by W. W. Jacobs
Handsome is as 'andsome does," said the night-watchman. It's an oldsaying, but it's true. Give a chap good looks, and it's precious littleelse that is given to 'im. He's lucky when 'is good looks 'ave gorn--orpartly gorn--to get a berth as night-watchman or some other hard andbad-paid job.
One drawback to a good-looking man is that he generally marries young;not because 'e wants to, but because somebody else wants 'im to. Andthat ain't the worst of it: the handsomest chap I ever knew married fivetimes, and got seven years for it. It wasn't his fault, pore chap; hesimply couldn't say No.
One o' the best-looking men I ever knew was Cap'n Bill Smithers, wotused to come up here once a week with a schooner called the Wild Rose.Funny thing about 'im was he didn't seem to know about 'is good looks,and he was one o' the quietest, best-behaved men that ever came up theLondon river. Considering that he was mistook for me more than once, itwas just as well.
He didn't marry until 'e was close on forty; and then 'e made themistake of marrying a widder-woman. She was like all the rest of'em--only worse. Afore she was married butter wouldn't melt in 'ermouth, but as soon as she 'ad got her "lines" safe she began to make upfor it.
For the fust month or two 'e didn't mind it, 'e rather liked beingfussed arter, but when he found that he couldn't go out for arf an hourwithout having 'er with 'im he began to get tired of it. Her idea wasthat 'e was too handsome to be trusted out alone; and every trip he made'e had to write up in a book, day by day, wot 'e did with himself. Eventhen she wasn't satisfied, and, arter saying that a wife's place was bythe side of 'er husband, she took to sailing with 'im every v'y'ge.
Wot he could ha' seen in 'er I don't know. I asked 'im one evening--in aroundabout way--and he answered in such a long, roundabout way that Ididn't know wot to make of it till I see that she was standing justbehind me, listening. Arter that I heard 'er asking questions about me,but I didn't 'ave to listen: I could hear 'er twenty yards away, andsinging to myself at the same time.
Arter that she treated me as if I was the dirt beneath 'er feet. Shenever spoke to me, but used to speak against me to other people. She wasalways talking to them about the "sleeping-sickness" and things o' thatkind. She said night-watchmen always made 'er think of it somehow, butshe didn't know why, and she couldn't tell you if you was to ask her.The only thing I was thankful for was that I wasn't 'er husband. Shestuck to 'im like his shadow, and I began to think at last it was a pityshe 'adn't got some thing to be jealous about and something to occupyher mind with instead o' me.
"She ought to 'ave a lesson," I ses to the skipper one evening. "Are yougoing to be follered about like this all your life? If she was made tosee the foolishness of 'er ways she might get sick of it."
My idea was to send her on a wild-goose chase, and while the Wild Rosewas away I thought it out. I wrote a love-letter to the skipper signedwith the name of "Dorothy," and asked 'im to meet me at Cleopatra'sNeedle on the Embankment at eight o'clock on Wednesday. I told 'im tolook out for a tall girl (Mrs. Smithers was as short as they make 'em)with mischievous brown eyes, in a blue 'at with red roses on it.
I read it over careful, and arter marking it "Private," twice in frontand once on the back, I stuck it down so that it could be blown opena'most, and waited for the schooner to come back. Then I gave a van-boytwopence to 'and it to Mrs. Smithers, wot was sitting on the deck alone,and tell 'er it was a letter for Captain Smithers.
I was busy with a barge wot happened to be handy at the time, but I'eard her say that she would take it and give it to 'im. When I peepedround she 'ad got the letter open and was leaning over the side towind'ard trying to get 'er breath. Every now and then she'd give anotherlook at the letter and open 'er mouth and gasp; but by and by she gotcalmer, and, arter putting it back in the envelope, she gave it a lickas though she was going to bite it, and stuck it down agin. Then shewent off the wharf, and I'm blest if, five minutes arterwards, a youngfellow didn't come down to the ship with the same letter and ask for theskipper.
"Who gave it you?" ses the skipper, as soon as 'e could speak.
"A lady," ses the young fellow.
The skipper waved 'im away, and then 'e walked up and down the deck likea man in a dream.
"Bad news?" I ses, looking up and catching 'is eye.
"No," he ses, "no. Only a note about a couple o' casks o' soda."
He stuffed the letter in 'is pocket and sat on the side smoking till hiswife came back in five minutes' time, smiling all over with good temper.
"It's a nice evening," she ses, "and I think I'll just run over toDalston and see my Cousin Joe."
The skipper got up like a lamb and said he'd go and clean 'imself.
"You needn't come if you feel tired," she ses, smiling at 'im.
The skipper could 'ardly believe his ears.
"I do feel tired," he ses. "I've had a heavy day, and I feel more likebed than anything else."
"You turn in, then," she ses. "I'll be all right by myself."
She went down and tidied herself up--not that it made much difference to'er--and, arter patting him on the arm and giving me a stare that wouldha' made most men blink, she took herself off.
I was pretty busy that evening. Wot with shifting lighters from underthe jetty and sweeping up, it was pretty near ha'-past seven afore I 'ada minute I could call my own. I put down the broom at last, and was justthinking of stepping round to the Bull's Head for a 'arf-pint when I seeCap'n Smithers come off the ship on to the wharf and walk to the gate.
"I thought you was going to turn in?" I ses.
"I did think of it," he ses, "then I thought p'r'aps I'd better strollas far as Broad Street and meet my wife."
It was all I could do to keep a straight face. I'd a pretty good ideawhere she 'ad gorn; and it wasn't Dalston.
"Come in and 'ave 'arf a pint fust," I ses.
"No; I shall be late," he ses, hurrying off.
I went in and 'ad a glass by myself, and stood there so long thinking ofMrs. Smithers walking up and down by Cleopatra's Needle that at last thelandlord fust asked me wot I was laughing at, and then offered to makeme laugh the other side of my face. And then he wonders why people go tothe Albion.
I locked the gate rather earlier than usual that night. Sometimes if I'mup that end I leave it a bit late, but I didn't want Mrs. Smithers tocome along and nip in without me seeing her face.
It was ten o'clock afore I heard the bell go, and when I opened thewicket and looked out I was surprised to see that she 'ad got theskipper with 'er. And of all the miserable-looking objects I ever saw inmy life he was the worst. She 'ad him tight by the arm, and there was alook on 'er face that a'most scared me.
"Did you go all the way to Dalston for her?" I ses to 'im.
Mrs. Smithers made a gasping sort o' noise, but the skipper didn'tanswer a word.
She shoved him in in front of 'er and stood ever 'im while he climbedaboard. When he held out 'is hand to help 'er she struck it away.
I didn't get word with 'im till five o'clock next morning, when he cameup on deck with his 'air all rough and 'is eyes red for want of sleep.
"Haven't 'ad a wink all night," he ses, stepping on to the wharf.
I gave a little cough. "Didn't she 'ave a pleasant time at Dalston?" Ises.
He walked a little further off from the ship. "She didn't go there," heses, in a whisper.
"You've got something on your mind," I ses. "Wot is it?"
He wouldn't tell me at fust, but at last he told me all about the letterfrom Dorothy, and 'is wife reading it unbeknown to 'im and going to meet'er.
"It was an awful meeting!" he ses. "Awful!"
I couldn't think wot to make of it. "Was the gal there, then?" I ses,staring at 'im.
"No," ses the skipper; "but I was."
"You?" I ses, starting back. "You! Wot for? I'm surprised at you! Iwouldn't ha' believed it of you!"
"I felt a bit curious," he ses, with a silly sort o' smile. "But wot Ican't understand is why the gal didn't turn up."
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nbsp; "I'm ashamed of you, Bill," I ses, very severe.
"P'r'aps she did," he ses, 'arf to 'imself, "and then saw my mississtanding there waiting. P'r'aps that was it."
"Or p'r'aps it was somebody 'aving a game with you," I ses.
"You're getting old, Bill," he ses, very short. "You don't understand.It's some pore gal that's took a fancy to me, and it's my dooty to meet'er and tell her 'ow things are."
He walked off with his 'ead in the air, and if 'e took that letter outonce and looked at it, he did five times.
"Chuck it away," I ses, going up to him.
"Certainly not," he ses, folding it up careful and stowing it away in'is breastpocket. "She's took a fancy to me, and it's my dooty----"
"You said that afore," I ses.
He stared at me nasty for a moment, and then 'e ses: "You ain't seen anyyoung lady hanging about 'ere, I suppose, Bill? A tall young lady with ablue hat trimmed with red roses?"
I shook my 'ead.
"If you should see 'er," he ses.
"I'll tell your missis," I ses. "It 'ud be much easier for her to do herdooty properly than it would you. She'd enjoy doing it, too."
He went off agin then, and I thought he 'ad done with me, but he 'adn't.He spoke to me that evening as if I was the greatest friend he 'ad inthe world. I 'ad two 'arfpints with 'im at the Albion--with his missiswalking up and down outside--and arter the second 'arf-pint he said hewanted to meet Dorothy and tell 'er that 'e was married, and that he'oped she would meet some good man that was worthy of 'er.
I had a week's peace while the ship was away, but she was hardly madefast afore I 'ad it all over agin and agin.
"Are you sure there's been no more letters?" he ses.
"Sartain," I ses.
"That's right," he ses; "that's right. And you 'aven't seen her walkingup and down?"
"No," I ses.
"'Ave you been on the look-out?" he ses. "I don't suppose a nice gallike that would come and shove her 'ead in at the gate. Did you look upand down the road?"
"Yes," I ses. "I've fair made my eyes ache watching for her."
"I can't understand it," he ses. "It's a mystery to me, unless p'r'apsshe's been taken ill. She must 'ave seen me here in the fust place; andshe managed to get hold of my name. Mark my words, I shall 'ear from heragin."
"'Ow do you know?" I ses.
"I feel it 'ere," he ses, very solemn, laying his 'and on his chest.
I didn't know wot to do. Wot with 'is foolishness and his missis'stemper, I see I 'ad made a mess of it. He told me she had 'ardly spoke aword to 'im for two days, and when I said--being a married man myself--that it might ha' been worse, 'e said I didn't know wot I was talkingabout.
I did a bit o' thinking arter he 'ad gorn aboard agin. I dursn't tell'im that I 'ad wrote the letter, but I thought if he 'ad one or two morehe'd see that some one was 'aving a game with 'im, and that it might do'im good. Besides which it was a little amusement for me.
Arter everybody was in their beds asleep I sat on a clerk's stool in theoffice and wrote 'im another letter from Dorothy. I called 'im "DearBill," and I said 'ow sorry I was that I 'adn't had even a sight of 'imlately, having been laid up with a sprained ankle and 'ad only just gotabout agin. I asked 'im to meet me at Cleopatra's Needle at eighto'clock, and said that I should wear the blue 'at with red roses.
It was a very good letter, but I can see now that I done wrong inwriting it. I was going to post it to 'im, but, as I couldn't find anenvelope without the name of the blessed wharf on it, I put it in mypocket till I got 'ome.
I got 'ome at about a quarter to seven, and slept like a child tillpretty near four. Then I went downstairs to 'ave my dinner.
The moment I opened the door I see there was something wrong. Threetimes my missis licked 'er lips afore she could speak. Her face 'ad gonea dirty white colour, and she was leaning forward with her 'ands on her'ips, trembling all over with temper.
"Is my dinner ready?" I ses, easy-like. "'Cos I'm ready for it."
"I--I wonder I don't tear you limb from limb," she ses, catching herbreath.
"Wot's the matter?" I ses.
"And then boil you," she ses, between her teeth. "You in one pot andyour precious Dorothy in another."
If anybody 'ad offered me five pounds to speak then, I couldn't ha' doneit. I see wot I'd done in a flash, and I couldn't say a word; but I keptmy presence o' mind, and as she came round one side o' the table I wentround the other.
"Wot 'ave you got to say for yourself?" she ses, with a scream.
"Nothing," I ses, at last. "It's all a mistake."
"Mistake?" she ses. "Yes, you made a mistake leaving it in your pocket;that's all the mistake you've made. That's wot you do, is it, whenyou're supposed to be at the wharf? Go about with a blue 'at with redroses in it! At your time o' life, and a wife at 'ome working herself todeath to make both ends meet and keep you respectable!"
"It's all a mistake," I ses. "The letter wasn't for me."
"Oh, no, o' course not," she ses. "That's why you'd got it in yourpocket, I suppose. And I suppose you'll say your name ain't Bill next."
"Don't say things you'll be sorry for," I ses.
"I'll take care o' that," she ses. "I might be sorry for not saying somethings, but I don't think I shall."
I don't think she was. I don't think she forgot anything, and she rakedup things that I 'ad contradicted years ago and wot I thought was allforgot. And every now and then, when she stopped for breath, she'd tryand get round to the same side of the table I was.
She follered me to the street door when I went and called things up theroad arter me. I 'ad a snack at a coffee-shop for my dinner, but I'adn't got much appetite for it; I was too full of trouble and findingfault with myself, and I went off to my work with a 'art as heavy aslead.
I suppose I 'adn't been on the wharf ten minutes afore Cap'n Smitherscame sidling up to me, but I got my spoke in fust.
"Look 'ere," I ses, "if you're going to talk about that forward hussywot's been writing to you, I ain't. I'm sick and tired of 'er."
"Forward hussy!" he ses. "Forward hussy!" And afore I could drop mybroom he gave me a punch in the jaw that pretty near broke it. "Sayanother word against her," he ses, "and I'll knock your ugly 'ead off.How dare you insult a lady?"
I thought I should 'ave gone crazy at fust, but I went off into theoffice without a word. Some men would ha' knocked 'im down for it, but Imade allowances for 'is state o' mind, and I stayed inside until I see'im get aboard agin.
He was sitting on deck when I went out, and his missis too, but neitherof 'em spoke a word. I picked up my broom and went on sweeping, whensuddenly I 'eard a voice at the gate I thought I knew, and in came mywife.
"Ho!" she ses, calling out. "Ain't you gone to meet that gal atCleopatra's Needle yet? You ain't going to keep 'er waiting, are you?"
"H'sh!" I ses.
"H'sh! yourself," she ses, shouting. "I've done nothing to be ashamedof. I don't go to meet other people's husbands in a blue 'at with redroses. I don't write 'em love-letters, and say 'H'sh!' to my wife whenshe ventures to make a remark about it. I may work myself to skin andbone for a man wot's old enough to know better, but I'm not going to betrod on. Dorothy, indeed! I'll Dorothy 'er if I get the chance."
Mrs. Smithers, wot 'ad been listening with all her ears, jumped up, andso did the skipper, and Mrs. Smithers came to the side in two steps.
"Did you say 'Dorothy,' ma'am?" she ses to my missis.
"I did," ses my wife. "She's been writing to my husband."
"It must be the same one," ses Mrs. Smithers. "She's been writing tomine too."
The two of 'em stood there looking at each other for a minute, and thenmy wife, holding the letter between 'er finger and thumb as if it waspison, passed it to Mrs. Smithers.
"It's the same," ses Mrs. Smithers. "Was the envelope marked 'Private'?"
"I didn't see no envelope," ses my missis. "This is all I found."
Mrs. Smithers stepped on to the wharf an
d, taking 'old of my missis bythe arm, led her away whispering. At the same moment the skipper walkedacross the deck and whispered to me.
"Wot d'ye mean by it?" he ses. "Wot d'ye mean by 'aving letters fromDorothy and not telling me about it?"
"I can't help 'aving letters any more than you can," I ses. "Now p'r'apsyou'll understand wot I meant by calling 'er a forward hussy."
"Fancy 'er writing to you!" he ses, wrinkling 'is forehead. "Pph! Shemust be crazy."
"P'r'aps it ain't a gal at all," I ses. "My belief is somebody is 'avinga game with us."
"Don't be a fool," he ses. "I'd like to see the party as would make afool of me like that. Just see 'im and get my 'ands on him. He wouldn'twant to play any more games."
It was no good talking to 'im. He was 'arf crazy with temper. If I'dsaid the letter was meant for 'im he'd 'ave asked me wot I meant byopening it and getting 'im into more trouble with 'is missis, instead ofgiving it to 'im on the quiet. I just stood and suffered in silence, andthought wot a lot of 'arm eddication did for people.
"I want some money," ses my missis, coming back at last with Mrs.Smithers.
That was the way she always talked when she'd got me in 'er power. Shetook two-and-tenpence--all I'd got--and then she ordered me to go andget a cab.
"Me and this lady are going to meet her," she ses, sniffing at me.
"And tell her wot we think of 'er," ses Mrs. Smithers, sniffing too.
"And wot we'll do to 'er," ses my missis.
I left 'em standing side by side, looking at the skipper as if 'e was awaxworks, while I went to find a cab. When I came back they was in thesame persition, and 'e was smoking with 'is eyes shut.
They went off side by side in the cab, both of 'em sitting bolt-upright,and only turning their 'eads at the last moment to give us looks wedidn't want.
"I don't wish her no 'arm," ses the skipper, arter thinking for a longtime. "Was that the fust letter you 'ad from 'er, Bill?"
"Fust and last," I ses, grinding my teeth.
"I've been married longer than wot you have," I ses, "and I tell you onething. It won't make no difference to us whether they do or they don't,"I ses.
And it didn't.
THE VIGIL