William Wymark Jacobs - Deep Waters, the Entire Collection

“We’ll ‘ave a quid out o’ the box,” he ses. “I must ‘ave one to go on with, anyway.” I shook my ‘ead at ‘im.

“Only one,” he ses, “and that’ll last me a fortnight. Besides, I want to give you the quid I promised you.”

I gave way at last, and he put his ‘and in ‘is trouser-pocket for the key, and then found it wasn’t there.

“I must ha’ left it in my chest,” he ses. “I’ll ‘op back and get it.” And afore I could prevent ‘im he ‘ad waved his ‘and at me and gorn.

My fust idea was to go arter ‘im, but I knew I couldn’t catch ‘im, and if I tried to meet ‘im coming back I should most likely miss ‘im through the side streets. So I sat there with my pipe and waited.

I suppose I ‘ad been sitting down waiting for him for about ten minutes, when a couple o’ sailormen came into the bar and began to make themselves a nuisance. Big fat chaps they was, and both of ‘em more than ‘arf sprung. And arter calling for a pint apiece they began to take a little notice of me.

“Where d’you come from?” ses one of ‘em. “‘Ome,” I ses, very quiet.

“It’s a good place—‘ome,” ses the chap, shaking his ‘ead. “Can you sing ‘’Ome, Sweet ‘Ome’? You seem to ‘ave got wot I might call a ‘singing face.’”

“Never mind about my face,” I ses, very sharp. “You mind wot you’re doing with that beer. You’ll ‘ave it over in a minute.”

The words was ‘ardly out of my mouth afore ‘e gave a lurch and spilt his pint all over me. From ‘ead to foot I was dripping with beer, and I was in such a temper I wonder I didn’t murder ‘im; but afore I could move they both pulled out their pocket-’ankerchers and started to rub me down.

“That’ll do,” I ses at last, arter they ‘ad walked round me ‘arf-a-dozen times and patted me all over to see if I was dry. “You get off while you’re safe.”

“It was my mistake, mate,” ses the chap who ‘ad spilt the beer.

“You get outside,” I ses. “Go on, both of you, afore I put you out.”

They gave one look at me, standing there with my fists clenched, and then they went out like lambs, and I ‘eard ‘em trot round the corner as though they was afraid I was following. I felt a little bit damp and chilly, but beer is like sea-water—you don’t catch cold through it—and I sat down agin to wait for George Tebb.

He came in smiling and out ‘o breath in about ten minutes’ time, with the key in ‘is ‘and, and as soon as I told ‘im wot had ‘appened to me with the beer he turned to the landlord and ordered me six o’ rum ‘ot at once.

“Drink that up,” he ses, ‘anding it to me; “but fust of all give me the box, so as I can pay for it.”

I put my ‘and in my pocket. Then I put it in the other one, and arter that I stood staring at George Tebb and shaking all over.

“Wot’s the matter? Wot are you looking like that for?” he ses.

“It must ha’ been them two,” I ses, choking. “While they was purtending to dry me and patting me all over they must ‘ave taken it out of my pocket.”

“Wot are you talking about?” ses George, staring at me.

“The box ‘as gorn,” I ses, putting down the ‘ot rum and feeling in my trouser-pocket. “The box ‘as gorn, and them two must ‘ave taken it.”

“Gorn!” ses George. “Gorn! My box with twenty-five pounds in, wot I trusted you with, gorn? Wot are you talking about? It can’t be—it’s too crool!”

He made such a noise that the landlord wot was waiting for ‘is money, asked ‘im wot he meant by it, and, arter he ‘ad explained, I’m blest if the landlord didn’t advise him to search me. I stood still and let George go through my pockets, and then I told ‘im I ‘ad done with ‘im and I never wanted to see ‘im agin as long as I lived.

“I dare say,” ses George, “I dare say. But you’ll come along with me to the wharf and see the skipper. I’m not going to lose five-and-twenty quid through your carelessness.”

I marched along in front of ‘im with my ‘ead in the air, and when he spoke to me I didn’t answer him. He went aboard the ship when we got to the wharf, and a minute or two arterwards ‘e came to the side and said the skipper wanted to see me.

The airs the skipper gave ‘imself was sickening. He sat down there in ‘is miserable little rat-’ole of a cabin and acted as if ‘e was a judge and I was a prisoner. Most of the ‘ands ‘ad squeezed in there too, and the things they advised George to do to me was remarkable.

“Silence!” ses the skipper. “Now, watchman, tell me exactly ‘ow this thing ‘appened.”

“I’ve told you once,” I ses.

“I know,” ses the skipper, “but I want you to tell me again to see if you contradict yourself. I can’t understand ‘ow such a clever man as you could be done so easy.”

I thought I should ha’ bust, but I kept my face wonderful. I just asked ‘im wot the men was like that got off with ‘is watch and chain and two pounds, in case they might be the same.

“That’s different,” he ses.

“Oh!” ses I. “‘Ow?”

“I lost my own property,” he ses, “but you lost George’s, and ‘ow a man like you, that’s so much sharper and cleverer than other people, could be had so easy, I can’t think. Why, a child of five would ha’ known better.”

“A baby in arms would ha’ known better,” ses the man wot ‘ad bought the di’mond ring. “‘Ow could you ‘ave been so silly, Bill? At your time o’ life, too!”

“That’s neither ‘ere nor there,” ses the skip-per. “The watchman has lost twenty-five quid belonging to one o’ my men. The question is, wot is he going to do about it?”

“Nothing,” I ses. “I didn’t ask ‘im to let me mind the box. He done it of ‘is own free will. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

“Oh, hasn’t it?” ses the skipper, drawing ‘imself up. “I don’t want to be too ‘ard on you, but at the same time I can’t let my man suffer. I’ll make it as easy as I can, and I order you to pay ‘im five shillings a week till the twenty-five pounds is cleared off.”

I laughed; I couldn’t ‘elp it. I just stood there and laughed at ‘im.

“If you don’t,” ses the skipper, “then I shall lay the facts of the case afore the guv’nor. Whether he’ll object to you being in a pub a mile away, taking care of a box of gold while you was supposed to be taking care of the wharf, is his bisness. My bisness is to see that my man ‘as ‘is rights.”

“‘Ear, ‘ear !” ses the crew.

“You please yourself, watchman,” ses the skipper. “You’re such a clever man that no doubt you could get a better job to-morrow. There must be ‘eaps of people wanting a man like you. It’s for you to decide. That’s all I’ve got to say—five bob a week till pore George ‘as got ‘is money back, or else I put the case afore the guv’nor. Wot did you say?”

I said it agin, and, as ‘e didn’t seem to understand, I said it once more.

“Please yourself,” ‘e ses, when I ‘ad finished. “You’re an old man, and five bob a week can’t be much loss to you. You’ve got nothing to spend it on, at your time o’ life. And you’ve got a very soft job ‘ere. Wot?”

I didn’t answer ‘im. I just turned round, and, arter giving a man wot stood in my way a punch in the chest, I got up on deck and on to the wharf, and said my little say all alone to myself, behind the crane.

I paid the fust five bob to George Tebb the next time the ship was up, and arter biting ‘em over and over agin and then ringing ‘em on the deck ‘e took the other chaps round to the Bear’s Head.

“P’r’aps it’s just as well it’s ‘appened,” he ses. “Five bob a week for nearly two years ain’t to be sneezed at. It’s slow, but it’s sure.”