Sea Urchins Read online

  E's a nero, that's wot 'e is, sir," said the cook, as he emptied aboiler of dirty water overboard.

  "A what?" said the skipper.

  "A nero," said the cook, speaking very slowly and distinctly. "A nero inreal life, a chap wot, speaking for all for'ard, we're proud to haveaboard along with us."

  "I didn't know he was much of a swimmer," said the skipper, glancingcuriously at a clumsily-built man of middle age, who sat on the hatchglancing despondently at the side.

  "No more 'e ain't," said the cook, "an' that's what makes 'im more'eroish still in my own opinion."

  "Did he take his clothes off?" inquired the mate.

  "Not a bit of it," said the delighted cook; "not a pair of trowsis, noreven 'is 'at, which was sunk."

  "You're a liar, cook," said the hero, looking up for a moment.

  "You didn't take your trowsis off, George?" said the cook anxiously.

  "I chucked my 'at on the pavement," growled George, without looking up.

  "Well, anyway, you went over the Embankment after that pore girl like aBriton, didn't you?" said the other.

  There was no reply.

  "Didn't you?" said the cook appealingly.

  "Did you expect me to go over like a Dutchman, or wot?" demanded Georgefiercely.

  "That's 'is modesty," said the cook, turning to the others with the airof a showman. "'E can't bear us to talk about it Nearly drownded 'e was.All but, and a barge came along and shoved a boat-hook right through theseat of his trowsis an' saved 'im. Stand up an' show 'em your trowsis,George."

  "If I do stand up," said George, in a voice broken with rage, "it'll bea bad day for you, my lad."

  "Ain't he modest?" said the cook. "Don't it do you good to 'ear 'im? Hewas just like that when they got him ashore and the crowd startedpatting him."

  "Didn't like it?" queried the mate.

  "Well, they overdid it a little, p'raps," admitted the cook; "one oldchap wot couldn't get near patted 'is 'ead with 'is stick, but it wasall meant in the way of kindness."

  "I'm proud of you, George," said the skipper heartily.

  "We all are," said the mate.

  George grunted.

  "I'll write for the medal for him," said the skipper. "Were there anywitnesses, cook?"

  "Heaps of 'em," said the other, "but I gave 'em 'is name and address.'Schooner John Henry, of Limehouse, is 'is home,' I ses, 'and GeorgeCooper 'is name.'"

  "You talked a damned sight too much," said the hero, "you lean,lop-sided son of a tinker."

  "There's 'is modesty ag'in," said the cook, with a knowing smile. "'E'sbusting with modesty, is George. You should ha' seen 'im when a chaptook 'is fortygraph."

  "Took his what?" said the skipper, becoming interested.

  "His fortygraph," said the cook. "'E was a young chap what was takingviews for a noose-paper. 'E took George drippin' wet just as 'e come outof the water, 'e took him arter 'e 'ad 'is face wiped, an' 'e took 'imwhen 'e was sitting up swearing at a man wot asked 'im whether 'e wasvery wet."

  "An' you told 'im where I lived, and what I was," said George, turningon him and shaking his fist. "You did."

  "I did," said the cook simply. "You'll live to thank me for it, George."

  The other gave a dreadful howl, and rising from the deck walked forwardand went below, giving a brother seaman who patted his shoulder as hepassed a blow in the ribs, which nearly broke them. Those on deckexchanged glances.

  "Well, I don't know," said the mate, shrugging his shoulders; "seems tome if I'd saved a fellow-critter's life I shouldn't mind hearing aboutit."

  "That's what you think," said the skipper, drawing himself up a little."If ever you do do anything of the kind perhaps you'll feel differentabout it."

  "Well, I don't see how you should know any more than me," said theother.

  The skipper cleared his throat.

  "There have been one or two little things in my life which I'm notexactly ashamed of," he said modestly.

  "That ain't much to boast of," said the mate, wilfully misunderstandinghim.

  "I mean," said the skipper sharply, "one or two things which some peoplemight have been proud of. But I'm proud to say that there isn't a livingsoul knows of 'em."

  "I can quite believe that," assented the mate, and walked off with anirritating smile.

  The skipper was about to follow him, to complain of the needlessambiguity of his remarks, when he was arrested by a disturbance from thefoc'sle. In response to the cordial invitation of the cook, the mate andone of the hands from the brig Endeavour, moored alongside, had comeaboard and gone below to look at George. The manner in which they werereceived was a slur upon the hospitality of the John Henry; and theycame up hurriedly, declaring that they never wanted to see him again aslong as they lived, and shouting offensive remarks behind them as theygot over the side of their own vessel.

  The skipper walked slowly to the focs'le and put his head down.

  "George," he shouted.

  "Sir," said the hero gruffly.

  "Come down into the cabin," said the other, turning away. "I want tohave a little talk with you."

  George rose, and, first uttering some terrible threats against the cook,who bore them with noble fortitude, went on deck and followed theskipper to the cabin.

  At his superior's request he took a seat on the locker, awkwardlyenough, but smiled faintly as the skipper produced a bottle and a coupleof glasses.

  "Your health, George," said the skipper, as he pushed a glass towardshim and raised his own.

  "My bes' respec's, sir," said George, allowing the liquor to roll slowlyround his mouth before swallowing it. He sighed heavily, and, puttinghis empty glass on the table, allowed his huge head to roll on hischest.

  "Saving life don't seem to agree with you, George," said the skipper. "Ilike modesty, but you seem to me to carry it a trifle too far."

  "It ain't modesty, sir," said George; "it's that fortygraph. When Ithink o' that I go 'ot all over."

  "I shouldn't let that worry me if I was you, George," said the otherkindly. "Looks ain't everything."

  "I didn't mean it that way," said George very sourly. "My looks is goodenough for me. In fact, it is partly owing to my looks, so to speak,that I'm in a mess."

  "A little more rum, George?" said the skipper, whose curiosity wasroused. "I don't want to know your business, far from it. But in myposition as cap'n, if any of my crew gets in a mess I consider it's myduty to lend them a hand out of it, if I can."

  "The world 'ud be a better place if there was more like you," saidGeorge, waxing sentimental as he sniffed delicately at the fragrantbeverage. "If that noosepaper, with them pictures, gets into a certainparty's 'ands, I'm ruined."

  "Not if I can help it, George," said the other with great firmness. "Howdo you mean ruined?"

  The seaman set his glass down on the little table, and, leaning over,formed a word with his lips, and then drew back slowly and watched theeffect.

  "What?" said the skipper.

  The other repeated the performance, but beyond seeing that some word ofthree syllables was indicated the skipper obtained no information.

  "You can speak a little louder," he said somewhat crustily.

  "Bigamy!" said George, breathing the word solemnly.

  "You?" said the skipper.

  George nodded. "And if my first only gets hold of that paper, and seesmy phiz and reads my name, I'm done for. There's my reward for saving afellow-critter's life. Seven years."

  "I'm surprised at you, George," said the skipper sternly. "Such a goodwife as you've got too."

  "I ain't saying nothing agin number two," grumbled George. "It's numberone that didn't suit. I left her eight years ago. She was a bad 'un. Itook a v'y'ge to Australia furst, just to put her out o' my mind a bit,an' I never seed her since. Where am I if she sees all about me in thepaper?"

  "Is she what you'd call a vindictive woman?" inquired the other."Nasty-tempered, I mean."

  "Nasty-tempered," echoed the husband of two.
"If that woman could onlyhave me put in gaol she'd stand on 'er 'ead for joy."

  "Well, I'll do what I can for you if the worst comes to the worst," saidthe skipper. "You'd better not say anything about this to anybody else."

  "Not me," said George fervently, as he rose, "an' o' course you--"

  "You can rely on me," said the skipper in his most stately fashion.

  He thought of the seaman's confidence several times during the evening,and, being somewhat uncertain of the law as to bigamy, soughtinformation from the master of the Endeavour as they sat in the tetter'scabin at a quiet game of cribbage. By virtue of several appearances inthe law courts with regard to collisions and spoilt cargoes thisgentleman had obtained a knowledge of law which made him a recognisedauthority from London Bridge to the Nore.

  It was a delicate matter for the master of the John Henry to broach,and, with the laudable desire of keeping the hero's secret, heapproached it by a most circuitous route. He began with a burglary,followed with an attempted murder, and finally got on the subject ofbigamy, via the "Deceased Wife's Sister Bill."

  "What sort o' bigamy?" inquired the master of the brig.

  "Oh, two wives," said Captain Thomsett.

  "Yes, yes," said the other, "but are there any mitigating circumstancesin the case, so that you could throw yourself on the mercy o' the court,I mean?"

  "My case!" said Thomsett, glaring. "It ain't for me."

  "Oh, no, o' course not," said Captain Stubbs.

  "What do you mean by 'o' course not'?" demanded the indignant master ofthe John Henry.

  "Your deal," said Captain Stubbs, pushing the cards over to him.

  "You haven't answered my question," said Captain Thomsett, regarding himoffensively.

  "There's some questions," said Stubbs slowly, "as is best leftunanswered. When you've seen as much law as I have, my lad, you'll knowthat one of the first principles of English law is, that nobody is boundto commit themselves."

  "Do you mean to say you think it is me?" bellowed Captain Thomsett.

  "I mean to say nothing," said Captain Stubbs, putting his huge hands onthe table. "But when a man comes into my cabin and begins to hum an' hawan' hint at things, and then begins to ask my advice about bigamy, Ican't help thinking. This is a free country, and there's no law ag'inthinking. Make a clean breast of it, cap'n, an' I'll do what I can foryou."

  "You're a blanked fool," said Captain Thomsett wrathfully.

  Captain Stubbs shook his head gently, and smiled with infinite patience."P'raps so," he said modestly. "P'raps so; but there's one thing I cando, and that is, I can read people."

  "You can read me, I s'pose?" said Thomsett sneeringly.

  "Easy, my lad," said the other, still preserving, though by an obviouseffort, his appearance of judicial calm. "I've seen your sort before.One in pertikler I call to mind. He's doing fourteen years now, porechap. But you needn't be alarmed, cap'n. Your secret is safe enough withme."

  Captain Thomsett got up and pranced up and down the cabin, but CaptainStubbs remained calm. He had seen that sort before. It was interestingto the student of human nature, and he regarded his visitor with an airof compassionate interest. Then Captain Thomsett resumed his seat, and,to preserve his own fair fame, betrayed that of George.

  "I knew it was either you or somebody your kind 'art was interested in,"said the discomfited Stubbs, as they resumed the interrupted game. "Youcan't help your face, cap'n. When you was thinking about that porechap's danger it was working with emotion. It misled me, I own it, butit ain't often I meet such a feeling 'art as yours."

  Captain Thomsett, his eyes glowing affectionately, gripped his friend'shand, and in the course of the game listened to an exposition of the lawrelating to bigamy of a most masterly and complicated nature, seasonedwith anecdotes calculated to make the hardiest of men pause on the brinkof matrimony and think seriously of their position.

  "Suppose this woman comes aboard after pore George," said Thomsett."What's the best thing to be done?"

  "The first thing," said Captain Stubbs, "is to gain time. Put her off."

  "Off the ship, d'ye mean?" inquired the other.

  "No, no," said the jurist "Pretend he's ill and can't see anybody. Bygum, I've got it."

  He slapped the table with his open hand, and regarded the othertriumphantly.

  "Let him turn into his bunk and pretend to be dead," he continued, in avoice trembling with pride at his strategy. "It's pretty dark down yourfoc'sle, I know. Don't have no light down there, and tell him to keepquiet."

  Captain Thomsett's eyes shone, but with a qualified admiration.

  "Ain't it somewhat sudden?" he demurred.

  Captain Stubbs regarded him with a look of supreme artfulness, andslowly closed one eye.

  "He got a chill going in the water," he said quietly.

  "Well, you're a masterpiece," said Thomsett ungrudgingly. "I will saythis of you, you're a masterpiece. Mind this is all to be kept quitesecret."

  "Make your mind easy," said the eminent jurist. "If I told all I knowthere's a good many men in this river as 'ud be doing time at thepresent moment."

  Captain Thomsett expressed his pleasure at this information, and, havingtried in vain to obtain a few of their names, even going so far as tosuggest some, looked at the clock, and, shaking hands, departed to hisown ship. Captain Stubbs, left to himself, finished his pipe and retiredto rest; and his mate, who had been lying in the adjoining bunk duringthe consultation, vainly trying to get to sleep, scratched his head, andtried to think of a little strategy himself. He had glimmerings of itbefore he fell asleep, but when he awoke next morning it flashed beforehim in all the fulness of its matured beauty.

  He went on deck smiling, and, leaning his arms on the side, gazedcontemplatively at George, who was sitting on the deck listening darklyto the cook as that worthy read aloud from a newspaper.

  "Anything interesting, cook?" demanded the mate.

  "About George, sir," said the cook, stopping in his reading. "There'spictures of 'im too."

  He crossed to the side, and, handing the paper to the mate, listenedsmilingly to the little ejaculations of surprise and delight of thatdeceitful man as he gazed upon the likenesses. "Wonderful," he saidemphatically. "Wonderful. I never saw such a good likeness in my life,George. That'll be copied in every newspaper in London, and here's thename in full too--'George Cooper, schooner John Henry, now lying offLimehouse.'"

  He handed the paper back to the cook and turned away grinning as George,unable to control himself any longer, got up with an oath and went belowto nurse his wrath in silence. A little later the mate of the brig,after a very confidential chat with his own crew, lit his pipe and, witha jaunty air, went ashore.

  For the next hour or two George alternated between the foc'sle and thedeck, from whence he cast harassed glances at the busy wharves ashore.The skipper, giving it as his own suggestion, acquainted him with thearrangements made in case of the worst, and George, though he seemedsomewhat dubious about them, went below and put his bed in order.

  "It's very unlikely she'll see that particular newspaper though," saidthe skipper encouragingly.

  "People are sure to see what you don't want 'em to," growled George."Somebody what knows us is sure to see it, an' show 'er."

  "There's a lady stepping into a waterman's skiff now," said the skipper,glancing at the stairs. "That wouldn't be her, I s'pose?"

  He turned to the seaman as he spoke, but the words had hardly left hislips before George was going below and undressing for his part.

  "If anybody asks for me," he said, turning to the cook, who wasregarding his feverish movements in much astonishment, "I'm dead."

  "You're wot?" inquired the other.

  "Dead," said George. "Dead. Died at ten o'clock this morning. D'yeunderstand, fat-head?"

  "I can't say as 'ow I do," said the cook somewhat acrimoniously.

  "Pass the word round that I'm dead," repeated George hurriedly. "Lay meout, cookie. I'll do as much for you one da
y."

  Instead of complying the horrified cook rushed up on deck to tell theskipper that George's brain had gone; but, finding him in the midst of ahurried explanation to the men, stopped with greedy ears to listen. Theskiff was making straight for the schooner, propelled by an elderlywaterman in his shirt-sleeves, the sole passenger being a lady of ampleproportions, who was watching the life of the river through a blackveil.

  In another minute the skiff bumped alongside, and the waterman standingin the boat passed the painter aboard. The skipper gazed at the fareand, shivering inwardly, hoped that George was a good actor.

  "I want to see Mr. Cooper," said the lady grimly, as she clamberedaboard, assisted by the waterman.

  "I'm very sorry, but you can't see him, mum," said the skipper politely.

  "Ho! carn't I?" said the lady, raising her voice a little. "You go an'tell him that his lawful wedded wife, what he deserted, is aboard."

  "It 'ud be no good, mum," said the skipper, who felt the full dramaticforce of the situation. "I'm afraid he wouldn't listen to you."

  "Ho! I think I can persuade 'im a bit," said the lady, drawing in herlips. "Where is 'e?"

  "Up aloft," said the skipper, removing his hat.

  "Don't you give me none of your lies," said the lady, as she scannedboth masts closely.

  "He's dead," said the skipper solemnly.

  His visitor threw up her arms and staggered back. The cook was nearest,and, throwing his arms round her waist, he caught her as she swayed. Themate, who was of a sympathetic nature, rushed below for whisky, as shesank back on the hatchway, taking the reluctant cook with her.

  "Poor thing," said the skipper.

  "Don't 'old 'er so tight, cook," said one of the men. "There's nonecessity to squeeze 'er."

  "Pat 'er 'ands," said another.

  "Pat 'em yourself," said the cook brusquely, as he looked up and saw thedelight of the crew of the Endeavour, who were leaning over theirvessel's side regarding the proceedings with much interest.

  "Don't leave go of me," said the newly-made widow, as she swallowed thewhisky, and rose to her feet.

  "Stand by her, cook," said the skipper authoritatively.

  "Ay, ay, sir," said the cook.

  They formed a procession below, the skipper and mate leading; the cookwith his fair burden, choking her sobs with a handkerchief, and the crewfollowing.

  "What did he die of?" she asked in a whisper broken with sobs.

  "Chill from the water," whispered the skipper in response.

  "I can't see 'im," she whispered. "It's so dark here. Has anybody got amatch? Oh! here's some."

  Before anybody could interfere she took a box from a locker, and,striking one, bent over the motionless George, and gazed at histightly-closed eyes and open mouth in silence.

  "You'll set the bed alight," said the mate in a low voice, as the end ofthe match dropped off.

  "It won't hurt 'im," whispered the widow tearfully.

  The mate, who had distinctly seen the corpse shift a bit, thoughtdifferently.

  "Nothing 'll 'urt 'im now" whispered the widow, sniffing as she struckanother match. "Oh! if he could only sit up 'and speak to me."

  For a moment the mate, who knew George's temper, thought it highlyprobable that he would, as the top of the second match fell between hisshirt and his neck.

  "Don't look any more," said the skipper anxiously; "you can't do him anygood."

  His visitor handed him the matches, and, for a short time, sobbed insilence.

  "We've done all we could for him," said the skipper at length. "It 'udbe best for you to go home and lay down a bit."

  "You're all very good, I'm sure," whispered the widow, turning away."I'll send for him this evening."

  They all started, especially the corpse.

  "Eh?" said the skipper.

  "He was a bad 'usband to me," she continued, still in the same sobbingwhisper, "but I'll 'ave 'im put away decent."

  "You'd better let us bury him," said the skipper. "We can do it cheaperthan you can, perhaps?"

  "No. I'll send for him this evening," said the lady. "Are they 'isclothes?"

  "The last he ever wore," said the skipper pathetically, pointing to theheap of clothing. "There's his chest, pore chap, just as he left it."

  The bereaved widow bent down, and, raising the lid, shook her headtearfully as she regarded the contents. Then she gathered up the clothesunder her left arm, and, still sobbing, took his watch, his knife, andsome small change from his chest, while the crew in dumb show inquiredof the deceased, who was regarding her over the edge of the bunk, whatwas to be done.

  "I suppose there was some money due to him?" she inquired, turning tothe skipper.

  "Matter of a few shillings," he stammered.

  "I'll take them," she said, holding out her hand.

  The skipper put his hand in his pocket and, in his turn, lookedinquiringly at the late lamented for guidance; but George had closed hiseyes again to the world, and, after a moment's hesitation, he slowlycounted the money into her hand.

  She dropped the coins into her pocket, and, with a parting glance at themotionless figure in the bunk, turned away. The procession made its wayon deck again, but not in the same order, the cook carefully bringing upthe rear.

  "If there's any other little things," she said, pausing at the side toget a firmer grip of the clothes under her arm.

  "You shall have them," said the skipper, who had been making mentalarrangements to have George buried before her return.

  Apparently much comforted by this assurance, she allowed herself to belowered into the boat, which was waiting. The excitement of the crew ofthe brig, who had been watching her movements with eager interest, gotbeyond the bounds of all decency as they saw her being pulled ashorewith the clothes in her lap.

  "You can come up now," said the skipper, as he caught sight of George'sface at the scuttle.

  "Has she gone?" inquired the seaman anxiously.

  The skipper nodded, and a wild cheer rose from the crew of the brig asGeorge came on deck in his scanty garments, and from behind the otherspeered cautiously over the side.

  "Where is she?" he demanded.

  The skipper pointed to the boat.

  "That?" said George, starting. "That? That ain't my wife."

  "Not your wife?" said the skipper, staring. "Whose is she then?"

  "How the devil should I know?" said George, throwing discipline to thewinds in his agitation. "It ain't my wife."

  "P'raps it's one you've forgotten," suggested the skipper in a lowvoice.

  George looked at him and choked. "I've never seen her before," hereplied, "s'elp me. Call her back. Stop her."

  The mate rushed aft and began to haul in the ship's boat, but Georgecaught him suddenly by the arm.

  "Never mind," he said bitterly; "better let her go. She seems to knowtoo much for me. Somebody's been talking to her."

  It was the same thought that was troubling the skipper, and he lookedsearchingly from one to the other for an explanation. He fancied that hesaw it when he met the eye of the mate of the brig, and he pausedirresolutely as the skiff reached the stairs, and the woman, springingashore, waved the clothes triumphantly in the direction of the schoonerand disappeared.

  AN INTERVENTION