal to Mr. Higgs who was keeping in the background, + he was pitched to the police-station by the energetic constable and five + zealous assistants. +</p> +<p> + A diffidence, natural in the circumstances, prevented him from narrating + the story of his temptation to the magistrates next morning, and Mr. + Higgs was equally reticent. He was put back while the police + communicated with London, and in the meantime Brother Clark and a band + of Apostles flanked down to his support. +</p> +<p> + On his second appearance before the magistrates he was confronted with + his past; and his past to the great astonishment of the Brethren being + free from all blemish with the solitary exception of fourteen days for + stealing milk-cans, he was discharged with a caution. The disillusioned + Primitive Apostles also gave him his freedom. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_9"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + THE MADNESS OF MR. LISTER +</h2> +<a name="image-14"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/014.jpg" height="523" width="358" +alt="'the Madness of Mr. Lister.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + Old Jem Lister, of the <i>Susannah,</i> was possessed of two devils—the love + of strong drink and avarice—and the only thing the twain had in common + was to get a drink without paying for it. When Mr. Lister paid for a + drink, the demon of avarice masquerading as conscience preached a + teetotal lecture, and when he showed signs of profiting by it, the demon + of drink would send him hanging round public-house doors cadging for + drinks in a way which his shipmates regarded as a slur upon the entire + ship's company. Many a healthy thirst reared on salt beef and tickled + with strong tobacco had been spoiled by the sight of Mr. Lister standing + by the entrance, with a propitiatory smile, waiting to be invited in to + share it, and on one occasion they had even seen him (him, Jem Lister, + A.B.) holding a horse's head, with ulterior motives. +</p> +<p> + It was pointed out to Mr. Lister at last that his conduct was reflecting + discredit upon men who were fully able to look after themselves in that + direction, without having any additional burden thrust upon them. Bill + Henshaw was the spokesman, and on the score of violence (miscalled + firmness) his remarks left little to be desired. On the score of + profanity, Bill might recall with pride that in the opinion of his + fellows he had left nothing unsaid. +</p> +<p> + "You ought to ha' been a member o' Parliament, Bill," said Harry Lea, + when he had finished. +</p> +<p> + "It wants money," said Henshaw, shaking his head. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Lister laughed, a senile laugh, but not lacking in venom. +</p> +<p> + "That's what we've got to say," said Henshaw, turning upon him suddenly. + "If there's anything I hate in this world, it's a drinking miser. You + know our opinion, and the best thing you can do is to turn over a new + leaf now." +</p> +<p> + "Take us all in to the Goat and Compasses," urged Lea; "bring out some o' + those sovrins you've been hoarding." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Lister gazed at him with frigid scorn, and finding that the + conversation still seemed to centre round his unworthy person, went up on + deck and sat glowering over the insults which had been heaped upon him. + His futile wrath when Bill dogged his footsteps ashore next day and + revealed his character to a bibulous individual whom he had almost + persuaded to be a Christian—from his point of view—bordered upon the + maudlin, and he wandered back to the ship, wild-eyed and dry of throat. +</p> +<p> + For the next two months it was safe to say that every drink he had he + paid for. His eyes got brighter and his complexion clearer, nor was + he as pleased as one of the other sex might have been when the + self-satisfied Henshaw pointed out these improvements to his companions, + and claimed entire responsibility for them. It is probable that Mr. + Lister, under these circumstances, might in time have lived down his + taste for strong drink, but that at just that time they shipped a new + cook. +</p> +<p> + He was a big, cadaverous young fellow, who looked too closely after his + own interests to be much of a favourite with the other men forward. On + the score of thrift, it was soon discovered that he and Mr. Lister had + much in common, and the latter, pleased to find a congenial spirit, was + disposed to make the most of him, and spent, despite the heat, much of + his spare time in the galley. +</p> +<p> + "You keep to it," said the greybeard impressively; "money was made to be + took care of; if you don't spend your money you've always got it. I've + always been a saving man—what's the result?" +</p> +<p> + The cook, waiting some time in patience to be told, gently inquired what + it was. +</p> +<p> + "'Ere am I," said Mr. Lister, good-naturedly helping him to cut a + cabbage, "at the age of sixty-two with a bank-book down below in my + chest, with one hundered an' ninety pounds odd in it." +</p> +<p> + "One 'undered and ninety pounds!" repeated the cook, with awe. +</p> +<p> + "To say nothing of other things," continued Mr. Lister, with joyful + appreciation of the effect he was producing. "Altogether I've got a + little over four 'undered pounds." +</p> +<p> + The cook gasped, and with gentle firmness took the cabbage from him as + being unfit work for a man of such wealth. +</p> +<p> + "It's very nice," he said, slowly. "It's very nice. You'll be able to + live on it in your old age." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Lister shook his head mournfully, and his eyes became humid. +</p> +<p> + "There's no old age for me," he said, sadly; "but you needn't tell them," + and he jerked his thumb towards the forecastle. +</p> +<p> + "No, no," said the cook. +</p> +<p> + "I've never been one to talk over my affairs," said Mr. Lister, in a low + voice. "I've never yet took fancy enough to anybody so to do. No, my + lad, I'm saving up for somebody else." +</p> +<p> + "What are you going to live on when you're past work then?" demanded the + other. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Lister took him gently by the sleeve, and his voice sank with the + solemnity of his subject: "I'm not going to have no old age," he said, + resignedly. +</p> +<p> + "Not going to live!" repeated the cook, gazing uneasily at a knife by his + side. "How do you know?" +</p> +<p> + "I went to a orsepittle in London," said Mr. Lister. "I've been to two + or three altogether, while the money I've spent on doctors is more than I + like to think of, and they're all surprised to think that I've lived so + long. I'm so chock-full o' complaints, that they tell me I can't live + more than two years, and I might go off at any moment." +</p> +<p> + "Well, you've got money," said the cook, "why don't you knock off work + now and spend the evenin' of your life ashore? Why should you save up + for your relatives?" +</p> +<p> + "I've got no relatives," said Mr. Lister; "I'm all alone. I 'spose I + shall leave my money to some nice young feller, and I hope it'll do 'im + good." +</p> +<p> + With the dazzling thoughts which flashed through the cook's brain the + cabbage dropped violently into the saucepan, and a shower of cooling + drops fell on both men. +</p> +<p> + "I 'spose you take medicine?" he said, at length. +</p> +<p> + "A little rum," said Mr. Lister, faintly; "the doctors tell me that it is + the only thing that keeps me up—o' course, the chaps down there "—he + indicated the forecastle again with a jerk of his head—"accuse me o' + taking too much." +</p> +<p> + "What do ye take any notice of 'em for?" inquired the other, indignantly. +</p> +<p> + "I 'spose it is foolish," admitted Mr. Lister; "but I don't like being + misunderstood. I keep my troubles to myself as a rule, cook. I don't + know what's made me talk to you like this. I 'eard the other day you was + keeping company with a young woman." +</p> +<p> + "Well, I won't say as I ain't," replied the other, busying himself over + the fire. +</p> +<p> + "An' the best thing, too, my lad," said the old man, warmly. "It keeps + you stiddy, keeps you out of public-'ouses; not as they ain't good in + moderation—I 'ope you'll be 'appy." +</p> +<p> + A friendship sprang up between the two men which puzzled the remainder + of the crew not a little. +</p> +<p> + The cook thanked him, and noticed that Mr. Lister was fidgeting with a + piece of paper. +</p> +<p> + "A little something I wrote the other day," said the old man, catching + his eye. "If I let you see it, will you promise not to tell a soul about + it, and not to give me no thanks?" +</p> +<p> + The wondering cook promised, and, the old man being somewhat emphatic on + the subject, backed his promise with a home made affidavit of singular + power and profanity. +</p> +<p> + "Here it is, then," said Mr. Lister. +</p> +<p> + The cook took the paper, and as he read the letters danced before him. + He blinked his eyes and started again, slowly. In plain black and white + and nondescript-coloured finger-marks, Mr. Lister, after a general + statement as to his bodily and mental health, left the whole of his + estate to the cook. The will was properly dated and witnessed, and the + cook's voice shook with excitement and emotion as he offered to hand it + back. +</p> +<p> + "I don't know what I've done for you to do this," he said. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Lister waved it away again. "Keep it," he said, simply; "while + you've got it on you, you'll know it's safe." +</p> +<p> + From this moment a friendship sprang up between the two men which puzzled + the remainder of the crew not a little. The attitude of the cook was as + that of a son to a father: the benignancy of Mr. Lister beautiful to + behold. It was noticed, too, that he had abandoned the reprehensible + practice of hanging round tavern doors in favour of going inside and + drinking the cook's health. +</p> +<a name="image-15"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/015.jpg" height="899" width="528" +alt="'a Friendship Sprang up Between the Two Men Which Puzzled +The Remainder of the Crew Not a Little.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + For about six months the cook, although always in somewhat straitened + circumstances, was well content with the tacit bargain, and then, bit by + bit, the character of Mr. Lister was revealed to him. It was not a nice + character, but subtle; and when he made the startling discovery that a + will could be rendered invalid by the simple process of making another + one the next day, he became as a man possessed. When he ascertained that + Mr. Lister when at home had free quarters at the house of a married + niece, he used to sit about alone, and try and think of ways and means of + securing capital sunk in a concern which seemed to show no signs of being + wound-up. +</p> +<p> + "I've got a touch of the 'art again, lad," said the elderly invalid, as + they sat alone in the forecastle one night at Seacole. +</p> +<p> + "You move about too much," said the cook. "Why not turn in and rest?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Lister, who had not expected this, fidgeted. "I think I'll go ashore + a bit and try the air," he said, suggestively. "I'll just go as far as + the Black Horse and back. You won't have me long now, my lad." +</p> +<p> + "No, I know," said the cook; "that's what's worrying me a bit." + "Don't worry about me," said the old man, pausing with his hand on the + other's shoulder; "I'm not worth it. Don't look so glum, lad." +</p> +<p> + "I've got something on my mind, Jem," said the cook, staring straight in + front of him. +</p> +<p> + "What is it?" inquired Mr. Lister. +</p> +<p> + "You know what you told me about those pains in your inside?" said the + cook, without looking at him. +</p> +<p> + Jem groaned and felt his side. +</p> +<p> + "And what you said about its being a relief to die," continued the other, + "only you was afraid to commit suicide?" +</p> +<p> + "Well?" said Mr. Lister. +</p> +<p> + "It used to worry me," continued the cook, earnestly. "I used to say to + myself, 'Poor old Jem,' I ses, 'why should 'e suffer like this when he + wants to die? It seemed 'ard.'" +</p> +<p> + "It is 'ard," said Mr. Lister, "but what about it?" +</p> +<p> + The other made no reply, but looking at him for the first time, surveyed + him with a troubled expression. +</p> +<p> + "What about it?" repeated Mr. Lister, with some emphasis. +</p> +<p> + "You did say you wanted to die, didn't you?" said the cook. "Now + suppose suppose——" +</p> +<p> + "Suppose what?" inquired the old man, sharply. "Why don't you say what + you're agoing to say?" +</p> +<p> + "Suppose," said the cook, "some one what liked you, Jem—what liked you, + mind—'eard you say this over and over again, an' see you sufferin' and + 'eard you groanin' and not able to do nothin' for you except lend you a + few shillings here and there for medicine, or stand you a few glasses o' + rum; suppose they knew a chap in a chemist's shop?" +</p> +<p> + "Suppose they did?" said the other, turning pale. +</p> +<p> + "A chap what knows all about p'isons," continued the cook, "p'isons what + a man can take without knowing it in 'is grub. Would it be wrong, do you + think, if that friend I was speaking about put it in your food to put you + out of your misery?" +</p> +<p> + "Wrong," said Mr. Lister, with glassy eyes. "Wrong. Look 'ere, cook—" +</p> +<p> + "I don't mean anything to give him pain," said the other, waving his + hand; "you ain't felt no pain lately, 'ave you, Jem?" +</p> +<p> + "Do you mean to say!" shouted Mr. Lister. +</p> +<p> + "I don't mean to say anything," said the cook. "Answer my question. You + ain't felt no pain lately, 'ave you?" +</p> +<p> + "Have—you—been—putting—p'ison—in—my—wittles?" demanded Mr. Lister, + in trembling accents. +</p> +<p> + "If I 'ad, Jem, supposin' that I 'ad," said the cook, in accents of + reproachful surprise, "do you mean to say that you'd mind?" +</p> +<p> + "MIND," said Mr. Lister, with fervour. "I'd 'ave you 'ung!" +</p> +<p> + "But you said you wanted to die," said the surprised cook. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Lister swore at him with startling vigour. "I'll 'ave you 'ung," he + repeated, wildly. +</p> +<p> + "Me," said the cook, artlessly. "What for?" +</p> +<p> + "For giving me p'ison," said Mr. Lister, frantically. "Do you think you + can deceive me by your roundabouts? Do you think I can't see through + you?" +</p> +<p> + The other with a sphinx-like smile sat unmoved. "Prove it," he said, + darkly. "But supposin' if anybody 'ad been givin' you p'ison, would you + like to take something to prevent its acting?" +</p> +<p> + "I'd take gallons of it," said Mr. Lister, feverishly. +</p> +<p> + The other sat pondering, while the old man watched him anxiously. "It's + a pity you don't know your own mind, Jem," he said, at length; "still, + you know your own business best. But it's very expensive stuff." +</p> +<p> + "How much?" inquired the other. +</p> +<p> + "Well, they won't sell more than two shillings-worth at a time," said the + cook, trying to speak carelessly, "but if you like to let me 'ave the + money, I'll go ashore to the chemist's and get the first lot now." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Lister's face was a study in emotions, which the other tried in vain + to decipher. +</p> +<p> + Then he slowly extracted the amount from his trousers-pocket, and handed + it over with-out a word. +</p> +<p> + "I'll go at once," said the cook, with a little feeling, "and I'll never + take a man at his word again, Jem." +</p> +<p> + He ran blithely up on deck, and stepping ashore, spat on the coins for + luck and dropped them in his pocket. Down below, Mr. Lister, with his + chin in his hand, sat in a state of mind pretty evenly divided between + rage and fear. +</p> +<p> + The cook, who was in no mood for company, missed the rest of the crew by + two public-houses, and having purchased a baby's teething powder and + removed the label, had a congratulatory drink or two before going on + board again. A chatter of voices from the forecastle warned him that the + crew had returned, but the tongues ceased abruptly as he descended, and + three pairs of eyes surveyed him in grim silence. +</p> +<p> + "What's up?" he demanded. +</p> +<p> + "Wot 'ave you been doin' to poor old Jem?" demanded Henshaw, sternly. +</p> +<p> + "Nothin'," said the other, shortly. +</p> +<p> + "You ain't been p'isoning 'im?" demanded Henshaw. +</p> +<p> + "Certainly not," said the cook, emphatically. +</p> +<p> + "He ses you told 'im you p'isoned 'im," said Henshaw, solemnly, "and 'e + give you two shillings to get something to cure 'im. It's too late now." +</p> +<p> + "What?" stammered the bewildered cook. He looked round anxiously at the + men. +</p> +<p> + They were all very grave, and the silence became oppressive. + "Where is he?" he demanded. +</p> +<p> + Henshaw and the others exchanged glances. "He's gone mad," said he, + slowly. +</p> +<p> + "Mad?" repeated the horrified cook, and, seeing the aversion of the crew, + in a broken voice he narrated the way in which he had been victimized. +</p> +<p> + "Well, you've done it now," said Henshaw, when he had finished. "He's + gone right orf 'is 'ed." +</p> +<p> + "Where is he?" inquired the cook. +</p> +<p> + "Where you can't follow him," said the other, slowly. +</p> +<p> + "Heaven?" hazarded the unfortunate cook. "No; skipper's bunk," said Lea. +</p> +<p> + "Oh, can't I foller 'im?" said the cook, starting up. "I'll soon 'ave + 'im out o' that." +</p> +<p> + "Better leave 'im alone," said Henshaw. "He was that wild we couldn't do + nothing with 'im, singing an' larfin' and crying all together—I + certainly thought he was p'isoned." +</p> +<p> + "I'll swear I ain't touched him," said the cook. +</p> +<p> + "Well, you've upset his reason," said Henshaw; "there'll be an awful row + when the skipper comes aboard and finds 'im in 'is bed. +</p> +<p> + "'Well, come an' 'elp me to get 'im out," said the cook. +</p> +<p> + "I ain't going to be mixed up in it," said Henshaw, shaking his head. +</p> +<p> + "Don't you, Bill," said the other two. +</p> +<p> + "Wot the skipper'll say I don't know," said Henshaw; "anyway, it'll be + said to you, not——" +</p> +<p> + "I'll go and get 'im out if 'e was five madmen," said the cook, + compressing his lips. +</p> +<p> + "You'll harve to carry 'im out, then," said Henshaw. "I don't wish you + no 'arm, cook, and perhaps it would be as well to get 'im out afore the + skipper or mate comes aboard. If it was me, I know what I should do." +</p> +<p> + "What?" inquired the cook, breathlessly. +</p> +<p> + "Draw a sack over his head," said Henshaw, impressively; "he'll scream + like blazes as soon as you touch him, and rouse the folks ashore if you + don't. Besides that, if you draw it well down it'll keep his arms fast." +</p> +<p> + The cook thanked him fervently, and routing out a sack, rushed hastily on + deck, his departure being the signal for Mr. Henshaw and his friends to + make preparations for retiring for the night so hastily as almost to + savour of panic. +</p> +<p> + The cook, after a hasty glance ashore, went softly below with the sack + over his arm and felt his way in the darkness to the skipper's bunk. The + sound of deep and regular breathing reassured him, and without undue + haste he opened the mouth of the sack and gently raised the sleeper's + head. +</p> +<p> + "Eh? Wha——" began a sleepy voice. +</p> +<p> + The next moment the cook had bagged him, and gripping him tightly round + the middle, turned a deaf ear to the smothered cries of his victim as he + strove to lift him out of the bunk. In the exciting time which followed, + he had more than one reason for thinking that he had caught a centipede. +</p> +<p> + "Now, you keep still," he cried, breathlessly. "I'm not going to hurt + you." +</p> +<p> + He got his burden out of bed at last, and staggered to the foot of the + companion-ladder with it. Then there was a halt, two legs sticking + obstinately across the narrow way and refusing to be moved, while a + furious humming proceeded from the other end of the sack. +</p> +<p> + Four times did the exhausted cook get his shoulder under his burden and + try and push it up the ladder, and four times did it wriggle and fight + its way down again. Half crazy with fear and rage, he essayed it for the + fifth time, and had got it half-way up when there was a sudden + exclamation of surprise from above, and the voice of the mate sharply + demanding an explanation. +</p> +<p> + "What the blazes are you up to?" he cried. +</p> +<p> + "It's all right, sir," said the panting cook; "old Jem's had a drop too + much and got down aft, and I'm getting 'im for'ard again." +</p> +<p> + "Jem?" said the astonished mate. "Why, he's sitting up here on the + fore-hatch. He came aboard with me." +</p> +<p> + "Sitting," began the horrified cook; "sit—oh, lor!" +</p> +<p> + He stood with his writhing burden wedged between his body and the ladder, + and looked up despairingly at the mate. +</p> +<p> + "I'm afraid I've made a mistake," he said in a trembling voice. +</p> +<p> + The mate struck a match and looked down. +</p> +<p> + "Take that sack off," he demanded, sternly. +</p> +<p> + The cook placed his burden upon its feet, and running up the ladder stood + by the mate shivering. The latter struck another match, and the twain + watched in breathless silence the writhings of the strange creature below + as the covering worked slowly upwards. In the fourth match it got free, + and revealed the empurpled visage of the master of the <i>Susannah</i>. For + the fraction of a second the cook gazed at him in speechless horror, and + then, with a hopeless cry, sprang ashore and ran for it, hotly pursued by + his enraged victim. At the time of sailing he was still absent, and the + skipper, loth to part two such friends, sent Mr. James Lister, at the + urgent request of the anxious crew, to look for him. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_10"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + THE WHITE CAT +</h2> +<a name="image-16"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/016.jpg" height="477" width="400" +alt="'the White Cat.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + The traveller stood looking from the tap-room window of the <i>Cauliflower</i> + at the falling rain. The village street below was empty, and everything + was quiet with the exception of the garrulous old man smoking with much + enjoyment on the settle behind him. +</p> +<p> + "It'll do a power o' good," said the ancient, craning his neck round the + edge of the settle and turning a bleared eye on the window. "I ain't + like some folk; I never did mind a drop o' rain." +</p> +<p> + The traveller grunted and, returning to the settle opposite the old man, + fell to lazily stroking a cat which had strolled in attracted by the + warmth of the small fire which smouldered in the grate. +</p> +<p> + "He's a good mouser," said the old man, "but I expect that Smith the + landlord would sell 'im to anybody for arf a crown; but we 'ad a cat in + Claybury once that you couldn't ha' bought for a hundred golden + sovereigns." +</p> +<p> + The traveller continued to caress the cat. +</p> +<p> + "A white cat, with one yaller eye and one blue one," continued the old + man. "It sounds queer, but it's as true as I sit 'ere wishing that I 'ad + another mug o' ale as good as the last you gave me." +</p> +<p> + The traveller, with a start that upset the cat's nerves, finished his own + mug, and then ordered both to be refilled. He stirred the fire into a + blaze, and, lighting his pipe and putting one foot on to the hob, + prepared to listen. +</p> +<p> + It used to belong to old man Clark, young Joe Clark's uncle, said the + ancient, smacking his lips delicately over the ale and extending a + tremulous claw to the tobacco-pouch pushed towards him; and he was never + tired of showing it off to people. He used to call it 'is blue-eyed + darling, and the fuss 'e made o' that cat was sinful. +</p> +<p> + Young Joe Clark couldn't bear it, but being down in 'is uncle's will for + five cottages and a bit o' land bringing in about forty pounds a year, he + 'ad to 'ide his feelings and pretend as he loved it. He used to take it + little drops o' cream and tit-bits o' meat, and old Clark was so pleased + that 'e promised 'im that he should 'ave the cat along with all the other + property when 'e was dead. +</p> +<p> + Young Joe said he couldn't thank 'im enough, and the old man, who 'ad + been ailing a long time, made 'im come up every day to teach 'im 'ow to + take care of it arter he was gone. He taught Joe 'ow to cook its meat + and then chop it up fine; 'ow it liked a clean saucer every time for its + milk; and 'ow he wasn't to make a noise when it was asleep. +</p> +<p> + "Take care your children don't worry it, Joe," he ses one day, very + sharp. "One o' your boys was pulling its tail this morning, and I want + you to clump his 'ead for 'im." +</p> +<p> + "Which one was it?" ses Joe. +</p> +<p> + "The slobbery-nosed one," ses old Clark. +</p> +<p> + "I'll give 'im a clout as soon as I get 'ome," ses Joe, who was very fond + of 'is children. +</p> +<p> + "Go and fetch 'im and do it 'ere," ses the old man; "that'll teach 'im to + love animals." +</p> +<p> + Joe went off 'ome to fetch the boy, and arter his mother 'ad washed his + face, and wiped his nose, an' put a clean pinneyfore on 'im, he took 'im + to 'is uncle's and clouted his 'ead for 'im. Arter that Joe and 'is wife + 'ad words all night long, and next morning old Clark, coming in from the + garden, was just in time to see 'im kick the cat right acrost the + kitchen. +</p> +<p> + He could 'ardly speak for a minute, and when 'e could Joe see plain wot a + fool he'd been. Fust of all 'e called Joe every name he could think of— + which took 'im a long time—and then he ordered 'im out of 'is house. +</p> +<p> + "You shall 'ave my money wen your betters have done with it," he ses, + "and not afore. That's all you've done for yourself." +</p> +<p> + Joe Clark didn't know wot he meant at the time, but when old Clark died + three months arterwards 'e found out. His uncle 'ad made a new will and + left everything to old George Barstow for as long as the cat lived, + providing that he took care of it. When the cat was dead the property + was to go to Joe. +</p> +<p> + The cat was only two years old at the time, and George Barstow, who was + arf crazy with joy, said it shouldn't be 'is fault if it didn't live + another twenty years. +</p> +<p> + The funny thing was the quiet way Joe Clark took it. He didn't seem to + be at all cut up about it, and when Henery Walker said it was a shame, + 'e said he didn't mind, and that George Barstow was a old man, and he was + quite welcome to 'ave the property as long as the cat lived. +</p> +<p> + "It must come to me by the time I'm an old man," he ses, "ard that's all + I care about." +</p> +<p> + Henery Walker went off, and as 'e passed the cottage where old Clark used + to live, and which George Barstow 'ad moved into, 'e spoke to the old man + over the palings and told 'im wot Joe Clark 'ad said. George Barstow + only grunted and went on stooping and prying over 'is front garden. +</p> +<p> + "Bin and lost something?" ses Henery Walker, watching 'im. +</p> +<p> + "No; I'm finding," ses George Barstow, very fierce, and picking up + something. "That's the fifth bit o' powdered liver I've found in my + garden this morning." +</p> +<p> + Henery Walker went off whistling, and the opinion he'd 'ad o' Joe Clark + began to improve. He spoke to Joe about it that arternoon, and Joe said + that if 'e ever accused 'im o' such a thing again he'd knock 'is 'ead + off. He said that he 'oped the cat 'ud live to be a hundred, and that + 'e'd no more think of giving it poisoned meat than Henery Walker would of + paying for 'is drink so long as 'e could get anybody else to do it for + 'im. +</p> +<p> + They 'ad bets up at this 'ere <i>Cauliflower</i> public-'ouse that evening as to + 'ow long that cat 'ud live. Nobody gave it more than a month, and Bill + Chambers sat and thought o' so many ways o' killing it on the sly that it + was wunnerful to hear 'im. +</p> +<p> + George Barstow took fright when he 'eard of them, and the care 'e took o' + that cat was wunnerful to behold. Arf its time it was shut up in the + back bedroom, and the other arf George Barstow was fussing arter it till + that cat got to hate 'im like pison. Instead o' giving up work as he'd + thought to do, 'e told Henery Walker that 'e'd never worked so 'ard in + his life. +</p> +<p> + "Wot about fresh air and exercise for it?" ses Henery. +</p> +<p> + "Wot about Joe Clark?" ses George Bar-stow. "I'm tied 'and and foot. I + dursent leave the house for a moment. I ain't been to the <i>Cauliflower</i> + since I've 'ad it, and three times I got out o' bed last night to see if + it was safe." +</p> +<p> + "Mark my words," ses Henery Walker; "if that cat don't 'ave exercise, + you'll lose it. +</p> +<p> + "I shall lose it if it does 'ave exercise," ses George Barstow, "that I + know." +</p> +<p> + He sat down thinking arter Henery Walker 'ad gone, and then he 'ad a + little collar and chain made for it, and took it out for a walk. Pretty + nearly every dog in Claybury went with 'em, and the cat was in such a + state o' mind afore they got 'ome he couldn't do anything with it. It + 'ad a fit as soon as they got indoors, and George Barstow, who 'ad read + about children's fits in the almanac, gave it a warm bath. It brought it + round immediate, and then it began to tear round the room and up and + downstairs till George Barstow was afraid to go near it. +</p> +<a name="image-17"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/017.jpg" height="873" width="550" +alt="'He 'ad a Little Collar and Chain Made for It, And Took It +Out for a Walk.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + It was so bad that evening, sneezing, that George Barstow sent for Bill + Chambers, who'd got a good name for doctoring animals, and asked 'im to + give it something. Bill said he'd got some powders at 'ome that would + cure it at once, and he went and fetched 'em and mixed one up with a bit + o' butter. +</p> +<p> + "That's the way to give a cat medicine," he ses; "smear it with the + butter and then it'll lick it off, powder and all." +</p> +<p> + He was just going to rub it on the cat when George Barstow caught 'old of + 'is arm and stopped 'im. +</p> +<p> + "How do I know it ain't pison?" he ses. "You're a friend o' Joe Clark's, + and for all I know he may ha' paid you to pison it." +</p> +<p> + "I wouldn't do such a thing," ses Bill. "You ought to know me better + than that." +</p> +<p> + "All right," ses George Barstow; "you eat it then, and I'll give you two + shillings in stead o' one. You can easy mix some more." +</p> +<p> + "Not me," ses Bill Chambers, making a face. +</p> +<p> + "Well, three shillings, then," ses George Barstow, getting more and more + suspicious like; "four shillings—five shillings." +</p> +<p> + Bill Chambers shook his 'ead, and George Barstow, more and more certain + that he 'ad caught 'im trying to kill 'is cat and that 'e wouldn't eat + the stuff, rose 'im up to ten shillings. +</p> +<p> + Bill looked at the butter and then 'e looked at the ten shillings on the + table, and at last he shut 'is eyes and gulped it down and put the money + in 'is pocket. +</p> +<p> + "You see, I 'ave to be careful, Bill," ses George Barstow, rather upset. +</p> +<p> + Bill Chambers didn't answer 'im. He sat there as white as a sheet, and + making such extraordinary faces that George was arf afraid of 'im. +</p> +<p> + "Anything wrong, Bill?" he ses at last. +</p> +<p> + Bill sat staring at 'im, and then all of a sudden he clapped 'is + 'andkerchief to 'is mouth and, getting up from his chair, opened the door + and rushed out. George Barstow thought at fust that he 'ad eaten pison + for the sake o' the ten shillings, but when 'e remembered that Bill + Chambers 'ad got the most delikit stummick in Claybury he altered 'is + mind. +</p> +<p> + The cat was better next morning, but George Barstow had 'ad such a fright + about it 'e wouldn't let it go out of 'is sight, and Joe Clark began to + think that 'e would 'ave to wait longer for that property than 'e had + thought, arter all. To 'ear 'im talk anybody'd ha' thought that 'e loved + that cat. We didn't pay much attention to it up at the <i>Cauliflower</i> + 'ere, except maybe to wink at 'im—a thing he couldn't a bear—but at + 'ome, o' course, his young 'uns thought as everything he said was + Gospel; and one day, coming 'ome from work, as he was passing George + Barstow's he was paid out for his deceitfulness. +</p> +<p> + "I've wronged you, Joe Clark," ses George Barstow, coming to the door, + "and I'm sorry for it." +</p> +<p> + "Oh!" ses Joe, staring. +</p> +<p> + "Give that to your little Jimmy," ses George Barstow, giving 'im a + shilling. "I've give 'im one, but I thought arterwards it wasn't + enough." +</p> +<p> + "What for?" ses Joe, staring at 'im agin. +</p> +<p> + "For bringing my cat 'ome," ses George Barstow. "'Ow it got out I can't + think, but I lost it for three hours, and I'd about given it up when your + little Jimmy brought it to me in 'is arms. He's a fine little chap and + 'e does you credit." +</p> +<p> + Joe Clark tried to speak, but he couldn't get a word out, and Henery + Walker, wot 'ad just come up and 'eard wot passed, took hold of 'is arm + and helped 'im home. He walked like a man in a dream, but arf-way he + stopped and cut a stick from the hedge to take 'ome to little Jimmy. He + said the boy 'ad been asking him for a stick for some time, but up till + then 'e'd always forgotten it. +</p> +<p> + At the end o' the fust year that cat was still alive, to everybody's + surprise; but George Barstow took such care of it 'e never let it out of + 'is sight. Every time 'e went out he took it with 'im in a hamper, and, + to prevent its being pisoned, he paid Isaac Sawyer, who 'ad the biggest + family in Claybury, sixpence a week to let one of 'is boys taste its milk + before it had it. +</p> +<p> + The second year it was ill twice, but the horse-doctor that George + Barstow got for it said that it was as 'ard as nails, and with care it + might live to be twenty. He said that it wanted more fresh air and + exercise; but when he 'eard 'ow George Barstow come by it he said that + p'r'aps it would live longer indoors arter all. +</p> +<p> + At last one day, when George Barstow 'ad been living on the fat o' the + land for nearly three years, that cat got out agin. George 'ad raised + the front-room winder two or three inches to throw something outside, + and, afore he knew wot was 'appening, the cat was out-side and going up + the road about twenty miles an hour. +</p> +<p> + George Barstow went arter it, but he might as well ha' tried to catch the + wind. The cat was arf wild with joy at getting out agin, and he couldn't + get within arf a mile of it. +</p> +<p> + He stayed out all day without food or drink, follering it about until it + came on dark, and then, o' course, he lost sight of it, and, hoping + against 'ope that it would come home for its food, he went 'ome and + waited for it. He sat up all night dozing in a chair in the front room + with the door left open, but it was all no use; and arter thinking for a + long time wot was best to do, he went out and told some o' the folks it + was lost and offered a reward of five pounds for it. +</p> +<p> + You never saw such a hunt then in all your life. Nearly every man, + woman, and child in Claybury left their work or school and went to try + and earn that five pounds. By the arternoon George Barstow made it ten + pounds provided the cat was brought 'ome safe and sound, and people as + was too old to walk stood at their cottage doors to snap it up as it came + by. +</p> +<p> + Joe Clark was hunting for it 'igh and low, and so was 'is wife and the + boys. In fact, I b'lieve that everybody in Claybury excepting the parson + and Bob Pretty was trying to get that ten pounds. +</p> +<p> + O' course, we could understand the parson—'is pride wouldn't let 'im; + but a low, poaching, thieving rascal like Bob Pretty turning up 'is nose + at ten pounds was more than we could make out. Even on the second day, + when George Barstow made it ten pounds down and a shilling a week for a + year besides, he didn't offer to stir; all he did was to try and make fun + o' them as was looking for it. +</p> +<p> + "Have you looked everywhere you can think of for it, Bill?" he ses to + Bill Chambers. "Yes, I 'ave," ses Bill. +</p> +<p> + "Well, then, you want to look everywhere else," ses Bob Pretty. "I know + where I should look if I wanted to find it." +</p> +<p> + "Why don't you find it, then?" ses Bill. +</p> +<p> + "'Cos I don't want to make mischief," ses Bob Pretty. "I don't want to + be unneighbourly to Joe Clark by interfering at all." +</p> +<p> + "Not for all that money?" ses Bill. +</p> +<p> + "Not for fifty pounds," ses Bob Pretty; "you ought to know me better than + that, Bill Chambers." +</p> +<p> + "It's my belief that you know more about where that cat is than you ought + to," ses Joe Gubbins. +</p> +<p> + "You go on looking for it, Joe," ses Bob Pretty, grinning; "it's good + exercise for you, and you've only lost two days' work." +</p> +<p> + "I'll give you arf a crown if you let me search your 'ouse, Bob," ses + Bill Chambers, looking at 'im very 'ard. +</p> +<p> + "I couldn't do it at the price, Bill," ses Bob Pretty, shaking his 'ead. + "I'm a pore man, but I'm very partikler who I 'ave come into my 'ouse." +</p> +<p> + O' course, everybody left off looking at once when they heard about Bob— + not that they believed that he'd be such a fool as to keep the cat in his + 'ouse; and that evening, as soon as it was dark, Joe Clark went round to + see 'im. +</p> +<p> + "Don't tell me as that cat's found, Joe," ses Bob Pretty, as Joe opened + the door. +</p> +<p> + "Not as I've 'eard of," said Joe, stepping inside. "I wanted to speak to + you about it; the sooner it's found the better I shall be pleased." +</p> +<p> + "It does you credit, Joe Clark," ses Bob Pretty. +</p> +<p> + "It's my belief that it's dead," ses Joe, looking at 'im very 'ard; "but + I want to make sure afore taking over the property." +</p> +<p> + Bob Pretty looked at 'im and then he gave a little cough. "Oh, you want + it to be found dead," he ses. "Now, I wonder whether that cat's worth + most dead or alive?" +</p> +<p> + Joe Clark coughed then. "Dead, I should think," he ses at last. + "George Barstow's just 'ad bills printed offering fifteen pounds for it," + ses Bob Pretty. +</p> +<p> + "I'll give that or more when I come into the property," ses Joe Clark. +</p> +<p> + "There's nothing like ready-money, though, is there?" ses Bob. +</p> +<p> + "I'll promise it to you in writing, Bob," ses Joe, trembling. +</p> +<p> + "There's some things that don't look well in writing, Joe," says Bob + Pretty, considering; "besides, why should you promise it to me?" +</p> +<p> + "O' course, I meant if you found it," ses Joe. +</p> +<p> + "Well, I'll do my best, Joe," ses Bob Pretty; "and none of us can do no + more than that, can they?" +</p> +<p> + They sat talking and argufying over it for over an hour, and twice Bob + Pretty got up and said 'e was going to see whether George Barstow + wouldn't offer more. By the time they parted they was as thick as + thieves, and next morning Bob Pretty was wearing Joe Clark's watch and + chain, and Mrs. Pretty was up at Joe's 'ouse to see whether there was any + of 'is furniture as she 'ad a fancy for. +</p> +<p> + She didn't seem to be able to make up 'er mind at fust between a chest o' + drawers that 'ad belonged to Joe's mother and a grand-father clock. She + walked from one to the other for about ten minutes, and then Bob, who 'ad + come in to 'elp her, told 'er to 'ave both. +</p> +<p> + "You're quite welcome," he ses; "ain't she, Joe?" +</p> +<p> + Joe Clark said "Yes," and arter he 'ad helped them carry 'em 'ome the + Prettys went back and took the best bedstead to pieces, cos Bob said as + it was easier to carry that way. Mrs. Clark 'ad to go and sit down at + the bottom o' the garden with the neck of 'er dress undone to give + herself air, but when she saw the little Prettys each walking 'ome with + one of 'er best chairs on their 'eads she got and walked up and down like + a mad thing. +</p> +<p> + "I'm sure I don't know where we are to put it all," ses Bob Pretty to Joe + Gubbins, wot was looking on with other folks, "but Joe Clark is that + generous he won't 'ear of our leaving anything." +</p> +<p> + "Has 'e gorn mad?" ses Bill Chambers, staring at 'im. +</p> +<p> + "Not as I knows on," ses Bob Pretty. "It's 'is good-'artedness, that's + all. He feels sure that that cat's dead, and that he'll 'ave George + Barstow's cottage and furniture. I told 'im he'd better wait till he'd + made sure, but 'e wouldn't." +</p> +<p> + Before they'd finished the Prettys 'ad picked that 'ouse as clean as a + bone, and Joe Clark 'ad to go and get clean straw for his wife and + children to sleep on; not that Mrs. Clark 'ad any sleep that night, nor + Joe neither. +</p> +<p> + Henery Walker was the fust to see what it really meant, and he went + rushing off as fast as 'e could run to tell George Barstow. George + couldn't believe 'im at fust, but when 'e did he swore that if a 'air of + that cat's head was harmed 'e'd 'ave the law o' Bob Pretty, and arter + Henery Walker 'ad gone 'e walked round to tell 'im so. +</p> +<p> + "You're not yourself, George Barstow, else you wouldn't try and take away + my character like that," ses Bob Pretty. +</p> +<p> + "Wot did Joe Clark give you all them things for?" ses George, pointing to + the furniture. +</p> +<p> + "Took a fancy to me, I s'pose," ses Bob. "People do sometimes. There's + something about me at times that makes 'em like me." +</p> +<p> + "He gave 'em to you to kill my cat," ses George Barstow. "It's plain + enough for any-body to see." +</p> +<p> + Bob Pretty smiled. "I expect it'll turn up safe and sound one o' these + days," he ses, "and then you'll come round and beg my pardon. P'r'aps—" +</p> +<p> + "P'r'aps wot?" ses George Barstow, arter waiting a bit. +</p> +<p> + "P'r'aps somebody 'as got it and is keeping it till you've drawed the + fifteen pounds out o' the bank," ses Bob, looking at 'im very hard. +</p> +<p> + "I've taken it out o' the bank," ses George, starting; "if that cat's + alive, Bob, and you've got it, there's the fifteen pounds the moment you + 'and it over." +</p> +<p> + "Wot d'ye mean—me got it?" ses Bob Pretty. "You be careful o' my + character." +</p> +<p> + "I mean if you know where it is," ses George Barstow trembling all over. +</p> +<p> + "I don't say I couldn't find it, if that's wot you mean," ses Bob. "I + can gin'rally find things when I want to." +</p> +<p> + "You find me that cat, alive and well, and the money's yours, Bob," ses + George, 'ardly able to speak, now that 'e fancied the cat was still + alive. +</p> +<p> + Bob Pretty shook his 'ead. "No; that won't do," he ses. "S'pose I did + 'ave the luck to find that pore animal, you'd say I'd had it all the time + and refuse to pay." +</p> +<p> + "I swear I wouldn't, Bob," ses George Barstow, jumping up. +</p> +<p> + "Best thing you can do if you want me to try and find that cat," says Bob + Pretty, "is to give me the fifteen pounds now, and I'll go and look for + it at once. I can't trust you, George Barstow." +</p> +<p> + "And I can't trust you," ses George Barstow. +</p> +<p> + "Very good," ses Bob, getting up; "there's no 'arm done. P'r'aps Joe + Clark 'll find the cat is dead and p'r'aps you'll find it's alive. It's + all one to me." +</p> +<p> + George Barstow walked off 'ome, but he was in such a state o' mind 'e + didn't know wot to do. Bob Pretty turning up 'is nose at fifteen pounds + like that made 'im think that Joe Clark 'ad promised to pay 'im more if + the cat was dead; and at last, arter worrying about it for a couple o' + hours, 'e came up to this 'ere <i>Cauliflower</i> and offered Bob the fifteen + pounds. +</p> +<p> + "Wot's this for?" ses Bob. +</p> +<p> + "For finding my cat," ses George. +</p> +<p> + "Look here," ses Bob, handing it back, "I've 'ad enough o' your insults; + I don't know where your cat is." +</p> +<p> + "I mean for trying to find it, Bob," ses George Barstow. +</p> +<p> + "Oh, well, I don't mind that," ses Bob, taking it. "I'm a 'ard-working + man, and I've got to be paid for my time; it's on'y fair to my wife and + children. I'll start now." +</p> +<p> + He finished up 'is beer, and while the other chaps was telling George + Barstow wot a fool he was Joe Clark slipped out arter Bob Pretty and + began to call 'im all the names he could think of. +</p> +<p> + "Don't you worry," ses Bob; "the cat ain't found yet." +</p> +<p> + "Is it dead?" ses Joe Clark, 'ardly able to speak. +</p> +<p> + "'Ow should I know?" ses Bob; "that's wot I've got to try and find out. + That's wot you gave me your furniture for, and wot George Barstow gave me + the fifteen pounds for, ain't it? Now, don't you stop me now, 'cos I'm + goin' to begin looking." +</p> +<p> + He started looking there and then, and for the next two or three days + George Barstow and Joe Clark see 'im walking up and down with his 'ands + in 'is pockets looking over garden fences and calling "Puss." He asked + everybody 'e see whether they 'ad seen a white cat with one blue eye and + one yaller one, and every time 'e came into the <i>Cauliflower</i> he put his + 'ead over the bar and called "Puss," 'cos, as 'e said, it was as likely + to be there as anywhere else. +</p> +<p> + It was about a week after the cat 'ad disappeared that George Barstow was + standing at 'is door talking to Joe Clark, who was saying the cat must be + dead and 'e wanted 'is property, when he sees a man coming up the road + carrying a basket stop and speak to Bill Chambers. Just as 'e got near + them an awful "miaow" come from the basket and George Barstow and Joe + Clark started as if they'd been shot. +</p> +<p> + "He's found it?" shouts Bill Chambers, pointing to the man. +</p> +<p> + "It's been living with me over at Ling for a week pretty nearly," ses the + man. "I tried to drive it away several times, not knowing that there was + fifteen pounds offered for it." +</p> +<p> + George Barstow tried to take 'old of the basket. +</p> +<p> + "I want that fifteen pounds fust," ses the man. +</p> +<p> + "That's on'y right and fair, George," ses Bob Pretty, who 'ad just come + up. "You've got all the luck, mate. We've been hunting 'igh and low for + that cat for a week." +</p> +<p> + Then George Barstow tried to explain to the man and call Bob Pretty names + at the same time; but it was all no good. The man said it 'ad nothing to + do with 'im wot he 'ad paid to Bob Pretty; and at last they fetched + Policeman White over from Cudford, and George Barstow signed a paper to + pay five shillings a week till the reward was paid. +</p> +<p> + George Barstow 'ad the cat for five years arter that, but he never let it + get away agin. They got to like each other in time and died within a + fortnight of each other, so that Joe Clark got 'is property arter all. +</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Captains All and Others, by W.W. Jacobs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAINS ALL AND OTHERS *** + +***** This file should be named 11191-h.htm or 11191-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.net/1/1/1/9/11191/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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