The night-watchman set his lips and shook his head.
“You can’t learn people,” he said firmly; “it ain’t to be done. They
all know better than wot you do, and the more iggernerant they are the
more they are satisfied with themselves. I once wasted a whole morning
telling my missus ’ow to make a steak-pudding, and arter it was done we
’ad to give it to the people next door. She’s never forgot it, and to
hear ’er talk--if you didn’t know ’er--you’d think it was my fault. The
way she twists things round would surprise anybody as wasn’t married.”
He gazed meditatively at a passing tug with its string of barges, and
shook his head again before continuing:
“Even experience don’t learn people. One chap I know used to save
’is money in a little tin money-box. He ’ad ’arf a ounce o’ baccy a
week and no beer. The box was so full o’ sixpences he was thinking of
getting another, when his wife’s brother lost ’is job and didn’t get
another till the box was empty.
“You’d ha’ thought that would ’ave learned ’im a lesson, but it
didn’t, and he’d pretty near got another box full when ’is wife ’ad
the artfulness to break her leg and ’ad to go to the seaside for a
fortnight to get well. He’s saving up agin now for wot ’e calls a rainy
day. He’ll get it all right, and somebody else’ll get the money.
“Sailormen never learn anything. If they did they wouldn’t be
sailormen. They’re like children that never grow up. It don’t matter
where they go ashore with their money, they always go back aboard agin
without it.
“I remember one time when old Sam Small was ashore with Peter Russet
and Ginger Dick ’aving wot they called a rest; their idea of a rest
being spending ’arf the day in bed and the other ’arf leaning up agin
the bar of a public-’ouse telling fairy-tales to the barmaid. They was
like three twins for the fust few days, and then Sam wouldn’t ’ave
nothing more to do with ’em owing to them telling the barmaid at the
‘Turk’s Head’--a very nice gal with yeller ’air and black eyes--that he
’ad got a wife and thirteen children at Melbourne.
“He walked ’ome in front of ’em as if they wasn’t there, and when ’e
shut the front door he seemed to ’ave the same idea. Ginger noticed
it most--being just behind ’im. They ’ad words about it when they got
upstairs, and Sam told ’em plain that he never wanted to see their
faces agin; not even if they washed ’em.
“He purtended to be asleep while they was dressing next morning. His
eyes was screwed up tight, and it didn’t seem as if anything could open
’em, till Ginger said ’e thought he ’ad passed away in ’is sleep and
asked Peter to get a pin and make sure. Sam woke up then, and, arter he
’ad finished speaking, Ginger and Peter said they never wanted to see
_his_ face agin.
“They went off by theirselves, and arter a time Sam got up and went off
by ’imself. He didn’t see anything of Peter or Ginger at all that day,
but from wot the barmaid ’ad to say about ’is grandchildren ’e found
they ’ad spent a lot o’ time drinking beer and telling more lies at the
‘Turk’s Head.’
“He sat up in bed and spoke to ’em about it when they came in that
night, but they wouldn’t listen to ’im. They said that ’is troubles
didn’t concern them and they’d be thankful if he’d take ’em somewhere
else.
“‘We’ve done with you,’ ses Ginger.
“‘For ever,’ ses Peter. ‘And my advice to you, Sam, is to leave off
afore you bursts a blood-vessel. Anybody might think the ’ouse was on
fire.’
“Sam didn’t speak to them at all arter that and they didn’t speak to
’im, but they ’ad a great deal to say about ’im to each other when ’e
was in the room. It was wot Ginger called a nasty subjeck, but they
never seemed to get tired of it.
“Sam ’ad made up ’is mind to leave ’em and go off on his own, and then
’e came ’ome one night so full of excitement ’e forgot all about it.
He came into the room like a schoolboy and gave ’em such a nice smile
they thought he ’ad lost ’is reason. Then he done a little dance all by
’imself in the middle of the room and sat down on ’is bed and laughed.
“‘I’ve come into a forchin,’ he ses to Peter as the two of ’em stood
staring at ’im. ‘Leastways, I shall to-morrer night.’
“Ginger coughed. But not a disagreeable cough, mind you.
“‘Come into a forchin?’ he ses. ‘’Ow?’
“Old Sam didn’t seem to hear ’im. He sat on his bed all rosy with
smiles and looking straight at the chest o’ drawers as though ’e saw a
pile of gold on top of it.
“‘And I owe it all to you and Peter, Ginger,’ he ses, bending down to
undo ’is boots. ‘If you ’adn’t been misbe’aved, and carrying on like
a couple of bald-faced monkeys purtending to be men, I shouldn’t ’ave
gone off on my own, and if I ’adn’t ha’ gone off on my own I shouldn’t
’ave met ’em.’
“‘Met who?’ ses Ginger, who was too excited to take any notice of wot
he ’ad said about monkeys.
“‘Two o’ the best,’ ses Sam; ‘two gentlemen whose on’y objeck in life
is to do good to their fellow-creechers. They told me so theirselves.’
“‘Did you stand ’em drinks?’ ses Peter, catching Ginger’s eye.
“‘You’ve got a low mind, Peter,’ ses Sam, shaking his ’ead; ‘you ought
to be more careful who you go about with. I’ve ’ad six drinks to-night,
or maybe more, and I didn’t pay for one of ’em. They wouldn’t let me.’
“‘You don’t always try very ’ard,’ ses Peter, who was beginning to lose
his temper.
“‘Wot ’ave they got to do with your forchin?’ ses Ginger.
“‘It’s coming through them,’ ses Sam, ‘and if you and Peter was
diff’rent, if you was on’y ’arf men instead of--of being wot you are,
I would get forchins for you too. There’s plenty more where mine’s
coming from.’
“‘Where’s that?’ ses Ginger, trying to speak off-hand.
“Sam turned deaf agin, and was just going to get into bed when Ginger
stopped ’im gentle-like and turning down the bed-clo’es took out a
’air-brush, an old horse-shoe, a lump o’ soap, and a few other things
wot ’im and Peter ’ad put there.
“‘The ’orse-shoe was for luck, Sam,’ he ses, with a smile. ‘P’r’aps
it’s through that you got your forchin.’
“Sam looked at ’im as if he was looking at a dust-bin with a bad smell,
and then without a word he got into bed and, putting his ’ead on the
piller, shut ’is eyes and went straight off to sleep. Ginger woke up
the next morning dreaming that the ’ouse was on fire. The room was full
o’ smoke, but the moment ’e got ’is eyes open he saw that it was made
by Sam, who was sitting up in bed smoking an enormous cigar with a
red-and-gold band stuck on it. He purtended not to see that Ginger was
looking at ’im, and the airs and graces he see fit to give ’imself with
that cigar nearly made Ginger choke. Peter Russet woke up then, and
arter he ’ad sniffed and sniffed as if ’e couldn’t believe his nose, ’e
asked Sam in a nasty voice where he ’ad pinched it from.
“‘It was give to me by one o’ the gentlemen I was speaking of,’ ses
Sam, knocking the ash off down ’is neck by mistake. ‘He’s got a gold
case full of ’em.’
“‘Gold case?’ ses Ginger.
“‘With diamonds on it,’ ses Sam. ‘He said ’e would ’ave liked to give
it to me, on’y it was a birthday present from ’is little boy wot died
of whooping-cough.’
“Ginger scratched his ’ead, and ’e kept on scratching it till Sam said
as ’ow it was vulgar, and asked ’im to go out of the room to do it.
“‘But who are they?’ ses Peter Russet, arter Ginger ’ad quieted down a
bit.
“‘Two gentlemen,’ ses Sam; ‘two gentlemen wot knows another gentleman
when they sees ’im.’
“He laid down on ’is back and blew smoke up to the ceiling, until
Ginger and Peter sat down on Ginger’s bed and tried to swaller their
pride and ask him to tell ’em all about it. Ginger tried fust, but he
’adn’t swallered enough, and when Sam sat up in bed and told ’im part
of wot he thought of ’im, Peter took his side and said that if Ginger
’ad on’y been born without a mouth it ’ud be much better for ’imself
and everybody else. He gave Ginger a poke in the ribs with ’is elbow
to keep ’im quiet, and said that if anybody deserved to ’ave a forchin
given ’im it was Sam Small.
“‘One o’ the best,’ he ses, giving Ginger another poke with ’is elbow.
“‘We all ’ave our faults, Peter,’ ses Sam, with a kind smile, ‘else we
should all be angels.’
“‘There ain’t no fat angels,’ ses Ginger, pushing Peter’s elbow away.
‘They wouldn’t look nice. All the angels I’ve seen in pikchers ’ave got
beautiful figgers.’
“Peter gave it up then, and arter telling Ginger in a whisper wot a
fool ’e was, he picked up ’is trousers off of the floor and began to
dress. Neither of ’em took any more notice o’ Sam, and arter laying
still for a time watching ’em wash and telling Ginger that the soap
wouldn’t bite ’im he began talking to ’em of ’is own free will.
“He told ’em of a nice, comfortable little pub in a turning off
the Mile End Road wot he ’ad found on the evening before. A
little pub--clean as a new pin, and as quiet and respectable as a
front-parlour. Everybody calling the landlady ‘Ma,’ and the landlady
calling most of ’em by their Christian names and asking arter their
families. There was two poll parrots in cages, with not a bad word
between ’em--except once when a man played the cornet outside--and a
canary that almost sang its little ’art out.
“‘Wot about the two gentlemen that took a fancy to you?’ ses Ginger.
“Sam looked at ’im for a moment as if he was surprised at ’im speaking
to ’im.
“‘There was on’y one at fust,’ he ses at last, very slow, ‘a thin
gentleman with a little black moustache, a beautiful white collar, and
a silk necktie with a gold pin in it. He was drinking port wine when I
went in, and arter looking me up and down, just for a moment, ’e asked
me to ’ave one with ’im.’
“‘Wot for?’ ses Ginger.
“‘He told me arterwards,’ ses Sam. ‘He said as ’ow I was the living
image of a cousin of ’is wot ’ad lost his life at sea--saving others.
He said at fust he thought I was ’is ghost. There was on’y me and ’im
in that bar, and the tears came into his eyes when ’e spoke of ’im.’
“‘But wot about the forchin, Sam?’ ses Ginger, arter waiting a bit.
‘Wot’s the ugly cousin got to do with it?’
“Sam sat up in bed and looked at ’im. Then ’e snapped his lips tight as
if ’e was never going to open ’em agin and laid back on the piller.
“‘Go on, Sam, old man,’ ses Peter Russet; ‘if Ginger had ’arf your
looks ’e wouldn’t be so bad-tempered. He’s got a jealous dispersition.
You was just telling up about ’ow the tears came into ’is eyes.’
“‘We ’ad a long talk,’ ses Sam, arter looking very ’ard at Ginger, ’and
arter standing me another glass o’ port wine ’e began to tell me all
about ’is troubles. He ’ad got hard up through ’elping a friend, and ’e
didn’t know where to turn for money. He went into that little pub with
fourpence ha’penny in ’is pocket and went out with five ’undred pounds.’
“‘’Ow?’ ses Peter and Ginger, both speaking at the same time.
“‘While ’e was ’aving a fit of the miserables in there and wondering
wot ’e was going to do,’ ses Sam, in a solemn voice, ‘the door opened
and a gentleman came in. A gentleman wot goes about looking for
feller-creechers to do good to. That was ’ow the gentleman as was
standing me port wine got ’is five ’undred pounds.’
“‘Did you see it?’ ses Ginger, in a nasty voice.
“‘I see more than that, Ginger,’ ses Sam, speaking very low; ‘I see
enough money last night to make the three of us gentlemen for life. And
Mr. Cooper--that’s the gentleman wot ’as it--goes about giving it away.
He gave the other gentleman, Mr. Jackson by name, five ’undred pounds
for trusting ’im. He got talking to ’im and told ’im that a friend of
’is had left ’im a forchin, and as he was a rich man and didn’t want it
’e was giving it away. But on’y to people that deserved it, mind yer.
And ’e said that the people ’e could trust was them as trusted others.’
“‘I can’t make ’ead or tail of it,’ ses Ginger.
“‘He took a good ’ard look at Mr. Jackson,’ ses Sam, ’and then ’e put
a thousand pounds into his ’and and told ’im to go for a walk with it
while ’e waited for ’im in the pub. When Mr. Jackson came back he
asked ’im whether _he_ could trust _’im_, and Mr. Jackson, not ’aving
any money, trusted ’im with ’is gold watch and chain, two rings, and a
tie-pin. When ’e came back he patted ’im on the back and gave ’im five
’undred pounds. Mr. Jackson said ’e cried like a child.’
“‘’Cos he ’adn’t gone off with the thousand pounds, d’ye mean?’ ses
Ginger staring.
“‘While he was telling me this,’ ses Sam to Peter Russet, ‘who should
come in but Mr. Cooper ’imself--a short, fat gentleman with blue eyes
like a innercent child’s and one o’ the kindest faces I ever see. It
done me good to look at ’im. He was a bit stand-offish at fust, but
arter a time we was all ’aving drinks together like brothers. And then
Mr. Jackson took ’im a bit to one side and whispered to ’im, and I
could see plain that ’e was talking about me.’
[Illustration: “AND THEN MR. JACKSON TOOK ’IM A BIT TO ONE SIDE AND
WHISPERED TO ’IM, AND I COULD SEE PLAIN THAT ’E WAS TALKING ABOUT ME.”]
“‘Cut it short,’ ses Ginger, fidgeting.
“‘I ain’t talking to you,’ ses Sam. ‘Ten minutes arterwards _I_ was
going for a walk with a thousand pounds in my pocket in banknotes,
_and_ the gold cigar-case. I couldn’t trust ’im when I came back as
I ’ad on’y got four bob in my pocket, but to-night I’m going to meet
’im agin and trust ’im with all I’ve got. And Mr. Jackson told me ’e
wouldn’t be surprised if I got a thousand pounds. He said Mr. Cooper
told ’im that he ’ad took a partikler fancy to me.’
“I can’t make ’ead or tail of it,’ ses Ginger, ‘but mark my words, Sam,
there’s a catch in it somewhere. Nobody ’ud take a fancy to you unless
they was going to get something out of it.’
“Sam didn’t take no notice of ’im. He got up and dressed ’imself, and
when they asked ’im wot he was going to do till evening, he told ’em
that was ’is business. Peter Russet and Ginger spent the day together,
both of ’em wondering, if Sam did get a forchin, whether they couldn’t
get one the same way. At last, arter they had ’ad a few pints apiece,
they made up their minds to hang about till Sam came ’ome and then
follow ’im, unbeknownst, to the pub.
“They didn’t wait for ’im in their room ’cos they thought ’e might
tumble to it, and he was so late turning up that they began to think ’e
wasn’t coming ’ome fust arter all. Then about ha’-past six they see ’im
come round the corner and go straight into the ’ouse.
“It seemed ages afore he came out agin, and when ’e did they see that
he ’ad got ’is best clo’es on and a new cap. They let ’im get a good
start, and then follered in a drizzling rain which made the Minories
and Whitechapel full of umbrellas that kept getting in between them and
Sam, especially one that nearly put Ginger’s eye out. It wasn’t till
he ’ad turned into a quiet street off the Mile End Road that they felt
sure of ’im.
“They follered, very careful, and then at last they saw ’im stop at
the door of a quiet little pub at the corner of a dark little street.
There wasn’t a soul about, and, arter stopping a moment to pull ’is cap
straight, Sam pushed opened the door and stepped inside. Ginger and
Peter, arter pinching each other’s arms in their excitement, stood in a
doorway a little way off and waited.
“‘I s’pose he’s drinking glasses and glasses o’ port wine while we’re
out ’ere in the wet,’ ses Ginger, arter about ten minutes.
“‘Why don’t they make ’aste?’ ses Peter Russet. ‘I believe there’s a
catch in it somewhere.’
“‘_H’sh!_’ ses Ginger, all of a sudden.
“They drew back into the doorway and just poked their ’eads out as they
saw the pub door open and a man come out. He stood a moment waving his
’and to Sam, who they could see standing near the bar, and then walked
off slow down the road.
“‘Come on,’ ses Ginger. ‘Let’s see where he goes.’
“They followed as quiet as they could, and then all at once they found
themselves going quicker and quicker to keep up with ’im. Twice ’e went
round corners, and when they got round they found ’e was ever so far
in front.
“‘He’s been running,’ ses Ginger. ‘Come on! He’s going off with Sam’s
money!’
“He started running as ’ard as he could, with Peter just be’ind, and
the man in front, wot ’ad begun to run ’imself, left off--and began to
walk agin.
“‘Wot d’ye want?’ he ses, as Ginger caught ’old of ’im, and afore
Ginger could answer ’im he gave ’im a fearful bang in the face and a
kick in the leg that pretty near broke it.
“Ginger gave two grunts, one for the smack in the face and the other
for the kick, and then ’e sailed in at ’im like a madman, and knocked
’im all over the place. His last punch got ’im fair on the chin, and ’e
went down in the gutter like a lamb that ’as been pole-axed, and hit
’is ’ead on the kerb.
“‘You’ve killed ’im,’ ses Peter, staring.
“‘Good job, too,’ ses Ginger, thinking of ’is pore leg. ‘Come on, let’s
get Sam’s money back.’
[Illustration: “‘YOU’VE KILLED ’IM,’ SES PETER, STARING. ‘GOOD JOB,
TOO,’ SES GINGER, THINKING OF ’IS PORE LEG. ‘COME ON, LET’S GET SAM’S
MONEY BACK.’”]
“Peter looked be’ind ’im, and then, seeing there was nobody about,
’elped Ginger to empty the chap’s pockets. In less than a minute they
’ad picked ’im as clean as a bone and was hurrying off, Peter ’olding a
watch and chain in his ’and and Ginger stuffing things into ’is pockets
and saying that it wasn’t robbing to rob a thief. Especially a thief
wot kicked.
“They lost their way for a bit, but Ginger didn’t mind. He said the
more they got lost the ’arder it would be for anybody to find ’em, but
they got ’ome at last and, arter shutting the bedroom door careful,
emptied out their pockets on to the bed and stood staring at each other.
“‘_We’ve_ got the forchin, Peter,’ ses Ginger. ‘Count it agin to make
sure.’
“‘Twenty-seven pounds fourteen shillings and threepence,’ ses Peter,
‘two watches and chains--that one is Sam’s----’
“‘One clasp knife,’ ses Ginger, ‘a bit o’ lead-pencil, a gold
cigar-case made o’ something else, and a bundle of imitation banknotes.
That’s wot ’e trusted Sam with, I expect, Peter.’
“‘I wonder ’ow much of the twenty-seven pounds is Sam’s?’ ses Peter
Russet.
“‘I forgot that,’ ses Ginger. ‘He ought to pay something for that kick
on the leg I got, though.’
“Peter Russet, wot ’ad seen the leg, nodded. ‘I wouldn’t ’ave ’ad that
kick for ten pounds,’ he ses, in a kind voice. ‘If you ’ave to lose
your leg, Ginger, I wouldn’t have ’ad it for fifty.’
“Ginger ’ad another look at his leg, and then, to prevent losing it,
’e bathed it with a little cold water and put a bit o’ butter on it.
Arter which they went out as far as the Town of Ramsgate public-’ouse
to drink each other’s ’ealths.
“It took ’em a long time, both of ’em being very pleased with each
other, but at last, after the landlord ’ad been holding the door open
for ’em till ’is jaws ached, they went back ’ome. They both of ’em
thought it was earlier than wot it was, so they was quite surprised
when they found Sam ’ad got ’ome before them and gone to bed.
“‘Did--did you get the forchin, Sam?’ ses Ginger, going over to the
wash-stand and sousing ’is face with cold water.
“Sam gave a smile that made ’im look as if he was ’aving a fit.
“‘No, Ginger,’ he ses, very soft. ‘I remembered your advice, old pal.’
“‘Advice?’ ses Ginger, staring.
“‘You said as ’ow there might be a catch in it,’ ses Sam, ’and knowing
wot a clever ’ead-piece you’ve got, Ginger, I thought it over and made
up my mind not to trust ’im.’
“Peter Russet made a noise that an elephant with the hiccups might ha’
been proud of, and then Ginger went over and led ’im across to the
wash-stand.
“‘You ’old your noise,’ he ses, pushing Peter’s face into the water.
‘You didn’t lose your money arter all, then?’ he ses, turning to Sam.
“‘No,’ ses Sam. ‘At least, not that way, but arter I left the pub to
come ’ome and see you and Peter, I--I ’ad a misforchin.’
“‘Misforchin?’ ses Ginger, staring at ’im.
“‘I--I ’ad my p-pocket picked,’ ses Sam, stuttering.
“Peter Russet made another noise afore Ginger could stop ’im, and then
they both stood up staring at Sam.
“‘A lady asked me the time,’ ses Sam, shutting his eyes so as ’e
couldn’t see ’em, ‘and while I was telling ’er one of ’er pals come up
and choked me, and two others helped themselves out o’ my pockets.’
“Ginger looked at Peter--just in time. Then he looked at Sam again.
“‘’Ow much was it?’ he ses.
“‘Eleven pounds and my watch and chain,’ ses Sam; ‘if it wasn’t for
seven shillings they didn’t find, in another pocket, I should be
starving. ’Ow long do you think a man could live on seven shillings?’
“‘Me or you?’ ses Ginger, considering.
“‘Me,’ ses pore Sam.
“‘Week or ten days--with care,’ ses Ginger.
“Sam thanked ’im, but not very loud, and arter saying ’e didn’t care
wot become of ’im and he didn’t suppose ’is pals did neither, he
punched ’is piller as if it was somebody ’e didn’t like and laid down
and shut ’is eyes.
“He was up fust next morning counting ’is seven shillings over and over
agin, and Peter and Ginger purtending not to notice it. They didn’t see
’im agin till night time ’cos, when Peter spoke to Ginger about giving
’im his eleven pounds back, Ginger said ’e ought to be made to suffer a
little for ’is foolishness fust, to be a lesson to ’im.
“‘We’re saving it up for ’im,’ he ses. ‘While we’ve got it he can’t be
spending it.’
“‘Or trusting people with it,’ ses Peter.
“Both of ’em felt quite kind to Sam, thinking ’ow good they was going
to be to ’im, but Sam ’ardly spoke a word to ’em and was up and out
next morning a’most afore they ’ad got their eyes open. Twice they came
back to their room that day to see whether he ’ad turned up, and when
night-time came and ’e was still missing, Peter Russet said as ’ow he
was getting uneasy about ’im.”
“‘Wot’s ’e doing?’ he ses. ‘He ain’t got any money to go to pubs with,
and there’s nowhere else for ’im to go.’
“They sat on their beds smoking and drinking some whisky they ’ad
brought in with ’em, and Ginger was just helping ’imself to ’is third
glass when ’e put the bottle down and sat listening.
“‘Somebody coming upstairs,’ he ses.
“‘He’s a long time about it,’ ses Peter. ‘He ’as been sitting in a pub.’
“Somebody was coming up the stairs so slow it seemed as if ’e would
never get to the top, and the banisters was creaking as if they would
break. Then they ’eard a shuffling on the landing, and as the door
opened they both jumped up and called out at the same time:
“‘Lor’ lumme!’ ses Ginger. ‘’Ave you been run over, Sam?’
“Sam looked at ’im for a moment and then ’e gave a stagger and tumbled
on to ’is bed.
“‘Mr. Cooper!’ he ses, in a faint voice.
“‘Wot about ’im?’ ses Ginger.
“‘He done it,’ ses Sam, ‘’im and ’is pals. I went round to the pub to
see if I could find ’im, thinking ’e might ’ave been took ill the other
night, and this is wot I got. He said I’d robbed _’im_. _Me!_ He goes
off with my money and then ’arf kills me. Wot for? That’s wot I want to
know.’
“‘It’s a mystery,’ ses Ginger, shaking his ’ead.
“‘I thought you said you didn’t give ’im the money,’ ses Peter.
“Sam didn’t answer ’im, and arter drinking a glass o’ whisky Ginger
gave ’im he ’eld his ’ead in his ’ands and said ’e thought ’e was
dying. When they offered to undress ’im he said ’e didn’t think it was
worth while, but they got ’is clo’es off arter a bit and put ’im into
bed.
“‘Wot did ’e do it _for_?’ he ses, arter he had ’ad two more whiskies.
‘D’ye think ’e’s mad? His ’ead was all bandaged up.’
“Ginger shook his ’ead. ‘It’s a mystery,’ he ses again.
“He went acrost the room and came back with something tied up in a
handkerchief and put it on Sam’s bed. Sam looked at it a moment and
then ’e picked it up and out tumbled eleven pounds, a watch and chain,
and a imitation gold cigar-case.
“‘He’s fainted,’ ses Peter Russet.”