Works of W. W. Jacobs
Page 275
“‘Ave you been in long, Bill?” he ses. “About ten minutes,” I ses, grinding my teeth.
“Is it doing you good?” he ses.
I didn’t answer ‘im.
“I was just going off to sleep,” he ses, “when I felt a sort of hot pain in my left knee. O’ course, I knew what it meant at once, and instead o’ taking some of the pellets I thought I’d try your remedy instead. It’s a bit nippy, but I don’t mind that if it does me good.”
He laughed a silly sort o’ laugh, and then I’m blest if ‘e didn’t sit down in that mud and waller in it. Then he’d get up and come for’ard two or three steps and sit down agin.
“Ain’t you sitting down, Bill?” he ses, arter a time.
“No,” I ses, “I’m not.”
“I don’t think you can expect to get the full benefit unless you do,” he ses, coming up close to me and sitting down agin. “It’s a bit of a shock at fust, but Halloa!”
“Wot’s up?” I ses.
“Sitting on something hard,” he ses. “I wish people ‘ud be more careful.”
He took a list to port and felt under the star-board side. Then he brought his ‘and up and tried to wipe the mud off and see wot he ‘ad got.
“Wot is it?” I ses, with a nasty sinking sort o’ feeling inside me.
“I don’t know,” he ses, going on wiping. “It’s soft outside and ‘ard inside. It — —”
“Let’s ‘ave a look at it,” I ses, holding out my ‘and.
“It’s nothing,” he ses, in a queer voice, getting up and steering for the ladder. “Bit of oyster-shell, I think.”
He was up that ladder hand over fist, with me close behind ‘im, and as soon as he ‘ad got on to the wharf started to run to ‘is ship.
“Good night, Bill,” he ses, over ‘is shoulder.
“Arf a moment.” I ses, follering ‘im.
“I must get aboard,” he ses; “I believe I’ve got a chill,” and afore I could stop ‘im he ‘ad jumped on and run down to ‘is cabin.
I stood on the jetty for a minute or two, trembling all over with cold and temper. Then I saw he ‘ad got a light in ‘is cabin, and I crept aboard and peeped down the skylight. And I just ‘ad time to see some sovereigns on the table, when he looked up and blew out the light.
The Short Stories
Jacobs’ home in 15 Gloucester Gate, London – a blue plaque commemorates Jacobs’ residence
LIST OF SHORT STORIES IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER
THE SKIPPER’S WOOING
THE BROWN MAN’S SERVANT.
A CHANGE OF TREATMENT
A LOVE PASSAGE
THE CAPTAIN’S EXPLOIT
CONTRABAND OF WAR
A BLACK AFFAIR
IN BORROWED PLUMES
THE BOATSWAIN’S WATCH
LOW WATER
IN MID-ATLANTIC
AFTER THE INQUEST
IN LIMEHOUSE REACH
AN ELABORATE ELOPEMENT
A BENEFIT PERFORMANCE
A CASE OF DESERTION
OUTSAILED
MATED
THE RIVAL BEAUTIES
MRS. BUNKER’S CHAPERON
A HARBOUR OF REFUGE
SMOKED SKIPPER
A SAFETY MATCH
A RASH EXPERIMENT
THE CABIN PASSENGER
CHOICE SPIRITS
A DISCIPLINARIAN
BROTHER HUTCHINS
THE DISBURSEMENT SHEET
RULE OF THREE
PICKLED HERRING
TWO OF A TRADE
AN INTERVENTION
THE GREY PARROT
MONEY-CHANGERS
THE LOST SHIP
AN ODD FREAK
A GARDEN PLOT
PRIVATE CLOTHES
THE BULLY OF THE “CAVENDISH”
THE RESURRECTION OF MR. WIGGETT
A MARKED MAN
TO HAVE AND TO HOLD
BREVET RANK
TWIN SPIRITS
SAM’S BOY
JERRY BUNDLER
FALSE COLOURS
THE LADY OF THE BARGE
THE MONKEY’S PAW
BILL’S PAPER CHASE
THE WELL
CUPBOARD LOVE
IN THE LIBRARY
CAPTAIN ROGERS
A TIGER’S SKIN
A MIXED PROPOSAL
AN ADULTERATION ACT
A GOLDEN VENTURE
THREE AT TABLE
THE MONEY-BOX
THE CASTAWAY
BLUNDELL’S IMPROVEMENT
BILL’S LAPSE
LAWYER QUINCE
BREAKING A SPELL
ESTABLISHING RELATIONS
THE CHANGING NUMBERS
THE PERSECUTION OF BOB PRETTY
DIXON’S RETURN
A SPIRIT OF AVARICE
THE THIRD STRING
ODD CHARGES
ADMIRAL PETERS
CAPTAINS ALL
THE BOATSWAIN’S MATE
THE NEST EGG
THE CONSTABLE’S MOVE
BOB’S REDEMPTION
OVER THE SIDE
THE FOUR PIGEONS
THE TEMPTATION OF SAMUEL BURGE
THE MADNESS OF MR. LISTER
THE WHITE CAT
THE CHANGELING
MIXED RELATIONS
HIS LORDSHIP
ALF’S DREAM
A DISTANT RELATIVE
THE TEST
IN THE FAMILY
A LOVE-KNOT
THE DREAMER
ANGELS’ VISITS
DESERTED
HOMEWARD BOUND
SELF-HELP
SENTENCE DEFERRED
MATRIMONIAL OPENINGS
ODD MAN OUT
THE TOLL-HOUSE
PETER’S PENCE
THE HEAD OF THE FAMILY
PRIZE MONEY
DOUBLE DEALING
KEEPING UP APPEARANCES
FINE FEATHERS
FRIENDS IN NEED
GOOD INTENTIONS
FAIRY GOLD
WATCH-DOGS
THE BEQUEST
THE GUARDIAN ANGEL
DUAL CONTROL
SKILLED ASSISTANCE
FOR BETTER OR WORSE
THE OLD MAN OF THE SEA
MANNERS MAKYTH MAN
BACK TO BACK
KEEPING WATCH
THE UNDERSTUDY
THE WEAKER VESSEL
STEPPING BACKWARDS
THE THREE SISTERS
THE UNKNOWN
THE VIGIL
EASY MONEY
HIS OTHER SELF
SHAREHOLDERS
PAYING OFF
MADE TO MEASURE
SAM’S GHOST
BEDRIDDEN
THE CONVERT
HUSBANDRY
FAMILY CARES
THE WINTER OFFENSIVE
THE SUBSTITUTE
STRIKING HARD
DIRTY WORK
LIST OF SHORT STORIES IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER
A BENEFIT PERFORMANCE
A BLACK AFFAIR
A CASE OF DESERTION
A CHANGE OF TREATMENT
A DISCIPLINARIAN
A DISTANT RELATIVE
A GARDEN PLOT
A GOLDEN VENTURE
A HARBOUR OF REFUGE
A LOVE PASSAGE
A LOVE-KNOT
A MARKED MAN
A MIXED PROPOSAL
A RASH EXPERIMENT
A SAFETY MATCH
A SPIRIT OF AVARICE
A TIGER’S SKIN
ADMIRAL PETERS
AFTER THE INQUEST
ALF’S DREAM
AN ADULTERATION ACT
AN ELABORATE ELOPEMENT
AN INTERVENTION
AN ODD FREAK
ANGELS’ VISITS
BACK TO BACK
BEDRIDDEN
BILL’S LAPSE
BILL’S PAPER CHASE
BLUNDELL’S IMPROVEMENT
BOB’S REDEMPTION
BREAKING A SPELL
<
br /> BREVET RANK
BROTHER HUTCHINS
CAPTAIN ROGERS
CAPTAINS ALL
CHOICE SPIRITS
CONTRABAND OF WAR
CUPBOARD LOVE
DESERTED
DIRTY WORK
DIXON’S RETURN
DOUBLE DEALING
DUAL CONTROL
EASY MONEY
ESTABLISHING RELATIONS
FAIRY GOLD
FALSE COLOURS
FAMILY CARES
FINE FEATHERS
FOR BETTER OR WORSE
FRIENDS IN NEED
GOOD INTENTIONS
HIS LORDSHIP
HIS OTHER SELF
HOMEWARD BOUND
HUSBANDRY
IN BORROWED PLUMES
IN LIMEHOUSE REACH
IN MID-ATLANTIC
IN THE FAMILY
IN THE LIBRARY
JERRY BUNDLER
KEEPING UP APPEARANCES
KEEPING WATCH
LAWYER QUINCE
LOW WATER
MADE TO MEASURE
MANNERS MAKYTH MAN
MATED
MATRIMONIAL OPENINGS
MIXED RELATIONS
MONEY-CHANGERS
MRS. BUNKER’S CHAPERON
ODD CHARGES
ODD MAN OUT
OUTSAILED
OVER THE SIDE
PAYING OFF
PETER’S PENCE
PICKLED HERRING
PRIVATE CLOTHES
PRIZE MONEY
RULE OF THREE
SAM’S BOY
SAM’S GHOST
SELF-HELP
SENTENCE DEFERRED
SHAREHOLDERS
SKILLED ASSISTANCE
SMOKED SKIPPER
STEPPING BACKWARDS
STRIKING HARD
THE BEQUEST
THE BOATSWAIN’S MATE
THE BOATSWAIN’S WATCH
THE BROWN MAN’S SERVANT.
THE BULLY OF THE “CAVENDISH”
THE CABIN PASSENGER
THE CAPTAIN’S EXPLOIT
THE CASTAWAY
THE CHANGELING
THE CHANGING NUMBERS
THE CONSTABLE’S MOVE
THE CONVERT
THE DISBURSEMENT SHEET
THE DREAMER
THE FOUR PIGEONS
THE GREY PARROT
THE GUARDIAN ANGEL
THE HEAD OF THE FAMILY
THE LADY OF THE BARGE
THE LOST SHIP
THE MADNESS OF MR. LISTER
THE MONEY-BOX
THE MONKEY’S PAW
THE NEST EGG
THE OLD MAN OF THE SEA
THE PERSECUTION OF BOB PRETTY
THE RESURRECTION OF MR. WIGGETT
THE RIVAL BEAUTIES
THE SKIPPER’S WOOING
THE SUBSTITUTE
THE TEMPTATION OF SAMUEL BURGE
THE TEST
THE THIRD STRING
THE THREE SISTERS
THE TOLL-HOUSE
THE UNDERSTUDY
THE UNKNOWN
THE VIGIL
THE WEAKER VESSEL
THE WELL
THE WHITE CAT
THE WINTER OFFENSIVE
THREE AT TABLE
TO HAVE AND TO HOLD
TWIN SPIRITS
TWO OF A TRADE
WATCH-DOGS
The Plays
Hornsey Lane, Islington — location of Jacobs’ last home, where he died in 1943
THE MONKEY’S PAW
A STORY IN THREE SCENES
Adapted for the stage by Louis N. Parker
CONTENTS
Scene I
Scene II
Scene III
THE MONKEY’S PAW
Scene. — The living-room of an old-fashioned college on the outskirts of Fulham. Set corner-wise in the left angle at the back a deep window; further fronts L., three or four steps lead up to a door. Further forward a dresser, with plates, glasses, etc. R. c. and back an alcove with the street door fully visible. On the inside of the street door, a wire letter-box. On the right, a cupboard, then a fireplace. In the centre, a round table. Against the wall, L. back, an old-fashioned piano. A comfortable armchair each side of the fireplace. Other chairs. On the mantelpiece, a clock, old china figures, etc. An air of comfort evades the room.
[At the rise of the curtain, Mrs. White, a pleasant-looking old woman, is seated in the armchair below the fire, attending to a kettle which is steaming on the fire, and keeping a laughing eye on Mr. White and Herbert. These two are seated at the right angle of the table nearest the fire with a chessboard between them. Mr. White is evidently losing. His hair is ruffled, his spectacles are high up on his forehead; Herbert, a fine young fellow, is looking with satisfaction at the move he has just made. Mr. White makes several attempts to move, but thinks better of them. There is a shaded lamp on the table. The door is tightly shut. The curtains of the window are drawn; but every now and then the wind is heard whistling outside.]
Scene I
Mr. White (moving at last, and triumphant): There, Herbert, my boy, I got you, I think.
Herbert: Oh, you’re a deep ‘un, dad, aren’t you?
Mrs. White: Mean to say he’s beaten you at last?
Herbert: Lor, no! Why, he’s overlooked —
Mr. White (very excited): I see it! Lemme have that back I —
Herbert: Not much. Rules of the game!
Mr. White (disgusted): I don’t hold with them scientific rules. You turn what ought to be an innocent relaxation —
Mrs. White: Don’t talk so much, father. You put him off.
Herbert (laughing). Not he!
Mr. White (trying to distract his attention): Hark at the wind.
Herbert (dryly): Ah! I’m listening. Check.
Mr. White (still trying to distract him). I should hardly think Sergeant-Major Morris’d come tonight.
Herbert: Mate. (Rises, goes up left)
Mr. White (with an outbreak of disgust and sweeping the chessmen off the board): That’s the worst of living so far out. Your friends can’t come for a quiet chat, and you addle your brains over a confounded —
Herbert: Now, father! Morris’ll turn up all right.
Mr. White (still in a temper): Lovers’ Lane, Fulham! Ho! of all the beastly, slushy, out-o’-the-way places to live in! Pathway’s a bog, and the road’s a torrent. (To Mrs. White, who has risen, and is at his side.) What’s the County Council thinking of, that’s what I want to know? Because this is the only house in the road it doesn’t matter if nobody can get near it, I s’pose.
Mrs. White: Never mind, dear. Perhaps you’ll win tomorrow. (She moves to back of table.)
Mr. White: Perhaps I’ll — perhaps I’ll — ! What d’you mean? (Bursts out laughing) There! You always know what’s going on inside o’ me, don’t you, mother?
Mrs. White: Ought to, after thirty years, John. (She goes to dresser and busies herself wiping tumbler and tray there.)
(He rises, goes to fireplace and lights pipe.)
Herbert (down c): And it’s not such a bad place, dad, after all. One of the few old-fashioned houses left near London. None o’ your stucco villas. Homelike, I call it. And so do you, or you wouldn’t ha’ bought it. (Rolls a cigarette.)
Mr. White (r., growling): Nice job I made o’ that, too! With two hundred pounds owin’ on it.
Herbert (on back of chair, c): Why, I shall work that off in no time, dad. Matter o’ three years, with the raise promised me.
Mr. White: If you don’t get married.
Herbert: Not me. Not that sort.
Mrs. White: I wish you would, Herbert. A good, steady lad —
(She brings the tray with a bottle of whisky, glasses, a lemon, spoons, buns, and a knife to the table.)
Herbert: Lots o’ time, mother. Sufficient for the day — as the sayin’ goes. Just now my dynamos don’t leave me any time for love-making. Jealous they are, I tell you!
> Mr. White (chuckling): I lay awake o’ night often, and think: If Herbert took a nap, and let his what d’you-call-ums — dynamos, run down, all Fulham would be in darkness. Lord! What a joke! (gets R. c.)
Herbert: Joke! And me with the sack! Pretty idea of a joke you’ve got, I don’t think.
(Knock at outer door,)
Mrs. White: Hark!
(Knock repeated, louder.)
Mr. White (going towards door): That’s him. That’s the Sergeant-Major. (He unlocks door, back.)
Herbert (removes chessboard): Wonder what yarn he’s got for us to-night? (Places chess-board on piano.)
Mrs. White (goes up right, busies herself putting the other armchair nearer fire, etc): Don’t let the door slam, John!
(Mr. White opens the door a little, struggling with it. Wind. Sergeant-Major Morris, a veteran with a distinct military appearance — left arm gone — dressed as a commissionaire, is seen to enter. Mr. White helps him off with his coat, which he hangs
up in the outer hall.)
Mr. White (at the door): Slip in quick! It’s as much as I can do to hold it against the wind.
Sergeant: Awful! Awful! (Busy taking off his cloak, etc.) And a mile up the road — by the cemetery — it’s worse. Enough to blow the hair oft your head.
Mr. White: Give me your stick.
Sergeant: If ’twasn’t I knew what a welcome I’d get —
Mr. White (preceding him into the room): Sergeant-Major Morris, I —
Mrs. White: Tut! Tut! So cold you must be! Come to the fire; do’ee, now.
Sergeant: How are you, marm? (To Herbert) How’s yourself, laddie? Not on duty yet, eh? Day week, eh?
Herbert (c): No, sir. Night week. But there’s half an hour yet.
Sergeant (sitting in the armchair above the fire, which Mrs. White is motioning him towards. Mr. White mixes grog for Morris.): Thank’ee kindly, marm. That’s good — hah! That’s a sight better than the trenches at Chitral. That’s better than settin’ in a puddle with the rain pourin’ down in buckets, and the natives takin’ pot-shots at you.
Mrs. White: Didn’t you have no umbrellas? (Comes below fire, kneels before it, stirs it, etc.)
Sergeant: Umbrella? Ho! Ho! That’s good! Eh, White? That’s good. Did ye hear what she said? Umbrellas! — And galoshes! And hot-water bottles! — Ho, yes! No offence, marm but it’s easy to see you was never a soldier.
Herbert (rather hurt): Mother spoke out o’ kindness, sir.
Sergeant: And well I know it; and no offence intended. No, marm, ‘ardship, ‘ardship is the soldier’s lot. Starvation, fever, and get yourself shot. That’s a bit o’ my own.