by W. W. Jacobs
SENTENCE DEFERRED
‘An Elderly Man With a Wooden Leg, Who Joined The Indignant Officer inthe Pursuit.’
Fortunately for Captain Bligh, there were but few people about, and theonly person who saw him trip Police-Sergeant Pilbeam was an elderly manwith a wooden leg, who joined the indignant officer in the pursuit. Thecaptain had youth on his side, and, diving into the narrow alley-waysthat constitute the older portion of Wood-hatch, he moderated his paceand listened acutely. The sounds of pursuit died away in the distance,and he had already dropped into a walk when the hurried tap of thewooden leg sounded from one corner and a chorus of hurried voices fromthe other. It was clear that the number of hunters had increased.
He paused a second, irresolute. The next, he pushed open a doorthat stood ajar in an old flint wall and peeped in. He saw a small,brick-paved yard, in which trim myrtles and flowering plants stood aboutin freshly ochred pots, and, opening the door a little wider, he slippedin and closed it behind him.
“Well?” said a voice, sharply. “What do you want?”
Captain Bligh turned, and saw a girl standing in a hostile attitude inthe doorway of the house. “H’sh!” he said, holding up his finger.
The girl’s cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled.
“What are you doing in our yard?” she demanded.
The captain’s face relaxed as the sound of voices died away. He gave hismoustache a twist, and eyed her with frank admiration.
“Escaping,” he said, briefly. “They nearly had me, though.”
“You had no business to escape into our yard,” said the girl. “What haveyou been escaping from?”
“Fat policeman,” said the skipper, jauntily, twisting his moustache.
Miss Pilbeam, only daughter of Sergeant Pilbeam, caught her breathsharply.
“What have you been doing?” she inquired, as soon as she could controlher voice.
“Nothing,” said the skipper, airily, “nothing. I was kicking a stonealong the path and he told me to stop it.”
“Well?” said Miss Pilbeam, impatiently.
“We had words,” said the skipper. “I don’t like policemen—fatpolicemen—and while we were talking he happened to lose his balance andgo over into some mud that was swept up at the side of the road.”
“Lost his balance?” gasped the horrified Miss Pilbeam.
The skipper was flattered at her concern. “You would have laughed if youhad seen him,” he said, smiling. “Don’t look so frightened; he hasn’tgot me yet.”
“No,” said the girl, slowly. “Not yet.”
She gazed at him with such a world of longing in her eyes that theskipper, despite a somewhat large share of self-esteem, was almoststartled.
“And he shan’t have me,” he said, returning her gaze with interest.
Miss Pilbeam stood in silent thought. She was a strong, well-grown girl,but she realized fully that she was no match for the villain who stoodbefore her, twisting his moustache and adjusting his neck-tie. And herfather would not be off duty until nine.
“I suppose you would like to wait here until it is dark?” she said atlast.
“I would sooner wait here than anywhere,” said the skipper, withrespectful ardor.
“Perhaps you would like to come in and sit down?” said the girl.
Captain Bligh thanked her, and removing his cap followed her into asmall parlor in the front of the house.
“Father is out,” she said, as she motioned him to an easy-chair, “butI’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you when he comes in.”
“And I shall be pleased to see him,” said the innocent skipper.
Miss Pilbeam kept her doubts to herself and sat in a brown study,wondering how the capture was to be effected. She had a strongpresentiment that the appearance of her father at the front door wouldbe the signal for her visitor’s departure at the back. For a time therewas an awkward silence.
“Lucky thing for me I upset that policeman,” said the skipper, at last.
“Why?” inquired the girl.
“Else I shouldn’t have come into your yard,” was the reply. “It’s thefirst time we have ever put into Woodhatch, and I might have sailedaway and never seen you. Where should we have been but for that fatpoliceman?”
Miss Pilbeam—as soon as she could get her breath—said, “Ah, whereindeed!” and for the first time in her life began to feel the need of achaperon.
“Funny to think of him hunting for me high and low while I am sittinghere,” said the skipper.
Miss Pilbeam agreed with him, and began to laugh—to laugh so heartilythat he was fain at last to draw his chair close to hers and pat hersomewhat anxiously on the back. The treatment sobered her at once, andshe drew apart and eyed him coldly.
“I was afraid you would lose your breath,” explained the skipper,awkwardly. “You are not angry, are you?”
He was so genuinely relieved when she said, “No,” that Miss Pilbeam,despite her father’s wrongs, began to soften a little. The upsetterof policemen was certainly good-looking; and his manner towards her sonicely balanced between boldness and timidity that a slight feeling ofsadness at his lack of moral character began to assail her.
“Suppose you are caught after all?” she said, presently. “You will go toprison.”
The skipper shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t suppose I shall be,” hereplied.
“Aren’t you sorry?” persisted Miss Pilbeam, in a vibrant voice.
“Certainly not,” said the skipper. “Why, I shouldn’t have seen you if Ihadn’t done it.”
Miss Pilbeam looked at the clock and pondered. It wanted but fiveminutes to nine. Five minutes in which to make up a mind that was in astate of strong unrest.
“I suppose it is time for me to go,” said the skipper, watching her.Miss Pilbeam rose. “No, don’t go,” she said, hastily. “Do be quiet. Iwant to think.”
Captain Bligh waited in respectful silence, heedless of the fatefulseconds ticking from the mantelpiece. At the sound of a slow, measuredfootfall on the cobblestone path outside Miss Pilbeam caught his arm anddrew him towards the door.
“Go!” she breathed. “No, stop!”
She stood trying in vain to make up her mind. “Upstairs,” she said.“Quick!” and, leading the way, entered her father’s bedroom, and, aftera moment’s thought, opened the door of a cupboard in the corner.
“Get in there,” she whispered.
“But—” objected the astonished Bligh.
The front door was heard to open.
“Police!” said Miss Pilbeam, in a thrilling whisper. The skipper steppedinto the cupboard without further parley, and the girl, turning the key,slipped it into her pocket and sped downstairs.
Sergeant Pilbeam was in the easy-chair, with his belt unfastened, whenshe entered the parlor, and, with a hungry reference to supper, satwatching her as she lit the lamp and drew down the blind. With alifelong knowledge of the requirements of the Force, she drew a jug ofbeer and placed it by his side while she set the table.
“Ah! I wanted that,” said the sergeant. “I’ve been running.”
Miss Pilbeam raised her eyebrows.
“After some sailor-looking chap that capsized me when I wasn’t preparedfor it,” said her father, putting down his glass. “It was a neat bit o’work, and I shall tell him so when I catch him. Look here!”
He stood up and exhibited the damage.
“I’ve rubbed off what I could,” he said, resuming his seat, “and Is’pose the rest’ll brush off when it’s dry. To-morrow morning I shall godown to the harbor and try and spot my lord.”
He drew his chair to the table and helped himself, and, filling hismouth with cold meat and pickles, enlarged on his plans for the captureof his assailant; plans to which the undecided Miss Pilbeam turned asomewhat abstracted ear.
By the time her father had finished his supper she was trying, but invain, to devise means for the prisoner’s escape. The sergeant had openedthe door of the room for the sake of f
resh air, and it was impossiblefor anybody to come downstairs without being seen. The story of a sicklygeranium in the back-yard left him unmoved.
“I wouldn’t get up for all the geraniums in the world,” he declared.“I’m just going to have one more pipe and then I’m off to bed. Runningdon’t agree with me.”
He went, despite his daughter’s utmost efforts to prevent him, and shesat in silent consternation, listening to his heavy tread overhead. Sheheard the bed creak in noisy protest as he climbed in, and ten minuteslater the lusty snoring of a healthy man of full habit resounded throughthe house.
She went to bed herself at last, and, after lying awake for nearly acouple of hours, closed her eyes in order to think better. She awokewith the sun pouring in at the window and the sounds of vigorousbrushing in the yard beneath.
“I’ve nearly got it off,” said the sergeant, looking up. “It’sdestroying evidence in a sense, I suppose; but I can’t go about with myuniform plastered with mud. I’ve had enough chaff about it as it is.”
Miss Pilbeam stole to the door of the next room and peeped stealthilyin. Not a sound came from the cupboard, and a horrible idea that theprisoner might have been suffocated set her trembling with apprehension.
“H’sh!” she whispered.
An eager but stifled “H’st!” came from the cup-board, and Miss Pilbeam,her fears allayed, stepped softly into the room.
“He’s downstairs brushing the mud off,” she said, in a low voice.
“Who is?” said the skipper.
“The fat policeman,” said the girl, in a hard voice, as she rememberedher father’s wrongs.
“What’s he doing it here for?” demanded the astonished skipper.
“Because he lives here.”
“Lodger?” queried the skipper, more astonished than before.
“Father,” said Miss Pilbeam.
A horrified groan from the cupboard fell like music on her ears. Thenthe smile forsook her lips, and she stood quivering with indignation asthe groan gave way to suppressed but unmistakable laughter.
“H’sh!” she said sharply, and with head erect sailed out of the room andwent downstairs to give Mr. Pilbeam his breakfast.
To the skipper in the confined space and darkness of the cupboard thebreakfast seemed unending. The sergeant evidently believed in sittingover his meals, and his deep, rumbling voice, punctuated by good-naturedlaughter, was plainly audible. To pass the time the skipper fell tocounting, and, tired of that, recited some verses that he had acquiredat school. After that, and with far more heartiness, he declaimed afew things that he had learned since; and still the clatter and rumblesounded from below.
It was a relief to him when he heard the sergeant push his chair backand move heavily about the room. A minute later he heard him ascendingthe stairs, and then he held his breath with horror as the foot-stepsentered the room and a heavy hand was laid on the cupboard door.
“Elsie!” bawled the sergeant. “Where’s the key of my cupboard? I want myother boots.”
“They’re down here,” cried the voice of Miss Pilbeam, and the skipper,hardly able to believe in his good fortune, heard the sergeant godownstairs again.
At the expiration of another week—by his own reckoning—he heard thelight, hurried footsteps of Miss Pilbeam come up the stairs and pause atthe door.
“H’st!” he said, recklessly.
“I’m coming,” said the girl. “Don’t be impatient.”
A key turned in the lock, the door was flung open, and the skipper,dazed and blinking with the sudden light, stumbled into the room.
“Father’s gone,” said Miss Pilbeam.
The skipper made no answer. He was administering first aid to a rightleg which had temporarily forgotten how to perform its duties, variedwith slaps and pinches at a left which had gone to sleep. At intervalshe turned a red-rimmed and reproachful eye on Miss Pilbeam.
‘He Was Administering First Aid to a Right Leg.’
“You want a wash and some breakfast,” she said, softly, “especially awash. There’s water and a towel, and while you’re making yourself tidyI’ll be getting breakfast.”
The skipper hobbled to the wash-stand, and, dipping his head in a basinof cool water, began to feel himself again. By the time he had done hishair in the sergeant’s glass and twisted his moustache into shape hefelt better still, and he went downstairs almost blithely.
“I’m very sorry it was your father,” he said, as he took a seat at thetable. “Very.”
“That’s why you laughed, I suppose?” said the girl, tossing her head.
“Well, I’ve had the worst of it,” said the other. “I’d sooner be upseta hundred times than spend a night in that cupboard. However, all’s wellthat ends well.”
“Ah!” said Miss Pilbeam, dolefully, “but is it the end?”
Captain Bligh put down his knife and fork and eyed her uneasily.
“What do you mean?” he said.
“Never mind; don’t spoil your breakfast,” said the girl. “I’ll tell youafterwards. It’s horrid to think, after all my trouble, of your doingtwo months as well as a night in the cupboard.”
“Beastly,” said the unfortunate, eying her in great concern. “But what’sthe matter?”
“One can’t think of everything,” said Miss Pilbeam, “but, of course, weought to have thought of the mate getting uneasy when you didn’t turn uplast night, and going to the police-station with a description of you.”
The skipper started and smote the table with his fist.
“Father’s gone down to watch the ship now,” said Miss Pilbeam. “Ofcourse, it’s the exact description of the man that assaulted him.Providential he called it.”
“That’s the worst of having a fool for a mate,” said the skipper,bitterly. “What business was it of his, I should like to know? What’sit got to do with him whether I turn up or not? What does he want tointerfere for?”
“It’s no good blaming him,” said Miss Pilbeam, thinking deeply, with herchin on her finger. “The thing is, what is to be done? Once father getshis hand on you——”
She shuddered; so did the skipper.
“I might get off with a fine; I didn’t hurt him,” he remarked.
Miss Pilbeam shook her head. “They’re very strict in Woodhatch,” shesaid.
“I was a fool to touch him at all,” said the repentant skipper. “Highspirits, that’s what it was. High spirits, and being spoken to as if Iwas a child.”
“The thing is, how are you to escape?” said the girl. “It’s no goodgoing out of doors with the police and half the people in Woodhatch allon the look-out for you.”
“If I could only get aboard I should be all right,” muttered theskipper. “I could keep down the fo’-c’s’le while the mate took the shipout.”
Miss Pilbeam sat in deep thought. “It’s the getting aboard that’s thetrouble,” she said, slowly. “You’d have to disguise yourself. It wouldhave to be a good disguise, too, to pass my father, I can tell you.”
Captain Bligh gave a gloomy assent.
“The only thing for you to do, so far as I can see,” said the girl,slowly, “is to make yourself up like a coalie. There are one or twocolliers in the harbor, and if you took off your coat—I could send it onafterwards—rubbed yourself all over with coal-dust, and shaved off yourmoustache, I believe you would escape.”
“Shave!” ejaculated the skipper, in choking accents. “Rub—! Coal-dust!”
“It’s your only chance,” said Miss Pilbeam.
Captain Bligh leaned back frowning, and from sheer force of habit passedthe ends of his moustache slowly through his fingers. “I think thecoal-dust would be enough,” he said at last.
The girl shook her head. “Father particularly noticed your moustache,”she said.
“Everybody does,” said the skipper, with mournful pride. “I won’t partwith it.”
“Not for my sake?” inquired Miss Pilbeam, eying him mournfully. “Notafter all I’ve done for you?”<
br />
“No,” said the other, stoutly.
Miss Pilbeam put her handkerchief to her eyes and, with a suspiciouslittle sniff, hurried from the room. Captain Bligh, much affected,waited for a few seconds and then went in pursuit of her. Fifteenminutes later, shorn of his moustache, he stood in the coal-hole,sulkily smearing himself with coal.
“That’s better,” said the girl; “you look horrible.”
She took up a handful of coal-dust and, ordering him to stoop, shampooedhim with hearty good-will.
‘She Took up a Handful of Coal-dust And, Ordering Him To Stoop,Shampooed Him With Hearty Good-will.’
“No good half doing it,” she declared. “Now go and look at yourself inthe glass in the kitchen.”
The skipper went, and came back in a state of wild-eyed misery. EvenMiss Pilbeam’s statement that his own mother would not know him failedto lift the cloud from his brow. He stood disconsolate as the girlopened the front door.
“Good-by,” she said, gently. “Write and tell me when you are safe.”
Captain Bligh promised, and walked slowly up the road. So far frompeople attempting to arrest him, they vied with each other in givinghim elbow-room. He reached the harbor unmolested, and, lurking at aconvenient corner, made a careful survey. A couple of craft wereworking out their coal, a small steamer was just casting loose, and afishing-boat gliding slowly over the still water to its berth. His ownschooner, which lay near the colliers, had apparently knocked off workpending his arrival. For Sergeant Pilbeam he looked in vain.
He waited a minute or two, and then, with a furtive glance right andleft, strolled in a careless fashion until he was abreast of one ofthe colliers. Nobody took any notice of him, and, with his hands in hispockets, he gazed meditatively into the water and edged along towardshis own craft. His foot trembled as he placed it on the plank thatformed the gangway, but, resisting the temptation to look behind, hegained the deck and walked forward.
“Halloa! What do you want?” inquired a sea-man, coming out of thegalley.
“All right, Bill,” said the skipper, in a low voice. “Don’t take anynotice of me.”
“Eh?” said the seaman, starting. “Good lor’! What ha’ you——”
“Shut up!” said the skipper, fiercely; and, walking to the forecastle,placed his hand on the scuttle and descended with studied slowness. Ashe reached the floor the perturbed face of Bill blocked the opening.
“Had an accident, cap’n?” he inquired, respectfully.
“No,” snapped the skipper. “Come down here—quick! Don’t stand up thereattracting attention. Do you want the whole town round you? Come down!”
“I’m all right where I am,” said Bill, backing hastily as the skipper,putting a foot on the ladder, thrust a black and furious face close tohis.
“Clear out, then,” hissed the skipper. “Go and send the mate to me.Don’t hurry. And if anybody noticed me come aboard and should ask youwho I am, say I’m a pal of yours.”
The seaman, marvelling greatly, withdrew, and the skipper, throwinghimself on a locker, wiped a bit of grit out of his eye and sat down towait for the mate. He was so long in coming that he waxed impatient, andascending a step of the ladder again peeped on to the deck. The firstobject that met his gaze was the figure of the mate leaning against theside of the ship with a wary eye on the scuttle.
“Come here,” said the skipper.
“Anything wrong?” inquired the mate, retreating a couple of paces indisorder.
“Come—here!” repeated the skipper.
The mate advanced slowly, and in response to an imperative command fromthe skipper slowly descended and stood regarding him nervously.
“Yes; you may look,” said the skipper, with sudden ferocity. “This isall your doing. Where are you going?”
He caught the mate by the coat as he was making for the ladder, andhauled him back again.
“You’ll go when I’ve finished with you,” he said, grimly. “Now, what doyou mean by it? Eh? What do you mean by it?”
“That’s all right,” said the mate, in a soothing voice. “Don’t getexcited.”
“Look at me!” said the skipper. “All through your interfering. How dareyou go making inquiries about me?”
“Me?” said the mate, backing as far as possible. “Inquiries?”
“What’s it got to do with you if I stay out all night?” pursued theskipper.
“Nothing,” said the other, feebly.
“What did you go to the police about me for, then?” demanded theskipper.
“Me?” said the mate, in the shrill accents of astonishment. “Me? Ididn’t go to no police about you. Why should I?”
“Do you mean to say you didn’t report my absence last night to thepolice?” said the skipper, sternly.
“Cert’nly not,” said the mate, plucking up courage. “Why should I? Ifyou like to take a night off it’s nothing to do with me. I ‘ope I knowmy duty better. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And the police haven’t been watching the ship and inquiring for me?”asked the skipper.
The mate shook his bewildered head. “Why should they?” he inquired.
The skipper made no reply. He sat goggle-eyed, staring straight beforehim, trying in vain to realize the hardness of the heart that had beenresponsible for such a scurvy trick.
“Besides, it ain’t the fust time you’ve been out all night,” remarkedthe mate, aggressively.
The skipper favored him with a glance the dignity of which was somewhatimpaired by his complexion, and in a slow and stately fashion ascendedto the deck. Then he caught his breath sharply and paled beneath thecoaldust as he saw Sergeant Pilbeam standing on the quay, opposite theship. By his side stood Miss Pilbeam, and both, with a far-away lookin their eyes, were smiling vaguely but contentedly at the horizon. Thesergeant appeared to be the first to see the skipper.
“Ahoy, Darkie!” he cried.
Captain Bligh, who was creeping slowly aft, halted, and, clenching hisfists, regarded him ferociously.
“Give this to the skipper, will you, my lad?” said the sergeant, holdingup the jacket Bligh had left behind. “Good-looking young man with a veryfine moustache he is.”
‘Give This to the Skipper, Will You, My Lad?’ Said The Sergeant.
“Was,” said his daughter, in a mournful voice.
“And a rather dark complexion,” continued the sergeant, grinning madly.“I was going to take him—for stealing my coal—but I thought betterof it. Thought of a better way. At least, my daughter did. So long;Darkie.”
He kissed the top of a fat middle finger, and, turning away, walkedoff with Miss Pilbeam. The skipper stood watching them with his headswimming until, arrived at the corner, they stopped and the sergeantcame slowly back.
“I was nearly forgetting,” he said, slowly. “Tell your skipper that ifso be as he wants to apologize—for stealing my coal—I shall be at homeat tea at five o’clock.”
He jerked his thumb in the direction of Miss Pilbeam and winked withslow deliberation. “She’ll be there, too,” he added. “Savvy?”