



Produced by David Widger






NIGHT WATCHES

by W.W. Jacobs




EASY MONEY

A lad of about twenty stepped ashore from the schooner Jane, and joining
a girl, who had been avoiding for some ten minutes the ardent gaze of
the night-watchman, set off arm-in-arm.  The watchman rolled his eyes
and shook his head slowly.

Nearly all his money on 'is back, he said, and what little bit 'e's got
over he'll spend on 'er.  And three months arter they're married he'll
wonder wot 'e ever saw in her.  If a man marries he wishes he 'adn't,
and if he doesn't marry he wishes he 'ad.  That's life.

Looking at them two young fools reminds me of a nevy of Sam Small's; a
man I think I've spoke to you of afore.  As a rule Sam didn't talk much
about 'is relations, but there was a sister of 'is in the country wot 'e
was rather fond of because 'e 'adn't seen 'er for twenty years.  She 'ad
got a boy wot 'ad just got a job in London, and when 'e wrote and told
'er he was keeping company with the handsomest and loveliest and best
'arted gal in the whole wide world, she wrote to Sam about it and asked
'im to give 'is nevy some good advice.

Sam 'ad just got back from China and was living with Peter Russet and
Ginger Dick as usual, and arter reading the letter about seven times and
asking Ginger how 'e spelt "minx," 'e read the letter out loud to them
and asked 'em what they thought about it.

Ginger shook his 'ead, and, arter thinking a bit, Peter shook his too.

"She's caught 'im rather young," ses Ginger.

"They get it bad at that age too," ses Peter.  "When I was twenty, there
was a gal as I was fond of, and a regiment couldn't ha' parted us."

"Wot did part you then?"  ses Sam.

"Another gal," ses Peter; "a gal I took a fancy to, that's wot did it."

"I was nearly married when I was twenty," ses Ginger, with a far-away
look in his eyes.  "She was the most beautiful gal I ever saw in my
life; she 'ad one 'undred pounds a year of 'er own and she couldn't bear
me out of her sight.  If a thump acrost the chest would do that cough of
yours any good, Sam--"

"Don't take no notice of 'im, Ginger," ses Peter.  "Why didn't you marry
'er?"

"'Cos I was afraid she might think I was arter 'er money," ses Ginger,
getting a little bit closer to Sam.

Peter 'ad another turn then, and him and Ginger kept on talking about
gals whose 'arts they 'ad broke till Sam didn't know what to do with
'imself.

"I'll just step round and see my nevy, while you and Peter are amusing
each other," he ses at last.  "I'll ask 'im to come round to-morrow and
then you can give 'im good advice."

The nevy came round next evening.  Bright, cheerful young chap 'e was,
and he agreed with everything they said.  When Peter said as 'ow all
gals was deceivers, he said he'd known it for years, but they was born
that way and couldn't 'elp it; and when Ginger said that no man ought to
marry afore he was fifty, he corrected 'im and made it fifty-five.

"I'm glad to 'ear you talk like that," ses Ginger.

"So am I," ses Peter.

"He's got his 'ead screwed on right," ses Sam, wot thought his sister
'ad made a mistake.

"I'm surprised when I look round at the wimmen men 'ave married," ses
the nevy; "wot they could 'ave seen in them I can't think.  Me and my
young lady often laugh about it."

"Your wot?" ses Sam, pretending to be very surprised.

"My young lady," ses the nevy.

Sam gives a cough.  "I didn't know you'd got a young lady," he ses.

"Well, I 'ave," ses his nevy, "and we're going to be married at
Christmas."

"But--but you ain't fifty-five," ses Ginger.

"I'm twenty-one," ses the nevy, "but my case is different.  There isn't
another young lady like mine in the world.  She's different to all the
others, and it ain't likely I'm going to let 'er be snapped up by
somebody else.  Fifty-five!  Why, 'ow I'm to wait till Christmas I don't
know.  She's the prettiest and handsomest gal in the world; and she's
the cleverest one I ever met.  You ought to hear 'er laugh.  Like music
it is.  You'd never forget it."

"Twenty-one is young," ses Ginger, shaking his 'ead.  "'Ave you known
'er long?"

"Three months," ses the nevy.  "She lives in the same street as I do.
'Ow it is she ain't been snapped up before, I can't think, but she told
me that she didn't care for men till she saw me."

"They all say that," ses Ginger.

"If I've 'ad it said to me once, I've 'ad it said twenty times," ses
Peter, nodding.

"They do it to flatter," ses old Sam, looking as if 'e knew all about
it. "You wait till you are my age, Joe; then you'll know; why I should
ha' been married dozens o' times if I 'adn't been careful."

"P'r'aps it was a bit on both sides," ses Joe, looking at 'is uncle.
"P'r'aps they was careful too.  If you only saw my young lady, you
wouldn't talk like that.  She's got the truthfullest eyes in the world.
Large grey eyes like a child's, leastways sometimes they are grey and
sometimes they are blue.  It seems to depend on the light somehow; I
'ave seen them when they was a brown-brownish-gold.  And she smiles with
'er eyes."

"Hasn't she got a mouth?"  ses Ginger, wot was getting a bit tired of
it.

"You've been crossed in love," ses the nevy, staring at 'im.  "That's
wot's the matter with you.  And looking at you, I don't wonder at it."

Ginger 'arf got up, but Sam gave him a look and 'e sat down agin, and
then they all sat quiet while the nevy went on telling them about 'is
gal.

"I should like to see 'er," ses his uncle at last.

"Call round for me at seven to-morrow night," ses the young 'un, "and
I'll introduce you."

"We might look in on our way," ses Sam, arter Ginger and Peter 'ad both
made eyes at 'im.  "We're going out to spend the evening."

"The more the merrier," ses his nevy.  "Well, so long; I expect she's
waiting for me."

He got up and said good-bye, and arter he 'ad gorn, Sam and the other
two shook their leads together and said what a pity it was to be twenty-
one. Ginger said it made 'im sad to think of it, and Peter said 'ow any
gal could look at a man under thirty, 'e couldn't think.

They all went round to the nevy's the next evening.  They was a little
bit early owing to Ginger's watch 'aving been set right by guess-work,
and they 'ad to sit in a row on the nevy's bed waiting while 'e cleaned
'imself, and changed his clothes.  Although it was only Wednesday 'e
changed his collar, and he was so long making up 'is mind about his
necktie that 'is uncle tried to make it up for him.  By the time he 'ad
finished Sam said it made 'im think it was Sunday.

Miss Gill was at 'ome when they got there, and all three of 'em was very
much surprised that such a good-looking gal should take up with Sam's
nevy.  Ginger nearly said so, but Peter gave 'im a dig in the back just
in time and 'e called him something under 'is breath instead.

"Why shouldn't we all make an evening of it?" ses Ginger, arter they 'ad
been talking for about ten minutes, and the nevy 'ad looked at the clock
three or four times.

"Because two's company," ses Mrs. Gill.  "Why you was young yourself
once.  Can't you remember?"

"He's young now, mother," ses the gal, giving Ginger a nice smile.

"I tell you wot we might do," ses Mrs. Gill, putting 'er finger to her
forehead and considering.  "You and Joe go out and 'ave your evening,
and me and these gentlemen'll go off together somewhere.  I shall enjoy
an outing; I ain't 'ad one for a long time."

Ginger said it would be very nice if she thought it wouldn't make 'er
too tired, and afore Sam or Peter could think of anything to say, she
was upstairs putting 'er bonnet on.  They thought o' plenty to say while
they was sitting alone with Ginger waiting for 'er.

"My idea was for the gal and your nevy to come too," ses pore Ginger.
"Then I thought we might lose 'im and I would 'ave a little chat with
the gal, and show 'er 'ow foolish she was."

"Well, you've done it now," ses Sam.  "Spoilt our evening."

"P'r'aps good will come out of it," ses Ginger.  "If the old lady takes
a fancy to us we shall be able to come agin, and then to please you,
Sam, I'll have a go to cut your nevy out."

Sam stared at 'im, and Peter stared too, and then they looked at each
other and began to laugh till Ginger forgot where 'e was and offered to
put Sam through the winder.  They was still quarrelling under their
breath and saying wot they'd like to do to each other when Mrs. Gill
came downstairs.  Dressed up to the nines she was, and they walked down
the street with a feeling that everybody was looking at em.

One thing that 'elped to spoil the evening was that Mrs. Gill wouldn't
go into public'ouses, but to make up for it she went into sweet-stuff
shops three times and 'ad ices while they stood and watched 'er and
wondered 'ow she could do it.  And arter that she stopped at a place
Poplar way, where there was a few swings and roundabouts and things.
She was as skittish as a school-gal, and arter taking pore Sam on the
roundabout till 'e didn't know whether he was on his 'eels or his 'ead,
she got 'im into a boat-swing and swung 'im till he felt like a boy on
'is fust v'y'ge.  Arter that she took 'im to the rifle gallery, and
afore he had 'ad three shots the man took the gun away from 'im and
threatened to send for the police.

It was an expensive evening for all of them, but as Ginger said when
they got 'ome they 'ad broken the ice, and he bet Peter Russet 'arf a
dollar that afore two days 'ad passed he'd take the nevy's gal for a
walk.  He stepped round by 'imself the next arternoon and made 'imself
agreeable to Mrs. Gill, and the day arter they was both so nice and kind
that 'e plucked up 'is courage and offered to take Miss Gill to the Zoo.

She said "No" at fust, of course, but arter Ginger 'ad pointed out that
Joe was at work all day and couldn't take 'er 'imself, and that 'e was
Joe's uncle's best pal, she began to think better of it.

"Why not?"  ses her mother.  "Joe wouldn't mind.  He wouldn't be so
silly as to be jealous o' Mr. Ginger Dick."

"Of course not," ses the gal.  "There's nothing to be jealous of."

She let 'er mother and Ginger persuade 'er arter a time, and then she
went upstairs to clean herself, and put on a little silver brooch that
Ginger said he 'ad picked up coming along.

She took about three-quarters of an hour to get ready, but when she came
down, Ginger felt that it was quite worth it.  He couldn't take 'is eyes
off 'er, as the saying goes, and 'e sat by 'er side on the top of the
omnibus like a man in a dream.

"This is better than being at sea," he ses at last.

"Don't you like the sea?"  ses the gal.  "I should like to go to sea
myself."

"I shouldn't mind the sea if you was there," ses Ginger.

Miss Gill turned her 'ead away.  "You mustn't talk to me like that," she
ses in a soft voice.  "Still--"

"Still wot?" ses Ginger, arter waiting a long time.

"I mean, if I did go to sea, it would be nice to have a friend on
board," she ses.  "I suppose you ain't afraid of storms, are you?"

"I like 'em," ses Ginger.

"You look as if you would," ses the gal, giving 'im a little look under
'er eyelashes.  "It must be nice to be a man and be brave.  I wish I was
a man."

"I don't," ses Ginger.

"Why not?"  ses the gal, turning her 'ead away agin.

Ginger didn't answer, he gave 'er elbow a little squeeze instead.  She
took it away at once, and Ginger was just wishing he 'adn't been so
foolish, when it came back agin, and they sat for a long time without
speaking a word.

"The sea is all right for some things," ses Ginger at last, "but suppose
a man married!"

The gal shook her 'ead.  "It would be hard on 'is wife," she ses, with
another little look at 'im, "but--but----"

Ginger pinched 'er elbow agin.

"But p'r'aps he could get a job ashore," she ses, "and then he could
take his wife out for a bus-ride every day."

They 'ad to change buses arter a time, and they got on a wrong bus and
went miles out o' their way, but neither of 'em seemed to mind.  Ginger
said he was thinking of something else, and the gal said she was too.
They got to the Zoological Gardens at last, and Ginger said he 'ad never
enjoyed himself so much.  When the lions roared she squeezed his arm,
and when they 'ad an elephant ride she was holding on to 'im with both
'ands.

"I am enjoying myself," she ses, as Ginger 'elped her down and said
"whoa" to the elephant.  "I know it's wicked, but I can't 'elp it, and
wot's more, I'm afraid I don't want to 'elp it."

She let Ginger take 'er arm when she nearly tripped up over a peppermint
ball some kid 'ad dropped; and, arter a little persuasion, she 'ad a
bottle of lemonade and six bath-buns at a refreshment stall for dinner.

She was as nice as she could be to him, but by the time they started for
'ome, she 'ad turned so quiet that Ginger began to think 'e must 'ave
offended 'er in some way.

"Are you tired?"  he ses.

"No," ses the gal, shaking her 'ead, "I've enjoyed myself very much."

"I thought you seemed a bit tired," ses Ginger, arter waiting a long
time.

"I'm not tired," ses the gal, giving 'im a sad sort o' little smile,
"but I'm a little bit worried, that's all."

"Worried?" ses Ginger, very tender.  "Wot's worrying you?"

"Oh, I can't tell you," ses Miss Gill.  "It doesn't matter; I'll try and
cheer up.  Wot a lovely day it is, isn't it?  I shall remember it all my
life."

"Wot is it worrying you?"  ses Ginger, in a determined voice.  "Can't
you tell me?"

"No," ses the gal, shaking her 'ead, "I can't tell you because you might
want to 'elp me, and I couldn't allow that."

"Why shouldn't I 'elp you?"  ses Ginger.  "It's wot we was put 'ere for:
to 'elp one another."

"I couldn't tell you," ses the gal, just dabbing at'er eyes--with a lace
pocket-'ankercher about one and a 'arf times the size of 'er nose.

"Not if I ask you to?"  ses Ginger.

Miss Gill shook 'er 'ead, and then she tried her 'ardest to turn the
conversation.  She talked about the weather, and the monkey-'ouse, and a
gal in 'er street whose 'air changed from red to black in a single
night; but it was all no good, Ginger wouldn't be put off, and at last
she ses--

"Well," she ses, "if you must know, I'm in a difficulty; I 'ave got to
get three pounds, and where to get it I don't know any more than the man
in the moon.  Now let's talk about something else."

"Do you owe it?"  ses Ginger.

"I can't tell you any more," ses Miss Gill, "and I wouldn't 'ave told
you that only you asked me, and somehow I feel as though I 'ave to tell
you things, when you want me to."

"Three pounds ain't much," ses pore Ginger, wot 'ad just been paid off
arter a long v'y'ge.  "I can let you 'ave it and welcome."

Miss Gill started away from 'im as though she 'ad been stung, and it
took 'im all his time to talk 'er round agin.  When he 'ad she begged
'is pardon and said he was the most generous man she 'ad ever met, but