Captains All and Others. William Wymark Jacobs

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СКАЧАТЬ “Honesty? ‘Struth; are you drunk or am I?”

      “Meaning,” said the boatswain, waving the imputation away with his hand, “for you to pretend to be a burglar.”

      “We’re both drunk, that’s what it is,” said the other, resignedly.

      The boatswain fidgeted. “If you don’t agree, mum’s the word and no ‘arm done,” he said, holding out his hand.

      “Mum’s the word,” said the soldier, taking it. “My name’s Ned Travers, and, barring cells for a spree now and again, there’s nothing against it. Mind that.”

      “Might ‘appen to anybody,” said Mr. Benn, soothingly. “You fill your pipe and don’t go chucking good tobacco away agin.”

      Mr. Travers took the offered box and, with economy born of adversity, stooped and filled up first with the plug he had thrown away. Then he resumed his seat and, leaning back luxuriously, bade the other “fire away.”

      “I ain’t got it all ship-shape and proper yet,” said Mr. Benn, slowly, “but it’s in my mind’s eye. It’s been there off and on like for some time.”

      He lit his pipe again and gazed fixedly at the opposite hedge. “Two miles from here, where I live,” he said, after several vigorous puffs, “there’s a little public-’ouse called the Beehive, kept by a lady wot I’ve got my eye on.”

      The soldier sat up.

      “She won’t ‘ave me,” said the boatswain, with an air of mild surprise.

      The soldier leaned back again.

      “She’s a lone widder,” continued Mr. Benn, shaking his head, “and the Beehive is in a lonely place. It’s right through the village, and the nearest house is arf a mile off.”

      “Silly place for a pub,” commented Mr. Travers.

      “I’ve been telling her ‘ow unsafe it is,” said the boatswain. “I’ve been telling her that she wants a man to protect her, and she only laughs at me. She don’t believe it; d’ye see? Likewise I’m a small man—small, but stiff. She likes tall men.”

      “Most women do,” said Mr. Travers, sitting upright and instinctively twisting his moustache. “When I was in the ranks—”

      “My idea is,” continued the boatswain, slightly raising his voice, “to kill two birds with one stone—prove to her that she does want being protected, and that I’m the man to protect her. D’ye take my meaning, mate?”

      The soldier reached out a hand and felt the other’s biceps. “Like a lump o’ wood,” he said, approvingly.

      “My opinion is,” said the boatswain, with a faint smirk, “that she loves me without knowing it.”

      “They often do,” said Mr. Travers, with a grave shake of his head.

      “Consequently I don’t want ‘er to be disappointed,” said the other.

      “It does you credit,” remarked Mr. Travers.

      “I’ve got a good head,” said Mr. Benn, “else I shouldn’t ‘ave got my rating as boatswain as soon as I did; and I’ve been turning it over in my mind, over and over agin, till my brain-pan fair aches with it. Now, if you do what I want you to to-night and it comes off all right, damme I’ll make it a quid.”

      “Go on, Vanderbilt,” said Mr. Travers; “I’m listening.”

      The boatswain gazed at him fixedly. “You meet me ‘ere in this spot at eleven o’clock to-night,” he said, solemnly; “and I’ll take you to her ‘ouse and put you through a little winder I know of. You goes upstairs and alarms her, and she screams for help. I’m watching the house, faithful-like, and hear ‘er scream. I dashes in at the winder, knocks you down, and rescues her. D’ye see?”

      “I hear,” corrected Mr. Travers, coldly.

      “She clings to me,” continued the boat-swain, with a rapt expression of face, “in her gratitood, and, proud of my strength and pluck, she marries me.”

      “An’ I get a five years’ honeymoon,” said the soldier.

      The boatswain shook his head and patted the other’s shoulder. “In the excitement of the moment you spring up and escape,” he said, with a kindly smile. “I’ve thought it all out. You can run much faster than I can; any-ways, you will. The nearest ‘ouse is arf a mile off, as I said, and her servant is staying till to-morrow at ‘er mother’s, ten miles away.”

      Mr. Travers rose to his feet and stretched himself. “Time I was toddling,” he said, with a yawn. “Thanks for amusing me, mate.”

      “You won’t do it?” said the boatswain, eyeing him with much concern.

      “I’m hanged if I do,” said the soldier, emphatically. “Accidents will happen, and then where should I be?”

      “If they did,” said the boatswain, “I’d own up and clear you.”

      “You might,” said Mr. Travers, “and then again you mightn’t. So long, mate.”

      “I—I’ll make it two quid,” said the boat-swain, trembling with eagerness. “I’ve took a fancy to you; you’re just the man for the job.”

      The soldier, adjusting his bundle, glanced at him over his shoulder. “Thankee,” he said, with mock gratitude.

      “Look ‘ere,” said the boatswain, springing up and catching him by the sleeve; “I’ll give it to you in writing. Come, you ain’t faint-hearted? Why, a bluejacket ‘ud do it for the fun o’ the thing. If I give it to you in writing, and there should be an accident, it’s worse for me than it is for you, ain’t it?”

      Mr. Travers hesitated and, pushing his cap back, scratched his head.

      “I gives you the two quid afore you go into the house,” continued the boatswain, hastily following up the impression he had made. “I’d give ‘em to you now if I’d got ‘em with me. That’s my confidence in you; I likes the look of you. Soldier or sailor, when there is a man’s work to be done, give ‘em to me afore anybody.”

      The soldier seated himself again and let his bundle fall to the ground. “Go on,” he said, slowly. “Write it out fair and square and sign it, and I’m your man.”

      The boatswain clapped him on the shoulder and produced a bundle of papers from his pocket. “There’s letters there with my name and address on ‘em,” he said. “It’s all fair, square, and above-board. When you’ve cast your eyes over them I’ll give you the writing.”

      Mr. Travers took them and, re-lighting his pipe, smoked in silence, with various side glances at his companion as that enthusiast sucked his pencil and sat twisting in the agonies of composition. The document finished—after several failures had been retrieved and burnt by the careful Mr. Travers—the boat-swain heaved a sigh of relief, and handing it over to him, leaned back with a complacent air while he read it.

      “Seems all right,” said the soldier, folding it up and putting it in his waistcoat-pocket. “I’ll be here at eleven to-night.”

      “Eleven it СКАЧАТЬ