Читать книгу Odd Craft, Complete - William Wymark Jacobs - Страница 4

Strength and good-nature—said the night-watchman, musingly, as he felt his biceps—strength and good-nature always go together. Sometimes you find a strong man who is not good-natured, but then, as everybody he comes in contack with is, it comes to the same thing.

The strongest and kindest-’earted man I ever come across was a man o’ the name of Bill Burton, a ship-mate of Ginger Dick’s. For that matter ‘e was a shipmate o’ Peter Russet’s and old Sam Small’s too. Not over and above tall; just about my height, his arms was like another man’s legs for size, and ‘is chest and his back and shoulders might ha’ been made for a giant. And with all that he’d got a soft blue eye like a gal’s (blue’s my favourite colour for gals’ eyes), and a nice, soft, curly brown beard. He was an A.B., too, and that showed ‘ow good-natured he was, to pick up with firemen.

He got so fond of ‘em that when they was all paid off from the Ocean King he asked to be allowed to join them in taking a room ashore. It pleased every-body, four coming cheaper than three, and Bill being that good-tempered that ‘e’d put up with anything, and when any of the three quarrelled he used to act the part of peacemaker.

The only thing about ‘im that they didn’t like was that ‘e was a teetotaler. He’d go into public-’ouses with ‘em, but he wouldn’t drink; leastways, that is to say, he wouldn’t drink beer, and Ginger used to say that it made ‘im feel uncomfortable to see Bill put away a bottle o’ lemonade every time they ‘ad a drink. One night arter ‘e had ‘ad seventeen bottles he could ‘ardly got home, and Peter Russet, who knew a lot about pills and such-like, pointed out to ‘im ‘ow bad it was for his constitushon. He proved that the lemonade would eat away the coats o’ Bill’s stomach, and that if ‘e kept on ‘e might drop down dead at any moment.

That frightened Bill a bit, and the next night, instead of ‘aving lemonade, ‘e had five bottles o’ stone ginger-beer, six of different kinds of teetotal beer, three of soda-water, and two cups of coffee. I’m not counting the drink he ‘ad at the chemist’s shop arterward, because he took that as medicine, but he was so queer in ‘is inside next morning that ‘e began to be afraid he’d ‘ave to give up drink altogether.

He went without the next night, but ‘e was such a generous man that ‘e would pay every fourth time, and there was no pleasure to the other chaps to see ‘im pay and ‘ave nothing out of it. It spoilt their evening, and owing to ‘aving only about ‘arf wot they was accustomed to they all got up very disagreeable next morning.

“Why not take just a little beer, Bill?” asks Ginger.

Bill ‘ung his ‘ead and looked a bit silly. “I’d rather not, mate,” he ses, at last. “I’ve been teetotal for eleven months now.”

“Think of your ‘ealth, Bill,” ses Peter Russet; “your ‘ealth is more important than the pledge. Wot made you take it?”

Bill coughed. “I ‘ad reasons,” he ses, slowly. “A mate o’ mine wished me to.”

“He ought to ha’ known better,” ses Sam. “He ‘ad ‘is reasons,” ses Bill.

“Well, all I can say is, Bill,” ses Ginger, “all I can say is, it’s very disobligin’ of you.”

“Disobligin’?” ses Bill, with a start; “don’t say that, mate.”

“I must say it,” ses Ginger, speaking very firm.

“You needn’t take a lot, Bill,” ses Sam; “nobody wants you to do that. Just drink in moderation, same as wot we do.”

“It gets into my ‘ead,” ses Bill, at last.

“Well, and wot of it?” ses Ginger; “it gets into everybody’s ‘ead occasionally. Why, one night old Sam ‘ere went up behind a policeman and tickled ‘im under the arms; didn’t you, Sam?”

“I did nothing o’ the kind,” ses Sam, firing up.

“Well, you was fined ten bob for it next morning, that’s all I know,” ses Ginger.

“I was fined ten bob for punching ‘im,” ses old Sam, very wild. “I never tickled a policeman in my life. I never thought o’ such a thing. I’d no more tickle a policeman than I’d fly. Anybody that ses I did is a liar. Why should I? Where does the sense come in? Wot should I want to do it for?”

“All right, Sam,” ses Ginger, sticking ‘is fingers in ‘is ears, “you didn’t, then.”

“No, I didn’t,” ses Sam, “and don’t you forget it. This ain’t the fust time you’ve told that lie about me. I can take a joke with any man; but anybody that goes and ses I tickled—”

“All right,” ses Ginger and Peter Russet together. “You’ll ‘ave tickled policeman on the brain if you ain’t careful, Sam,” ses Peter.

Old Sam sat down growling, and Ginger Dick turned to Bill agin. “It gets into everybody’s ‘ead at times,” he ses, “and where’s the ‘arm? It’s wot it was meant for.”

Bill shook his ‘ead, but when Ginger called ‘im disobligin’ agin he gave way and he broke the pledge that very evening with a pint o’ six ‘arf.

Ginger was surprised to see the way ‘e took his liquor. Arter three or four pints he’d expected to see ‘im turn a bit silly, or sing, or do something o’ the kind, but Bill kept on as if ‘e was drinking water.

“Think of the ‘armless pleasure you’ve been losing all these months, Bill,” ses Ginger, smiling at him.

Bill said it wouldn’t bear thinking of, and, the next place they came to he said some rather ‘ard things of the man who’d persuaded ‘im to take the pledge. He ‘ad two or three more there, and then they began to see that it was beginning to have an effect on ‘im. The first one that noticed it was Ginger Dick. Bill ‘ad just lit ‘is pipe, and as he threw the match down he ses: “I don’t like these ‘ere safety matches,” he ses.

“Don’t you, Bill?” ses Ginger. “I do, rather.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” ses Bill, turning on ‘im like lightning; “well, take that for contradictin’,” he ses, an’ he gave Ginger a smack that nearly knocked his ‘ead off.

It was so sudden that old Sam and Peter put their beer down and stared at each other as if they couldn’t believe their eyes. Then they stooped down and helped pore Ginger on to ‘is legs agin and began to brush ‘im down.

“Never mind about ‘im, mates,” ses Bill, looking at Ginger very wicked. “P’r’aps he won’t be so ready to give me ‘is lip next time. Let’s come to another pub and enjoy ourselves.”

Sam and Peter followed ‘im out like lambs, ‘ardly daring to look over their shoulder at Ginger, who was staggering arter them some distance behind a ‘olding a handerchief to ‘is face.

“It’s your turn to pay, Sam,” ses Bill, when they’d got inside the next place. “Wot’s it to be? Give it a name.”

“Three ‘arf pints o’ four ale, miss,” ses Sam, not because ‘e was mean, but because it wasn’t ‘is turn. “Three wot?” ses Bill, turning on ‘im.

“Three pots o’ six ale, miss,” ses Sam, in a hurry.

“That wasn’t wot you said afore,” ses Bill. “Take that,” he ses, giving pore old Sam a wipe in the mouth and knocking ‘im over a stool; “take that for your sauce.”

Peter Russet stood staring at Sam and wondering wot Bill ud be like when he’d ‘ad a little more. Sam picked hisself up arter a time and went outside to talk to Ginger about it, and then Bill put ‘is arm round Peter’s neck and began to cry a bit and say ‘e was the only pal he’d got left in the world. It was very awkward for Peter, and more awkward still when the barman came up and told ‘im to take Bill outside.