Captains All and Others. William Wymark Jacobs

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      “I wish I could take you,” ses Sam, looking at the other two out o’ the corner of his eye, “but my ship’s over at Dunkirk, in France. I’ve just run over to London for a week or two to look round.”

      “And mine’s there too,” ses Peter Russet, speaking a’most afore old Sam ‘ad finished; “side by side they lay in the harbour.”

      “Oh, dear,” ses Mrs. Finch, folding her ‘ands and shaking her ‘cad. “I should like to go over a ship one arternoon. I’d quite made up my mind to it, knowing three captins.”

      She smiled and looked at Ginger; and Sam and Peter looked at ‘im too, wondering whether he was going to berth his ship at Dunkirk alongside o’ theirs.

      “Ah, I wish I ‘ad met you a fortnight ago,” ses Ginger, very sad. “I gave up my ship, the High flyer, then, and I’m waiting for one my owners are ‘aving built for me at New-castle. They said the High flyer wasn’t big enough for me. She was a nice little ship, though. I believe I’ve got ‘er picture somewhere about me!”

      He felt in ‘is pocket and pulled out a little, crumpled-up photograph of a ship he’d been fireman aboard of some years afore, and showed it to ‘er.

      “That’s me standing on the bridge,” he ses, pointing out a little dot with the stem of ‘is pipe.

      “It’s your figger,” ses Mrs. Finch, straining her eyes. “I should know it anywhere.”

      “You’ve got wonderful eyes, ma’am,” ses old Sam, choking with ‘is pipe.

      “Anybody can see that,” ses Ginger. “They’re the largest and the bluest I’ve ever seen.”

      Mrs. Finch told ‘im not to talk nonsense, but both Sam and Peter Russet could see ‘ow pleased she was.

      “Truth is truth,” ses Ginger. “I’m a plain man, and I speak my mind.”

      “Blue is my fav’rit’ colour,” ses old Sam, in a tender voice. “True blue.”

      Peter Russet began to feel out of it. “I thought brown was,” he ses.

      “Ho!” ses Sam, turning on ‘im; “and why?”

      “I ‘ad my reasons,” ses Peter, nodding, and shutting ‘is mouth very firm.

      “I thought brown was ‘is fav’rit colour too,” ses Ginger. “I don’t know why. It’s no use asking me; because if you did I couldn’t tell you.”

      “Brown’s a very nice colour,” ses Mrs. Finch, wondering wot was the matter with old Sam.

      “Blue,” ses Ginger; “big blue eyes—they’re the ones for me. Other people may ‘ave their blacks and their browns,” he ses, looking at Sam and Peter Russet, “but give me blue.”

      They went on like that all the evening, and every time the shop-bell went and the widow ‘ad to go out to serve a customer they said in w’ispers wot they thought of each other; and once when she came back rather sudden Ginger ‘ad to explain to ‘er that ‘e was showing Peter Russet a scratch on his knuckle.

      Ginger Dick was the fust there next night, and took ‘er a little chiney teapot he ‘ad picked up dirt cheap because it was cracked right acrost the middle; but, as he explained that he ‘ad dropped it in hurrying to see ‘er, she was just as pleased. She stuck it up on the mantelpiece, and the things she said about Ginger’s kindness and generosity made Peter Russet spend good money that he wanted for ‘imself on a painted flower-pot next evening.

      With three men all courting ‘er at the same time Mrs. Finch had ‘er hands full, but she took to it wonderful considering. She was so nice and kind to ‘em all that even arter a week’s ‘ard work none of ‘em was really certain which she liked best.

      They took to going in at odd times o’ the day for tobacco and such-like. They used to go alone then, but they all met and did the polite to each other there of an evening, and then quarrelled all the way ‘ome.

      Then all of a sudden, without any warning, Ginger Dick and Peter Russet left off going there. The fust evening Sam sat expecting them every minute, and was so surprised that he couldn’t take any advantage of it; but on the second, beginning by squeezing Mrs. Finch’s ‘and at ha’-past seven, he ‘ad got best part of his arm round ‘er waist by a quarter to ten. He didn’t do more that night because she told him to be’ave ‘imself, and threatened to scream if he didn’t leave off.

      He was arf-way home afore ‘e thought of the reason for Ginger Dick and Peter Russet giving up, and then he went along smiling to ‘imself to such an extent that people thought ‘e was mad. He went off to sleep with the smile still on ‘is lips, and when Peter and Ginger came in soon arter closing time and ‘e woke up and asked them where they’d been, ‘e was still smiling.

      “I didn’t ‘ave the pleasure o’ seeing you at Mrs. Finch’s to-night,” he ses.

      “No,” ses Ginger, very short. “We got tired of it.”

      “So un’ealthy sitting in that stuffy little room every evening,” ses Peter.

      Old Sam put his ‘ead under the bedclothes and laughed till the bed shook; and every now and then he’d put his ‘ead out and look at Peter and Ginger and laugh agin till he choked.

      “I see ‘ow it is,” he ses, sitting up and wiping his eyes on the sheet. “Well, we cant all win.”

      “Wot d’ye mean?” ses Ginger, very disagreeable.

      “She wouldn’t ‘ave you, Sam, thats wot I mean. And I don’t wonder at it. I wouldn’t ‘ave you if I was a gal.”

      “You’re dreaming, ses Peter Russet, sneering at ‘im.

      “That flower-pot o’ yours’ll come in handy,” ses Sam, thinking ‘ow he ‘ad put ‘is arm round the widow’s waist; “and I thank you kindly for the teapot, Ginger.

      “You don’t mean to say as you’ve asked ‘er to marry you?” ses Ginger, looking at Peter Russet.

      “Not quite; but I’m going to,” ses Sam, “and I’ll bet you even arf-crowns she ses ‘yes.’”

      Ginger wouldn’t take ‘im, and no more would Peter, not even when he raised it to five shillings; and the vain way old Sam lay there boasting and talking about ‘is way with the gals made ‘em both feel ill.

      “I wouldn’t ‘ave her if she asked me on ‘er bended knees,” ses Ginger, holding up his ‘ead.

      “Nor me,” ses Peter. “You’re welcome to ‘er, Sam. When I think of the evenings I’ve wasted over a fat old woman I feel–”

      “That’ll do,” ses old Sam, very sharp; “that ain’t the way to speak of a lady, even if she ‘as said ‘no.’”

      “All right, Sam,” ses Ginger. “You go in and win if you think you’re so precious clever.”

      Old Sam said that that was wot ‘e was going to do, and he spent so much time next morning making ‘imself look pretty that the other two could ‘ardly be civil to him.

      He СКАЧАТЬ