England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Humorous stories, English; Sailors -- Fiction
It’s wonderful wot a uniform will do. The policeman just jerked his
’ead and said “outside,” and the men went out like a flock of sheep.
The on’y man that said a word was the carman, who was in such a hurry
that ’e knocked his bad shin against my foot as ’e went by. The thin
little woman was passed out by the policeman in the middle of a speech
she was making, and he was just going for the other, when the skipper
stopped ’im.
“This lady is coming on my ship,” he ses, puffing out ’is chest.
I looked at ’im, and then I turned to the policeman. “So long as she
goes off my wharf, I don’t mind where she goes,” I ses. “The skipper’s
goings-on ’ave got nothing to do with me.”
“Then she can foller him ’ome in the morning,” ses the skipper. “Good
night, watchman.”
Him and the mate ’elped the silly old thing to the ship, and, arter I
’ad been round to the Bear’s Head and fetched a pint for the policeman,
I locked up and sat down to think things out; and the more I thought
the worse they seemed. I’ve ’eard people say that if you have a clear
conscience nothing can hurt you. They didn’t know my missus.
I got up at last and walked on to the jetty, and the woman, wot was
sitting on the deck of the John Henry, kept calling out: “Bill!” like a
sick baa-lamb crying for its ma. I went back, and ’ad four pints at the
Bear’s Head, but it didn’t seem to do me any good, and at last I went
and sat down in the office to wait for morning.
It came at last, a lovely morning with a beautiful sunrise; and that
woman sitting up wide awake, waiting to foller me ’ome. When I opened
the gate at six o’clock she was there with the mate and the skipper,
waiting, and when I left at five minutes past she was trotting along
beside me.
Twice I stopped and spoke to ’er, but it was no good. Other people
stopped too, and I ’ad to move on agin; and every step was bringing me
nearer to my house and the missus.
I turned into our street, arter passing it three times, and the first
thing I saw was my missus standing on the doorstep ’aving a few words
with the lady next door. Then she ’appened to look up and see us, just
as that silly woman was trying to walk arm-in-arm.
Twice I knocked her ’and away, and then, right afore my wife and the
party next door, she put her arm round my waist. By the time I got to
the ’ouse my legs was trembling so I could hardly stand, and when I got
into the passage I ’ad to lean up against the wall for a bit.
[Illustration: Right afore my wife and the party next door, she put
her arm round my waist.]
“Keep ’er out,” I ses.
“Wot do you want?” ses my missus, trembling with passion. “Wot do you
think you’re doing?”
“I want my ’usband, Bill,” ses the woman.
My missus put her ’and to her throat and came in without a word, and
the woman follered ’er. If I hadn’t kept my presence o’ mind and shut
the door two or three more would ’ave come in too.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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