The Persecution of Bob Pretty: Odd Craft, Part 9.Jacobs, W. W. (William Wymark)
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The Persecution of Bob Pretty: Odd Craft, Part 9.
Jacobs, W. W. (William Wymark)
England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Humorous stories, English; Sailors -- Fiction
Then Bob Pretty lost 'is temper, and the things 'e said about Mr. Cutts
wasn't fit for Smith to 'ear. He threw 'imself down at last full length
on the ground and sulked till the day broke.
Keeper Lewis was there a'most as soon as it was light, with some long
hay-rakes he'd borrowed, and I should think that pretty near 'arf the
folks in Clay-bury 'ad turned up to see the fun. Mrs. Pretty was crying
and wringing 'er 'ands; but most folks seemed to be rather pleased that
Bob 'ad been caught at last.
In next to no time 'arf-a-dozen rakes was at work, and the things they
brought out o' that pond you wouldn't believe. The edge of it was all
littered with rusty tin pails and saucepans and such-like, and by-and-by
Lewis found the things he'd 'ad to go 'ome without a few hours afore, but
they didn't seem to find that sack, and Bob Pretty, wot was talking to
'is wife, began to look 'opeful.
But just then the squire came riding up with two friends as was staying
with 'im, and he offered a reward of five shillings to the man wot found
it. Three or four of 'em waded in up to their middle then and raked
their 'ardest, and at last Henery Walker give a cheer and brought it to
the side, all heavy with water.
"That's the sack I found, sir," ses Bob, starting up. "It wasn't on your
land at all, but on the field next to it. I'm an honest, 'ardworking
man, and I've never been in trouble afore. Ask anybody 'ere and they'll
tell you the same."
Squire Rockett took no notice of 'im. "Is that the sack?" he asks,
turning to Mr. Cutts.
"That's the one, sir," ses Mr. Cutts. "I'd swear to it anywhere."
"You'd swear a man's life away," ses Bob. "'Ow can you swear to it when
it was dark?"
Mr. Cutts didn't answer 'im. He went down on 'is knees and cut the
string that tied up the mouth o' the sack, and then 'e started back as if
'e'd been shot, and 'is eyes a'most started out of 'is 'ead.
"Wot's the matter?" ses the squire.
Mr. Cutts couldn't speak; he could only stutter and point at the sack
with 'is finger, and Henery Walker, as was getting curious, lifted up the
other end of it and out rolled a score of as fine cabbages as you could
wish to see.
I never see people so astonished afore in all my born days, and as for
Bob Pretty, 'e stood staring at them cabbages as if 'e couldn't believe
'is eyesight.
"And that's wot I've been kept 'ere all night for," he ses, at last,
shaking his 'ead. "That's wot comes o' trying to do a kindness to
keepers, and 'elping of 'em in their difficult work. P'r'aps that ain't
the sack arter all, Mr. Cutts. I could ha' sworn they was pheasants in
the one I found, but I may be mistook, never 'aving 'ad one in my 'ands
afore. Or p'r'aps somebody was trying to 'ave a game with you, Mr.
Cutts, and deceived me instead."
The keepers on'y stared at 'im.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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