by W. W. Jacobs
Produced by David Widger
SAILORS' KNOTS
By W.W. Jacobs
1909
SELF-HELP
The night-watchman sat brooding darkly over life and its troubles. Ashooting corn on the little toe of his left foot, and a touch of liver,due, he was convinced, to the unlawful cellar work of the landlord of theQueen's Head, had induced in him a vein of profound depression. Adiscarded boot stood by his side, and his gray-stockinged foot protrudedover the edge of the jetty until a passing waterman gave it a playful rapwith his oar. A subsequent inquiry as to the price of pigs' trottersfell on ears rendered deaf by suffering.
"I might 'ave expected it," said the watchman, at last. "I done thatman--if you can call him a man--a kindness once, and this is my rewardfor it. Do a man a kindness, and years arterwards 'e comes along andhits you over your tenderest corn with a oar."
"''E comes along and hits you over your tenderest cornwith a oar.'"]
He took up his boot, and, inserting his foot with loving care, stoopeddown and fastened the laces.
Do a man a kindness, he continued, assuming a safer posture, and 'e triesto borrow money off of you; do a woman a kindness and she thinks you wanttr marry 'er; do an animal a kindness and it tries to bite you--same as ahorse bit a sailorman I knew once, when 'e sat on its head to 'elp it getup. He sat too far for'ard, pore chap.
Kindness never gets any thanks. I remember a man whose pal broke 'is legwhile they was working together unloading a barge; and he went off tobreak the news to 'is pal's wife. A kind-'earted man 'e was as ever yousee, and, knowing 'ow she would take on when she 'eard the news, he toldher fust of all that 'er husband was killed. She took on like a madthing, and at last, when she couldn't do anything more and 'ad quieteddown a bit, he told 'er that it was on'y a case of a broken leg, thinkingthat 'er joy would be so great that she wouldn't think anything of that.He 'ad to tell her three times afore she understood 'im, and then,instead of being thankful to 'im for 'is thoughtfulness, she chased him'arf over Wapping with a chopper, screaming with temper.
I remember Ginger Dick and Peter Russet trying to do old Sam Small akindness one time when they was 'aving a rest ashore arter a v'y'ge.They 'ad took a room together as usual, and for the fust two or threedays they was like brothers. That couldn't last, o' course, and Sam wasso annoyed one evening at Ginger's suspiciousness by biting a 'arf-dollarSam owed 'im and finding it was a bad 'un, that 'e went off to spend theevening all alone by himself.
He felt a bit dull at fust, but arter he had 'ad two or three 'arf-pints'e began to take a brighter view of things. He found a very nice, coseylittle public-'ouse he hadn't been in before, and, arter getting two andthreepence and a pint for the 'arf-dollar with Ginger's tooth-marks on,he began to think that the world wasn't 'arf as bad a place as peopletried to make out.
There was on'y one other man in the little bar Sam was in--a tall, darkchap, with black side-whiskers and spectacles, wot kept peeping round thepartition and looking very 'ard at everybody that came in.
"I'm just keeping my eye on 'em, cap'n," he ses to Sam, in a low voice.
"Ho!" ses Sam.
"They don't know me in this disguise," ses the dark man, "but I see as'ow you spotted me at once. Anybody 'ud have a 'ard time of it todeceive you; and then they wouldn't gain nothing by it."
"Nobody ever 'as yet," ses Sam, smiling at 'im.
"And nobody ever will," ses the dark man, shaking his 'cad; "if they wasall as fly as you, I might as well put the shutters up. How did you twigI was a detective officer, cap'n?"
Sam, wot was taking a drink, got some beer up 'is nose with surprise.
"That's my secret," he ses, arter the tec 'ad patted 'im on the back andbrought 'im round.
"You're a marvel, that's wot you are," ses the tec, shaking his 'ead."Have one with me."
Sam said he didn't mind if 'e did, and arter drinking each other'shealths very perlite 'e ordered a couple o' twopenny smokes, and by wayof showing off paid for 'em with 'arf a quid.
"That's right, ain't it?" ses the barmaid, as he stood staring very 'ardat the change. "I ain't sure about that 'arf-crown, now I come to lookat it; but it's the one you gave me."
Pore Sam, with a tec standing alongside of 'im, said it was quite right,and put it into 'is pocket in a hurry and began to talk to the tec asfast as he could about a murder he 'ad been reading about in the paperthat morning. They went and sat down by a comfortable little fire thatwas burning in the bar, and the tec told 'im about a lot o' murder caseshe 'ad been on himself.
"I'm down 'ere now on special work," he ses, "looking arter sailormen."
"Wot ha' they been doing?" ses Sam.
"When I say looking arter, I mean protecting 'em," ses the tec. "Overand over agin some pore feller, arter working 'ard for months at sea,comes 'ome with a few pounds in 'is pocket and gets robbed of the lot.There's a couple o' chaps down 'ere I'm told off to look arter special,but it's no good unless I can catch 'em red-'anded."
"Red-'anded?" ses Sam.
"With their hands in the chap's pockets, I mean," ses the tec.
Sam gave a shiver. "Somebody had their 'ands in my pockets once," heses. "Four pun ten and some coppers they got."
"Wot was they like?" ses the tee, starting.
Sam shook his 'ead. "They seemed to me to be all hands, that's all Iknow about 'em," he ses. "Arter they 'ad finished they leaned me up aginthe dock wall an' went off."
"It sounds like 'em," ses the tec, thoughtfully. "It was Long Pete andFair Alf, for a quid; that's the two I'm arter."
He put his finger in 'is weskit-pocket. "That's who I am," he ses,'anding Sam a card; "Detective-Sergeant Cubbins. If you ever get intoany trouble at any time, you come to me."
Sam said 'e would, and arter they had 'ad another drink together the tecshifted 'is seat alongside of 'im and talked in his ear.
"If I can nab them two chaps I shall get promotion," he ses; "and it's afi'-pun note to anybody that helps me. I wish I could persuade you to."
"'Ow's it to be done?" ses Sam, looking at 'im.
"I want a respectable-looking seafaring man," ses the tec, speaking veryslow; "that's you. He goes up Tower Hill to-morrow night at nineo'clock, walking very slow and very unsteady on 'is pins, and giving mytwo beauties the idea that 'e is three sheets in the wind. They come upand rob 'im, and I catch them red-'anded. I get promotion, and you get afiver."
"But 'ow do you know they'll be there?" ses Sam, staring at 'im.
Mr. Cubbins winked at 'im and tapped 'is nose.
"Mr. Cubbins winked at 'im and tapped 'is nose."]
"We 'ave to know a good deal in our line o' business," he ses.
"Still," ses Sam, "I don't see----"
"Narks," says the tec; "coppers' narks. You've 'eard of them, cap'n?Now, look 'ere. Have you got any money?"
"I got a matter o' twelve quid or so," ses Sam, in a of hand way.
"The very thing," says the tec. "Well, to-morrow night you put that inyour pocket, and be walking up Tower Hill just as the clock strikes nine.I promise you you'll be robbed afore two minutes past, and by two and a'arf past I shall 'ave my hands on both of 'em. Have all the money inone pocket, so as they can get it neat and quick, in case they getinterrupted. Better still, 'ave it in a purse; that makes it easier tobring it 'ome to 'em."
"Wouldn't it be enough if they stole the purse?" ses Sam. "I should feelsafer that way, too."
Mr. Cubbins shook his 'ead, very slow and solemn. "That wouldn't do atall," he ses. "The more money they steal, the longer they'll get; youknow that, cap'n, without me telling you. If you could put fifty quid init would be so much the better. And, what-ever you do, don't make anoise. I don't want a lot o' clumsy policemen