by W. W. Jacobs
Produced by David Widger
SAILORS' KNOTS
By W.W. Jacobs
1909
ODD MAN OUT
The night watchman pursed up his lips and shook his head. Friendship, hesaid, decidedly, is a deloosion and a snare. I've 'ad more friendshipsin my life than most people--owing to being took a fancy to for somereason or other--and they nearly all came to a sudden ending.
"Friendship, he said, decidedly, is a deloosion and asnare."]
I remember one man who used to think I couldn't do wrong; everything Idid was right to 'im; and now if I pass 'im in the street he makes a faceas if he'd got a hair in 'is mouth. All because I told 'im the truth oneday when he was thinking of getting married. Being a bit uneasy-like inhis mind, he asked me 'ow, supposing I was a gal, his looks would strikeme.
It was an orkard question, and I told him that he 'ad got a good 'art andthat no man could 'ave a better pal. I said he 'ad got a good temper andwas free with 'is money. O' course, that didn't satisfy 'im, and at lasthe told me to take a good look at 'im and tell him wot I thought of 'islooks. There was no getting out of it, and at last I 'ad to tell himplain that everybody 'ad diff'rent ideas about looks; that looks wasn'teverything; and that 'andsome is as 'andsome does. Even then 'e wasn'tsatisfied, and at last I told 'im, speaking as a pal to a pal, that if Iwas a gal and he came along trying to court me, I should go to the policeabout it.
I remember two young fellers that was shipmates with me some years ago,and they was such out-and-out pals that everybody called 'em the Siamesetwins. They always shipped together and shared lodgings together whenthey was ashore, and Ted Denver would no more 'ave thought of going outwithout Charlie Brice than Charlie Brice would 'ave thought of going outwithout 'im. They shared their baccy and their money and everythingelse, and it's my opinion that if they 'ad only 'ad one pair o' bootsbetween 'em they'd 'ave hopped along in one each.
They 'ad been like it for years, and they kept it up when they left thesea and got berths ashore. Anybody knowing them would ha' thought thatnothing but death could part 'em; but it happened otherwise.
There was a gal in it, of course. A gal that Ted Denver got intoconversation with on top of a bus, owing to her steadying 'erself byputting her hand on 'is shoulder as she passed 'im. Bright, lively sorto' gal she seemed, and, afore Ted knew where he was, they was talkingaway as though they 'ad known each other for years.
Charlie didn't seem to care much for it at fust, but he didn't raise noobjection; and when the gal got up to go he stopped the bus for 'er bypoking the driver in the back, and they all got off together. Ted wentfust to break her fall, in case the bus started off too sudden, andCharlie 'elped her down behind by catching hold of a lace collar she waswearing. When she turned to speak to 'im about it, she knocked theconductor's hat off with 'er umbrella, and there was so muchunpleasantness that by the time they 'ad got to the pavement she toldCharlie that she never wanted to see his silly fat face agin.
"It ain't fat," ses Ted, speaking up for 'im; "it's the shape of it."
"And it ain't silly," ses Charlie, speaking very quick; "mind that!"
"It's a bit o' real lace," ses the gal, twisting her 'ead round to lookat the collar; "it cost me one and two-three only last night."
"One an' _wot?_" ses Charlie, who, not being a married man, didn'tunderstand 'er.
"One shilling," ses the gal, "two pennies, and three farthings. D'yeunderstand that?"
"Yes," ses Charlie.
"He's cleverer than he looks," ses the gal, turning to Ted. "I s'poseyou're right, and it is the shape after all."
Ted walked along one side of 'er and Charlie the other, till they came tothe corner of the road where she lived, and then Ted and 'er stood theretalking till Charlie got sick and tired of it, and kept tugging at Ted'scoat for 'im to come away.
"I'm coming," ses Ted, at last. "I s'pose you won't be this wayto-morrow night?" he ses, turning to the gal.
"I might if I thought there was no chance of seeing you," she ses,tossing her 'ead.
"You needn't be alarmed," ses Charlie, shoving in his oar; "we're goingto a music-'all to-morrow night."
"Oh, go to your blessed music-'all," ses the gal to Ted; "I don't wantyou."
She turned round and a'most ran up the road, with Ted follering 'er andbegging of 'er not to be so hasty, and afore they parted she told 'imthat 'er name was. Emma White, and promised to meet 'im there the nextnight at seven.
O' course Mr. Charlie Brice turned up alongside o' Ted the next night,and at fust Emma said she was going straight off 'ome agin. She did gopart o' the way, and then, when she found that Ted wouldn't send his mateoff, she came back and, woman-like, said as 'ow she wasn't going to go'ome just to please Charlie Brice. She wouldn't speak a word to 'im, andwhen they all went to the music-'all together she sat with her faceturned away from 'im and her elbow sticking in 'is chest. Doing that andwatching the performance at the same time gave 'er a stiff neck, and shegot in such a temper over it she wouldn't hardly speak to Ted, and whenCharlie--meaning well--told 'er to rub it with a bit o' mutton-fat shenearly went off her 'ead.
"Who asked you to come with us?" she ses, as soon as she could speak."'Ow dare you force yourself where you ain't wanted?"
"Ted wants me," ses Charlie.
"We've been together for years," ses Ted. "You'll like Charlie when youget used to 'im--everybody does."
"Not me!" ses Emma, with a shiver. "It gives me the fair creeps to lookat him. You'll 'ave to choose between us. If he comes, I sha'n't.Which is it to be?"
Neither of 'em answered 'er, but the next night they both turned up asusual, and Emma White stood there looking at 'em and nearly crying withtemper.
"'Ow would you like it if I brought another young lady with me?" she sesto Ted.
"It wouldn't make no difference to me," ses Ted. "Any friend o' yours iswelcome."
Emma stood looking at 'em, and then she patted 'er eyes with a pocket-'ankercher and began to look more cheerful.
"You ain't the only one that has got a dear friend," she says, looking.at 'im and wiping 'er lips with the 'ankercher. "I've got one, and ifCharlie Brice don't promise to stay at 'ome to-morrow night I'll bringher with me."
"Bring 'er, and welcome," ses Ted.
"I sha'n't stay at 'ome for fifty dear friends," ses Charlie.
"Have it your own way," ses Emma. "If you come, Sophy Jennings comes,that's all."
She was as good as 'er word, too, and next night when they turned up theyfound Emma and 'er friend waiting for them. Charlie thought it was thefriend's mother at fust, but he found out arterwards that she was awidder-woman. She had 'ad two husbands, and both of 'em 'ad passed awaywith a smile on their face. She seemed to take a fancy to Charlie themoment she set eyes on 'im, and two or three times, they'd 'ave lost Tedand Emma if it hadn't been for 'im.
"When they turned up they found Emma and 'er friendwaiting for them."]
They did lose 'em the next night, and Charlie Brice 'ad Mrs. Jennings allalone to himself for over a couple of hours walking up and down theCommercial Road talking about the weather; Charles saying 'ow wet andcold it, was, and thinking p'r'aps they 'ad better go off 'ome afore shegot a chill.
He complained to Ted about it when 'e got 'ome, and Ted promised as itshouldn't 'appen agin. He said that 'im and Emma 'ad been so busytalking about getting married that he 'ad forgotten to keep an eye onhim.
"Married!" ses Charlie, very upset. "Married! And wot's to become o'me?"
"Come and lodge with us," ses Ted.
They shook hands on it, but Ted said they 'ad both better keep it tothemselves a bit and wait until Emma 'ad got more used to Charlie aforethey told her. Ted let 'er get used to 'im for three days more afore he
broke the news to 'er, and the way she went on was