There was a chill air off the river, and the water looked cold and
dark. Side-lights were already appearing, and the siren of a large
steamer coming up indulged in grievous lamentations. A slight shiver
altered for a moment the contour of the night-watchman’s jersey. He
patted it tenderly.
“There’s worse things than loneliness, though,” he said after a long
silence, “and a man as does his dooty can always find something to do.”
He got up from the bollard and, with a faint grunt, stooped and picked
up his broom. A voice from the next wharf told him to take care not to
overdo it.
“That’s the new man next door,” said the night-watchman. “He’s feeling
lonely and ’e wants me to answer him back--and I shan’t.
“I used to feel like it myself at fust; not that I ever gave any lip
to my olders and betters; but I used to feel I wanted somebody to talk
to. One time I let a painter chap come and paint ’ere. He used to
paint ships and things, and that lasted till one day he asked to be
allowed to paint my portrait. It took ’im three evenings. He showed it
to me when it was finished as if ’e was proud of it; and then ’e went
straight off ’ome, packing up his things as ’e went and talking about
sending for the police.
“Arter that I ’ad a dog for company. Bull-terrier he was, and somebody
must ha’ paid a lot o’ money for ’im. I had ’im a couple o’ months, and
then the landlord of the ‘Albion’ offered me a couple o’ quid for ’im,
and while I was trying to raise him to two pun’ ten some low, dirty,
sneaking thief got ’im for nothing. There’s people about ’ere as would
steal your whiskers off your face if they wanted ’em. And if you went
to the police about it the fust thing they would ask is where you got
them from.
“I ’ad another dog arter that, but ’e wasn’t wot you might call a
success. He bit three people in a fortnight, and then ’e bit me. The
last I see of him, he was trying to swim across the river with a brick.
“A watchman is best all alone by ’imself. He can’t cheat ’imself at
cards, and any drink he pays for isn’t money wasted. I ’ad a little
lesson once about keeping myself to myself and it done me good. Though
I didn’t see it at the time.
“It was just such an evening as this might be. I ’ad been hard at work
tidying up, and was just thinking of getting my ladder and lighting up,
when the wicket was pushed open sudden and a young feller ’opped in
follered by a gal. They shut it arter them very gentle and then stood
there talking in w’ispers and looking round at me.
“‘’Ullo!’ I ses. ‘Wot’s all this about?’
“‘_Hsh!_’ ses the gal. ‘_Hsh!_’
“‘Wot d’you want?’ I ses, very loud, a-purpose. ‘Who asked you to come
on my wharf and _hsh_ me about?’
“Pretty little thing she was, about eighteen, with nice large blue eyes
and brown ’air.
“‘We’re escaping,’ she ses, coming up and catching ’old of my arm.
“‘Wot ’ave you been doing?’ I ses, trying to speak severe.
“‘Nothing,’ she ses, shaking her ’ead.
“‘Wot’s _he_ been doing, then?’ I ses.
“‘Nothing that I’m ashamed of,’ ses the young feller. ‘I’m only walking
out with my young lady, that’s all.’
“‘Well, you can’t walk out with ’er on my wharf,’ I ses, rather sharp.
‘Is ’er father arter ’er or wot?’
“He stood there looking at me like a silly fool. A rather smallish
chap, dressed up to the nines, with a necktie like a rainbow in a fit.
If he’d been a gal I should ’ave called ’im rather good-looking, but ’e
was too pretty-pretty for a man. Twice he opened ’is mouth to speak,
and only gave a silly smile instead.
“‘It ain’t ’er father,’ he ses at last, with a funny little laugh.
“‘It’s the young man I used to walk out with afore I was old enough to
know my own mind,’ ses the gal, turning to me. ‘I never reely liked
’im. He’s always getting into fights; and now he says if ’e sees
Charlie with me he’ll knock ’is ’ead off and make ’im swaller it. I saw
’im behind us just now, and if your gate ’adn’t been open I don’t know
wot would ’ave happened.’
“‘But you ain’t afraid of ’im?’ I ses to the young man.
“‘I ain’t afraid of any man,’ he ses, very upright. ‘But I don’t want
my ’ead knocked off. ’Ow would you like it yourself?’
“‘’Ow big is he?’ I ses.
“‘About my size,’ ses Charlie, considering.
“‘Well, you needn’t be afraid of a little shrimp like that,’ I ses.
‘Neither of you can’t hurt each other enough to signify. You get off
my wharf and, if he starts on you, knock ’im down. Give ’im one in the
bread-basket with your left, and when ’e bends over drive your right to
’is jaw.’
“‘And s’pose ’e don’t bend over?’ ses Charlie.
“‘He wouldn’t,’ ses the gal. ‘Not if I know ’im. If Charlie did manage
to hit ’im in the--where you said, he’d ’arf kill ’im.’
“Charlie nodded and turned pale. He could turn pale all right, but
even the things I said to ’im couldn’t make ’im blush. She turned red
instead, and I caught one look from ’er blue eyes--when she didn’t
think I was looking--that fair startled me.
“‘Well, I’ve give you good advice,’ I ses, ‘and if you don’t take it
you must leave it. If I was walking out with a gal like that I’d fight
a rigdiment of soldiers for ’er; one down and t’other come up.’
“She gave me a nice look then and I began to feel a bit sorry for ’er.
Gals can’t ’elp their feelings, when all is said and done.
“‘I’ll just step outside and see if there is anybody ’anging about,’ I
ses; ‘if not, off you go.’
“I walked to the gate, but couldn’t see anybody. Then I strolled round
the corner, careless-like, with my ’ands in my pockets, and the fust
thing I see was a young feller walking up and down and looking all ways
at once, as the saying is. Nasty face he’d got; sharp eyes and a nose
that wasn’t, and big ugly teeth.
“‘Lost anything?’ I ses as I passed.
“‘Go an’ boil your face,’ he ses.
“I didn’t answer ’im; I gave ’im a smile instead. Just the sort of
smile kind old ladies turn round and give to little children when they
pass ’em. Then I walked back slow to the wharf, and I ’ad just got one
leg inside the gate when a stone came along and caught me on the other.
“Nasty smack it was, too, and if I could ha’ got hold of ’im I’d ha’
tore ’im limb from limb. I went round the corner to look for ’im, but
o’ course he ’ad disappeared, and when I got back to the wharf Charlie
and the gal ’ad disappeared too.
“I got my ladder and lit the lamps. It was dark by the time I ’ad
finished and ’ad a pipe in the office. I went out on the wharf again,
and arter a time I began to fancy things. I thought I ’eard little
rustlings and whisperings. Twice I stopped and listened and then
everything was as silent as the grave. Then I ’eard a little sneeze.
“They was sitting on a box--a little box--be’ind a pile of empties in
the angle of the warehouse there, holding each other’s ’and. I spoke
to ’em sharp at fust, but the gal was so sorry when she ’eard about my
leg that I ’adn’t the ’art to say much. Quite upset she was, with ’er
little hanky up to ’er mouth and making funny little sobbing noises.
“‘That’s a nice quiet little corner,’ ses Charlie, as I walked down to
the gate with ’em. ‘It might ha’ been made for us.’
“‘Only it wasn’t,’ I ses.
“He leaned up against me, and at fust I thought ’e was trying to hold
_my_ ’and. Then I felt something ’ard put into it. I s’pose I was a
fool, but I remembered my own young days, and I stood there trying to
think wot I could do for ’em.
“‘The corner won’t run away,’ I ses, ‘and so long as there’s no craft
alongside, or at any rate none of the hands about, I don’t know why you
shouldn’t go there for a breath of fresh air sometimes.’
“They both thanked me at once, and I could see wot a load it was off
Charlie’s mind to think as ’ow ’e could go on courting in comfort
and safety. The gal went off by ’erself, in case the other chap, Alf
Stevens, should be ’anging about, and arter I ’ad allowed Charlie to
stand me a pint in the ‘Bull’s Head,’ he went off too.
“I didn’t see anything of ’em for the next two days, but on the third
evening there was a little tapping noise on the gate, and when I
opened the wicket the gal put ’er little ’ead in and smiled at me.
“‘Can I come in?’ she ses.
“‘Yes,’ I ses; ‘there’s nothing up to-night. You can ’ave the wharf all
to your two selves. Where is he?’
“‘He’s coming a roundabout way,’ she ses. ‘It’s safer.’
“I didn’t say nothing; arter all it was _’er_ young man, but I coughed.
I couldn’t ’elp it. And when she patted me on the back it made me cough
again. Nice little ’and she’d got, but ’arder than wot I expected.
Especially the second time.
“I stood talking to ’er a little while arter she ’ad got into ’er
corner. Besides the other things, I ’ad moved three or four empty
barrels in front so as to make ’em quite private, and she couldn’t
thank me enough for it. She said it was evident I knew my way about,
and she wondered ’ow many ’arts I ’ad broke afore I settled down. I
told ’er of one or two, and just as she was shaking her ’ead at me and
asking me whether all men was like that, or only sailormen, the wharf
bell rang.
“‘Oh, make ’aste,’ she ses; ‘it sounds as if ’e was in a ’urry.’
“I trotted off and unlocked the gate and Charlie a’most fell into my
arms. Pale as a ghost ’e was and shaking all over. Then I put my ’ead
outside and saw Alf Stevens.
“He pulled up short as ’e see me, and we stood looking at each other;
me inside and ’im outside. Then ’e steps forward, as bold as brass, to
come on to the wharf.
“‘Wot do you want?’ I ses, blocking the way.
“‘I want to come inside,’ he ses, shoving ’is face close up to mine. ‘I
believe you’ve got my gal there.’
[Illustration: “‘I WANT TO COME INSIDE,’ HE SES, SHOVING ’IS FACE CLOSE
UP TO MINE. ‘I BELIEVE YOU’VE GOT MY GAL THERE.’”]
“‘You run off ’ome and play,’ I ses. ‘I’ve ’ad enough o’ little boys
coming on to my wharf and stealing lumps o’ coke. Go off an’ ’ave a
little game of ’opscotch all by yourself.’
“I slammed the wicket just in time, and, judging by the noise ’is
fist made on it, I didn’t lose anything I wanted much. He must ’ave
pretty near broke ’is knuckles, and the langwidge ’e used about it was
shocking. When I called out and asked ’im whether he ’ad ever been to
Sunday School, it got worse.
“‘You’ve done it now,’ ses Charlie, trembling.
“‘Cheer up!’ I ses. ‘You’ve got the gal and you can’t expect to ’ave
everything. Even if he does set about you ’e can’t kill you, and if ’e
does he’ll be ’ung for it. I’ll see as ’ow he don’t escape.’
“I might ’ave saved my breath; and the gal was a’most as upset as ’e
was. Alf Stevens was still outside talking to ’imself, and when I
called out to ask whether he’d like a cough-lozenge they both caught
’old of me and asked me not to make ’im worse.
“‘Think of poor Charlie,’ ses the gal.
“They was both of ’em in such a state I didn’t like to leave ’em, so
I found a little box for myself and sat down to keep ’em company. I
told ’em some of the things wot ’ad happened to me while I was at sea;
’ow I’d nearly been shipwrecked three times, and ’ow on one ship we
was short-’anded cos ’arf the hands was below in their bunks through
fighting me. Then I made ’em feel the place on my ’ead where I’d been
hit with the leg of a chair, but nothing seemed to cheer ’em up, and
arter wasting about an hour of my time I got up and left ’em.
“I done a bit o’ tidying up fust and then I went into the office and
’ad a look at the newspaper. By the time I’d done that it was getting
late, and I was just getting up to see ’ow Charlie and Maud was getting
on when I see them looking at me through the winder.
“‘It’s time we was going,’ ses Charlie.
“‘I’ll come and open the gate for yer,’ I ses, feeling in my pocket.
“‘And wot about Alf?’ ses Charlie.
“‘Well, wot about ’im?’ I ses.
“‘Has ’e gorn?’ he ses.
“‘Must ha’ done,’ I ses. ‘You’ll get Alf on the brain if you ain’t
careful. Besides, if ’e ain’t, he couldn’t ’urt you much to-night.
Think wot a smash he ’it that gate with ’is fist.’
“‘I don’t like to think of it,’ he ses, with a shiver; ’it might ’ave
been me.’
“‘Well, I’ll go and see if the coast is clear,’ I ses at last.
“I crept on tiptoe to the gate and unlocked it without a sound. Then
I began opening it very gentle, and I ’ad just got it open about six
inches when Mister Alf rushed at it with ’is shoulder.
“He got ’arf-way in and then ’e stuck. I stood agin it like a rock, and
then I began to shut it, very slow. Nine stone don’t stand much chance
agin fifteen, and swearing didn’t ’elp ’im. He was ’arf in and ’arf
out, and, after squeedging ’im for a little while I talked to ’im about
manners, I put my ’and on his chin and flung ’im into the road.
“‘Now make a bolt for it,’ I ses to Charlie. ‘Quick! while you’re safe.’
“‘_Safe!_’ ses Charlie. ‘’Ark at ’im!’
“Alf was at it agin, and the thing wot ’e said ’e would do to me when
’e got ’old of me showed wot a nasty mind he’d got. I locked the gate
up, and then I stood for a minute wondering wot was to be done.
“‘We can’t stay ’ere all night,’ ses Charlie, as we walked down the
wharf.
“‘No, I’ll see to that,’ I ses.
“‘If we don’t go soon she’ll get it from ’er father, and if we do go
I shall get it from Alf Stevens,’ he ses. ‘If you’d on’y pulled ’im
inside while you ’ad the chance and ’eld ’im we could ha’ got away all
right. You lost your presence o’ mind.’
“‘I’ll lose something else in a minute,’ I ses, as soon as I could
speak. ‘If you ’ad the pluck of a mouse you’d go out and fight ’im now.’
“‘Oh, don’t Charlie,’ ses the gal.
“‘I won’t,’ he ses, ‘for your sake.’
“They walked up and down arter that with their arms round each other’s
waists. It was all ’is arm was fit for. I walked up and down too, and
while I was wondering ’ow to get rid of ’em I suddenly remembered that
one o’ the lightermen ’ad left ’is skiff tied up in the dock. I peeped
over to make sure he ’adn’t taken it away, and then I went to Charlie.
“He paid up the five bob I asked ’im for neglecting my dooty, without
a murmur. I got into the boat fust, and the gal follered as if she’d
been used to ladders all ’er life. Then I ’ad to go up again ’cos
Charlie wanted somebody to ’old ’is ankles while ’e came down.
“‘Wot are you going to do about meeting ’er now?’ I ses, as I started
pulling.
“‘I don’t know,’ he ses, ’arf crying.
“‘I’ve got an idea,’ I ses, arter thinking a bit, ‘but it ’ud cost you
money if it comes off.’
“‘I don’t mind that,’ ses Charlie, sitting up as if the Bank of England
belonged to ’im. ‘Wot is the idea?’
“‘Suppose Alf Stevens came round ’ere next Friday,’ I ses, very gentle,
‘and thought it was you, and it wasn’t.’
“Charlie didn’t answer at fust; then ’e asked me to say it all over
agin.
“‘Suppose it was a young feller I know dressed up like you and sitting
be’ind the empties in the dark, pretending to make love to Maud,’ I
ses, ‘and Alf comes along and sets about ’im?’
“‘Who is ’e?’ ses Charlie staring.
“‘He’s a young feller wot’s very much fancied by them as knows,’ I ses.
‘I see ’im boxing at ’Oxton one night, and ’e was in a class all by
’imself. Wonderful, it was.’
“‘Do you think ’e could beat Alf?’ ses the gal, clasping her ’ands.
“‘Beat ’im?’ I ses. ‘I tell you this chap is a _boxer_. One of the best
at ’is weight I’ve ever seen. Alf Stevens would ’ave about as much
chance with ’im as a baby would with its nurse.’
“‘Sounds all right,’ ses Charlie, considering. ‘It’s time somebody
learnt ’im not to interfere where ’e ain’t wanted.’
“‘You be round on Friday night at seven,’ I ses. ‘I think I can get ’im
all right. P’r’aps you’d better come by boat, in case of accidents.
Bring ten bob in your pocket for Sid Groom--that’s ’is name--and five
for me for my trouble, and you’ll find it’s the best bargain you ever
made in your life.’
“I put ’em ashore at the stairs, and then rowed myself back to the
wharf. It was as quiet and peaceful as the grave; and though I crept up
to the gate and listened, I couldn’t ’ear nothing of Alf Stevens.
“I went again in about an hour’s time and looked out. At fust I thought
he ’ad gorn, then I see something like a ’ead peeping round the corner.
“‘Why don’t you go ’ome?’ I ses. ‘Charlie ses he’ll ’arf kill you if
you ain’t gorn in five minutes.’
“I thought that ’ud wake ’im up--and it did. ’Ow he could think o’ such
things was a puzzle to me. And ’e did’nt ’ave to stop to think, neither.
“I believe ’e must ha’ stayed there pretty near all night. I know ’e
was there at two in the morning, ’cos of ’arf a brick as took a bit out
o’ the gate instead of me, by mistake, but ’e wasn’t there when the
’ands come on at six o’clock.
“I didn’t see ’im on my way ’ome, though I was quite ready for ’im, and
stopped at every corner. I ’ad something to eat and a few hours in bed,
and then I went out to try and find Sid Groom.
“He was out, as usual, and if I went into one pub I went into seven or
eight. A man with proper feelings can’t go into a pub without ’aving
something for the good of the ’ouse, and by the time I found Sid there
wasn’t much of Charlie’s five bob left. ’Arf an hour arterwards there
wasn’t any; and some of it wasted on ginger-beer.
“Sid didn’t like the idea of it at fust, ’cos ’e didn’t like hitting a
man wot wasn’t a pro, but arter I ’ad talked to ’im about the ten bob
and Maud’s blue eyes ’e gave way. He was in training at the time for a
fight with a Bermondsey boy, and ’e said ’e might just as well punch
Alf Stevens for ’arf a quid as a punching-ball for nothing.
“‘Mind,’ I ses, ‘we want ’im to think it’s Charlie, and if you keep
your back to the light and slip into ’im ’ard and quick, I don’t see
why ’e should know the difference.’
“‘Wot’s Charlie like?’ he ses.
“I told ’im.
“‘’Ow about slipping into ’im instead of the other bloke?’ he ses,
spitting on the floor.
“‘I don’t think he’d pay you ten bob for that,’ I ses, shaking my ’ead
at ’im. ‘You’ll enjoy it all right once you start. And don’t forget to
put on a bowler-’at and a collar. And don’t speak.’
“He said something under ’is breath wot sounded like a little bit of
Alf Stevens, but I didn’t take no notice, and afore I left ’im ’e
promised faithful to come round and give Alf the surprise of ’is life.
“I didn’t see Charlie that evening, but a dirty little boy came round
with a letter from ’im and I sent word back telling ’im Friday would be
all right. The only thing that worried me was that Alf Stevens mightn’t
be there, but as I see ’im prowling about soon after the boy ’ad gorn,
I ’adn’t got much fear.
“Sid was the fust to turn up on Friday night. In fact, I sent ’im on
in front of me. Good-looking young feller ’e was, and in a bowler-’at
and a clean collar ’e looked nicer than I ’ad ever seen ’im. I stood
talking to ’im till the foreman ’ad gorn, and then we sat down on the
jetty and waited for the others.
“They came along by boat just afore seven, and Charlie come up that
ladder as if it was a mile ’igh, and asking me to give ’im a ’and
when ’e got to the top. I interduced them in a ’urry--to stop Sid’s
mouth--and then I went to the gate and looked out just to make sure Alf
Stevens was there.
“He was. I lit the lamps soon arterwards, all but the one near where
they was going to be, and then I sat down alongside Maud, and was just
going to show Sid ’ow to sit with his ’ead on ’er shoulder when she got
up.
“‘I know ’ow to do it,’ ses Sid, pushing me away. ‘Just put them
barrels a bit closer.’
“‘Wot for?’ I ses.
“‘’Cos I can do it better when there’s nobody looking,’ ’e ses.
“‘Wot’s the good o’ doing it at all till Alf comes?’ ses Charlie
fidgeting.
“Sid didn’t answer ’im. He ’elped move one or two of the barrels
’imself, and then we ’eard ’im tell Maud to come and sit down.
“We stood there waiting for two or three minutes, and then Charlie,
arter fidgeting about agin for a bit, put his ’ead over and asked them
’ow they was getting on.
“‘You mind your own bisness,’ ses Sid.
“Charlie come back to me trembling all over. ‘You go and speak to ’im,’
he ses at last.
“I waited a little while, and then I ses, in a off-’and way: ‘Sid, I’m
going to let Alf Stevens in now. Be ready.’
“‘You let ’im in when I tell you, and not afore,’ ses Sid, very
sharp. ‘We ain’t ’arf done practising yet. I’m learning to be as much
like Charlie to ’er as possible, so as Alf Stevens won’t know the
difference. And it takes time.’
“I thought Charlie would ha’ fainted, and the things ’e said to me
about my cleverness you wouldn’t believe. If he ’ad only been as good
with ’is fist as ’is tongue he’d ’ave been all right. It might a’most
ha’ been my missis talking to me.
“I ’eard Big Ben strike eight, and then I ’eard a little whistle from
Sid.
“‘I think I know my piece now,’ he ses, when I went over. ‘Tell Charlie
to ’ide ’imself, and then open the gate.’
“I put Charlie round the far corner and told ’im not to move and not
even to put ’is ’ead round until they was busy, and then I walked up to
the gate. I made a little noise opening the wicket, and then I stepped
outside a yard or two and looked the wrong way, and a’most afore you
could say ‘knife’ Alf Stevens bolted in and ran on to the wharf.
“‘’Ere!’ I ses, follering ’im up, ‘wot are you arter? Who told you to
come on my wharf?’
“He took no more notice of me than if I was a pet lamb. He stood
looking all round ’im with his ’ead bent down, and then there came the
sound of two or three of the loudest kisses I ever ’eard in my life.
Alf Stevens made a noise like a hyena wot wasn’t laughing, and the
next moment two of the barrels was rolled out o’ the way and ’e stood
looking at the two of ’em cuddling each other on the box.
“‘Got--yer--at--last!’ he ses, grinding ’is teeth.
“He bent over to push Sid away, but ’e ’ad got his ’ead buried in the
gal’s shoulder and was ’olding on to ’er as if ’e was frightened out of
’is life.
“‘Stand up!’ ses Alf, pullin’ ’im by the collar--‘Stand up and take
wot’s comin’ to you.’
[Illustration: “‘STAND UP,’ SES ALF, PULLIN’ ’IM BY THE COLLAR--‘STAND
UP AND TAKE WOT’S COMIN’ TO YOU.’”]
“Sid got up, stooping, with his ’at over ’is eyes, and the next moment
Alf was sitting on the ground wondering wot ’ad ’appened to ’im.
Then ’is memory come back to ’im and ’e got up and rushed at Sid like
a madman, but ’e might as well ’ave tried to ’it the moon. Sid was
dancing all round ’im, punching ’im all over the place, and every now
and then knocking ’im down for a change.
“I must say Alf was game. He fought as long as ’e could stand, and
’e could ’ardly walk as I ’elped ’im off the wharf. He couldn’t see
properly neither, ’cos he thought I was somebody quite different and
asked me wot I ’ad done with my tail.
“The others came along as I stood there watching Alf ’obble away. Maud
was ’anging on to Sid’s arm and looking up into ’is face, and Charlie
was follering up be’ind making noises like a lost kitten.
“‘Didn’t want to pay me the ten bob,’ ses Sid to me. ‘He soon altered
’is mind, though.’
“‘He--he’s got my young lady,’ ses Charlie, ’arf crying, ‘and ten bob
too.’
“‘Never mind,’ I ses, patting ’im on the shoulder; ‘a gal like that
ain’t worth troubling about.’
“‘Wot’s that?’ ses Sid, shoving ’is face into mine. ‘Wot did you say?’
“‘I mean, ’e oughtn’t to trouble about any gal,’ I ses, very firm. ‘He
ought to get a little pet dog instead. A little dog as nobody else
wants.’
“Sid stood looking at me for a moment; then he put ’is arm round Maud’s
waist and they went off. Charlie and me stood watching them till they
was out of sight, and then ’e told me wot ’e thought about Sid.
“I felt a bit sorry for ’im, but arter all bisness is bisness, and as
’e turned to go off I laid my ’and on ’is sleeve and gave a little
laugh.
“‘Yes?’ he ses.
“‘Ain’t you forgot something?’ I ses.
“‘Not as I knows of,’ ’e ses, staring.
“‘Wot about my five bob?’ I ses.
“I think ’is trouble must ’ave turned ’is brain. He gave a squeal that
set my teeth on edge, and afore I could take my ’ands out o’ my pockets
he ’ad given me four or five bangs in the face as ’ard as ’e could hit.
Then ’e turned round quick and run for all ’e was worth.”