“If you should see 'er,” he ses.
“I'll tell your missis,” I ses. “It 'ud be much easier for her to do her
dooty properly than it would you. She'd enjoy doing it, too.”
He went off agin then, and I thought he 'ad done with me, but he 'adn't.
He spoke to me that evening as if I was the greatest friend he 'ad in
the world. I 'ad two 'arfpints with 'im at the Albion—with his missis
walking up and down outside—and arter the second 'arf-pint he said he
wanted to meet Dorothy and tell 'er that 'e was married, and that he
'oped she would meet some good man that was worthy of 'er.
I had a week's peace while the ship was away, but she was hardly made
fast afore I 'ad it all over agin and agin.
“Are you sure there's been no more letters?” he ses.
“Sartain,” I ses.
“That's right,” he ses; “that's right. And you 'aven't seen her walking
up and down?”
“No,” I ses.
“'Ave you been on the look-out?” he ses. “I don't suppose a nice gal
like that would come and shove her 'ead in at the gate. Did you look up
and down the road?”
“Yes,” I ses. “I've fair made my eyes ache watching for her.”
“I can't understand it,” he ses. “It's a mystery to me, unless p'r'aps
she's been taken ill. She must 'ave seen me here in the fust place; and
she managed to get hold of my name. Mark my words, I shall 'ear from her
agin.”
“'Ow do you know?” I ses.
“I feel it 'ere,” he ses, very solemn, laying his 'and on his chest.
I didn't know wot to do. Wot with 'is foolishness and his missis's
temper, I see I 'ad made a mess of it. He told me she had 'ardly spoke a
word to 'im for two days, and when I said—being a married man myself—that it might ha' been worse, 'e said I didn't know wot I was talking
about.
I did a bit o' thinking arter he 'ad gorn aboard agin. I dursn't tell
'im that I 'ad wrote the letter, but I thought if he 'ad one or two more
he'd see that some one was 'aving a game with 'im, and that it might do
'im good. Besides which it was a little amusement for me.
Arter everybody was in their beds asleep I sat on a clerk's stool in the
office and wrote 'im another letter from Dorothy. I called 'im “Dear
Bill,” and I said 'ow sorry I was that I 'adn't had even a sight of 'im
lately, having been laid up with a sprained ankle and 'ad only just got
about agin. I asked 'im to meet me at Cleopatra's Needle at eight
o'clock, and said that I should wear the blue 'at with red roses.
It was a very good letter, but I can see now that I done wrong in
writing it. I was going to post it to 'im, but, as I couldn't find an
envelope without the name of the blessed wharf on it, I put it in my
pocket till I got 'ome.
I got 'ome at about a quarter to seven, and slept like a child till
pretty near four. Then I went downstairs to 'ave my dinner.
The moment I opened the door I see there was something wrong. Three
times my missis licked 'er lips afore she could speak. Her face 'ad gone
a dirty white colour, and she was leaning forward with her 'ands on her
'ips, trembling all over with temper.
“Is my dinner ready?” I ses, easy-like. “'Cos I'm ready for _it_.”
“I—I wonder I don't tear you limb from limb,” she ses, catching her
breath.
“Wot's the matter?” I ses.
“And then boil you,” she ses, between her teeth. “You in one pot and
your precious Dorothy in another.”
If anybody 'ad offered me five pounds to speak then, I couldn't ha' done
it. I see wot I'd done in a flash, and I couldn't say a word; but I kept
my presence o' mind, and as she came round one side o' the table I went
round the other.
“Wot 'ave you got to say for yourself?” she ses, with a scream.
“Nothing,” I ses, at last. “It's all a mistake.”
“Mistake?” she ses. “Yes, you made a mistake leaving it in your pocket;
that's all the mistake you've made. That's wot you do, is it, when
you're supposed to be at the wharf? Go about with a blue 'at with red
roses in it! At your time o' life, and a wife at 'ome working herself to
death to make both ends meet and keep you respectable!”
“It's all a mistake,” I ses. “The letter wasn't for me.”
“Oh, no, o' course not,” she ses. “That's why you'd got it in your
pocket, I suppose. And I suppose you'll say your name ain't Bill next.”
“Don't say things you'll be sorry for,” I ses.
“I'll take care o' that,” she ses. “I might be sorry for not saying some
things, but I don't think I shall.”
I don't think she was. I don't think she forgot anything, and she raked
up things that I 'ad contradicted years ago and wot I thought was all
forgot. And every now and then, when she stopped for breath, she'd try
and get round to the same side of the table I was.
She follered me to the street door when I went and called things up the
road arter me. I 'ad a snack at a coffee-shop for my dinner, but I
'adn't got much appetite for it; I was too full of trouble and finding
fault with myself, and I went off to my work with a 'art as heavy as
lead.
I suppose I 'adn't been on the wharf ten minutes afore Cap'n Smithers
came sidling up to me, but I got my spoke in fust.
“Look 'ere,” I ses, “if you're going to talk about that forward hussy
wot's been writing to you, I ain't. I'm sick and tired of 'er.”
“Forward hussy!” he ses. “_Forward hussy_!” And afore I could drop my
broom he gave me a punch in the jaw that pretty near broke it. “Say
another word against her,” he ses, “and I'll knock your ugly 'ead off.
How dare you insult a lady?”
I thought I should 'ave gone crazy at fust, but I went off into the
office without a word. Some men would ha' knocked 'im down for it, but I
made allowances for 'is state o' mind, and I stayed inside until I see
'im get aboard agin.
He was sitting on deck when I went out, and his missis too, but neither
of 'em spoke a word. I picked up my broom and went on sweeping, when
suddenly I 'eard a voice at the gate I thought I knew, and in came my
wife.
“Ho!” she ses, calling out. “Ain't you gone to meet that gal at
Cleopatra's Needle yet? You ain't going to keep 'er waiting, are you?”
“_H'sh_!” I ses.
“_H'sh_! yourself,” she ses, shouting. “_I've_ done nothing to be
ashamed of. _I_ don't go to meet other people's husbands in a blue 'at
with red roses. _I_ don't write 'em love-letters, and say '_H'sh_!' to
my wife when she ventures to make a remark about it. I may work myself
to skin and bone for a man wot's old enough to know better, but I'm not
going to be trod on. Dorothy, indeed! I'll Dorothy 'er if I get the
chance.”
Mrs. Smithers, wot 'ad been listening with all her ears, jumped up, and
so did the skipper, and Mrs. Smithers came to the side in two steps.
“Did you say 'Dorothy,' ma'am?” she ses to my missis.
“I did,” ses my wife. “She's been writing to my husband.”
“It must be the same one,” ses Mrs. Smithers. “She's been writing to
mine too.”
The two of 'em stood there looking at each other for a minute, and then
my wife, holding the letter between 'er finger and thumb as if it was
pison, passed it to Mrs. Smithers.
“It's the same,” ses Mrs. Smithers. “Was the envelope marked 'Private'?”
“I didn't see no envelope,” ses my missis. “This is all I found.”
Mrs. Smithers stepped on to the wharf and, taking 'old of my missis by
the arm, led her away whispering. At the same moment the skipper walked
across the deck and whispered to me.
“Wot d'ye mean by it?” he ses. “Wot d'ye mean by 'aving letters from
Dorothy and not telling me about it?”
“I can't help 'aving letters any more than you can,” I ses. “Now p'r'aps
you'll understand wot I meant by calling 'er a forward hussy.”
“Fancy 'er writing to you!” he ses, wrinkling 'is forehead. “_Pph_! She
must be crazy.”
“P'r'aps it ain't a gal at all,” I ses. “My belief is somebody is 'aving
a game with us.”
“Don't be a fool,” he ses. “I'd like to see the party as would make a
fool of me like that. Just see 'im and get my 'ands on him. He wouldn't
want to play any more games.”
It was no good talking to 'im. He was 'arf crazy with temper. If I'd
said the letter was meant for 'im he'd 'ave asked me wot I meant by
opening it and getting 'im into more trouble with 'is missis, instead of
giving it to 'im on the quiet. I just stood and suffered in silence, and
thought wot a lot of 'arm eddication did for people.
“I want some money,” ses my missis, coming back at last with Mrs.
Smithers.
That was the way she always talked when she'd got me in 'er power. She
took two-and-tenpence—all I'd got—and then she ordered me to go and get
a cab.
“Me and this lady are going to meet her,” she ses, sniffing at me.
“And tell her wot we think of 'er,” ses Mrs. Smithers, sniffing too.
“And wot we'll do to 'er,” ses my missis.
I left 'em standing side by side, looking at the skipper as if 'e was a
waxworks, while I went to find a cab. When I came back they was in the
same persition, and 'e was smoking with 'is eyes shut.
They went off side by side in the cab, both of 'em sitting bolt-upright,
and only turning their 'eads at the last moment to give us looks we
didn't want.
“I don't wish her no 'arm,” ses the skipper, arter thinking for a long
time. “Was that the fust letter you 'ad from 'er, Bill?”
“Fust and last,” I ses, grinding my teeth.
“I've been married longer than wot you have,” I ses, “and I tell you one
thing. It won't make no difference to us whether they do or they don't,”
I ses.
And it didn't.