The Lady of the Barge and Others, Entire Collection

Bill didn’t answer ‘im, and that afternoon the other chaps below being asleep we searched ‘is bunk through and through without any luck, and at last Bill sat down and swore ‘e must ha’ got it about ‘im.

We waited till night, and when everybody was snoring ‘ard we went over to the boy’s bunk and went all through ‘is pockets and felt the linings, and then we went back to our side and Bill said wot ‘e thought about Jimmy in whispers.

“He must ha’ got it tied round ‘is waist next to ‘is skin, like Thomas ‘ad,” I says.

We stood there in the dark whispering, and then Bill couldn’t stand it any longer, and ‘e went over on tiptoe to the bunk ag’in. He was tremblin’ with excitement and I wasn’t much better, when all of a sudden the cook sat up in ‘is bunk with a dreadful laughing scream and called out that somebody was ticklin’ ‘im.

I got into my bunk and Bill got into ‘is, and we lay there listening while the cook, who was a terrible ticklish man, leaned out of ‘is bunk and said wot ‘e’d do if it ‘appened ag’in.

“Go to sleep,” says Walter Jones; “you’re dreamin’. Who d’you think would want to tickle you?”

“I tell you,” says the cook, “somebody come over and tickled me with a ‘and the size of a leg o’ mutton. I feel creepy all over.”

Bill gave it up for that night, but the next day ‘e pretended to think Jimmy was gettin’ fat an’ ‘e caught ‘old of ‘im and prodded ‘im all over. He thought ‘e felt something round ‘is waist, but ‘e couldn’t be sure, and Jimmy made such a noise that the other chaps interfered and told Bill to leave ‘im alone. For a whole week we tried to find that money, and couldn’t, and Bill said it was a suspicious thing that Jimmy kept aft a good deal more than ‘e used to, and ‘e got an idea that the boy might ha’ ‘idden it somewhere there. At the end of that time, ‘owever, owing to our being short-’anded, Jimmy was sent for’ard to work as ordinary seaman, and it began to be quite noticeable the way ‘e avoided Bill.

At last one day we got ‘im alone down the fo’c’sle, and Bill put ‘is arm round ‘im and got im on the locker and asked ‘im straight out where the money was.

“Why, I chucked it overboard,” he says. “I told you so afore. What a memory you’ve got, Bill!”

Bill picked ‘im up and laid ‘im on the locker, and we searched ‘im thoroughly. We even took ‘is boots off, and then we ‘ad another look in ‘is bunk while ‘e was putting ‘em on ag’in.

“If you’re innercent,” says Bill, “why don’t you call out?—eh?”

“Because you told me not to say anything about it, Bill,” says the boy. “But I will next time. Loud, I will.”

“Look ‘ere,” says Bill, “you tell us where it is, and the three of us’ll go shares in it. That’ll be two ‘undered pounds each, and we’ll tell you ‘ow to get yours changed without getting caught. We’re cleverer than you are, you know.”

“I know that, Bill,” says the boy; “but it’s no good me telling you lies. I chucked it overboard.”

“Very good, then,” says Bill, getting up. “I’m going to tell the skipper.”

“Tell ‘im,” says Jimmy. “I don’t care.”

“Then you’ll be searched arter you’ve stepped ashore,” says Bill, “and you won’t be allowed on the ship ag’in. You’ll lose it all by being greedy, whereas if you go shares with us you’ll ‘ave two ‘undered pounds.”

I could see as ‘ow the boy ‘adn’t thought o’ that, and try as ‘e would ‘e couldn’t ‘ide ‘is feelin’s. He called Bill a red-nosed shark, and ‘e called me somethin’ I’ve forgotten now.

“Think it over,” says Bill; “mind, you’ll be collared as soon as you’ve left the gangway and searched by the police.”

“And will they tickle the cook too, I wonder?” says Jimmy, savagely.

“And if they find it you’ll go to prison,” says Bill, giving ‘im a clump o’ the side o’ the ‘ead, “and you won’t like that, I can tell you.”

“Why, ain’t it nice, Bill?” says Jimmy, holding ‘is ear.

Bill looked at ‘im and then ‘e steps to the ladder. “I’m not going to talk to you any more, my lad,” ‘e says. “I’m going to tell the skipper.”

He went up slowly, and just as ‘e reached the deck Jimmy started up and called ‘im. Bill pretended not to ‘ear, and the boy ran up on deck and follered ‘im; and arter a little while they both came down again together.

“Did you wish to speak to me, my lad?” says Bill, ‘olding ‘is ‘ead up.

“Yes,” says the boy, fiddling with ‘is fingers; “if you keep your ugly mouth shut, we’ll go shares.”

“Ho!” says Bill, “I thought you throwed it overboard!”

“I thought so, too, Bill,” says Jimmy, very softly, “and when I came below ag’in I found it in my trousers pocket.”

“Where is it now?” says Bill.

“Never mind where it is,” says the boy; “you couldn’t get it if I was to tell you. It’ll take me all my time to do it myself.”

“Where is it?” says Bill, ag’in. “I’m goin’ to take care of it. I won’t trust you.”

“And I can’t trust you,” says Jimmy.

“If you don’t tell me where it is this minute,” says Bill, moving to the ladder ag’in, “I’m off to tell the skipper. I want it in my ‘ands, or at any rate my share of it. Why not share it out now?”

“Because I ‘aven’t got it,” says Jimmy, stamping ‘is foot, “that’s why, and it’s all your silly fault. Arter you came pawing through my pockets when you thought I was asleep I got frightened and ‘id it.”

“Where?” says Bill.

“In the second mate’s mattress,” says Jimmy. “I was tidying up down aft and I found a ‘ole in the underneath side of ‘is mattress and I shoved it in there, and poked it in with a bit o’ stick.”

“And ‘ow are you going to get it?” says Bill, scratching ‘is ‘ead.

“That’s wot I don’t know, seeing that I’m not allowed aft now,” says Jimmy. “One of us’ll ‘ave to make a dash for it when we get to London. And mind if there’s any ‘ankypanky on your part, Bill, I’ll give the show away myself.”

The cook came down just then and we ‘ad to leave off talking, and I could see that Bill was so pleased at finding that the money ‘adn’t been thrown overboard that ‘e was losing sight o’ the difficulty o’ getting at it. In a day or two, ‘owever, ‘e see it as plain as me and Jimmy did, and, as time went by, he got desprit, and frightened us both by ‘anging about aft every chance ‘e got.

The companion-way faced the wheel, and there was about as much chance o’ getting down there without being seen as there would be o’ taking a man’s false teeth out of ‘is mouth without ‘is knowing it. Jimmy went down one day while Bill was at the wheel to look for ‘is knife, wot ‘e thought ‘e’d left down there, and ‘ed ‘ardly got down afore Bill saw ‘im come up ag’in, ‘olding on to the top of a mop which the steward was using.

We couldn’t figure it out nohow, and to think o’ the second mate, a little man with a large fam’ly, who never ‘ad a penny in ‘is pocket, sleeping every night on a six ‘undered pound mattress, sent us pretty near crazy. We used to talk it over whenever we got a chance, and Bill and Jimmy could scarcely be civil to each other. The boy said it was Bill’s fault, and ‘e said it was the boy’s.

“The on’y thing I can see,” says the boy, one day, “is for Bill to ‘ave a touch of sunstroke as ‘e’s leaving the wheel one day, tumble ‘ead-first down the companion-way, and injure ‘isself so severely that ‘e can’t be moved. Then they’ll put ‘im in a cabin down aft, and p’raps I’ll ‘ave to go and nurse ‘im. Anyway, he’ll be down there.”

“It’s a very good idea, Bill,” I says.

“Ho,” says Bill, looking at me as if ‘e would eat me. “Why don’t you do it, then?”

“I’d sooner you did it, Bill,” says the boy; “still, I don’t mind which it is. Why not toss up for it?”

“Get away,” says Bill. “Get away afore I do something you won’t like, you blood-thirsty little murderer.”

“I’ve got a plan myself,” he says, in a low voice, after the boy ‘ad ‘opped off, “and if I can’t think of nothing better I’ll try it, and mind, not a word to the boy.”

He didn’t think o’ nothing better, and one night just as we was making the Channel ‘e tried ‘is plan. He was in the second mate’s watch, and by-and-by ‘e leans over the wheel and says to ‘im in a low voice, “This is my last v’y’ge, sir.”

“Oh,” says the second mate, who was a man as didn’t mind talking to a man before the mast. “How’s that?”