by W. W. Jacobs
Produced by David Widger
SHIP'S COMPANY
By W.W. Jacobs
FRIENDS IN NEED
R. Joseph Gibbs finished his half-pint in the private bar of the Red Lionwith the slowness of a man unable to see where the next was coming from,and, placing the mug on the counter, filled his pipe from a small paperof tobacco and shook his head slowly at his companions.
"First I've 'ad since ten o'clock this morning," he said, in a hardvoice.
"Cheer up," said Mr. George Brown.
"It can't go on for ever," said Bob Kidd, encouragingly.
"All I ask for--is work," said Mr. Gibbs, impressively. "Not slavery,mind yer, but work."
"It's rather difficult to distinguish," said Mr. Brown.
"'Specially for some people," added Mr. Kidd.
"Go on," said Mr. Gibbs, gloomily. "Go on. Stand a man 'arf a pint, andthen go and hurt 'is feelings. Twice yesterday I wondered to myself whatit would feel like to make a hole in the water."
"Lots o' chaps do do it," said Mr. Brown, musingly.
"And leave their wives and families to starve," said Mr. Gibbs, icily.
"Very often the wife is better off," said his friend. "It's one mouthless for her to feed. Besides, she gen'rally gets something. When poreold Bill went they 'ad a Friendly Lead at the 'King's Head' and got hismissis pretty nearly seventeen pounds."
"And I believe we'd get more than that for your old woman," said Mr.Kidd. "There's no kids, and she could keep 'erself easy. Not that Iwant to encourage you to make away with yourself."
Mr. Gibbs scowled and, tilting his mug, peered gloomily into theinterior.
"Joe won't make no 'ole in the water," said Mr. Brown, wagging his head."If it was beer, now--"
Mr. Gibbs turned and, drawing himself up to five feet three, surveyed thespeaker with an offensive stare.
"I don't see why he need make a 'ole in anything," said Mr. Kidd, slowly."It 'ud do just as well if we said he 'ad. Then we could pass the hatround and share it."
"Divide it into three halves and each 'ave one," said Mr. Brown, nodding;"but 'ow is it to be done?"
"'Ave some more beer and think it over," said Mr. Kidd, pale withexcitement. "Three pints, please."
He and Mr. Brown took up their pints, and nodded at each other. Mr.Gibbs, toying idly with the handle of his, eyed them carefully. "Mind,I'm not promising anything," he said, slowly. "Understand, I ain'ta-committing of myself by drinking this 'ere pint."
"You leave it to me, Joe," said Mr. Kidd.
Mr. Gibbs left it to him after a discussion in which pints played apersuasive part; with the result that Mr. Brown, sitting in the same barthe next evening with two or three friends, was rudely disturbed by thecyclonic entrance of Mr. Kidd, who, dripping with water, sank on a benchand breathed heavily.
"What's up? What's the matter?" demanded several voices.
"It's Joe--poor Joe Gibbs," said Mr. Kidd. "I was on Smith's wharfshifting that lighter to the next berth, and, o' course Joe must comeaboard to help. He was shoving her off with 'is foot when--"
He broke off and shuddered and, accepting a mug of beer, pending thearrival of some brandy that a sympathizer had ordered, drank it slowly.
"It all 'appened in a flash," he said, looking round. "By the time I 'adrun round to his end he was just going down for the third time. I hungover the side and grabbed at 'im, and his collar and tie came off in myhand. Nearly went in, I did."
He held out the collar and tie; and approving notice was taken of thefact that he was soaking wet from the top of his head to the middlebutton of his waistcoat.
"Pore chap!" said the landlord, leaning over the bar. "He was in 'ereonly 'arf an hour ago, standing in this very bar."
"Well, he's 'ad his last drop o' beer," said a carman in a chastenedvoice.
"That's more than anybody can say," said the landlord, sharply. "I neverheard anything against the man; he's led a good life so far as I know,and 'ow can we tell that he won't 'ave beer?"
He made Mr. Kidd a present of another small glass of brandy.
"He didn't leave any family, did he?" he inquired, as he passed it over.
"Only a wife," said Mr. Kidd; "and who's to tell that pore soul I don'tknow. She fair doated on 'im. 'Ow she's to live I don't know. I shalldo what I can for 'er."
"Same 'ere," said Mr. Brown, in a deep voice.
"Something ought to be done for 'er," said the carman, as he went out.
"First thing is to tell the police," said the landlord. "They ought toknow; then p'r'aps one of them'll tell her. It's what they're paid for."
"It's so awfully sudden. I don't know where I am 'ardly," said Mr. Kidd."I don't believe she's got a penny-piece in the 'ouse. Pore Joe 'ad alot o' pals. I wonder whether we could'nt get up something for her."
"Go round and tell the police first," said the landlord, pursing up hislips thoughtfully. "We can talk about that later on."
Mr. Kidd thanked him warmly and withdrew, accompanied by Mr. Brown.Twenty minutes later they left the station, considerably relieved at thematter-of-fact way in which the police had received the tidings, and,hurrying across London Bridge, made their way towards a small figuresupporting its back against a post in the Borough market.
"Well?" said Mr. Gibbs, snappishly, as he turned at the sound of theirfootsteps.
"It'll be all right, Joe," said Mr. Kidd. "We've sowed the seed."
"Sowed the wot?" demanded the other.
Mr. Kidd explained.
"Ho!" said Mr. Gibbs. "An' while your precious seed is a-coming up, wotam I to do? Wot about my comfortable 'ome? Wot about my bed and grub?"
His two friends looked at each other uneasily. In the excitement of thearrangements they had for gotten these things, and a long and sometimespainful experience of Mr. Gibbs showed them only too plainly where theywere drifting.
"You'll 'ave to get a bed this side o' the river somewhere," said Mr.Brown, slowly. "Coffee-shop or something; and a smart, active man wotkeeps his eyes open can always pick up a little money."
Mr. Gibbs laughed.
"And mind," said Mr. Kidd, furiously, in reply to the laugh, "anything welend you is to be paid back out of your half when you get it. And, wot'smore, you don't get a ha'penny till you've come into a barber's shop and'ad them whiskers off. We don't want no accidents."
Mr. Gibbs, with his back against the post, fought for his whiskers fornearly half an hour, and at the end of that time was led into a barber's,and in a state of sullen indignation proffered his request for a "clean"shave. He gazed at the bare-faced creature that confronted him in theglass after the operation in open-eyed consternation, and Messrs. Kiddand Brown's politeness easily gave way before their astonishment.
"Well, I may as well have a 'air-cut while I'm here," said Mr. Gibbs,after a lengthy survey.
"And a shampoo, sir?" said the assistant.
"Just as you like," said Mr. Gibbs, turning a deaf ear to the frenziedexpostulations of his financial backers. "Wot is it?"
Mr. Gibbs, with his back against the post, fought fornearly half an hour]
He sat in amazed discomfort during the operation, and emerging with hisfriends remarked that he felt half a stone lighter. The information wasreceived in stony silence, and, having spent some time in the selection,they found a quiet public-house, and in a retired corner formedthemselves into a Committee of Ways and Means.
"That'll do for you to go on with," said Mr. Kidd, after he and Mr. Brownhad each made a contribution; "and, mind, it's coming off of your share."
Mr. Gibbs nodded. "And any evening you want to see me you'll find me inhere," he remarked. "Beer's ripping. Now you'd better go and see my oldwoman."
The two friend
s departed, and, to their great relief, found a little knotof people outside the abode of Mrs. Gibbs. It was clear that the newshad been already broken, and, pushing their way upstairs, they found thewidow with a damp handkerchief in her hand