His other self [Night watches, Part 10.]Jacobs, W. W. (William Wymark)
General
His other self [Night watches, Part 10.]
Jacobs, W. W. (William Wymark)
Humorous stories; Short stories
He changed into my clothes fust of all, and then, asking me to sit down
in front of 'im, he took a looking-glass and a box out of 'is bag and
began to alter 'is face. Wot with sticks of coloured paint, and false
eyebrows, and a beard stuck on with gum and trimmed with a pair o'
scissors, it was more like a conjuring trick than anything else. Then
'e took a wig out of 'is bag and pressed it on his 'ead, put on the cap,
put some black stuff on 'is teeth, and there he was. We both looked
into the glass together while 'e gave the finishing touches, and then he
clapped me on the back and said I was the handsomest sailorman in
England.
"I shall have to make up a bit 'eavier when I'm behind the floats," he
ses; "but this is enough for 'ere. Wot do you think of the imitation of
your voice? I think I've got it exact."
"If you ask me," I ses, "it sounds like a poll-parrot with a cold in the
'ead."
"And now for your walk," he ses, looking as pleased as if I'd said
something else. "Come to the door and see me go up the wharf."
I didn't like to hurt 'is feelings, but I thought I should ha' bust. He
walked up that wharf like a dancing-bear in a pair of trousers too tight
for it, but 'e was so pleased with 'imself that I didn't like to tell
'im so. He went up and down two or three times, and I never saw
anything so ridikerlous in my life.
"That's all very well for us," he ses; "but wot about other people?
That's wot I want to know. I'll go and 'ave a drink, and see whether
anybody spots me."
Afore I could stop 'im he started off to the Bull's Head and went in,
while I stood outside and watched 'im.
"'Arf a pint o' four ale," he ses, smacking down a penny.
I see the landlord draw the beer and give it to 'im, but 'e didn't seem
to take no notice of 'im. Then, just to open 'is eyes a bit, I walked
in and put down a penny and asked for a 'arf-pint.
The landlord was just wiping down the counter at the time, and when I
gave my order he looked up and stood staring at me with the wet cloth
'eld up in the air. He didn't say a word--not a single word. He stood
there for a moment smiling at us foolish-like, and then 'e let go o' the
beer-injin, wot 'e was 'olding in 'is left hand, and sat down heavy on
the bar floor. We both put our 'eads over the counter to see wot had
'appened to 'im, and 'e started making the most 'orrible noise I 'ave
ever heard in my life. I wonder it didn't bring the fire-injins. The
actor-chap bolted out as if he'd been shot, and I was just thinking of
follering 'im when the landlord's wife and 'is two daughters came
rushing out and asking me wot I 'ad done to him.
"There--there--was two of 'im !" ses the landlord, trembling and
holding on to 'is wife's arm, as they helped 'im up and got 'im in the
chair. "Two of 'im!"
"Two of wot?" ses his wife.
"Two--two watchmen," ses the landlord; "both exac'ly alike and both
asking for 'arf a pint o' four ale."
"Yes, yes," ses 'is wife.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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