The Chequers: Being the Natural History of a Public-House, Set Forth in; a Loafer's DiaryRunciman, James
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The Chequers: Being the Natural History of a Public-House, Set Forth in; a Loafer's Diary
Runciman, James
England -- Social conditions -- 19th century -- Fiction
I picked a big, broad boat at the inn stairs, and we were soon dropping
gently over the tide, but I would not row hard, as I wanted to be near
assistance. To my astonishment Darbishire began to talk quite lucidly,
and went on for a few minutes with all the charm that distinguished him
when he was sober. By some strange process the blood had begun to
circulate with regularity in the vessels of the impoverished brain, and
the man was sane. I was overjoyed, and in the fulness of my heart I
said, "We'll drive home, or row there to-morrow. My dear fellow, I
thought you were going dotty." His jaw fell; he yelled, "Stop him--stop
him! He's coming with his mouth open! Oh! red-hot teeth and his belly
full of flames--the cat! Oh, I'll stand this no more--you brute, you
shall drown!" In an instant he sprang overboard; the clouds came over
the moon, and I could only tell Bob's whereabouts by hearing him
wallowing and snarling like a dog. I backed up to him, leaned over, and
passed one of the rudder-lines under his arm-pits; his struggling ceased
and I shouted for help. Lights moved on the bank, and presently a boat
shot towards us. The landlord said, "Mercy on us! Excuse me, sir, but
you did ought to be careful. You ought to be shot for risking that man's
life; I see as how it is." I was only too glad to have missed seeing a
tragedy, and I let Boniface talk on.
It was agreed that Bob should have his draught, and that I should sit up
by his bedside till four next morning. We wrapped him in warm blankets,
and coaxed him into taking the medicine. He started and twitched for
some time, and at last sank into sleep. He moaned again and again, but
showed no signs of waking, and I sat quietly smoking and framing good
resolutions. My eyeballs were irritable, and I found that I could only
obtain ease by closing my eyes. Once I started up and walked to and fro;
then it struck me I ought to throw the Derringer out of the window, and
I did so; then I sat down. The clock struck two; my tired eyes closed,
but I was sure I could keep awake, and I began to repeat old songs
merely to test my memory and keep the brain active.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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