James Greenwood - The True History of a Little Ragamuffin

Such an offer, under the circumstances, was of course extremely welcome.

“I should like to go pardeners,” I replied; “and you are good sorts of fellows to ask it of me.”

“Reg’ler pardeners, don’t you know,” said Ripston, in a whisper; “you works with us, and you grubs with us, and you lodges with us!”

“I understand.”

“Fact, you are willin’ to go with us, and do ’zactly what we do?” said Mouldy impressively. “Yes.”

“Whack all you finds, or gets, or haves give you,” said Ripston, with the utmost gravity; “never sneak off and spend nothink unbeknown!”

“Never. ’Tisn’t likely.”

“Whenever the beadle catches you, you agree to take your gruel, and never split on your pals; even though splitting would get you off. You agrees to all that?”

“All of it,” I replied; although, to tell the truth, I was not quite clear as to some of the terms proposed by Mouldy.

“You’ll stick fast to us, and never funk nor flinch?”

“Never.”

“Then shake hands,” said Mouldy. “Now shake hands with Ripston: now we’re pardeners. Come along, and let’s get to business at once.”

True nature of the business

There was no use in hanging back. To think of returning home after being absent a day and a night was altogether more than I dare attempt.

I was in for it, and must make the best of it According to their own showing, the life led by Mouldy and Ripston was not a particularly hard one,—no harder, at least, and in respect of victuals, than I was well used and seasoned to. Not so hard. The “lump of bread” that my partners seemed to think such hard fare was the best I had got during the past three months; and the roast pork, never. They roamed about as they liked, and where they liked; they had nobody to whack ’em; they had all that they earned to spend and do as they pleased with; and they went to the play. All things considered, it appeared very lucky that I had fallen in with a pair of such jolly fellows; and luckier still, that they had taken to me so kindly. The lodging was the worst part of it. True, I had at present only tried it without straw; and even as it was, after one night’s trial, I felt merely a little stiffish, but all right in the main, and should by and by grow quite used to it.

These and kindred reflections occupied my mind until we reached Covent Garden. Here we found business brisk enough, though Mouldy declared that we were at least an hour later than we ought to have been. We didn’t enter the covered part of the market, but sauntered about the outskirts of it, where the carts and barrows were being laden. We wandered about in this way for so long a time, that I began to wonder when we were going to begin a job. I was about to ask the question, when Ripston darted away from us, and towards a man who stood holding up his finger by a pile of lettuces.

“Where’s Ripston gone?” I asked.

“Gone to work. Didn’t you see that cove with his finger held up? That means a job for a boy; if he had held up two fingers, he would have meant that it was a man wot he wanted. Don’t you never go when you see two fingers held up, Smiffield, else you might get a knot chucked at you, or something. One finger is what you’ve got to look out for. The job what Rip’s got will get us the coffee; now, if we can find summat else while he’s a-doin’ of it, that’ll be the tommy; which I hopes we shall, ’cos coffee wirout tommy don’t make much of a breakfus’. So keep your eyes open, Smiffield.”

So I did; but nobody held up his finger—at least, as far as I could make out; and Mouldy was not a bit luckier. In about twenty minutes we made our way towards Bow Street, to a coffee-stall which stood at market end of it; and, after a few minutes’ waiting, Ripston made his appearance.

“What luck, Rip?” asked Mouldy.

“Threeha’pence. How have you been doin’?”

Mouldy replied by shrugging his shoulders dismally.

“And Smiffield the same?”

“Jes the same.”

“Come on, then. Shall we have our coffee now, or wait till we takes a brown or two, and have somethin’ to eat with it?”

“Have it now, I say,” replied Mouldy, “I feel reg’ler perished for wants of it. What do you say, Smiffield?”

I was quite inclined to agree with Mouldy’s proposition. What with going so short of victuals, and getting up so early in the morning, I began to experience a strange sort of sensation, which I suppose was of the same sort with Mouldy’s. I think I never felt so starved and chilly before. So we went to the coffee-stall, and Ripston ordered three ha’p’orths of coffee, which we had in three separate cups, and which was deliciously hot and sweet, though not over strong. When we had drank it, feeling very much refreshed, we turned to again to look for a job.

But our luck didn’t seem to better. Hour after hour we tried, but nothing turned up. We scoured the vegetable market through and through and worked in and out of the fruit market in every direction. I should have been ashamed, only that Mouldy did not get on any better than I did; neither did Ripston, except for that first threehalfpence. Another thing that kept me from taking my failure so very much to heart was, that both my companions appeared to be by no means low-spirited; they went cheerily about, cracking their jokes and larking amongst the stalls, as though their bread was already buttered, and only awaited their eating when they were tired of strolling about. About ten o’clock in the morning we quitted the market, and made our way through several back streets and alleys to Drury Lane.

“Well, Smiffield,” said Mouldy, “how do you like bein’ a pardener? Do you think you shall like to keep on with it?”

“I shall like to keep on with it if we have a little better luck,” I replied; “we haven’t done much this morning, Mouldy.”

“We might ha’ done wuss,” observed Ripston, “considerin’ how jolly late it was afore we begun.”

“I believe yer,” said Mouldy. “I haven’t done so bad; you ought to have done werry well, too, Smiffield”

This I naturally took to be a little joke of Mouldy’s, so I laughed as I answered him—

“Oh, yes, I’ ve done splendid; just about as well as you have, Mouldy.”

At this my partners winked and laughed too, and we trotted up Drury Lane, merry as crickets. Presently we came to the entrance to a dingy alley somewhere near Little Wild Street, and there we stopped.

“Come on,” whispered Mouldy, first looking up and down to see that we were not observed; “tip up, Smiffield.”

“Tip up!” I repeated, in amazement, seeing that he as well as Ripston were looking perfectly serious.

“Fork out,” said the boy last mentioned, nudging me impatiently; “not all at once; just a few at a time. Here you are; I’ll stand before yer.”

“I ’spect it’s chiefly in new taters,” observed Mouldy; “I twigg’d you rubbin’ puty close to the sieves—closer than I’d ha’ liked to rub. Come on, out with ’em; they’re scarce as yet, and will fetch somethink, though nuts pays better, when you come acrost ’em.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I answered. “I haven’t got no new taters.” “Well, let us have it, whatever it is,” said Ripston; “the old man wot we deals with lives up here.”

I couldn’t in the least make out what my partners meant; especially as they pointed to the pockets of my jacket and trousers as they spoke; and presently Mouldy commenced to stroke me down on every side. The result didn’t appear to afford him a great amount of satisfaction, judging from the increasing anger of his countenance, and the air of disgust with which he turned to Ripston.