“'This is private enough for me,' he ses. 'Say wot you 'ave to say, and
be quick about it.'
“I drawed myself up a bit and looked at him. 'P'r'aps you ain't missed
'im yet,' I ses.
“'Missed 'im?' he ses, with a growl. 'Missed who?'
“'Your-son. Your blue-eyed son,' I ses, looking 'im straight in the eye.
“'Look here!' he ses, spluttering. 'You be off. 'Ow dare you come here
with your games? Wot d'ye mean by it?'
“'I mean,' I ses, getting a bit out o' temper, 'that your boy has run
away to go to sea, and I've come to take you to 'im.'
“He seemed so upset that I thought 'e was going to 'ave a fit at fust,
and it seemed only natural, too. Then I see that the best-looking girl
and another was having a fit, although trying 'ard not to.
“'If you don't get out o' my shop,' he ses at last, 'I'll 'ave you locked
up.'
“'Very good!' I ses, in a quiet way. 'Very good; but, mark my words,
if he's drownded you'll never forgive yourself as long as you live for
letting your temper get the better of you--you'll never know a good
night's rest agin. Besides, wot about 'is mother?'
“One o' them silly gals went off agin just like a damp firework, and Mr.
Watson, arter nearly choking 'imself with temper, shoved me out o' the
way and marched out o' the shop. I didn't know wot to make of 'im at
fust, and then one o' the gals told me that 'e was a bachelor and 'adn't
got no son, and that somebody 'ad been taking advantage of what she
called my innercence to pull my leg.
“'You toddle off 'ome,' she ses, 'before Mr. Watson comes back.'
“'It's a shame to let 'im come out alone,' ses one o' the other gals.
'Where do you live, gran'pa?'
“I see then that I 'ad been done, and I was just walking out o' the shop,
pretending to be deaf, when Mr. Watson come back with a silly young
policeman wot asked me wot I meant by it. He told me to get off 'ome
quick, and actually put his 'and on my shoulder, but it 'ud take more
than a thing like that to push me, and, arter trying his 'ardest, he
could only rock me a bit.
“I went at last because I wanted to see that boy agin, and the young
policeman follered me quite a long way, shaking his silly 'ead at me and
telling me to be careful.
“I got a ride part o' the way from Commercial Road to Aldgate by getting
on the wrong bus, but it wasn't much good, and I was quite tired by the
time I got back to the wharf. I waited outside for a minute or two to
get my wind back agin, and then I went in-boiling.
“You might ha' knocked me down with a feather, as the saying is, and I
just stood inside the office speechless. The boy 'ad disappeared and
sitting on the floor where I 'ad left 'im was a very nice-looking gal of
about eighteen, with short 'air, and a white blouse.
“'Good evening, sir,' she ses, jumping up and giving me a pretty little
frightened look. 'I'm so sorry that my brother has been deceiving you.
He's a bad, wicked, ungrateful boy. The idea of telling you that Mr.
Watson was 'is father! Have you been there? I do 'ope you're not
tired.'
“'Where is he?' I ses.
“'He's gorn,' she ses, shaking her 'ead. 'I begged and prayed of 'im to
stop, but 'e wouldn't. He said 'e thought you might be offended with
'im. “Give my love to old Roley-Poley, and tell him I don't trust 'im,”
he ses.'
“She stood there looking so scared that I didn't know wot to say. By and
by she took out 'er little pocket-'ankercher and began to cry--
“'Oh, get 'im back,' she ses. 'Don't let it be said I follered 'im 'ere
all the way for nothing. Have another try. For my sake!'
“''Ow can I get 'im back when I don't know where he's gorn?' I ses.
“'He-he's gorn to 'is godfather,' she ses, dabbing her eyes. 'I promised
'im not to tell anybody; but I don't know wot to do for the best.'
“'Well, p'r'aps his godfather will 'old on to 'im,' I ses.
“'He won't tell 'im anything about going to sea,' she ses, shaking 'er
little head. 'He's just gorn to try and bo--bo-borrow some money to go
away with.'
“She bust out sobbing, and it was all I could do to get the godfather's
address out of 'er. When I think of the trouble I took to get it I come
over quite faint. At last she told me, between 'er sobs, that 'is name
was Mr. Kiddem, and that he lived at 27, Bridge Street.
“'He's one o' the kindest-'arted and most generous men that ever lived,'
she ses; 'that's why my brother Harry 'as gone to 'im. And you needn't
mind taking anything 'e likes to give you; he's rolling in money.'
“I took it a bit easier going to Bridge Street, but the evening seemed
'otter than ever, and by the time I got to the 'ouse I was pretty near
done up. A nice, tidy-looking woman opened the door, but she was a' most
stone deaf, and I 'ad to shout the name pretty near a dozen times afore
she 'eard it.
“'He don't live 'ere,' she ses.
“''As he moved?' I ses. 'Or wot?'
“She shook her 'cad, and, arter telling me to wait, went in and fetched
her 'usband.
“'Never 'eard of him,' he ses, 'and we've been 'ere seventeen years. Are
you sure it was twenty-seven?'
“'Sartain,' I ses.
“'Well, he don't live 'ere,' he ses. 'Why not try thirty-seven and
forty-seven?'
“I tried'em: thirty-seven was empty, and a pasty-faced chap at
forty-seven nearly made 'imself ill over the name of 'Kiddem.' It
'adn't struck me before, but it's a hard matter to deceive me, and all
in a flash it come over me that I 'ad been done agin, and that the gal
was as bad as 'er brother.
“I was so done up I could 'ardly crawl back, and my 'ead was all in a
maze. Three or four times I stopped and tried to think, but couldn't,
but at last I got back and dragged myself into the office.
“As I 'arf expected, it was empty. There was no sign of either the gal
or the boy; and I dropped into a chair and tried to think wot it all
meant. Then, 'appening to look out of the winder, I see somebody running
up and down the jetty.
“I couldn't see plain owing to the things in the way, but as soon as I
got outside and saw who it was I nearly dropped. It was the boy, and he
was running up and down wringing his 'ands and crying like a wild thing,
and, instead o' running away as soon as 'e saw me, he rushed right up to
me and threw 'is grubby little paws round my neck.
“'Save her!' 'e ses. 'Save 'er! Help! Help!'
“'Look 'ere,' I ses, shoving 'im off.
“'She fell overboard,' he ses, dancing about. 'Oh, my pore sister!
Quick! Quick! I can't swim!'
“He ran to the side and pointed at the water, which was just about at
'arf-tide. Then 'e caught 'old of me agin.
“'Make 'aste,' he ses, giving me a shove behind. 'Jump in. Wot are you
waiting for?'
“I stood there for a moment 'arf dazed, looking down at the water. Then
I pulled down a life-belt from the wall 'ere and threw it in, and, arter
another moment's thought, ran back to the _Lizzie and Annie,_ wot was in
the inside berth, and gave them a hail. I've always 'ad a good voice,
and in a flash the skipper and Ted Sawyer came tumbling up out of the
cabin and the 'ands out of the fo'c'sle.
“'Gal overboard!' I ses, shouting.
“The skipper just asked where, and then 'im and the mate and a couple of
'ands tumbled into their boat and pulled under the jetty for all they was
worth. Me and the boy ran back and stood with the others, watching.
“'Point out the exact spot,' ses the skipper.
“The boy pointed, and the skipper stood up in the boat and felt round
with a boat-hook. Twice 'e said he thought 'e touched something, but it
turned out as 'e was mistaken. His face got longer and longer and 'e
shook his 'ead, and said he was afraid it was no good.
“'Don't stand cryin' 'ere,' he ses to the boy, kindly. 'Jem, run round
for the Thames police, and get them and the drags. Take the boy with
you. It'll occupy 'is mind.'
“He 'ad another go with the boat-hook arter they 'ad gone; then 'e gave
it up, and sat in the boat waiting.
“'This'll be a bad job for you, watchman,' he ses, shaking his 'ead.
'Where was you when it 'appened?'
“'He's been missing all the evening,' ses the cook, wot was standing
beside me. 'If he'd been doing 'is dooty, the pore gal wouldn't 'ave
been drownded. Wot was she doing on the wharf?'
“'Skylarkin', I s'pose,' ses the mate. 'It's a wonder there ain't more
drownded. Wot can you expect when the watchman is sitting in a pub all
the evening?'
“The cook said I ought to be 'ung, and a young ordinary seaman wot was
standing beside 'im said he would sooner I was boiled. I believe they
'ad words about it, but I was feeling too upset to take much notice.
“'Looking miserable won't bring 'er back to life agin,' ses the skipper,
looking up at me and shaking his 'ead. 'You'd better go down to my cabin
and get yourself a drop o' whisky; there's a bottle on the table. You'll
want all your wits about you when the police come. And wotever you do
don't say nothing to criminate yourself.'
“'We'll do the criminating for 'im all right,' ses the cook.
“'If I was the pore gal I'd haunt 'im,' ses the ordinary seaman; 'every
night of 'is life I'd stand afore 'im dripping with water and moaning.'
“'P'r'aps she will,' ses the cook; 'let's 'ope so, at any rate.'
“I didn't answer 'em; I was too dead-beat. Besides which, I've got a
'orror of ghosts, and the idea of being on the wharf alone of a night
arter such a thing was a'most too much for me. I went on board the
_Lizzie and Annie,_ and down in the cabin I found a bottle o' whisky, as
the skipper 'ad said. I sat down on the locker and 'ad a glass, and then
I sat worrying and wondering wot was to be the end of it all.
“The whisky warmed me up a bit, and I 'ad just taken up the bottle to
'elp myself agin when I 'eard a faint sort o' sound in the skipper's
state-room. I put the bottle down and listened, but everything seemed
deathly still. I took it up agin, and 'ad just poured out a drop o'
whisky when I distinctly 'eard a hissing noise and then a little moan.
“For a moment I sat turned to stone. Then I put the bottle down quiet,
and 'ad just got up to go when the door of the state-room opened, and I
saw the drownded gal, with 'er little face and hair all wet and dripping,
standing before me.
“Ted Sawyer 'as been telling everybody that I came up the companion-way
like a fog-horn that 'ad lost its ma; I wonder how he'd 'ave come up if
he'd 'ad the evening I had 'ad?
“They were all on the jetty as I got there and tumbled into the skipper's
arms, and all asking at once wot was the matter. When I got my breath
back a bit and told 'em, they laughed. All except the cook, and 'e said
it was only wot I might expect. Then, like a man in a dream, I see the
gal come out of the companion and walk slowly to the side.
“'Look!' I ses. 'Look. There she is!'
“'You're dreaming,' ses the skipper, 'there's nothing there.'
“They all said the same, even when the gal stepped on to the side and
climbed on to the wharf. She came along towards me with 'er arms held
close to 'er sides, and making the most 'orrible faces at me, and it took
five of'em all their time to 'old me. The wharf and everything seemed to
me to spin round and round. Then she came straight up to me and patted
me on the cheek.
“'Pore old gentleman,' she ses. 'Wot a shame it is, Ted! It's too bad.'
“They let go o' me then, and stamped up and down the jetty laughing fit
to kill themselves. If they 'ad only known wot a exhibition they was
making of themselves, and 'ow I pitied them, they wouldn't ha' done it.
And by and by Ted wiped his eyes and put his arm round the gal's waist
and ses--
“'This is my intended, Miss Florrie Price,' he ses. 'Ain't she a little
wonder? Wot d'ye think of 'er?'
“'I'll keep my own opinion,' I ses. 'I ain't got nothing to say against
gals, but if I only lay my hands on that young brother of 'ers'
“They went off agin then, worse than ever; and at last the cook came and
put 'is skinny arm round my neck and started spluttering in my ear. I
shoved 'im off hard, because I see it all then; and I should ha' seen it
afore only I didn't 'ave time to think. I don't bear no malice, and all
I can say is that I don't wish 'er any harder punishment than to be
married to Ted Sawyer.”