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  Yes, I know, said the night-watchman, thoughtfully, as he sat with acold pipe in his mouth gazing across the river. I've 'eard it afore.People tell me they don't believe in ghosts and make a laugh of 'em, andall I say is: let them take on a night-watchman's job. Let 'em sit 'ereall alone of a night with the water lapping against the posts and thewind moaning in the corners; especially if a pal of theirs has slippedoverboard, and there is little nasty bills stuck up just outside in theHigh Street offering a reward for the body. Twice men 'ave fallenoverboard from this jetty, and I've 'ad to stand my watch here the samenight, and not a farthing more for it.

  One of the worst and artfullest ghosts I ever 'ad anything to do withwas Sam Bullet. He was a waterman at the stairs near by 'ere; the sorto' man that 'ud get you to pay for drinks, and drink yours up by mistakearter he 'ad finished his own. The sort of man that 'ad always left hisbaccy-box at 'ome, but always 'ad a big pipe in 'is pocket.

  He fell overboard off of a lighter one evening, and all that his matescould save was 'is cap. It was on'y two nights afore that he 'ad knockeddown an old man and bit a policeman's little finger to the bone, sothat, as they pointed out to the widder, p'r'aps he was taken for a wisepurpose. P'r'aps he was 'appier where he was than doing six months.

  "He was the sort o' chap that'll make himself 'appy anywhere," ses oneof 'em, comforting-like.

  "Not without me," ses Mrs. Bullet, sobbing, and wiping her eyes onsomething she used for a pocket-hankercher. "He never could bear to beaway from me. Was there no last words?"

  "On'y one," ses one o' the chaps, Joe Peel by name.

  "As 'e fell overboard," ses the other.

  Mrs. Bullet began to cry agin, and say wot a good 'usband he 'ad been."Seventeen years come Michaelmas," she ses, "and never a cross word.Nothing was too good for me. Nothing. I 'ad only to ask to 'ave."

  "Well, he's gorn now," ses Joe, "and we thought we ought to come roundand tell you."

  "So as you can tell the police," ses the other chap.

  That was 'ow I came to hear of it fust; a policeman told me that nightas I stood outside the gate 'aving a quiet pipe. He wasn't sheddingtears; his only idea was that Sam 'ad got off too easy.

  "Well, well," I ses, trying to pacify 'im, "he won't bite no morefingers; there's no policemen where he's gorn to."

  He went off grumbling and telling me to be careful, and I put my pipeout and walked up and down the wharf thinking. On'y a month afore I 'adlent Sam fifteen shillings on a gold watch and chain wot he said anuncle 'ad left 'im. I wasn't wearing it because 'e said 'is unclewouldn't like it, but I 'ad it in my pocket, and I took it out under oneof the lamps and wondered wot I ought to do.

  My fust idea was to take it to Mrs. Bullet, and then, all of a sudden,the thought struck me: "Suppose he 'adn't come by it honest?"

  I walked up and down agin, thinking. If he 'adn't, and it was found out,it would blacken his good name and break 'is pore wife's 'art. That'sthe way I looked at it, and for his sake and 'er sake I determined tostick to it.

  I felt 'appier in my mind when I 'ad decided on that, and I went roundto the Bear's Head and 'ad a pint. Arter that I 'ad another, and then Icome back to the wharf and put the watch and chain on and went on withmy work.

  Every time I looked down at the chain on my waistcoat it reminded me ofSam. I looked on to the river and thought of 'im going down on the ebb.Then I got a sort o' lonesome feeling standing on the end of the jettyall alone, and I went back to the Bear's Head and 'ad another pint.

  They didn't find the body, and I was a'most forgetting about Sam whenone evening, as I was sitting on a box waiting to get my breath back to'ave another go at sweeping, Joe Peel, Sam's mate, came on to the wharfto see me.

  He came in a mysterious sort o' way that I didn't like: looking be'ind'im as though he was afraid of being follered, and speaking in a whisperas if 'e was afraid of being heard. He wasn't a man I liked, and I wasglad that the watch and chain was stowed safe away in my trowsis-pocket.

  "I've 'ad a shock, watchman," he ses.

  "Oh!" I ses.

  "A shock wot's shook me all up," he ses, working up a shiver. "I've seensomething wot I thought people never could see, and wot I never want tosee agin. I've seen Sam!"

  I thought a bit afore I spoke. "Why, I thought he was drownded," I ses.

  "So 'e is," ses Joe. "When I say I've seen 'im I mean that I 'ave seenhis ghost!"

  He began to shiver agin, all over.

  "Wot was it like?" I ses, very calm.

  "Like Sam," he ses, rather short.

  "When was it?" I ses.

  "Last night at a quarter to twelve," he ses. "It was standing at myfront door waiting for me."

  "And 'ave you been shivering like that ever since?" I ses.

  "Worse than that," ses Joe, looking at me very 'ard. "It's wearing offnow. The ghost gave me a message for you."

  I put my 'and in my trowsis-pocket and looked at 'im. Then I walked veryslow, towards the gate.

  "It gave me a message for you," ses Joe, walking beside me. "'We wasalways pals, Joe,'" it ses, "'you and me, and I want you to pay upfifteen bob for me wot I borrowed off of Bill the watchman. I can't restuntil it's paid,' it ses. So here's the fifteen bob, watchman."

  He put his 'and in 'is pocket and takes out fifteen bob and 'olds it outto me.

  "No, no," I ses. "I can't take your money, Joe Peel. It wouldn't beright. Pore Sam is welcome to the fifteen bob--I don't want it."

  "You must take it," ses Joe. "The ghost said if you didn't it would cometo me agin and agin till you did, and I can't stand any more of it."

  "I can't 'elp your troubles," I ses.

  "You must," ses Joe. "'Give Bill the fifteen bob,' it ses, 'and he'llgive you a gold watch and chain wot I gave 'im to mind till it waspaid.'"

  I see his little game then. "Gold watch and chain," I ses, laughing."You must ha' misunderstood it, Joe."

  "I understood it right enough," ses Joe, getting a bit closer to me as Istepped outside the gate. "Here's your fifteen bob; are you going togive me that watch and chain?"

  "Sartainly not," I ses. "I don't know wot you mean by a watch and chain.If I 'ad it and I gave it to anybody, I should give it to Sam's widder,not to you."

  "It's nothing to do with 'er," ses Joe, very quick. "Sam was mostpertikler about that."

  "I expect you dreamt it all," I ses. "Where would pore Sam get a goldwatch and chain from? And why should 'e go to you about it? Why didn't'e come to me? If 'e thinks I 'ave got it let 'im come to me."

  "All right, I'll go to the police-station," ses Joe.

  "I'll come with you," I ses. "But 'ere's a policeman coming along. Let'sgo to 'im."

  I moved towards 'im, but Joe hung back, and, arter using one or twowords that would ha' made any ghost ashamed to know 'im, he sheered off.I 'ad a word or two with the policeman about the weather, and then Iwent inside and locked the gate.

  My idea was that Sam 'ad told Joe about the watch and chain afore hefell overboard. Joe was a nasty customer, and I could see that I should'ave to be a bit careful. Some men might ha' told the police aboutit--but I never cared much for them. They're like kids in a way, alwaysasking questions--most of which you can't answer.

  It was a little bit creepy all alone on the wharf that night. I don'tdeny it. Twice I thought I 'eard something coming up on tip-toe behindme. The second time I was so nervous that I began to sing to keep myspirits up, and I went on singing till three of the hands of the SusanEmily, wot was lying alongside, came up from the fo'c'sle and offered tofight me. I was thankful when daylight came.

  Five nights arterwards I 'ad the shock of my life. It was the fust nightfor some time that there was no craft up. A dark night, and a nastymoaning sort of a wind. I 'ad just lighted the lamp at the corner of thewarehouse, wot 'ad blown out, and was sitting down to rest afore puttingthe ladder away, when I 'appened to look along the jetty and saw a headcoming up over the edge of it. In the light of the lamp I saw the deadwhite face of Sam Bullet's ghost makin
g faces at me.

  I just caught my breath, sharp like, and then turned and ran for thegate like a race-horse. I 'ad left the key in the padlock, in case ofanything happening, and I just gave it one turn, flung the wicket openand slammed it in the ghost's face, and tumbled out into the road.

  I ran slap into the arms of a young policeman wot was passing. Nasty,short-tempered chap he was, but I don't think I was more glad to seeanybody in my life. I hugged 'im till 'e nearly lost 'is breath, andthen he sat me down on the kerb-stone and asked me wot I meant by it.

  Wot with the excitement and the running I couldn't speak at fust, andwhen I did he said I was trying to deceive 'im.

  "There ain't no such thing as ghosts," he ses; "you've been drinking."

  "It came up out o' the river and run arter me like the wind," I ses.

  "Why didn't it catch you, then?" he ses, looking me up and down and allround about. "Talk sense."

  He went up to the gate and peeped in, and, arter watching a moment,stepped inside and walked down the wharf, with me follering. It was mydooty; besides, I didn't like being left all alone by myself.

  Twice we walked up and down and all over the wharf. He flashed hislantern into all the dark corners, into empty barrels and boxes, andthen he turned and flashed it right into my face and shook his 'ead atme.

  "You've been having a bit of a lark with me," he ses, "and for two pinsI'd take you. Mind, if you say a word about this to anybody, I will."

  He stalked off with his 'ead in the air, and left me all alone in chargeof a wharf with a ghost on it. I stayed outside in the street, ofcourse, but every now and then I fancied I heard something moving aboutthe other side of the gate, and once it was so distinct that I run alongto the Bear's Head and knocked 'em up and asked them for a littlebrandy, for illness.

  I didn't get it, of course; I didn't expect to; but I 'ad a littleconversation with the landlord from 'is bedroom-winder that did me moregood than the brandy would ha' done. Once or twice I thought he would'ave fallen out, and many a man has 'ad his licence taken away for lessthan a quarter of wot 'e said to me that night. Arter he thought he 'adfinished and was going back to bed agin, I pointed' out to 'im that he'adn't kissed me "good night," and if it 'adn't ha' been for 'is missisand two grown-up daughters and the potman I believe he'd ha' talked tome till daylight.

  'Ow I got through the rest of the night I don't know. It seemed to betwenty nights instead of one, but the day came at last, and when thehands came on at six o'clock they found the gate open and me on dootysame as usual.

  I slept like a tired child when I got 'ome, and arter a steak and onionsfor dinner I sat down and lit my pipe and tried to think wot was to bedone. One thing I was quite certain about: I wasn't going to spendanother night on that wharf alone.

  I went out arter a bit, as far as the Clarendon Arms, for a breath offresh air, and I 'ad just finished a pint and was wondering whether Iought to 'ave another, when Ted Dennis came in, and my mind was made up.He 'ad been in the Army all 'is life, and, so far, he 'ad never seenanything that 'ad frightened 'im. I've seen him myself take on men twice'is size just for the love of the thing, and, arter knocking them silly,stand 'em a pint out of 'is own pocket. When I asked 'im whether he wasafraid of ghosts he laughed so 'ard that the landlord came from theother end of the bar to see wot was the matter.

  I stood Ted a pint, and arter he 'ad finished it I told 'im just howthings was. I didn't say anything about the watch and chain, becausethere was no need to, and when we came outside agin I 'ad engaged anassistant-watchman for ninepence a night.

  "All you've got to do," I ses, "is to keep me company. You needn't turnup till eight o'clock of a night, and you can leave 'arf an hour aforeme in the morning."

  "Right-o!" ses Ted. "And if I see the ghost I'll make it wish it 'adnever been born."

  It was a load off my mind, and I went 'ome and ate a tea that made mymissis talk about the work-'ouse, and orstritches in 'uman shape wotwould eat a woman out of 'ouse and 'ome if she would let 'em.

  I got to the wharf just as it was striking six, and at a quarter toseven the wicket was pushed open gentle and the ugly 'ead of Mr. JoePeel was shoved inside.

  "Hullo!" I ses. "Wot do you want?"

  "I want to save your life," he ses, in a solemn voice. "You was within ainch of death last night, watchman."

  "Oh!" I ses, careless-like. "'Ow do you know!"

  "The ghost o' Sam Bullet told me," ses Joe. "Arter it 'ad chased you upthe wharf screaming for 'elp, it came round and told me all about it."

  "It seems fond of you," I ses. "I wonder why?"

  "It was in a terrible temper," ses Joe, "and its face was awful to lookat. 'Tell the watchman,' it ses, 'that if he don't give you the watchand chain I shall appear to 'im agin and kill 'im.'"

  "All right," I ses, looking behind me to where three of the 'ands of theDaisy was sitting on the fo'c'sle smoking. "I've got plenty of companyto-night."

  "Company won't save you," ses Joe. "For the last time, are you going togive me that watch and chain, or not? Here's your fifteen bob."

  "No," I ses; "even if I 'ad got it I shouldn't give it to you; and it'sno use giving' it to the ghost, because, being made of air, he 'asn'tgot anywhere to put it."

  "Very good," ses Joe, giving me a black look. "I've done all I can tosave you, but if you won't listen to sense, you won't. You'll see SamBullet agin, and you'll not on'y lose the watch and chain but your lifeas well."

  "All right," I ses, "and thank you kindly, but I've got an assistant, asit 'appens--a man wot wants to see a ghost."

  "An' assistant?" ses Joe, staring.

  "An old soldier," I ses. "A man wot likes trouble and danger. His ideais to shoot the ghost and see wot 'appens."

  "Shoot!" ses Joe. "Shoot a pore 'armless ghost. Does he want to be 'ung?Ain't it enough for a pore man to be drownded, but wot you must try andshoot 'im arterwards? Why, you ought to be ashamed o' yourself. Where'syour 'art?"

  "It won't be shot if it don't come on my wharf," I ses. "Though I don'tmind if it does when I've got somebody with me. I ain't afraid ofanything living, and I don't mind ghosts when there's two of us. Besideswhich, the noise of the pistol 'll wake up 'arf the river."

  "You take care you don't get woke up," ses Joe, 'ardly able to speak fortemper.

  He went off stamping, and grinding 'is teeth, and at eight o'clock tothe minute, Ted Dennis turned up with 'is pistol and helped me take careof the wharf. Happy as a skylark 'e was, and to see him 'iding behind abarrel with his pistol ready, waiting for the ghost, a'most made meforget the expense of it all.

  It never came near us that night, and Ted was a bit disappointed nextmorning as he took 'is ninepence and went off. Next night was the same,and the next, and then Ted gave up hiding on the wharf for it, and satand snoozed in the office instead.

  A week went by, and then another, and still there was no sign of SamBullet's ghost, or Joe Peel, and every morning I 'ad to try and work upa smile as I shelled out ninepence for Ted. It nearly ruined me, and,worse than that, I couldn't explain why I was short to the missis. Fustof all she asked me wot I was spending it on, then she asked me who Iwas spending it on. It nearly broke up my 'ome--she did smash onekitchen- chair and a vase off the parlour mantelpiece--but I wouldn'ttell 'er, and then, led away by some men on strike at Smith's wharf, Tedwent on strike for a bob a night.

  That was arter he 'ad been with me for three weeks, and when Saturdaycame, of course I was more short than ever, and people came and stood attheir doors all the way down our street to listen to the missis takingmy character away.

  I stood it as long as I could, and then, when 'er back was turned for'arf a moment, I slipped out. While she'd been talking I'd beenthinking, and it came to me clear as daylight that there was no need forme to sacrifice myself any longer looking arter a dead man's watch andchain.

  I didn't know exactly where Joe Peel lived, but I knew the part, andarter peeping into seven public-'ouses I see the man I wanted sitting by'imself in
a little bar. I walked in quiet-like, and sat down opposite'im.

  "Morning," I ses.

  Joe Peel grunted.

  "'Ave one with me?" I ses.

  He grunted agin, but not quite so fierce, and I fetched the two pintsfrom the counter and took a seat alongside of 'im.

  "I've been looking for you," I ses.

  "Oh!" he ses, looking me up and down and all over. "Well, you've foundme now."

  "I want to talk to you about the ghost of pore Sam Bullet," I ses.

  Joe Peel put 'is mug down sudden and looked at me fierce. "Look 'ere!Don't you come and try to be funny with me," he ses. "'Cos I won't 'aveit."

  "I don't want to be funny," I ses. "Wot I want to know is, are you inthe same mind about that watch and chain as you was the other day?"

  He didn't seem to be able to speak at fust, but arter a time 'e gives agasp. "Woes the game?" he ses.

  "Wot I want to know is, if I give you that watch and chain for fifteenbob, will that keep the ghost from 'anging round my wharf agin?" I ses.

  "Why, o' course," he ses, staring; "but you ain't been seeing it agin,'ave you?"

  "I've not, and I don't want to," I ses. "If it wants you to 'ave thewatch and chain, give me the fifteen bob, and it's yours."

  He looked at me for a moment as if he couldn't believe 'is eyesight, andthen 'e puts his 'and into 'is trowsis-pocket and pulls out one shillingand fourpence, 'arf a clay-pipe, and a bit o' lead-pencil.

  "That's all I've got with me," he ses. "I'll owe you the rest. You oughtto ha' took the fifteen bob when I 'ad it."

  There was no 'elp for it, and arter making 'im swear to give me the resto' the money when 'e got it, and that I shouldn't see the ghost agin, I'anded the things over to 'im and came away. He came to the door to seeme off, and if ever a man looked puzzled, 'e did. Pleased at the sametime.

  It was a load off of my mind. My con-science told me I'd done right, andarter sending a little boy with a note to Ted Dennis to tell 'im not tocome any more, I felt 'appier than I 'ad done for a long time. When Igot to the wharf that evening it seemed like a diff'rent place, and Iwas whistling and smiling over my work quite in my old way, when theyoung policeman passed.

  "Hullo!" he ses. "'Ave you seen the ghost agin?"

  "I 'ave not," I ses, drawing myself up. "'Ave you?"

  "No," he ses.

  "We missed it."

  "Missed it?" I ses, staring at 'im.

  "Yes," he ses, nodding. "The day arter you came out screaming, andcuddling me like a frightened baby, it shipped as A.B. on the barqueOcean King, for Valparaiso. We missed it by a few hours. Next time yousee a ghost, knock it down fust and go and cuddle the policearterwards."

  BEDRIDDEN