Works of W. W. Jacobs

by Jacobs, W. W.

  “What is it? What’s the matter?” demanded Malcolm. “Why, it’s Mr. Hirst.” He shook him roughly and then held some spirit to his lips. Hirst drank it greedily and with a sharp intake of his breath gripped him by the arm.

  “Light the gas, George,” said Malcolm.

  The waiter obeyed hastily. Hirst, a ludicrous but pitiable figure in knee-breeches and coat, a large wig all awry and his face a mess of grease paint, clung to him, trembling.

  “Now, what’s the matter?” asked Malcolm.

  “I’ve seen it,” said Hirst, with a hysterical sob. “O Lord, I’ll never play the fool again, never!”

  “Seen what?” said the others.

  “Him — it — the ghost — anything!” said Hirst, wildly.

  “Rot!” said Malcolm, uneasily.

  “I was coming down the stairs,” said Hirst. “Just capering down — as I thought — it ought to do. I felt a tap—”

  He broke off suddenly and peered nervously through the open door into the passage.

  “I thought I saw it again,” he whispered.

  “Look — at the foot of the stairs. Can you see anything?”

  “No, there’s nothing there,” said Malcolm, whose own voice shook a little. “Go on. You felt a tap on your shoulder—”

  “I turned round and saw it — a little wicked head and a white dead face. Pah!”

  “That’s what I saw in the bar,” said George. “‘Orrid it was — devilish!”

  Hirst shuddered, and, still retaining his nervous grip of Malcolm’s sleeve, dropped into a chair.

  “Well, it’s a most unaccountable thing,” said the dumbfounded Malcolm, turning round to the others. “It’s the last time I come to this house.”

  “I leave to-morrow,” said George. “I wouldn’t go down to that bar again by myself, no, not for fifty pounds!”

  “It’s talking about the thing that’s caused it, I expect,” said one of the men; “we’ve all been talking about this and having it in our minds. Practically we’ve been forming a spiritualistic circle without knowing it.”

  “Hang the old gentleman!” said Malcolm, heartily. “Upon my soul, I’m half afraid to go to bed. It’s odd they should both think they saw something.”

  “I saw it as plain as I see you, sir,” said George, solemnly. “P’raps if you keep your eyes turned up the passage you’ll see it for yourself.”

  They followed the direction of his finger, but saw nothing, although one of them fancied that a head peeped round the corner of the wall.

  “Who’ll come down to the bar?” said Malcolm, looking round.

  “You can go, if you like,” said one of the others, with a faint laugh; “we’ll wait here for you.”

  The stout traveller walked towards the door and took a few steps up the passage. Then he stopped. All was quite silent, and he walked slowly to the end and looked down fearfully towards the glass partition which shut off the bar. Three times he made as though to go to it; then he turned back, and, glancing over his shoulder, came hurriedly back to the room.

  “Did you see it, sir?” whispered George.

  “Don’t know,” said Malcolm, shortly. “I fancied I saw something, but it might have been fancy. I’m in the mood to see anything just now. How are you feeling now, sir?”

  “Oh, I feel a bit better now,” said Hirst, somewhat brusquely, as all eyes were turned upon him.

  “I dare say you think I’m easily scared, but you didn’t see it.”

  “Not at all,” said Malcolm, smiling faintly despite himself.

  “I’m going to bed,” said Hirst, noticing the smile and resenting it. “Will you share my room with me, Somers?”

  “I will with pleasure,” said his friend, “provided you don’t mind sleeping with the gas on full all night.”

  He rose from his seat, and bidding the company a friendly good-night, left the room with his crestfallen friend. The others saw them to the foot of the stairs, and having heard their door close, returned to the coffee-room.

  “Well, I suppose the bet’s off?” said the stout commercial, poking the fire and then standing with his legs apart on the hearthrug; “though, as far as I can see, I won it. I never saw a man so scared in all my life. Sort of poetic justice about it, isn’t there?”

  “Never mind about poetry or justice,” said one of his listeners; “who’s going to sleep with me?”

  “I will,” said Malcolm, affably.

  “And I suppose we share a room together, Mr. Leek?” said the third man, turning to the fourth.

  “No, thank you,” said the other, briskly; “I don’t believe in ghosts. If anything comes into my room I shall shoot it.”

  “That won’t hurt a spirit, Leek,” said Malcolm, decisively.

  “Well the noise’ll be like company to me,” said Leek, “and it’ll wake the house too. But if you’re nervous, sir,” he added, with a grin, to the man who had suggested sharing his room, “George’ll be only too pleased to sleep on the door-mat inside your room, I know.”

  “That I will, sir,” said George, fervently; “and if you gentlemen would only come down with me to the bar to put the gas out, I could never be sufficiently grateful.”

  They went out in a body, with the exception of Leek, peering carefully before them as they went George turned the light out in the bar and they returned unmolested to the coffee-room, and, avoiding the sardonic smile of Leek, prepared to separate for the night.

  “Give me the candle while you put the gas out, George,” said the traveller.

  The waiter handed it to him and extinguished the gas, and at the same moment all distinctly heard a step in the passage outside. It stopped at the door, and as they watched with bated breath, the door creaked and slowly opened. Malcolm fell back open-mouthed, as a white, leering face, with sunken eyeballs and close-cropped bullet head, appeared at the opening.

  For a few seconds the creature stood regarding them, blinking in a strange fashion at the candle. Then, with a sidling movement, it came a little way into the room and stood there as if bewildered.

  Not a man spoke or moved, but all watched with a horrible fascination as the creature removed its dirty neckcloth and its head rolled on its shoulder. For a minute it paused, and then, holding the rag before it, moved towards Malcolm.

  The candle went out suddenly with a flash and a bang. There was a smell of powder, and something writhing in the darkness on the floor. A faint, choking cough, and then silence. Malcolm was the first to speak. “Matches,” he said, in a strange voice. George struck one. Then he leapt at the gas and a burner flamed from the match. Malcolm touched the thing on the floor with his foot and found it soft. He looked at his companions. They mouthed inquiries at him, but he shook his head. He lit the candle, and, kneeling down, examined the silent thing on the floor. Then he rose swiftly, and dipping his handkerchief in the water-jug, bent down again and grimly wiped the white face. Then he sprang back with a cry of incredulous horror, pointing at it. Leek’s pistol fell to the floor and he shut out the sight with his hands, but the others, crowding forward, gazed spell-bound at the dead face of Hirst.

  Before a word was spoken the door opened and Somers hastily entered the room. His eyes fell on the floor. “Good God!” he cried. “You didn’t—”

  Nobody spoke.

  “I told him not to,” he said, in a suffocating voice. “I told him not to. I told him—”

  He leaned against the wall, deathly sick, put his arms out feebly, and fell fainting into the traveller’s arms.

  FALSE COLOURS

  Of course, there is a deal of bullying done at sea at times,” said the night-watchman, thoughtfully. ‘The men call it bullying an’ the officers call it discipline, but it’s the same thing under another name. Still, it’s fair in a way. It gets passed on from one to another. Everybody aboard a’most has got somebody to bully, except, perhaps, the boy; he ‘as the worst of it, unless he can manage to get the ship’s cat by itself occasionally.

  “I don�
��t think sailor-men mind being bullied. I never ‘eard of its putting one off ‘is feed yet, and that’s the main thing, arter all’s said and done.

  “Fust officers are often worse than skippers. In the fust place, they know they ain’t skippers, an’ that alone is enough to put ’em in a bad temper, especially if they’ve ‘ad their certifikit a good many years and can’t get a vacancy.

  “I remember, a good many years ago now, I was lying at Calcutta one time in the Peewit, as fine a barque as you’d wish to see, an’ we ‘ad a fust mate there as was a disgrace to ‘is sects. A nasty, bullying, violent man, who used to call the hands names as they didn’t know the meanings of and what was no use looking in the dictionary for.

  “There was one chap aboard, Bill Cousins, as he used to make a partikler mark of. Bill ‘ad the misfortin to ‘ave red ‘air, and the way the mate used to throw that in ‘is face was disgraceful. Fortunately for us all, the skipper was a very decent sort of man, so that the mate was only at ‘is worst when he wasn’t by.

  “We was sitting in the fo’c’s’le at tea one arter-noon, when Bill Cousins came down, an’ we see at once ‘e’d ‘ad a turn with the mate. He sat all by hisself for some time simmering, an’ then he broke out. ‘One o’ these days I’ll swing for ‘im; mark my words.’

  “‘Don’t be a fool, Bill,’ ses Joe Smith.

  “‘If I could on’y mark ‘im,’ ses Bill, catching his breath. ‘Just mark ‘im fair an’ square. If I could on’y ‘ave ‘im alone for ten minutes, with nobody standing by to see fair play. But, o’ course, if I ‘it ‘im it’s mutiny.’

  “‘You couldn’t do it if it wasn’t, Bill,’ ses Joe Smith again.

  “‘He walks about the town as though the place belongs to ‘im,’ said Ted Hill. ‘Most of us is satisfied to shove the niggers out o’ the way, but he ups fist and ‘its ’em if they comes within a yard of ‘im.’

  “‘Why don’t they ‘it ‘im back?’ ses Bill. ‘I would if I was them.’

  “Joe Smith grunted. ‘Well, why don’t you?’ he asked.

  “‘‘Cos I ain’t a nigger,’ ses Bill.

  “‘Well, but you might be,’ ses Joe, very softly. ‘Black your face an’ ‘ands an’ legs, and dress up in them cotton things, and go ashore and get in ‘is way.’

  “‘If you will, I will, Bill,’ ses a chap called Bob Pullin.

  “Well, they talked it over and over, and at last Joe, who seemed to take a great interest in it, went ashore and got the duds for ’em. They was a tight fit for Bill, Hindoos not being as wide as they might be, but Joe said if ‘e didn’t bend about he’d be all right, and Pullin, who was a smaller man, said his was fust class.

  “After they were dressed, the next question was wot to use to colour them with; coal was too scratchy, an’ ink Bill didn’t like. Then Ted Hill burnt a cork and started on Bill’s nose with it afore it was cool, an’ Bill didn’t like that.

  “‘Look ‘ere,’ ses the carpenter, ‘nothin’ seems to please you, Bill — it’s my opinion you’re backing out of it.’

  “‘You’re a liar,’ ses Bill.

  “‘Well, I’ve got some stuff in a can as might be boiled-down Hindoo for all you could tell to the difference,’ ses the carpenter; ‘and if you’ll keep that ugly mouth of yours shut, I’ll paint you myself.’

  “Well, Bill was a bit flattered, the carpenter being a very superior sort of a man, and quite an artist in ‘is way, an’ Bill sat down an’ let ‘im do ‘im with some stuff out of a can that made ‘im look like a Hindoo what ‘ad been polished. Then Bob Pullin was done too, an’ when they’d got their turbins on, the change in their appearance was wonderful.

  “‘Feels a bit stiff,’ ses Bill, working ‘is mouth.

  “‘That’ll wear off,’ ses the carpenter; ‘it wouldn’t be you if you didn’t ‘ave a grumble, Bill.’

  “‘And mind and don’t spare ‘im, Bill,’ ses Joe. ‘There’s two of you, an’ if you only do wot’s expected of you, the mate ought to ‘ave a easy time abed this v’y’ge.’

  “‘Let the mate start fust,’ ses Ted Hill. ‘He’s sure to start on you if you only get in ‘is way. Lord, I’d like to see his face when you start on ‘im.

  “Well, the two of ’em went ashore arter dark with the best wishes o’ all on board, an’ the rest of us sat down in the fo’c’s’le spekerlating as to what sort o’ time the mate was goin’ to ‘ave. He went ashore all right, because Ted Hill see ‘im go, an’ he noticed with partikler pleasure as ‘ow he was dressed very careful.

  “It must ha’ been near eleven o’clock. I was sitting with Smith on the port side o’ the galley, when we heard a ‘ubbub approaching the ship. It was the mate just coming aboard. He was without ‘is ‘at; ‘is necktie was twisted round ‘is ear, and ‘is shirt and ‘is collar was all torn to shreds. The second and third officers ran up to him to see what was the matter, and while he was telling them, up comes the skipper.

  “‘You don’t mean to tell me, Mr. Fingall,’ ses the skipper, in surprise, ‘that you’ve been knocked about like that by them mild and meek Hindoos?’

  “‘Hindoos, sir?’ roared the mate. ‘Certainly not, sir. I’ve been assaulted like this by five German sailor-men. And I licked ’em all.’

  “‘I’m glad to hear that,’ ses the skipper; and the second and third pats the mate on the back, just like you pat a dog you don’t know.

  “‘Big fellows they was,’ ses he, ‘an’ they give me some trouble. Look at my eye!’

  “The second officer struck a match and looked at it, and it cert’n’y was a beauty.

  “‘I hope you reported this at the police station?’ ses the skipper.

  “‘No, sir,’ ses the mate, holding up ‘is ‘ead. ‘I don’t want no p’lice to protect me. Five’s a large number, but I drove ’em off, and I don’t think they’ll meddle with any British fust officers again.’

  “‘You’d better turn in,’ ses the second, leading him off by the arm.

  “The mate limped off with him, and as soon as the coast was clear we put our ‘eads together and tried to make out how it was that Bill Cousins and Bob ‘ad changed themselves into five German sailor-men.

  “‘It’s the mate’s pride,’ ses the carpenter. ‘He didn’t like being knocked about by Hindoos.’

  “We thought it was that, but we had to wait nearly another hour afore the two came aboard, to make sure. There was a difference in the way they came aboard, too, from that of the mate. They didn’t make no noise, and the fust thing we knew of their coming aboard was seeing a bare, black foot waving feebly at the top of the fo’c’s’le ladder feelin’ for the step.

  “That was Bob. He came down without a word, and then we see ‘e was holding another black foot and guiding it to where it should go. That was Bill, an’ of all the ‘orrid, limp-looking blacks that you ever see, Bill was the worst when he got below. He just sat on a locker all of a heap and held ‘is ‘ead, which was swollen up, in ‘is hands. Bob went and sat beside ‘im, and there they sat, for all the world like two wax figgers instead o’ human beings.

  “‘Well, you done it, Bill,’ ses Joe, after waiting a long time for them to speak. ‘Tell us all about it.’

  “‘Nothin’ to tell,’ ses Bill, very surly. ‘We knocked ‘im about.’

  “‘And he knocked us about,’ ses Bob, with a groan. ‘I’m sore all over, and as for my feet—’

  “‘Wot’s the matter with them?’ ses Joe.

  “‘Trod on,’ ses Bob, very short. ‘If my bare feet was trod on once they was a dozen times. I’ve never ‘ad such a doing in all my life. He fought like a devil. I thought he’d ha’ murdered Bill.’

  “‘I wish ‘e ‘ad,’ ses Bill, with a groan; ‘my face is bruised and cut about cruel. I can’t bear to touch it.’

  “‘Do you mean to say the two of you couldn’t settle ‘im?’ ses Joe, staring.

  “‘I mean to say we got a hiding,’ ses Bill. ‘We got close to him fust start off and got our feet trod
on. Arter that it was like fighting a windmill, with sledge-hammers for sails.’

  “He gave a groan and turned over in his bunk, and when we asked him some more about it, he swore at us. They both seemed quite done up, and at last they dropped off to sleep just as they was, without even stopping to wash the black off or to undress themselves.

  “I was awoke rather early in the morning by the sounds of somebody talking to themselves, and a little splashing of water. It seemed to go on a long while, and at last I leaned out of my bunk and see Bill bending over a bucket and washing himself and using bad langwidge.

  “‘Wot’s the matter, Bill?’ ses Joe, yawning and sitting up in bed.

  “‘My skin’s that tender, I can hardly touch it,’ ses Bill, bending down and rinsing ‘is face. ‘Is it all orf?’

  “‘Orf?’ ses Joe; ‘no, o’ course it ain’t. Why don’t you use some soap?’

  “‘Soap,’ answers Bill, mad-like; ‘why, I’ve used more soap than I’ve used for six months in the ordinary way.’

  “That’s no good,’ ses Joe; ‘give yourself a good wash.’

  “Bill put down the soap then very careful, and went over to ‘im and told him all the dreadful things he’d do to him when he got strong agin, and then Bob Pullin got out of his bunk an’ ‘ad a try on his face. Him an’ Bill kept washing and then taking each other to the light and trying to believe it was coming off until they got sick of it, and then Bill, ‘e up with his foot and capsized the bucket, and walked up and down the fo’c’s’le raving.

  “‘Well, the carpenter put it on,’ ses a voice, ‘make ‘im take it orf.’

  “You wouldn’t believe the job we ‘ad to wake that man up. He wasn’t fairly woke till he was hauled out of ‘is bunk an’ set down opposite them two pore black fellers an’ told to make ’em white again.

  “‘I don’t believe as there’s anything will touch it,’ he says, at last. ‘I forgot all about that.’