England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Humorous stories, English; Sailors -- Fiction
“I had just come out of the Bear’s Head, and stopped to look round
afore going back to the wharf, when I see a couple o’ people standing
on the swing-bridge saying ‘Good-bye’ to each other. One of ’em was a
man and the other wasn’t.
“‘Evening, cap’n,’ I ses, as he came towards me, and gave a little
start. ‘I didn’t know you ’ad brought your missis up with you this
trip.’
“‘Evening, Bill,’ he ses, very peaceful. ‘Wot a lovely evening!’
“‘Bee-utiful!’ I ses.
“‘So fresh,’ ses the skipper, sniffing in some of the air.
“‘Makes you feel quite young agin,’ I ses.
“He didn’t say nothing to that, except to look at me out of the corner
of ’is eye; and stepping on to the wharf had another look at the sky to
admire it, and then went aboard his ship. If he ’ad only stood me a
pint, and trusted me, things might ha’ turned out different.
“Quite by chance I happened to be in the Bear’s Head a week arterwards,
and, quite by chance, as I came out I saw the skipper saying ‘Good-bye’
on the bridge agin. He seemed to be put out about something, and when I
said ‘Wot a lovely evening it would be if only it wasn’t raining ’ard!’
he said something about knocking my ’ead off.
“‘And you keep your nose out o’ my bisness,’ he ses, very fierce.
“‘Your bisness!’ I ses. ‘Wot bisness?’
“‘There’s some people as might like to know that you leave the wharf to
look arter itself while you’re sitting in a pub swilling gallons and
gallons o’ beer,’ he ses, in a nasty sort o’ way. ‘Live and let live,
that’s my motter.”
“‘I don’t know wot you’re talking about,’ I ses, ‘but it don’t matter
anyways. I’ve got a clear conscience; that’s the main thing. I’m as
open as the day, and there’s nothing about me that I’d mind anybody
knowing. Wot a pity it is everybody can’t say the same!’
“I didn’t see ’im saying ‘Good-bye’ the next week or the week arter
that either, but the third week, arter just calling in at the Bear’s
Head, I strolled on casual-like and got as far as the bottom of Tower
Hill afore I remembered myself. Turning the corner, I a’most fell over
the skipper, wot was right in the fair way, shaking ’ands with his
lady-friend under the lamp-post. Both of ’em started, and I couldn’t
make up my mind which gave me the most unpleasant look.
“‘Peep-bo!’ I ses, cheerful-like.
“He stood making a gobbling noise at me, like a turkey.
“‘Give me quite a start, you did,’ I ses. ‘I didn’t dream of you being
there.’
“‘Get off!’ he ses, spluttering. ‘Get off, afore I tear you limb from
limb! ’Ow dare you follow me about and come spying round corners at me?
Wot d’ye mean by it?’
“I stood there with my arms folded acrost my chest, as calm as a
cucumber. The other party stood there watching us, and wot ’e could
’ave seen in her, I can’t think. She was dressed more like a man than a
woman, and it would have taken the good looks of twenty like her to
’ave made one barmaid. I stood looking at ’er like a man in a dream.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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