Captains All and Others Page 3

  Artfulness," said the night-watch-man, smoking placidly, "is a gift; butit don't pay always. I've met some artful ones in my time--plenty of'em; but I can't truthfully say as 'ow any of them was the better formeeting me."

  He rose slowly from the packing-case on which he had been sitting and,stamping down the point of a rusty nail with his heel, resumed his seat,remarking that he had endured it for some time under the impression thatit was only a splinter.

  "I've surprised more than one in my time," he continued, slowly. "When Imet one of these 'ere artful ones I used fust of all to pretend to bemore stupid than wot I really am."

  He stopped and stared fixedly.

  "More stupid than I looked," he said. He stopped again.

  "More stupid than wot they thought I looked," he said, speaking withmarked deliberation. And I'd let 'em go on and on until I thought I had'ad about enough, and then turn round on 'em. Nobody ever got the bettero' me except my wife, and that was only before we was married. Twonights arterwards she found a fish-hook in my trouser-pocket, and arterthat I could ha' left untold gold there--if I'd ha' had it. It spoiltwot some people call the honey-moon, but it paid in the long run.

  One o' the worst things a man can do is to take up artfulness all of asudden. I never knew it to answer yet, and I can tell you of a casethat'll prove my words true.

  It's some years ago now, and the chap it 'appened to was a young man, ashipmate o' mine, named Charlie Tagg. Very steady young chap he was, toosteady for most of 'em. That's 'ow it was me and 'im got to be suchpals.

  He'd been saving up for years to get married, and all the advice wecould give 'im didn't 'ave any effect. He saved up nearly every penny of'is money and gave it to his gal to keep for 'im, and the time I'mspeaking of she'd got seventy-two pounds of 'is and seventeen-and-six of'er own to set up house-keeping with.

  Then a thing happened that I've known to 'appen to sailormen afore. AtSydney 'e got silly on another gal, and started walking out with her,and afore he knew wot he was about he'd promised to marry 'er too.

  Sydney and London being a long way from each other was in 'is favour,but the thing that troubled 'im was 'ow to get that seventy-two poundsout of Emma Cook, 'is London gal, so as he could marry the other withit. It worried 'im all the way home, and by the time we got into theLondon river 'is head was all in a maze with it. Emma Cook 'ad got itall saved up in the bank, to take a little shop with when they gotspliced, and 'ow to get it he could not think.

  He went straight off to Poplar, where she lived, as soon as the ship wasberthed. He walked all the way so as to 'ave more time for thinking, butwot with bumping into two old gentlemen with bad tempers, and beingnearly run over by a cabman with a white 'orse and red whiskers, he gotto the house without 'aving thought of anything.

  They was just finishing their tea as 'e got there, and they all seemedso pleased to see 'im that it made it worse than ever for 'im. Mrs.Cook, who 'ad pretty near finished, gave 'im her own cup to drink outof, and said that she 'ad dreamt of 'im the night afore last, and oldCook said that he 'ad got so good-looking 'e shouldn't 'ave known him.

  "I should 'ave passed 'im in the street," he ses. "I never see such analteration."

  "They'll be a nice-looking couple," ses his wife, looking at a youngchap, named George Smith, that 'ad been sitting next to Emma.

  Charlie Tagg filled 'is mouth with bread and butter, and wondered 'ow hewas to begin. He squeezed Emma's 'and just for the sake of keeping upappearances, and all the time 'e was thinking of the other gal waitingfor 'im thousands o' miles away.

  "You've come 'ome just in the nick o' time," ses old Cook; "if you'ddone it o' purpose you couldn't 'ave arranged it better."

  "Somebody's birthday?" ses Charlie, trying to smile.

  Old Cook shook his 'ead. "Though mine is next Wednesday," he ses, "andthank you for thinking of it. No; you're just in time for the biggestbargain in the chandlery line that anybody ever 'ad a chance of. If you'adn't ha' come back we should have 'ad to ha' done it without you."

  "Eighty pounds," ses Mrs. Cook, smiling at Charlie. "With the moneyEmma's got saved and your wages this trip you'll 'ave plenty. You mustcome round arter tea and 'ave a look at it."

  "Little place not arf a mile from 'ere," ses old Cook. "Properly workedup, the way Emma'll do it, it'll be a little fortune. I wish I'd had achance like it in my young time."

  He sat shaking his 'ead to think wot he'd lost, and Charlie Tagg satstaring at 'im and wondering wot he was to do.

  "My idea is for Charlie to go for a few more v'y'ges arter they'remarried while Emma works up the business," ses Mrs. Cook; "she'll be allright with young Bill and Sarah Ann to 'elp her and keep 'er companywhile he's away."

  "We'll see as she ain't lonely," ses George Smith, turning to Charlie.

  Charlie Tagg gave a bit of a cough and said it wanted considering. Hesaid it was no good doing things in a 'urry and then repenting of 'emall the rest of your life. And 'e said he'd been given to understandthat chandlery wasn't wot it 'ad been, and some of the cleverest people'e knew thought that it would be worse before it was better. By the timehe'd finished they was all looking at 'im as though they couldn'tbelieve their ears.

  "You just step round and 'ave a look at the place," ses old Cook; "ifthat don't make you alter your tune, call me a sinner."

  Charlie Tagg felt as though 'e could ha' called 'im a lot o' worsethings than that, but he took up 'is hat and Mrs. Cook and Emma gottheir bonnets on and they went round.

  "I don't think much of it for eighty pounds," ses Charlie, beginning hisartfulness as they came near a big shop, with plate-glass and a doublefront.

  "Eh?" ses old Cook, staring at 'im. "Why, that ain't the place. Why, youwouldn't get that for eight 'undred."

  "Well, I don't think much of it," ses Charlie; "if it's worse than thatI can't look at it--I can't, indeed."

  "You ain't been drinking, Charlie?" ses old Cook, in a puzzled voice.

  "Certainly not," ses Charlie.

  He was pleased to see 'ow anxious they all looked, and when they didcome to the shop 'e set up a laugh that old Cook said chilled the marrerin 'is bones. He stood looking in a 'elpless sort o' way at his wife andEmma, and then at last he ses, "There it is; and a fair bargain at theprice."

  "I s'pose you ain't been drinking?" ses Charlie.

  "Wot's the matter with it?" ses Mrs. Cook flaring up.

  "Come inside and look at it," ses Emma, taking 'old of his arm.

  "Not me," ses Charlie, hanging back. "Why, I wouldn't take it at agift."

  He stood there on the kerbstone, and all they could do 'e wouldn'tbudge. He said it was a bad road and a little shop, and 'ad got a lookabout it he didn't like. They walked back 'ome like a funeralprocession, and Emma 'ad to keep saying "H's!" in w'ispers to 'er motherall the way.

  "I don't know wot Charlie does want, I'm sure," ses Mrs. Cook, takingoff 'er bonnet as soon as she got indoors and pitching it on the chairhe was just going to set down on.

  "It's so awk'ard," ses old Cook, rubbing his 'cad. "Fact is, Charlie, wepretty near gave 'em to understand as we'd buy it."

  "It's as good as settled," ses Mrs. Cook, trembling all over withtemper.

  "They won't settle till they get the money," ses Charlie. "You may makeyour mind easy about that."

  "Emma's drawn it all out of the bank ready," ses old Cook, eager like.

  Charlie felt 'ot and cold all over. "I'd better take care of it," heses, in a trembling voice. "You might be robbed."

  "So might you be," ses Mrs. Cook. "Don't you worry; it's in a safeplace."

  "Sailormen are always being robbed," ses George Smith, who 'ad beenhelping young Bill with 'is sums while they 'ad gone to look at theshop. "There's more sailormen robbed than all the rest put together."

  "They won't rob Charlie," ses Mrs. Cook, pressing 'er lips together."I'll take care o' that."

  Charlie tried to laugh, but 'e made such a queer noise that young Billmade a large blot on 'is exercise-book, and old Coo
k, wot was lightinghis pipe, burnt 'is fingers through not looking wot 'e was doing.

  "You see," ses Charlie, "if I was robbed, which ain't at all likely, it'ud only be me losing my own money; but if you was robbed of it you'dnever forgive yourselves."

  "I dessay I should get over it," ses Mrs. Cook, sniffing. "I'd 'ave atry, at all events."

  Charlie started to laugh agin, and old Cook, who had struck anothermatch, blew it out and waited till he'd finished.

  "The whole truth is," ses Charlie, looking round, "I've got somethingbetter to do with the money. I've got a chance offered me that'll makeme able to double it afore you know where you are."

  "Not afore I know where I am," ses Mrs. Cook, with a laugh that wasworse than Charlie's.

  "The chance of a lifetime," ses Charlie, trying to keep 'is temper. "Ican't tell you wot it is, because I've promised to keep it secret for atime. You'll be surprised when I do tell you."

  "If I wait till then till I'm surprised," ses Mrs. Cook, "I shall 'aveto wait a long time. My advice to you is to take that shop and ha' donewith it."

  Charlie sat there arguing all the evening, but it was no good, and theidea o' them people sitting there and refusing to let 'im have his ownmoney pretty near sent 'im crazy. It was all 'e could do to kiss Emmagood-night, and 'e couldn't have 'elped slamming the front door if he'dbeen paid for it. The only comfort he 'ad got left was the Sydney gal'sphotygraph, and he took that out and looked at it under nearly everylamp-post he passed.

  He went round the next night and 'ad an-other try to get 'is money, butit was no use; and all the good he done was to make Mrs. Cook in such atemper that she 'ad to go to bed before he 'ad arf finished. It was nogood talking to old Cook and Emma, because they daren't do anythingwithout 'er, and it was no good calling things up the stairs to herbecause she didn't answer. Three nights running Mrs. Cook went off tobed afore eight o'clock, for fear she should say something to 'im asshe'd be sorry for arterwards; and for three nights Charlie made 'imselfso disagreeable that Emma told 'im plain the sooner 'e went back to seaagin the better she should like it. The only one who seemed to enjoy itwas George Smith, and 'e used to bring bits out o' newspapers and readto 'em, showing 'ow silly people was done out of their money.

  On the fourth night Charlie dropped it and made 'imself so amiable thatMrs. Cook stayed up and made 'im a Welsh rare-bit for 'is supper, andmade 'im drink two glasses o' beer instead o' one, while old Cook satand drank three glasses o' water just out of temper, and to show that 'edidn't mind. When she started on the chandler's shop agin Charlie saidhe'd think it over, and when 'e went away Mrs. Cook called 'im hersailor-boy and wished 'im pleasant dreams.

  But Charlie Tagg 'ad got better things to do than to dream, and 'e satup in bed arf the night thinking out a new plan he'd thought of to getthat money. When 'e did fall asleep at last 'e dreamt of taking a littlefarm in Australia and riding about on 'orseback with the Sydney galwatching his men at work.

  In the morning he went and hunted up a shipmate of 'is, a young fellernamed Jack Bates. Jack was one o' these 'ere chaps, nobody's enemy buttheir own, as the saying is; a good-'arted, free-'anded chap as youcould wish to see. Everybody liked 'im, and the ship's cat loved 'im.He'd ha' sold the shirt off 'is back to oblige a pal, and three times inone week he got 'is face scratched for trying to prevent 'usbandsknocking their wives about.

  Charlie Tagg went to 'im because he was the only man 'e could trust, andfor over arf an hour he was telling Jack Bates all 'is troubles, and atlast, as a great favour, he let 'im see the Sydney gal's photygraph, andtold him that all that pore gal's future 'appiness depended upon 'im.

  "I'll step round to-night and rob 'em of that seventy-two pounds," sesJack; "it's your money, and you've a right to it."

  Charlie shook his 'ead. "That wouldn't do," he ses; "besides, I don'tknow where they keep it. No; I've got a better plan than that. Comeround to the Crooked Billet, so as we can talk it over in peace andquiet."

  He stood Jack three or four arf-pints afore 'e told 'im his plan, andJack was so pleased with it that he wanted to start at once, but Charliepersuaded 'im to wait.

  "And don't you spare me, mind, out o' friendship," ses Charlie, "becausethe blacker you paint me the better I shall like it."

  "You trust me, mate," ses Jack Bates; "if I don't get that seventy-twopounds for you, you may call me a Dutchman. Why, it's fair robbery, Icall it, sticking to your money like that."

  They spent the rest o' the day together, and when evening came Charliewent off to the Cooks'. Emma 'ad arf expected they was going to atheayter that night, but Charlie said he wasn't feeling the thing, andhe sat there so quiet and miserable they didn't know wot to make of 'im.

  "'Ave you got any trouble on your mind, Charlie," ses Mrs. Cook, "or isit the tooth-ache?"

  "It ain't the toothache," ses Charlie.

  He sat there pulling a long face and staring at the floor, but all Mrs.Cook and Emma could do 'e wouldn't tell them wot was the matter with'im. He said 'e didn't want to worry other people with 'is troubles; leteverybody bear their own, that was 'is motto. Even when George Smithoffered to go to the theayter with Emma instead of 'im he didn't fireup, and, if it 'adn't ha' been for Mrs. Cook, George wouldn't ha' beensorry that 'e spoke.

  "Theayters ain't for me," ses Charlie, with a groan. "I'm more likely togo to gaol, so far as I can see, than a theayter."

  Mrs. Cook and Emma both screamed and Sarah Ann did 'er firsthighstericks, and very well, too, considering that she 'ad only justturned fifteen.

  "Gaol!" ses old Cook, as soon as they 'ad quieted Sarah Ann with a bowlo' cold water that young Bill 'ad the presence o' mind to go and fetch."Gaol! What for?"

  "You wouldn't believe if I was to tell you." ses Charlie, getting up togo, "and besides, I don't want any of you to think as 'ow I am worsethan wot I am."

  He shook his 'cad at them sorrowful-like, and afore they could stop 'imhe 'ad gone. Old Cook shouted arter 'im, but it was no use, and theothers was running into the scullery to fill the bowl agin for Emma.

  Mrs. Cook went round to 'is lodgings next morning, but found that 'e wasout. They began to fancy all sorts o' things then, but Charlie turned upagin that evening more miserable than ever.

  "I went round to see you this morning," ses Mrs. Cook, "but you wasn'tat 'ome."

  "I never am, 'ardly," ses Charlie. "I can't be--it ain't safe."

  "Why not?" ses Mrs. Cook, fidgeting.

  "If I was to tell you, you'd lose your good opinion of me," ses Charlie.

  "It wouldn't be much to lose," ses Mrs. Cook, firing up.

  Charlie didn't answer 'er. When he did speak he spoke to the old man,and he was so down-'arted that 'e gave 'im the chills a'most, He 'ardlytook any notice of Emma, and, when Mrs. Cook spoke about the shop agin,said that chandlers' shops was for happy people, not for 'im.

  By the time they sat down to supper they was nearly all as miserable asCharlie 'imself. From words he let drop they all seemed to 'ave the ideathat the police was arter 'im, and Mrs. Cook was just asking 'im for wotshe called the third and last time, but wot was more likely the hundredand third, wot he'd done, when there was a knock at the front door, soloud and so sudden that old Cook and young Bill both cut their mouths atthe same time.

  "Anybody 'ere o' the name of Emma Cook?" ses a man's voice, when youngBill opened the door.

  "She's inside," ses the boy, and the next moment Jack Bates followed 'iminto the room, and then fell back with a start as 'e saw Charlie Tagg.

  "Ho, 'ere you are, are you?" he ses, looking at 'im very black. "Wot'sthe matter?" ses Mrs. Cook, very sharp.

  "I didn't expect to 'ave the pleasure o' seeing you 'ere, my lad," sesJack, still staring at Charlie, and twisting 'is face up into awfulscowls. "Which is Emma Cook?"

  "Miss Cook is my name," ses Emma, very sharp. "Wot d'ye want?"

  "Very good," ses Jack Bates, looking at Charlie agin; "then p'r'apsyou'll do me the kindness of telling that lie o' yours agin afore thisyoung lady." />
  "It's the truth," ses Charlie, looking down at 'is plate.

  "If somebody don't tell me wot all this is about in two minutes, I shalldo something desprit," ses Mrs. Cook, getting up.

  "This 'ere--er--man," ses Jack Bates, pointing at Charlie, "owes meseventy-five pounds and won't pay. When I ask 'im for it he ses a partyhe's keeping company with, by the name of Emma Cook, 'as got it, and hecan't get it."

  "So she has," ses Charlie, without looking up.

  "Wot does 'e owe you the money for?" ses Mrs. Cook.

  "'Cos I lent it to 'im," ses Jack.

  "Lent it? What for?" ses Mrs. Cook.

  "'Cos I was a fool, I s'pose," ses jack Bates; "a good-natured fool.Anyway, I'm sick and tired of asking for it, and if I don't get itto-night I'm going to see the police about it."

  He sat down on a chair with 'is hat cocked over one eye, and they allsat staring at 'im as though they didn't know wot to say next.

  "So this is wot you meant when you said you'd got the chance of alifetime, is it?" ses Mrs. Cook to Charlie. "This is wot you wanted itfor, is it? Wot did you borrow all that money for?"

  "Spend," ses Charlie, in a sulky voice.

  "Spend!" ses Mrs. Cook, with a scream; "wot in?"

  "Drink and cards mostly," ses Jack Bates, remembering wot Charlie 'adtold 'im about blackening 'is character.

  You might ha' heard a pin drop a'most, and Charlie sat there withoutsaying a word.

  "Charlie's been led away," ses Mrs. Cook, looking 'ard at Jack Bates. "Is'pose you lent 'im the money to win it back from 'im at cards, didn'tyou?"

  "And gave 'im too much licker fust," ses old Cook. "I've 'eard of yourkind. If Charlie takes my advice 'e won't pay you a farthing. I shouldlet you do your worst if I was 'im; that's wot I should do. You've got alow face; a nasty, ugly, low face."

  "One o' the worst I ever see," ses Mrs. Cook. "It looks as though itmight ha' been cut out o' the Police News."

  "'Owever could you ha' trusted a man with a face like that, Charlie?"ses old Cook. "Come away from 'im, Bill; I don't like such a chap in theroom."

  Jack Bates began to feel very awk'ard. They was all glaring at 'im asthough they could eat 'im, and he wasn't used to such treatment. And, asa matter o' fact, he'd got a very good-'arted face.

  "You go out o' that door," ses old Cook, pointing to it. "Go and do yourworst. You won't get any money 'ere."

  "Stop a minute," ses Emma, and afore they could stop 'er she ranupstairs. Mrs. Cook went arter 'er and 'igh words was heard up in thebedroom, but by-and-by Emma came down holding her head very 'igh andlooking at Jack Bates as though he was dirt.

  "How am I to know Charlie owes you this money?" she ses.

  Jack Bates turned very red, and arter fumbling in 'is pockets took outabout a dozen dirty bits o' paper, which Charlie 'ad given 'im for I OU's. Emma read 'em all, and then she threw a little parcel on the table.

  "There's your money," she ses; "take it and go."

  Mrs. Cook and 'er father began to call out, but it was no good.

  "There's seventy-two pounds there," ses Emma, who was very pale; "and'ere's a ring you can have to 'elp make up the rest." And she drewCharlie's ring off and throwed it on the table. "I've done with 'im forgood," she ses, with a look at 'er mother.

  Jack Bates took up the money and the ring and stood there looking at 'erand trying to think wot to say. He'd always been uncommon partial to thesex, and it did seem 'ard to stand there and take all that on account ofCharlie Tagg.

  "I only wanted my own," he ses, at last, shuffling about the floor.

  "Well, you've got it," ses Mrs. Cook, "and now you can go."

  "You're pi'soning the air of my front parlour," ses old Cook, openingthe winder a little at the top.

  "P'r'aps I ain't so bad as you think I am," ses Jack Bates, stilllooking at Emma, and with that 'e walked over to Charlie and dumped downthe money on the table in front of 'im. "Take it," he ses, "and don'tborrow any more. I make you a free gift of it. P'r'aps my 'art ain't asblack as my face," he ses, turning to Mrs. Cook.

  They was all so surprised at fust that they couldn't speak, but old Cooksmiled at 'im and put the winder up agin. And Charlie Tagg sat there arfmad with temper, locking as though 'e could eat Jack Bates without anysalt, as the saying is.

  "I--I can't take it," he ses at last, with a stammer.

  "Can't take it? Why not?" ses old Cook, staring. "This gentleman 'asgiven it to you." "A free gift," ses Mrs. Cook, smiling at Jack verysweet.

  "I can't take it," ses Charlie, winking at Jack to take the money up andgive it to 'im quiet, as arranged. "I 'ave my pride."

  "So 'ave I," ses Jack. "Are you going to take it?"

  Charlie gave another look. "No," he ses, "I cant take a favour. Iborrowed the money and I'll pay it back.

  "Very good," ses Jack, taking it up. "It's my money, ain't it?"

  "Yes," ses Charlie, taking no notice of Mrs. Cook and 'er husband, wotwas both talking to 'im at once, and trying to persuade 'im to alter hismind.

  "Then I give it to Miss Emma Cook," ses Jack Bates, putting it into herhands. "Good-night everybody and good luck."

  He slammed the front door behind 'im and they 'eard 'im go off down theroad as if 'e was going for fire-engines. Charlie sat there for a momentstruck all of a heap, and then 'e jumped up and dashed arter 'im. Hejust saw 'im disappearing round a corner, and he didn't see 'im agin fora couple o' year arterwards, by which time the Sydney gal had 'ad threeor four young men arter 'im, and Emma, who 'ad changed her name toSmith, was doing one o' the best businesses in the chandlery line inPoplar.

  THE CONSTABLE'S MOVE