I was robbed last night, and it served me right for being a fool. A
seedy, down-looking man hangs about The Chequers all day, and he never
does any work except stick up the pins in the skittle alley. He has a
sly, secret look, and I fancy he is one of the stupid class of
criminals. We often talk together, but there is not much to be got out
of him; he usually keeps his eye on someone else's pewter, and he is
catholic in his taste for drinks. Of late he has been accompanied by
three other persons--a stout, slatternly woman, whom he named as his
wife; a rather pretty, snub-nosed girl, who dresses in tawdry prints;
and a red-faced, thick-set, dark fellow, who grins perpetually and shows
a nice set of teeth. The elder man confidentially informed me that the
stout young man was his son-in-law.
We had been a long time acquainted before I learned anything definite
about these four. The girl usually arrives about half-past ten; she
spends money freely, and the four always take home a huge can of beer.
Some while ago the young man--Blackey he is nicknamed--went out, and I
followed him quietly. He had been affable with me all the evening, and
went so far as to offer me a drink. It struck me that he was indirectly
trying to pump me, for he said, "You don't talk like none of us. I
reckon you've been on the road." Moreover, when we met he had saluted me
thus, "Sarishan Pala. Kushto Bak," and this salutation happens to be
Rommany. As we pursued our talk, he inquired, "You rakker Rommanis?"
(You speak the gipsy tongue?) and I answered, "Avo." I could see that he
wanted to establish some bond of communication between us, and that was
why I followed him. As I quietly came up behind him he said, "That's
tacho like my dad. I dicked a bar and a pash-crooner." (That's as true
as can be. I saw a sovereign and a half-crown.) He was not comfortable
when he saw me, and I knew I had been a fool to let him know that I
spoke Rommany. However, I passed on as if I had not heard a word. The
fellow had no doubt been told that I was a tramp, and he put a feeler to
find out whether I knew the language of the road. Next day we met very
early. I had stayed out all night with some poachers, and I was in The
Chequers by half-past seven in the morning. Master Blackey was there
also, and we exchanged greetings. He was blotchy and his eyes seemed
heavy; moreover, he was without a drink, and I correctly guessed that he
had no money. My evil genius prompted me to ask for brandy-and-soda,
which was the last thing I should have done, and Blackey said, "Us
blokes can't go for sixpenny drinks. Let me 'ave a drappie levinor." The
gipsy word for ale was quietly dropped in, and I ordered the right stuff
as if nothing unusual had been said. Then it flashed on me. "This beauty
has heard of me from the Suffolk gipsies; he knows that I carry money
sometimes, and he wants to find out if I am really the laulo Rye." (The
Surrey Roms call me the Boro Rye; the Suffolk Roms call me laulo Rye.)
For a good while after this the times seemed to be rather bad for the
four companions. Several times I saw Blackey mutter savagely when the
girl came in, and it was easy to see that he was not a full-blood gipsy,
or he would never have threatened to strike her in a public bar. Then it
happened that I heard a yell one night as I was stealing around the
by-streets after most of the drunken people had gone home. A man's voice
growled harshly--it was like the snarl of a wild beast,--"Three nights
you done no good. Blarst yer slobberin'! you ain't got no more savvey
than a blank blank cow. I'd put a new head on yer for tuppence."
A woman answered, "You've struck me, you swine; and if I've got a black
eye I'll quod you, sure as I'm yere. Ain't I lushed you, and fed you,
and found your clobber long enough?"
"Garn, you farthin' face! Shet your neck."
"All very fine, Mister Blackey, but how would you like a smack in the
bloomin' eye? I done the best as I knew for you, and there ain't a bloke
round as has a judy wot'll go where I goes and hand over the wongur."
"Never mind, I was waxy when I done it. Maybe we'll 'ave some luck to
morrow'."
I was hidden all this time, and I kept very quiet until the pair moved
away. Over my last pipe I had many meditations, and formed my own
conclusions about Master Blackey.
There are, as I have said, thousands of fellows who have never done any
work, and never mean to do any; they are born in various grades of life;
the public-house is their temple; they live well and lie warm, and you
can see a fine set of them in the full flush of their hoggish jollity at
any suburban race meeting. Blackey was a fair specimen of his tribe;
they are often pleasant and plausible in a certain way, and it is really
a pity that they cannot be forcibly drafted into the army, for they are
always men of fine physique. They are vermin, if you like, but how
admirably we protect them, and how convenient are the houses of call
which we provide for them.
I went warily to work with Blackey, but I was resolved all the same to
see him in his home. It happens that even Blackey's household has a
hanger-on, who also happens to be a parasite of mine. He is a lanky,
weedy lad, with a foxy face. His dark, oblique-set eyes, his high
cheek-bones, his sharp chin, are vulpine to the last degree, and, as he
slouches along with his shoulders rucked up and his knees bent, he
looks like the Representative Thief. He is called Patsey, and I
frequently spare him a copper; but his chief patron is Blackey, who
often hands him the dregs of a pot of beer.
Yesterday morning Patsey waylaid me, but I waved him off. At night he
caught me going in at the back gate of The Chequers; his hand trembled
as he clutched my arm, and he said with chattering teeth, "Give me a
dollar, and I'll tell you somethin'."
"Tell me the something first, and then we'll see about the dollar."
"Don't you go near Blackey's place to-night. They're a goin' to ast you
if they kin. Blackey's found out as you've got respectable relations as
wouldn't like to see your name in the papers, and he's goin' to 'ave a
new lay on. 'Taint no bloomin' error neither. The gal--Tilley,
don't-cherknow--she'll say, 'I'll walk home with you a bit,' when
Blackey's out. He meets you, and he says, 'Wot 'cher doin' 'long o' my
wife? Didn't I trust you at home? I'll expose you.' _She ain't no more
his wife than I am_, so you look out."
"That's worth a dollar, Patsey. Now sneak you into the stables, and
don't come near me all night."
I was quite at ease, and became convivial with Blackey and his worthy
father-in-law. The only thing that worried me was the knowledge that I
had one note in my watch-pocket besides my loose spending money. Still I
felt sure of dodging the gang, and I tried to appear innocent as
possible while the artless Blackey offered me liquor after liquor; and
he remarked at about ten, "My missus orfen says to me, 'Why don't you
fetch him home?' she says. If he brings a bottle we'll find our lot, and
he'll be just as jolly as he is at Billy Devine's. What say to come down
to-night?"
"All right, only not too late."
At twelve we departed, and I was taken to a row of low cottages, which,
however, were fairly solid and neat. At first we sat in a kitchen, and I
was accommodated with a tub for a seat. Our light came from the fire and
a dull lamp, which only made a reddened twilight in the air. The fat
woman watched me like a cat, and I fancied that her mouth was like that
of a carnivorous beast. The sly old man looked on the ground, but his
stealthy eye--like the eye of a cunning magpie--glittered sometimes as
he turned it on me. Blackey was most cordial, and soon proposed a song.
He obliged first, and warbled some ghastly affair which aimed at being
nautical in sentiment. The chorus contained some observations like
"Hilley-hiley-Hilley-ho," and it also gave us the information that
gentleman named Jack would shortly come home from the sea. The thing was
a silly Cockney travesty of a sailor's song, but we were all pleased
with it, and it led the way nicely to the girl's ditty, which stated
that somebody was going sailing, sailing, over the bounding main
(sailors always mention the sea as the bounding main), and by easy steps
we got to the fat woman's "Banks of Hallan Worrrtter." We were a jovial
company: four of us were wondering how they could rob the fifth, and
that fifth resolved, quite early in this sèance, to use his
knuckle-duster promptly, and to prevent either of the male warblers from
getting behind him, at any risk. About three o'clock the junior lady
placed herself on my knee, and her husband approvingly described her as
a bloomin' baggage. I did not like the special perfume which my friend
employed for her hair, and I also disliked the evidences which went to
prove that the bath was not her favourite luxury; but we did not fall
out, and, after a spell of sprightly song, we all indulged in a dance of
the most spirited description. Drink was plentiful, and, as I saw I was
being plied very freely, I pretended to be eager for more. This modified
the strategy of my friends, for they were reasonably anxious to secure a
skinful, and they feared lest my powers might prove to be abnormal. Four
watching like wild beasts! One waiting, and calculating chances! The
sullen, grey-eyed old man had taken on the aspect of a ferret; the fat
woman was like that awful wretch who meets the pale girl in Hogarth's
"Marriage à la Mode;" the bastard gipsy smiled in "leary" fashion, as if
he were coming up for the second round of a fight, and knew that he had
it all own way. I pumped up jokes, and my snub-nosed charmer pretended
to laugh. Ah! what a laugh.
This was the position when Blackey declared that he must go. "Got to
shunt, old man? You squat still, now, and git through that there lotion.
I got to go to market, and we ain't no bloomin' moke. I'm on on my
stand ten o'clock--no later--and that wants doin'. The missus'll fetch
me some corrfee, and, hear you, put a nip o' that booze in. It warms yer
liver up. By-by. Mind you stay, now, and no faint hearts. Mother, up
with your heavy wet, and try suthin' short. I'm off!"
With an ostentatious farewell, the excellent Blackey stumped off, and
the four remaining revellers became staid.
"'Ard times," said the ferret-faced man; "but we've 'ad _one_ good night
out on it anyways."
"How do you make your living, may I ask, if that's a fair question,
mate?" This question was addressed by _me_ to the sly man, and he was
embarrassed.
"Livin'! 'Taint no livin'. It's lingerin'. Leastways it would be if it
wasn't for my gell, Tilley, there. 'Er and 'er 'usban' gives us a 'and;
an' if you've got a bit about you you might 'elp us put our copper to
rights. Got a thick 'un? I'll pay it back, s'elp me Gord, if the missus
can start laundryin' agin'."
I saw that this meant "Show us which pocket you keep your money in," so
I shamelessly said, "I'll put that square in the morning, governor."
Then some silly small-talk--petty as children's babble, low as the
cackle of the bar--went on, and I found myself somehow left alone with
the snub-nosed young person. She was evidently in some trouble, and I
was the more interested about her in that I chanced to look at a side
window, and found the fat, carnivorous woman and the down-looking man
surveying us with interest, under the impression that they were
invisible.
Now, I have never cared for talking to girls of her class, for I do not
like them. All talk about soiled doves and the rest is mere nauseous
twaddle, arising from ignorance. The creatures take to their rackety
life because they like it, and, though I have met some good and kind
members of their class, I have observed that the majority are rapacious,
cruel, and devoid of every human sentiment that does not hinge on hunger
or vanity. You may treat a man as an equal in spite of his vices, and do
no harm, but to treat a woman as an equal _because_ of her vices is
worse than folly. This silly creature proposed to brush my hair. I had
encouraged her to familiarity, so I did not object to the toilet
process, but I did most strongly object to sniffing at a bottle which
she said would "freshen me up amazing." She withdrew the cork, and
memories of the college laboratory struck at my brain with
sudden violence on the instant. The unforgettable odour of ethyllic
chloride caught at my nerves, and I politely rose.
"Pardon me, I must go. It will be daylight in half an hour," I said, for
I saw that merry Miss Tilley had been ready to supplement Blackey's
device by a second trick.
"I'll come with you a little way. You're dotty a bit."
I reached the fresh air and quietly said, "No, you mustn't. The men are
going to factory up by the Fawcett-road, and every second man we meet
will know us."
Miss Tilley muttered something, but she preserved her smile and only
said, "I tell my husband as you took care of us."
As I stole through the heavy fog I thought, "Now, what business had I
there? If my mother had seen that wretched servant girl brushing my hair
the old lady would have died--I, the child of many prayers, the hope of
a house, and stumping home on a foggy morning after sitting among the
scum of earth all night. I mean to be a philosopher, but what a beastly,
silly school to cultivate political philosophy in! What do I know more
than I knew before?--that one vulgar girl maintains three vulgar
criminals, and that all the four will come whining to the workhouse when
the game is played out and they can rob no one else. They are creatures
whose vices and idleness and general villany are engendered amid drink.
They are the foul fungi that fatten on the walls of the public-house;
that is all. And I have given them more drink only to see them plan a
robbery. Seventy thousand of them in London? Yes. But supposing a few
thousands of _us_, instead of being indifferent, instead of 'exploring'
in my harum-scarum way, go to work and try to give these creatures a
chance of living human lives? What then? Would Blackey or the girl or
the wicked old folk have gone to the bar and eaten away their morality
with alcohol if they had not been driven out by the stinking dulness of
that kitchen? I don't know. I only know that when this spell is over I
shall have some corrections to address to the people who stick up
institutes, and organise charitable funds. I can offer myself as the
horrid example, if they like, and that should impress them."
Then my musings were checked, for I had to cross a wooden bridge over
the odious stream that poisoned Teddy, and the fog was like flying
gruel. Carefully I picked my way over the bridge, and aimed for the
dark, narrow lane that led towards my abode. I remember thinking, "What
a place this would be if we were troubled with footpads!" Then came a
pause. Now you know how sound travels in a fog? I saw two posts standing
shadowily before me; then the posts appeared to fade away, or to be
closed up in the brown haze; then I distinctly heard a whisper, "He
ain't got her with him. You come after me." I was stooping, and peering
to find out who whispered. Wrench! I grasped at my neck. Crack! A sound
like the clanking of chains rattled in my head; a flash of many coloured
flame shot before my eyes; a hundred memories came vividly to me, and I
thought I was a boy again, and then I remember no more, until some voice
said, "Feelin' better?"
I was a little sick, and my head was bleeding, but otherwise I had
suffered no harm, and I could walk. It was as though I had received a
knock-down blow in a fight, and that does not hurt one for long. But how
lucky that the water was out of the mill stream! I had been pitched into
about six inches of water, and a policeman who heard the splash jumped
over some rails, and cut across a private paddock in time to save me
from being smothered in the mud. It is now midnight; I have a man with
me, and I am not quite so vigorous as I could wish, but my head is
clear, and to-morrow there will only be the criss-cross mass of
sticking-plaster to tell that I have been felled and robbed. I shall try
to pay Mr. Blackey out. Meantime the police and public should remember
that many men in London pick up a living by arranging humorous little
midnight interviews like that which I went through. Only the
professionals work on the Thames Embankment, and the "bashed" man,
instead of going into six inches of mud, never is heard of again till
his carcass is brought before the coroner.