



Produced by David Widger




SAILORS' KNOTS

By W.W. Jacobs


1909



DESERTED


"Sailormen ain't wot you might call dandyfied as a rule," said the night-
watchman, who had just had a passage of arms with a lighterman and been
advised to let somebody else wash him and make a good job of it; "they've
got too much sense.  They leave dressing up and making eyesores of
theirselves to men wot 'ave never smelt salt water; men wot drift up and
down the river in lighters and get in everybody's way."

He glanced fiercely at the retreating figure of the lighterman, and,
turning a deaf ear to a request for a lock of his hair to patch a
favorite doormat with, resumed with much vigor his task of sweeping up
the litter.

The most dressy sailorman I ever knew, he continued, as he stood the
broom up in a corner and seated himself on a keg, was a young feller
named Rupert Brown.  His mother gave 'im the name of Rupert while his
father was away at sea, and when he came 'ome it was too late to alter
it.  All that a man could do he did do, and Mrs. Brown 'ad a black eye
till 'e went to sea agin.  She was a very obstinate woman, though--like
most of 'em--and a little over a year arterwards got pore old Brown three
months' hard by naming 'er next boy Roderick Alfonso.

Young Rupert was on a barge when I knew 'im fust, but he got tired of
always 'aving dirty hands arter a time, and went and enlisted as a
soldier.  I lost sight of 'im for a while, and then one evening he turned
up on furlough and come to see me.

O' course, by this time 'e was tired of soldiering, but wot upset 'im
more than anything was always 'aving to be dressed the same and not being
able to wear a collar and neck-tie.  He said that if it wasn't for the
sake of good old England, and the chance o' getting six months, he'd
desert.  I tried to give 'im good advice, and, if I'd only known 'ow I
was to be dragged into it, I'd ha' given 'im a lot more.

As it 'appened he deserted the very next arternoon.  He was in the Three
Widders at Aldgate, in the saloon bar--which is a place where you get a
penn'orth of ale in a glass and pay twopence for it--and, arter being
told by the barmaid that she had got one monkey at 'ome, he got into
conversation with another man wot was in there.

He was a big man with a black moustache and a red face, and 'is fingers
all smothered in di'mond rings.  He 'ad got on a gold watch-chain as
thick as a rope, and a scarf-pin the size of a large walnut, and he had
'ad a few words with the barmaid on 'is own account.  He seemed to take a
fancy to Rupert from the fust, and in a few minutes he 'ad given 'im a
big cigar out of a sealskin case and ordered 'im a glass of sherry wine.

[Illustration: He seemed to take a fancy to Rupert from the fust.]

"Have you ever thought o' going on the stage?" he ses, arter Rupert 'ad
told 'im of his dislike for the Army.

"No," ses Rupert, staring.

"You s'prise me," ses the big man; "you're wasting of your life by not
doing so."

"But I can't act," ses Rupert.

"Stuff and nonsense!" ses the big man.  "Don't tell me.  You've got an
actor's face.  I'm a manager myself, and I know.  I don't mind telling
you that I refused twenty-three men and forty-eight ladies only
yesterday."

"I wonder you don't drop down dead," ses the barmaid, lifting up 'is
glass to wipe down the counter.

The manager looked at her, and, arter she 'ad gone to talk to a gentleman
in the next bar wot was knocking double knocks on the counter with a pint
pot, he whispered to Rupert that she 'ad been one of them.

"She can't act a bit," he ses.  "Now, look 'ere; I'm a business man and
my time is valuable.  I don't know nothing, and I don't want to know
nothing; but, if a nice young feller, like yourself, for example, was
tired of the Army and wanted to escape, I've got one part left in my
company that 'ud suit 'im down to the ground."

"Wot about being reckernized?"  ses Rupert.

The manager winked at 'im.  "It's the part of a Zulu chief," he ses, in a
whisper.

Rupert started.  "But I should 'ave to black my face," he ses.

"A little," ses the manager; "but you'd soon get on to better parts--and
see wot a fine disguise it is."

He stood 'im two more glasses o' sherry wine, and, arter he' ad drunk
'em, Rupert gave way.  The manager patted 'im on the back, and said that
if he wasn't earning fifty pounds a week in a year's time he'd eat his
'ead; and the barmaid, wot 'ad come back agin, said it was the best thing
he could do with it, and she wondered he 'adn't thought of it afore.

They went out separate, as the manager said it would be better for them
not to be seen together, and Rupert, keeping about a dozen yards behind,
follered 'im down the Mile End Road.  By and by the manager stopped
outside a shop-window wot 'ad been boarded up and stuck all over with
savages dancing and killing white people and hunting elephants, and,
arter turning round and giving Rupert a nod, opened the door with a key
and went inside.

"That's all right," he ses, as Rupert follered 'im in.  "This is my wife,
Mrs. Alfredi," he ses, introducing 'im to a fat, red-'aired lady wot was
sitting inside sewing.  "She has performed before all the crowned 'eads
of Europe.  That di'mond brooch she's wearing was a present from the
Emperor of Germany, but, being a married man, he asked 'er to keep it
quiet."

Rupert shook 'ands with Mrs. Alfredi, and then her 'usband led 'im to a
room at the back, where a little lame man was cleaning up things, and
told 'im to take his clothes off.

"If they was mine," he ses, squinting at the fire-place, "I should know
wot to do with 'em."

Rupert laughed and slapped 'im on the back, and, arter cutting his
uniform into pieces, stuffed it into the fireplace and pulled the dampers
out.  He burnt up 'is boots and socks and everything else, and they all
three laughed as though it was the best joke in the world.  Then Mr.
Alfredi took his coat off and, dipping a piece of rag into a basin of
stuff wot George 'ad fetched, did Rupert a lovely brown all over.

"That's the fust coat," he ses.  "Now take a stool in front of the fire
and let it soak in."

He gave 'im another coat arf an hour arterwards, while George curled his
'air, and when 'e was dressed in bracelets round 'is ankles and wrists,
and a leopard-skin over his shoulder, he was as fine a Zulu as you could
wish for to see.  His lips was naturally thick and his nose flat, and
even his eyes 'appened to be about the right color.

"He's a fair perfect treat," ses Mr. Alfredi.  "Fetch Kumbo in, George."

The little man went out, and came back agin shoving in a fat, stumpy Zulu
woman wot began to grin and chatter like a poll-parrot the moment she saw
Rupert.

"It's all right," ses Mr. Alfredi; "she's took a fancy to you."

"Is--is she an actress?" ses Rupert.

"One o' the best," ses the manager.  "She'll teach you to dance and shy
assegais.  Pore thing! she buried her 'usband the day afore we come here,
but you'll be surprised to see 'ow skittish she can be when she has got
over it a bit."

They sat there while Rupert practised--till he started shying the
assegais, that is--and then they went out and left 'im with Kumbo.
Considering that she 'ad only just buried her 'usband, Rupert found her
quite skittish enough, and he couldn't 'elp wondering wot she'd be like
when she'd got over her grief a bit more.

The manager and George said he 'ad got on wonderfully, and arter talking
it over with Mrs. Alfredi they decided to open that evening, and pore
Rupert found out that the shop was the theatre, and all the acting he'd
got to do was to dance war-dances and sing in Zulu to people wot had paid
a penny a 'ead.  He was a bit nervous at fust, for fear anybody should
find out that 'e wasn't a real Zulu, because the manager said they'd tear
'im to pieces if they did, and eat 'im arterwards, but arter a time 'is
nervousness wore off and he jumped about like a monkey.

They gave performances every arf hour from ha'-past six to ten, and
Rupert felt ready to drop.  His feet was sore with dancing and his throat
ached with singing Zulu, but wot upset 'im more than anything was an
elderly old party wot would keep jabbing 'im in the ribs with her
umbrella to see whether he could laugh.

[Illustration: An elderly old party wot would keep jabbing 'im in the
ribs with her umbrella.]

They 'ad supper arter they 'ad closed, and then Mr. Alfredi and 'is wife
went off, and Rupert and George made up beds for themselves in the shop,
while Kumbo 'ad a little place to herself at the back.

He did better than ever next night, and they all said he was improving
fast; and Mr. Alfredi told 'im in a whisper that he thought he was better
at it than Kumbo.  "Not that I should mind 'er knowing much," he ses,
"seeing that she's took such a fancy to you."

"Ah, I was going to speak to you about that," ses Rupert.  "Forwardness
is no name for it; if she don't keep 'erself to 'erself, I shall chuck
the whole thing up."

The manager coughed behind his 'and.  "And go back to the Army?" he ses.
"Well, I should be sorry to lose you, but I won't stand in your way."

Mrs. Alfredi, wot was standing by, stuffed her pocket-'ankercher in 'er
mouth, and Rupert began to feel a bit uneasy in his mind.

"If I did," he ses, "you'd get into trouble for 'elping me to desert."

"Desert!" ses Mr. Alfredi.  "I don't know anything about your deserting."

"Ho!" ses Rupert.  "And wot about my uniform?"

"Uniform?" ses Mr. Alfredi.  "Wot uniform?  I ain't seen no uniform.
Where is it?"

Rupert didn't answer 'im, but arter they 'ad gone 'ome he told George
that he 'ad 'ad enough of acting and he should go.

"Where to?" ses George.

"I'll find somewhere," ses Rupert.  "I sha'n't starve."

"You might ketch your death o' cold, though," ses George.

Rupert said he didn't mind, and then he shut 'is eyes and pretended to be
asleep.  His idea was to wait till George was asleep and then pinch 'is
clothes; consequently 'is feelings when 'e opened one eye and saw George
getting into bed with 'is clothes on won't bear thinking about.  He laid
awake for hours, and three times that night George, who was a very heavy
sleeper, woke up and found Rupert busy tucking him in.

By the end of the week Rupert was getting desperate.  He hated being
black for one thing, and the more he washed the better color he looked.
He didn't mind the black for out o' doors, in case the Army was looking
for 'im, but 'aving no clothes he couldn't get out o' doors; and when he
said he wouldn't perform unless he got some, Mr. Alfredi dropped 'ints
about having 'im took up for a deserter.

"I've 'ad my suspicions of it for some days," he ses, with a wink,
"though you did come to me in a nice serge suit and tell me you was an
actor.  Now, you be a good boy for another week and I'll advance you a
couple o' pounds to get some clothes with."

Rupert asked him to let 'im have it then, but 'e wouldn't, and for
another week he 'ad to pretend 'e was a Zulu of an evening, and try and
persuade Kumbo that he was an English gentleman of a daytime.

He got the money at the end of the week and 'ad to sign a paper to give a
month's notice any time he wanted to leave, but he didn't mind that at
all, being determined the fust time he got outside the place to run away
and ship as a <DW65> cook if 'e couldn't get the black off.

He made a list o' things out for George to get for 'im, but there seemed
to be such a lot for two pounds that Mr. Alfredi shook his 'ead over it;
and arter calling 'imself a soft-'arted fool, and saying he'd finish up
in the workhouse, he made it three pounds and told George to look sharp.

"He's a very good marketer," he ses, arter George 'ad gone; "he don't
mind wot trouble he takes.  He'll very likely haggle for hours to get
sixpence knocked off the trousers or twopence off the shirt."

It was twelve o'clock in the morning when George went, and at ha'-past
four Rupert turned nasty, and said 'e was afraid he was trying to get
them for nothing.  At five o'clock he said George was a fool, and at
ha'-past he said 'e was something I won't repeat.

It was just eleven o'clock, and they 'ad shut up for the night, when the
front door opened, and George stood there smiling at 'em and shaking his
'ead.

"Sush a lark," he ses, catching 'old of Mr. Alfredi's arm to steady
'imself.  "I gave 'im shlip."

"Wot d'ye mean?"  ses the manager, shaking him off.  "Gave who the slip?
Where's them clothes?"

"Boy's got 'em," ses George, smiling agin and catching hold of Kumbo's
arm.  "Sush a lark; he's been car-carrying 'em all day--all day.  Now
I've given 'im the--the shlip,'stead o'--'stead o' giving 'im fourpence.
Take care o' the pensh, an' pouns--"

He let go o' Kumbo's arm, turned round twice, and then sat down 'eavy and
fell fast asleep.  The manager rushed to the door and looked out, but
there was no signs of the boy, and he came back shaking his 'ead, and
said that George 'ad been drinking agin.

"Well, wot about my clothes?"  ses Rupert, hardly able to speak.

"P'r'aps he didn't buy 'em arter all," ses the manager.  "Let's try 'is
pockets."

He tried fust, and found some strawberries that George 'ad spoilt by
sitting on.  Then he told Rupert to have a try, and Rupert found some
bits of string, a few buttons, two penny stamps, and twopence ha'penny in
coppers.

"Never mind," ses Mr. Alfredi; "I'll go round to the police-station in
the morning; p'r'aps the boy 'as taken them there.  I'm disapp'inted in
George.  I shall tell 'im so, too."

He bid Rupert good-night and went off with Mrs. Alfredi; and Rupert,
wishful to make the best o' things, decided that he would undress George
and go off in 'is clothes.  He waited till Kumbo 'ad gone off to bed, and
then he started to take George's coat off.  He got the two top buttons
undone all right, and then George turned over in 'is sleep.  It surprised
Rupert, but wot surprised 'im more when he rolled George over was to find
them two buttons done up agin.  Arter it had 'appened three times he see
'ow it was, and he come to the belief that George was no more drunk than
wot he was, and that it was all a put-up thing between 'im and Mr.
Alfredi.

He went to bed then to think it over, and by the morning he 'ad made up
his mind to keep quiet and bide his time, as the saying is.  He spoke
quite cheerful to Mr. Alfredi, and pretended to believe 'im when he said
that he 'ad been to the police-station about the clothes.

Two days arterwards he thought of something; he remembered me.  He 'ad
found a dirty old envelope on the floor, and with a bit o' lead pencil he
wrote me a letter on the back of one o' the bills, telling me all his
troubles, and asking me to bring some clothes and rescue 'im.  He stuck
on one of the stamps he 'ad found in George's pocket, and opening the
door just afore going to bed threw it out on the pavement.

The world is full of officious, interfering busy-bodies.  I should no
more