Deep Waters, the Entire Collection

“Game with you?” ses the skipper. “Ain’t they got anything better than that to play with? Look ‘ere, if you don’t open that gate, I will.”

“It’s nothing to do with you,” I ses. “You look arter your ship and I’ll look arter my wharf. See? If you don’t like the noise, go down in the cabin and stick your ‘ead in a biscuit-bag.”

To my surprise he took the mate by the arm and went, and I was just thinking wot a good thing it was to be a bit firm with people sometimes, when they came back dressed up in their coats and bowler-hats and climbed on to the wharf.

“Watchman!” ses the skipper, in a hoity-toity sort o’ voice, “me and the mate is going as far as Aldgate for a breath o’ fresh air. Open the gate.”

I gave him a look that might ha’ melted a ‘art of stone, and all it done to ‘im was to make ‘im laugh.

“Hurry up,” he ses. “It a’most seems to me that there’s somebody ringing the bell, and you can let them in same time as you let us out. Is it the bell, or is it my fancy, Joe?” he ses, turning to the mate.

They marched on in front of me with their noses cocked in the air, and all the time the noise at the gate got worse and worse. So far as I could make out, there was quite a crowd outside, and I stood there with the key in the lock, trembling all over. Then I unlocked it very careful, and put my hand on the skipper’s arm.

“Nip out quick,” I ses, in a whisper.

“I’m in no hurry,” ses the skipper. “Here! Halloa, wot’s up?”

It was like opening the door at a theatre, and the fust one through was that woman, shoved behind by the potman. Arter ‘im came a car-man, two big ‘ulking brewers’ draymen, a little scrap of a woman with ‘er bonnet cocked over one eye, and a couple of dirty little boys.

“Wot is it?” ses the skipper, shutting the wicket behind ‘em. “A beanfeast?”

“This lady wants her ‘usband,” ses the pot-man, pointing at me. “He run away from her nine years ago, and now he says he ‘as never seen ‘er before. He ought to be ‘ung.”

“Bill,” ses the skipper, shaking his silly ‘ead at me. “I can ‘ardly believe it.”

“It’s all a pack o’ silly lies,” I ses, firing up. “She’s made a mistake.”

“She made a mistake when she married you,” ses the thin little woman. “If I was in ‘er shoes I’d take ‘old of you and tear you limb from limb.”

“I don’t want to hurt ‘im, ma’am,” ses the other woman. “I on’y want him to come ‘ome to me and my five. Why, he’s never seen the youngest, little Annie. She’s as like ‘im as two peas.”

“Pore little devil,” ses the carman.

“Look here!” I ses, “you clear off. All of you. ‘Ow dare you come on to my wharf? If you aren’t gone in two minutes I’ll give you all in charge.”

“Who to?” ses one of the draymen, sticking his face into mine. “You go ‘ome to your wife and kids. Go on now, afore I put up my ‘ands to you.”

“That’s the way to talk to ‘im,” ses the pot-man, nodding at ‘em.

They all began to talk to me then and tell me wot I was to do, and wot they would do if I didn’t. I couldn’t get a word in edgeways. When I reminded the mate that when he was up in London ‘e always passed himself off as a single man, ‘e wouldn’t listen; and when I asked the skipper whether ‘is pore missus was blind, he on’y went on shouting at the top of ‘is voice. It on’y showed me ‘ow anxious most people are that everybody else should be good.

I thought they was never going to stop, and, if it ‘adn’t been for a fit of coughing, I don’t believe that the scraggy little woman could ha’ stopped. Arter one o’ the draymen ‘ad saved her life and spoilt ‘er temper by patting ‘er on the back with a hand the size of a leg o’ mutton, the carman turned to me and told me to tell the truth, if it choked me.

“I have told you the truth,” I ses. “She ses I’m her ‘usband and I say I ain’t. Ow’s she going to prove it? Why should you believe her, and not me?”

“She’s got a truthful face,” ses the carman.

“Look here!” ses the skipper, speaking very slow, “I’ve got an idea, wot’ll settle it p’raps. You get outside,” he ses, turning sharp on the two little boys.

One o’ the draymen ‘elped ‘em to go out, and ‘arf a minute arterwards a stone came over the gate and cut the potman’s lip open. Boys will be boys.

“Now!” ses the skipper, turning to the woman, and smiling with conceitedness. “Had your ‘usband got any marks on ‘im? Birth-mark, or moles, or anything of that sort?”

“I’m sure he is my ‘usband,” ses the woman, dabbing her eyes.

“Yes, yes,” ses the skipper, “but answer my question. If you can tell us any marks your ‘usband had, we can take Bill down into my cabin and–”

“You’ll do WOT?” I ses, in a loud voice.

“You speak when you’re spoke to,” ses the carman. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“No, he ain’t got no birthmarks,” ses the woman, speaking very slow—and I could see she was afraid of making a mistake and losing me—“but he’s got tattoo marks. He’s got a mermaid tattooed on ‘im.”

“Where?” ses the skipper, a’most jumping.

I ‘eld my breath. Five sailormen out of ten have been tattooed with mermaids, and I was one of ‘em. When she spoke agin I thought I should ha’ dropped.

“On ‘is right arm,” she ses, “unless he’s ‘ad it rubbed off.”

“You can’t rub out tattoo marks,” ses the skipper.

They all stood looking at me as if they was waiting for something. I folded my arms—tight—and stared back at ‘em.

“If you ain’t this lady’s ‘usband,” ses the skipper, turning to me, “you can take off your coat and prove it.”

“And if you don’t we’ll take it off for you,” ses the carman, coming a bit closer.

Arter that things ‘appened so quick, I hardly knew whether I was standing on my ‘cad or my heels. Both, I think. They was all on top o’ me at once, and the next thing I can remember is sitting on the ground in my shirt-sleeves listening to the potman, who was making a fearful fuss because somebody ‘ad bit his ear ‘arf off. My coat was ripped up the back, and one of the draymen was holding up my arm and showing them all the mermaid, while the other struck matches so as they could see better.

“That’s your ‘usband right enough,” he ses to the woman. “Take ‘im.”

“P’raps she’ll carry ‘im ‘ome,” I ses, very fierce and sarcastic.

“And we don’t want none of your lip,” ses the carman, who was in a bad temper because he ‘ad got a fearful kick on the shin from somewhere.

I got up very slow and began to put my coat on again, and twice I ‘ad to tell that silly woman that when I wanted her ‘elp I’d let ‘er know. Then I ‘eard slow, heavy footsteps in the road outside, and, afore any of ‘em could stop me, I was calling for the police.

I don’t like policemen as a rule; they’re too inquisitive, but when the wicket was pushed open and I saw a face with a helmet on it peeping in, I felt quite a liking for ‘em.

“Wot’s up?” ses the policeman, staring ‘ard at my little party.

They all started telling ‘im at once, and I should think if the potman showed him ‘is ear once he showed it to ‘im twenty times. He lost his temper and pushed it away at last, and the potman gave a ‘owl that set my teeth on edge. I waited till they was all finished, and the policeman trying to get ‘is hearing back, and then I spoke up in a quiet way and told ‘im to clear them all off of my wharf.

“They’re trespassing,” I ses, “all except the skipper and mate here. They belong to a little wash-tub that’s laying alongside, and they’re both as ‘armless as they look.”

It’s wonderful wot a uniform will do. The policeman just jerked his ‘ead and said “out-side,” and the men went out like a flock of sheep. The on’y man that said a word was the carman, who was in such a hurry that ‘e knocked his bad shin against my foot as ‘e went by. The thin little woman was passed out by the policeman in the middle of a speech she was making, and he was just going for the other, when the skipper stopped ‘im.

“This lady is coming on my ship,” he ses, puffing out ‘is chest.