Sailors' Knots (Entire Collection)Jacobs, W. W. (William Wymark)
General
Sailors' Knots (Entire Collection)
Jacobs, W. W. (William Wymark)
England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Humorous stories, English
“An Elderly Boatman, Who, After Looking at Him Hard, Took His Pipe from
his Mouth and Bade Him 'good-evening.'”
“She Piled Mr. Carter's Plate up So Generously That Her Father and
Brother Had Ample Time at Their Disposal to Watch Him Eat.”
“A Gentleman of Middle Age Was Peeping Round the Door.”
“Superstitiousness is Right and Proper, to a Certain Extent.”
“Silas Was Very Perlite at Fust.”
“She Saw Silas Winch Standing at the Foot of The Bed.”
“With Tears in his Eyes 'e Emptied a Little Barrel O' Beer Down the
Sink.”
“Other wimmen 'as to be satisfied looking at new 'ats.”
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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