The Impending Sword: A Novel (Vol. 1 of 3)Yates, Edmund
General
The Impending Sword: A Novel (Vol. 1 of 3)
Yates, Edmund
Fiction
'You never do see anything unless it answers your own purpose,' said
the man with a familiar laugh, 'and then it's astonishing how clear
your sight becomes. This is how it is: You're a sailor, you see--may
be mate of a liner--may be attached to one of the big steam
companies--and you have got something you want to dispose of something
that you have not paid any duty on, perhaps something that has been
handed over to you by a passenger who left the other side under a sort
of cloud, and he could not conveniently move it ashore himself--you
want to dispose of it as I say, and Eph Jenkins has been recommended
to you, and you have arranged to meet Eph Jenkins here; the boys round
here know Eph, and will pretty soon guess that that is the sort of
business you and he have together.'
`That is extremely satisfactory,' sneered the sailor, pushing back
from his forehead some of the overhanging hair which seemed to
inconvenience him, and gazing hard at his companion; 'you are still
living the same kind of life then?'
'Did you expect me to have been made Secretary to the Treasury, or to
have become mayor of New York?' asked the other.
`No,' said the sailor quietly, 'I didn't know but that even a greater
change might have befallen you. I thought perhaps you might have
become honest.'
'No,' said the man, with a short laugh, 'you didn't think that, or you
would not have summoned me to do some work for you. Honest!' he cried,
dropping his voice to a low hissing whisper, 'what have such as I, or
you, for the matter of that, to do with honesty? I was honest once,
but in those days I could have been of no service to you. It is only
since I became the degraded brute I am that I fell within your
clutches, was made your tool, and employed by you to do your dirty
work.'
'For such, let me remark, you have been duly paid.'
'Paid!' cried the man. 'I have received money with which I have bought
more whisky, in the hope of making myself drunk, and cheating myself
into forgetfulness of the times when I was decent and respectable;
money which has kept me from starving, and rendered me available for
whatever you might order me to do.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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