Sailor's Knots (Entire Collection)

“I’ll find somewhere,” ses Rupert. “I sha’n’t starve.”

“You might ketch your death o’ cold, though,” ses George.

Rupert said he didn’t mind, and then he shut ‘is eyes and pretended to be asleep. His idea was to wait till George was asleep and then pinch ‘is clothes; consequently ‘is feelings when ‘e opened one eye and saw George getting into bed with ‘is clothes on won’t bear thinking about. He laid awake for hours, and three times that night George, who was a very heavy sleeper, woke up and found Rupert busy tucking him in.

By the end of the week Rupert was getting desperate. He hated being black for one thing, and the more he washed the better color he looked. He didn’t mind the black for out o’ doors, in case the Army was looking for ‘im, but ‘aving no clothes he couldn’t get out o’ doors; and when he said he wouldn’t perform unless he got some, Mr. Alfredi dropped ‘ints about having ‘im took up for a deserter.

“I’ve ‘ad my suspicions of it for some days,” he ses, with a wink, “though you did come to me in a nice serge suit and tell me you was an actor. Now, you be a good boy for another week and I’ll advance you a couple o’ pounds to get some clothes with.”

Rupert asked him to let ‘im have it then, but ‘e wouldn’t, and for another week he ‘ad to pretend ‘e was a Zulu of an evening, and try and persuade Kumbo that he was an English gentleman of a daytime.

He got the money at the end of the week and ‘ad to sign a paper to give a month’s notice any time he wanted to leave, but he didn’t mind that at all, being determined the fust time he got outside the place to run away and ship as a nigger cook if ‘e couldn’t get the black off.

He made a list o’ things out for George to get for ‘im, but there seemed to be such a lot for two pounds that Mr. Alfredi shook his ‘ead over it; and arter calling ‘imself a soft-’arted fool, and saying he’d finish up in the workhouse, he made it three pounds and told George to look sharp.

“He’s a very good marketer,” he ses, arter George ‘ad gone; “he don’t mind wot trouble he takes. He’ll very likely haggle for hours to get sixpence knocked off the trousers or twopence off the shirt.”

It was twelve o’clock in the morning when George went, and at ha’-past four Rupert turned nasty, and said ‘e was afraid he was trying to get them for nothing. At five o’clock he said George was a fool, and at ha’-past he said ‘e was something I won’t repeat.

It was just eleven o’clock, and they ‘ad shut up for the night, when the front door opened, and George stood there smiling at ‘em and shaking his ‘ead.

“Sush a lark,” he ses, catching ‘old of Mr. Alfredi’s arm to steady ‘imself. “I gave ‘im shlip.”

“Wot d’ye mean?” ses the manager, shaking him off. “Gave who the slip? Where’s them clothes?”

“Boy’s got ‘em,” ses George, smiling agin and catching hold of Kumbo’s arm. “Sush a lark; he’s been car-carrying ‘em all day—all day. Now I’ve given ‘im the—the shlip, ‘stead o’—‘stead o’ giving ‘im fourpence. Take care o’ the pensh, an’ pouns—”

He let go o’ Kumbo’s arm, turned round twice, and then sat down ‘eavy and fell fast asleep. The manager rushed to the door and looked out, but there was no signs of the boy, and he came back shaking his ‘ead, and said that George ‘ad been drinking agin.

“Well, wot about my clothes?” ses Rupert, hardly able to speak.

“P’r’aps he didn’t buy ‘em arter all,” ses the manager. “Let’s try ‘is pockets.”

He tried fust, and found some strawberries that George ‘ad spoilt by sitting on. Then he told Rupert to have a try, and Rupert found some bits of string, a few buttons, two penny stamps, and twopence ha’penny in coppers.

“Never mind,” ses Mr. Alfredi; “I’ll go round to the police-station in the morning; p’r’aps the boy ‘as taken them there. I’m disapp’inted in George. I shall tell ‘im so, too.”

He bid Rupert good-night and went off with Mrs. Alfredi; and Rupert, wishful to make the best o’ things, decided that he would undress George and go off in ‘is clothes. He waited till Kumbo ‘ad gone off to bed, and then he started to take George’s coat off. He got the two top buttons undone all right, and then George turned over in ‘is sleep. It surprised Rupert, but wot surprised ‘im more when he rolled George over was to find them two buttons done up agin. Arter it had ‘appened three times he see ‘ow it was, and he come to the belief that George was no more drunk than wot he was, and that it was all a put-up thing between ‘im and Mr. Alfredi.

He went to bed then to think it over, and by the morning he ‘ad made up his mind to keep quiet and bide his time, as the saying is. He spoke quite cheerful to Mr. Alfredi, and pretended to believe ‘im when he said that he ‘ad been to the police-station about the clothes.

Two days arterwards he thought of something; he remembered me. He ‘ad found a dirty old envelope on the floor, and with a bit o’ lead pencil he wrote me a letter on the back of one o’ the bills, telling me all his troubles, and asking me to bring some clothes and rescue ‘im. He stuck on one of the stamps he ‘ad found in George’s pocket, and opening the door just afore going to bed threw it out on the pavement.

The world is full of officious, interfering busy-bodies. I should no more think of posting a letter that didn’t belong to me, with an unused stamp on it, than I should think o’ flying; but some meddle-some son of a –a gun posted that letter and I got it.

I was never more surprised in my life. He asked me to be outside the shop next night at ha’-past eleven with any old clothes I could pick up. If I didn’t, he said he should ‘ang ‘imself as the clock struck twelve, and that his ghost would sit on the wharf and keep watch with me every night for the rest o’ my life. He said he expected it ‘ud have a black face, same as in life.

A wharf is a lonely place of a night; especially our wharf, which is full of dark corners, and, being a silly, good-natured fool, I went. I got a pal off of one of the boats to keep watch for me, and, arter getting some old rags off of another sailorman as owed me arf a dollar, I ‘ad a drink and started off for the Mile End Road.

I found the place easy enough. The door was just on the jar, and as I tapped on it with my finger-nails a wild-looking black man, arf naked, opened it and said “H’sh!” and pulled me inside. There was a bit o’ candle on the floor, shaded by a box, and a man fast asleep and snoring up in one corner. Rupert dressed like lightning, and he ‘ad just put on ‘is cap when the door at the back opened and a ‘orrid fat black woman came out and began to chatter.

Rupert told her to hush, and she ‘ushed, and then he waved ‘is hand to ‘er to say “good-bye,” and afore you could say Jack Robinson she ‘ad grabbed up a bit o’ dirty blanket, a bundle of assegais, and a spear, and come out arter us.

“Back!” ses Rupert in a whisper, pointing.

Kumbo shook her ‘ead, and then he took hold of ‘er and tried to shove ‘er back, but she wouldn’t go. I lent him a ‘and, but all wimmen are the same, black or white, and afore I knew where I was she ‘ad clawed my cap off and scratched me all down one side of the face.

“Walk fast,” ses Rupert.

I started to run, but it was all no good; Kumbo kept up with us easy, and she was so pleased at being out in the open air that she began to dance and play about like a kitten. Instead o’ minding their own business people turned and follered us, and quite a crowd collected.

“We shall ‘ave the police in a minute,” ses Rupert. “Come in ‘ere— quick.”

He pointed to a pub up a side street, and went in with Kumbo holding on to his arm. The barman was for sending us out at fust, but such a crowd follered us in that he altered ‘is mind. I ordered three pints, and, while I was ‘anding Rupert his, Kumbo finished ‘ers and began on mine. I tried to explain, but she held on to it like grim death, and in the confusion Rupert slipped out.

He ‘adn’t been gone five seconds afore she missed ‘im, and I never see anybody so upset in all my life. She spilt the beer all down the place where ‘er bodice ought to ha’ been, and then she dropped the pot and went arter ‘im like a hare. I follered in a different way, and when I got round the corner I found she ‘ad caught ‘im and was holding ‘im by the arm.

O’ course, the crowd was round us agin, and to get rid of ‘em I did a thing I’d seldom done afore—I called a cab, and we all bundled in and drove off to the wharf, with the spear sticking out o’ the window, and most of the assegais sticking into me.

“This is getting serious,” ses Rupert.

“Yes,” I ses; “and wot ‘ave I done to be dragged into it? You must ha’ been paying ‘er some attention to make ‘er carry on like this.”

I thought Rupert would ha’ bust, and the things he said to the man wot was spending money like water to rescue ‘im was disgraceful.

We got to the wharf at last, and I was glad to see that my pal ‘ad got tired of night-watching and ‘ad gone off, leaving the gate open. Kumbo went in ‘anging on to Rupert’s arm, and I follered with the spear, which I ‘ad held in my ‘and while I paid the cabman.

They went into the office, and Rupert and me talked it over while Kumbo kept patting ‘is cheek. He was afraid that the manager would track ‘im to the wharf, and I was afraid that the guv’nor would find out that I ‘ad been neglecting my dooty, for the fust time in my life.

We talked all night pretty near, and then, at ha’-past five, arf an hour afore the ‘ands came on, I made up my mind to fetch a cab and drive ‘em to my ‘ouse. I wanted Rupert to go somewhere else, but ‘e said he ‘ad got nowhere else to go, and it was the only thing to get ‘em off the wharf. I opened the gates at ten minutes to six, and just as the fust man come on and walked down the wharf we slipped in and drove away.

We was all tired and yawning. There’s something about the motion of a cab or an omnibus that always makes me feel sleepy, and arter a time I closed my eyes and went off sound. I remember I was dreaming that I ‘ad found a bag o’ money, when the cab pulled up with a jerk in front of my ‘ouse and woke me up. Opposite me sat Kumbo fast asleep, and Rupert ‘ad disappeared!

I was dazed for a moment, and afore I could do anything Kumbo woke up and missed Rupert. Wot made matters worse than anything was that my missis was kneeling down in the passage doing ‘er door-step, and ‘er face, as I got down out o’ that cab with Kumbo ‘anging on to my arm was something too awful for words. It seemed to rise up slow-like from near the door-step, and to go on rising till I thought it ‘ud never stop. And every inch it rose it got worse and worse to look at.

She stood blocking up the doorway with her ‘ands on her ‘ips, while I explained, with Kumbo still ‘anging on my arm and a crowd collecting behind, and the more I explained, the more I could see she didn’t believe a word of it.

She never ‘as believed it. I sent for Mr. Alfredi to come and take Kumbo away, and when I spoke to ‘im about Rupert he said I was dreaming, and asked me whether I wasn’t ashamed o’ myself for carrying off a pore black gal wot ‘ad got no father or mother to look arter her. He said that afore my missis, and my character ‘as been under a cloud ever since, waiting for Rupert to turn up and clear it away.

HOMEWARD BOUND

Mr. Hatchard’s conversation for nearly a week had been confined to fault-finding and grunts, a system of treatment designed to wean Mrs. Hatchard from her besetting sin of extravagance. On other occasions the treatment had, for short periods, proved successful, but it was quite evident that his wife’s constitution was becoming inured to this physic and required a change of treatment. The evidence stared at him from the mantelpiece in the shape of a pair of huge pink vases, which had certainly not been there when he left in the morning. He looked at them and breathed heavily.

“Pretty, ain’t they?” said his wife, nodding at them.

“Who gave ‘em to you?” inquired Mr. Hatchard, sternly.

His wife shook her head. “You don’t get vases like that given to you,” she said, slowly. “Leastways, I don’t.”