CHAPTER II.
Addler's Hall.
The whole court Went boiling, bubbling up from all the doors And windows, with a hideous wail of laughs And roar of oaths, and blows, perhaps.... I passed Too quickly for distinguishing ... and pushed A little side door hanging on a hinge, And plunged into the dark. --Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
On the western side of Scotland Road--that is to say, between it andthe Docks--there is a regular network of streets, inhabited mostly bythe lowest class of the Liverpool poor. And those who have occasion topenetrate their dark and filthy recesses are generally thankful whenthey find themselves safe out again. In the winter those streets andcourts are kept comparatively clean by the heavy rains; but in thesummer the air fairly reeks with the stench of decayed fish, rottingvegetables, and every other conceivable kind of filth.
The children, that seem to fairly swarm in this neighbourhood, arenearly all of a pale, sallow complexion, and of stunted growth. Shoesand stockings and underclothing are luxuries that they never know, andone good meal a day is almost more than they dare hope for. Cuffs andkicks they reckon upon every day of their lives; and in this they arerarely disappointed, and a lad who by dodging or cunning can escape thisdaily discipline is looked upon by the others as "'mazin' cute."
To occupy two rooms is a luxury that only comparatively few familiesindulge in. Why should they pay rent for two rooms when one will answerthe purpose? "We know a trick worth two o' that," is their boast. And soyear by year they bid defiance to all law and authority.
The police rarely, if ever, venture into this neighbourhood alone, or ifone should be foolish enough to do so, he has generally to pay dearlyfor his indiscretion. House agents and policemen are objects of specialaversion.
A friend of ours, some years ago, came into considerable property inthis neighbourhood, and employed a young man who was new to the workto collect the rents for him. On entering the first house the agent wasconfronted by a big, villainous-looking man, who demanded in a surlytone what he wanted.
"I am come for the rent," said the agent.
"Oh, you have, have you?" was the reply.
"Yes."
"Ah! Did anybody see you come in?"
"No."
And instantly seizing a huge poker and waving it in the air, he shoutedto the affrighted agent, with a terrible oath, "Then I'll take carenobody ever sees you go out."
This had the desired effect, and the terrified agent escaped for hislife. At the next house at which he called he was received very blandly.
"So you have come for the rint, have you?"
"Yes, that is my business."
"Ah, yes, indeed, very proper. Could you change a five pun' note, now?"
"Oh, yes."
"That will do." Then raising his voice to a loud pitch, he shouted,"Mike, come down here; there's a chap that 'as five pun' in his pocket;let's collar him--quick!"
And a second time the affrighted agent fled, and gave up the situationat once, vowing he would never enter any of those streets again while helived.
It was to this neighbourhood that Benny Bates and his sister wendedtheir way, after leaving old Joe and his warm fire. Whether thelamplighter had neglected his duty, or whether some of the inhabitants,"loving darkness rather than light," had shut off the gas, is notcertain; but anyhow Bowker's Row and several of the adjacent courts werein total darkness.
This, however, seemed no matter of surprise to Benny and little Nell,who wended their way without difficulty along the rough, ill-pavedstreet. At length they turned up a narrow court, darker and dirtier eventhan Bowker's Row, which went by the name of "Addler's Hall." Abouthalf-way up this court they paused for a moment and listened; then,cautiously pushing open a door, they entered the only home they had everknown.
Much to their relief, they found the house empty. A lump of coal wassmouldering in the grate, which Benny at once broke up, and soon a ruddyglare from the fire lighted up the dismal room.
The furniture consisted of a three-legged round table, a chair minusa leg, and a three-legged stool. On the window-sill there was a glassbottle with a candle stuck in the neck, and under the stairs therewas a heap of rags and shavings, on which Benny and his sister slept.A frying-pan was suspended against the wall near the fireplace, andseveral cracked cups and saucers, together with a quart mug, stood onthe table. The only other article of furniture was a small cupboard ina corner of the room close up to the ceiling, placed there, no doubt, tobe out of the way of the children.
Drawing the chair and the stool close up to the fire, Benny and hissister waited the return of their parents.
Outside, the wind moaned and wailed, and whistled through the keyholeand the chinks in the door, and rattled the paper and rags with whichthe holes in the window were stopped. And as the children listened theyshivered, and drew closer together, and nearer the fire.
"By golly!" said Benny, "this 'ouse is like a hair-balloon. I wish ashow we could keep the wind out."
"You can't do that, Benny; it creeps in everywheres."
"Are 'e cold, Nell?"
"No, not very; but I's very hungry."
Just then an uncertain step was heard in the court outside, and the nextmoment their stepmother staggered into the room.
"Now, out of the way, you brats," was her greeting, "while I cooks yourfaather's supper."
And without a word they got out of her way as quickly as possible, forthey saw at a glance she was not in the best of humours. They werepleased to see, however, that she had brought with her a loaf of bread,some butter, and several red herrings, and so they were hopeful that foronce they would get a good supper.
The supper was not quite ready when their father came in, flushed andexcited.
"Where's the brats?" was his first angry exclamation, glancing round theroom.
"There," said his wife, pointing under the stairs, where the childrenwere crouched.
"Come out here, you young vermin; quick! do you hear?"
And the frightened children came out and stood before him.
"Have you brought me that sixpence that I told yer? For, if youain't," said he, scowling at Benny, "I'll loosen yer hide for yer indouble-quick time."
"Ay," said the little fellow, producing the sixpence, "'ere it are."
"Is that all you've got?"
Benny shot a quick glance at his sister before replying, which, however,did not escape his father's eye.
"Ay," he said, stoutly; "I ain't got no more."
"You lie, you villain!" roared the father; "fork it out this moment."
"I tell yer I ain't got none," said Benny. Nelly was about to speakhere, but a glance from her brother silenced her.
"Will you fork it out?" said the father again.
"No," was the reply.
In a moment Dick Bates had taken the leather strap from his waist, andwithout mercy rained blow after blow upon the head and shoulders of hischild.
At first Benny bore the blows without shrinking and without uttering acry; but this only the more aggravated the inhuman father, and fasterand more furious fell the blows, till the little fellow shrieked withpain and begged for mercy. But there was no mercy in the father's heart,and still the blows fell, till little Nelly, unable longer to bear it,rushed in between her father and brother, saying, "You shall not beatBenny so."
"Oh, you want it too, do you?" roared he. "Then take that, and that, andthat."
"Faather," said Benny, "will you strike Nell?"
The question for a moment seemed to stagger him, and he looked down uponthe pleading face of his suffering child, and into those great roundeyes that were full of pain and tears, and the hand that was raised tostrike fell powerless to his side, and with a groan he turned away.
What was there in the face of his little daughter that touched thiscruel, besotted man? We cannot tell. Perhaps he caught a glimpse in thatsweet face of his early love.
It is said that he loved his first wife dearly
, and that while shelived he was tolerably steady, and was never unkind to her. He even wentwith her to the house of prayer, and listened to her while she read theBible aloud during winter evenings. These were happy days, but when shedied all this was changed; he tried to forget his trouble in drink, andin the companionship of the lowest and most degraded men and women.
Then he married again, a coarse drunken woman, who had ever since ledhim a wretched life; and every year he had become more drunken andvicious.
If he yet loved anything in the world, it was his "little Nell," as healways called her. She was wonderfully like her mother, the neighbourssaid, and that was doubtless the reason why Dick Bates continued to loveher when all love for everything else had died out of his heart.
He had never treated her before as he had treated her to-night; it was anew experience to the child, and for long after she lay on her heap ofshavings with dry eyes and hot cheeks, staring into vacancy.
But when the last spark of fire had died out, and her father andstepmother were asleep in the room above, turning to her brother, whowas still awake, she said,
"Put your arm about me, Benny, will yer?"
And Benny put his arm around his little sister, and pressed her face tohis bosom. And then the fountain of the child's tears was broken up,and she wept as though her heart would break, and great sobs shook herlittle frame, and broke the silence of the night.
Benny silently kissed away the tears, and tried to comfort the littlebreaking heart. After awhile she grew calm, and Benny grew resolute.
"I's not going to stand this no longer," he said.
"What will you do, Benny?"
"Do? Well, I dunno, yet; but I's bound to do some'at, an' I will too."
After awhile he spoke again. "I say, Nell, ain't yer hungry? for I is. Ibelieve I could eat a grave-stun."
"I was hungry afore faather beat me, but I doesna feel it now," was thereply.
"Well, I seen where mother put the bread an' butter, and if I dunna forkthe lot I's not Ben Bates."
"But how will yer get to it, Benny?"
"Aisy 'nough, on'y you must 'elp me."
So without much noise they moved the table into the corner of the roomunderneath the cupboard, and placing the chair on the top of the table,Benny mounted the top, and was able to reach the cupboard withoutdifficulty.
A fair share of the loaf remained, and "heaps of butter," Benny said.
"Now, Nell," said he, "we'll 'ave a feast."
And a feast they did have, according to Benny's thinking, for verylittle of either loaf or butter remained when they had finished theirrepast.
"What will mother say when she finds out?" said Nelly, when they hadagain lain down.
"We must be off afore she wakes, Nell, and never come back no more."
"Dost 'a mean it, Benny?"
"Ay do I. We mun take all our traps wi' us i' t' morning."
"Where shall us go?"
"Never fear, we'll find a shop somewheres, an' anywheres is better northis."
"Ay, that's so."
"Now, Nell, we mun sleep a bit, 'cause as how we'll 'ave to be stirringairly."
And soon the brother and sister were fast asleep, locked in each other'sarms.
Her Benny: A Story of Street Life Page 2