The Autobiography of a Super-TrampDavies, W. H. (William Henry)
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The Autobiography of a Super-Tramp
Davies, W. H. (William Henry)
Davies, W. H. (William Henry), 1871-1940; Poets, English -- 20th century -- Biography; Tramps -- Biography
Of course, we had to have more whisky, after the voyage, and, having
had to sleep, its effect was almost instantaneous. Not altogether
losing my senses, I suggested to Red that we should go to some hotel,
have breakfast, and then go to bed for an hour or two, say till dinner
time, which would refresh us. It was now eight o'clock in the morning,
and Red had unfortunately got into conversation with a gentleman who
knew something of Australia. "Yes," he said, gravely, after listening
to my proposal--"you are young, and you certainly look drunk and
sleepy, and had better follow your own advice. The hotel is next door
but one to this, and you will find me here when you return." Not
liking to take him by the shoulder, and to gently try to force him
away from this stranger in whose conversation he evidently seemed to
take a great delight, not to mention doing such an action before the
landlord's face, I left him, made arrangements at the hotel for two,
and then went to bed. Having had a good sleep, and a substantial meal,
and feeling thoroughly refreshed, I now returned to Red, whom I found
in the centre of half a dozen loafers, besides the gentleman to whom I
have already referred. On my appearance, he staggered to his feet and
came to meet me, and then, taking me on one side, began in this way:
"You have just come in the nick of time, for the glasses, as you see,
are empty. Pay for all drinks called for, and I will make it all right
with you in the morning." "What is the matter?" I asked. "What have
you done with over eighty dollars?" Winking artfully, and with a smile
meant to be cunning, he said--"I have hidden my money, as I usually do
in these cases. Most likely it is in the lining of my coat; but,
wherever it is, you may depend on it as being quite safe." If he had
had the assistance of a score of the most inveterate drunkards, I know
he could not in this short time have squandered between eighty and
ninety dollars. Red had earned ninety-five dollars and a half, and, up
to the time of my leaving him, had spent but very little. I came to
the conclusion that he had been robbed, and that this befell him in
all his sprees. After calling for a round of drinks, I left the house,
knowing that Red would soon follow, which he did, and at once. I
persuaded him to bed, and the next morning saw the same peculiarities
as before--his going into corners, up side streets, to feel the lining
of his clothes. He was not satisfied at seeing no tear in the lining
of his cap, but must hold it in his hand and feel every inch of it.
"Somewhere on my person," he reiterated, "I have secreted three twenty
dollar bills. I have a distinct recollection of doing so, but for the
life of me I cannot remember what part." "You have been robbed," I
answered, with a little disgust. Not willing to leave him in his
present circumstances, and only too sorry that I had not done so when
he was almost as well off as myself, I shared my dollars with him,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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