1 files changed, 602 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/10782-0.txt b/10782-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..55a904b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/10782-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,602 @@
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10782 ***
+
+SAILORS' KNOTS
+
+By W.W. Jacobs
+
+
+1909
+
+
+
+HOMEWARD BOUND
+
+
+Mr. Hatchard's conversation for nearly a week had been confined to fault-
+finding and grunts, a system of treatment designed to wean Mrs. Hatchard
+from her besetting sin of extravagance.  On other occasions the treatment
+had, for short periods, proved successful, but it was quite evident that
+his wife's constitution was becoming inured to this physic and required a
+change of treatment.  The evidence stared at him from the mantelpiece in
+the shape of a pair of huge pink vases, which had certainly not been
+there when he left in the morning.  He looked at them and breathed
+heavily.
+
+"Pretty, ain't they?" said his wife, nodding at them.
+
+"Who gave 'em to you?" inquired Mr. Hatchard, sternly.
+
+His wife shook her head.  "You don't get vases like that given to you,"
+she said, slowly.  "Leastways, I don't."
+
+"Do you mean to say you bought 'em?" demanded her husband.
+
+Mrs. Hatchard nodded.
+
+"After all I said to you about wasting my money?" persisted Mr. Hatchard,
+in amazed accents.
+
+Mrs. Hatchard nodded, more brightly than before.
+
+"There has got to be an end to this!" said her husband, desperately.
+"I won't have it!  D'ye hear?  I won't--have--it!"
+
+"I bought 'em with my own money," said his wife, tossing her head.
+
+"Your money?" said Mr. Hatchard.  "To hear you talk anybody 'ud think
+you'd got three hundred a year, instead o' thirty.  Your money ought to
+be spent in useful things, same as what mine is.  Why should I spend my
+money keeping you, while you waste yours on pink vases and having friends
+in to tea?"
+
+Mrs. Hatchard's still comely face took on a deeper tinge.
+
+"Keeping me?" she said, sharply.  "You'd better stop before you say
+anything you might be sorry for, Alfred."
+
+"I should have to talk a long time before I said that," retorted the
+other.
+
+"I'm not so sure," said his wife.  "I'm beginning to be tired of it."
+
+"I've reasoned with you," continued Mr. Hatchard, "I've argued with you,
+and I've pointed out the error of your ways to you, and it's all no
+good."
+
+"Oh, be quiet, and don't talk nonsense," said his wife.
+
+"Talking," continued Mr. Hatchard, "as I said before, is no good.  Deeds,
+not words, is what is wanted."
+
+He rose suddenly from his chair and, taking one of the vases from the
+mantelpiece, dashed it to pieces on the fender.  Example is contagious,
+and two seconds later he was in his chair again, softly feeling a rapidly
+growing bump on his head, and gazing goggle-eyed at his wife.
+
+[Illustration: Taking one of the vases from the mantelpiece, he dashed it
+to pieces on the fender.]
+
+"And I'd do it again," said that lady, breathlessly, "if there was
+another vase."
+
+Mr. Hatchard opened his mouth, but speech failed him.  He got up and left
+the room without a word, and, making his way to the scullery, turned on
+the tap and held his head beneath it.  A sharp intake of the breath
+announced that a tributary stream was looking for the bump down the neck
+of his shirt.
+
+He was away a long time--so long that the half-penitent Mrs. Hatchard was
+beginning to think of giving first aid to the wounded.  Then she heard
+him coming slowly back along the passage.  He entered the room, drying
+his wet hair on a hand-kerchief.
+
+"I--I hope I didn't hurt you--much?"  said his wife.
+
+Mr. Hatchard drew himself up and regarded her with lofty indignation.
+
+"You might have killed me," he said at last, in thrilling tones.  "Then
+what would you have done?"
+
+"Swept up the pieces, and said you came home injured and died in my
+arms," said Mrs. Hatchard, glibly.  "I don't want to be unfeeling, but
+you'd try the temper of a saint.  I'm sure I wonder I haven't done it
+before.  Why I married a stingy man I don't know."
+
+"Why I married at all I don't know," said her husband, in a deep voice.
+
+"We were both fools," said Mrs. Hatchard, in a resigned voice; "that's
+what it was.  However, it can't be helped now."
+
+"Some men would go and leave you," said Mr. Hatchard.
+
+"Well, go," said his wife, bridling.  "I don't want you."
+
+"Don't talk nonsense," said the other.
+
+"It ain't nonsense," said Mrs. Hatchard.  "If you want to go, go.
+I don't want to keep you."
+
+"I only wish I could," said her husband, wistfully.
+
+"There's the door," said Mrs. Hatchard, pointing.  "What's to prevent
+you?"
+
+"And have you going to the magistrate?"  observed Mr. Hatchard.
+
+"Not me," was the reply.
+
+"Or coming up, full of complaints, to the ware-house?"
+
+"Not me," said his wife again.
+
+"It makes my mouth water to think of it," said Mr. Hatchard.  "Four years
+ago I hadn't a care in the world."
+
+"Me neither," said Mrs. Hatchard; "but then I never thought I should
+marry you.  I remember the first time I saw you I had to stuff my
+handkerchief in my mouth."
+
+"What for?" inquired Mr. Hatchard.
+
+"Keep from laughing," was the reply.
+
+"You took care not to let me see you laugh," said Mr. Hatchard, grimly.
+"You were polite enough in them days.  I only wish I could have my time
+over again; that's all."
+
+"You can go, as I said before," said his wife.
+
+"I'd go this minute," said Mr. Hatchard, "but I know what it 'ud be: in
+three or four days you'd be coming and begging me to take you back
+again."
+
+"You try me," said Mrs. Hatchard, with a hard laugh.  "I can keep myself.
+You leave me the furniture--most of it is mine--and I sha'n't worry you
+again."
+
+"Mind!"  said Mr. Hatchard, raising his hand with great solemnity.  "If I
+go, I never come back again."
+
+"I'll take care of that," said his wife, equably.  "You are far more
+likely to ask to come back than I am."
+
+Mr. Hatchard stood for some time in deep thought, and then, spurred on by
+a short, contemptuous laugh from his wife, went to the small passage and,
+putting on his overcoat and hat, stood in the parlor doorway regarding
+her.
+
+"I've a good mind to take you at your word," he said, at last.
+
+"Good-night," said his wife, briskly.  "If you send me your address, I'll
+send your things on to you.  There's no need for you to call about them."
+
+Hardly realizing the seriousness of the step, Mr. Hatchard closed the
+front door behind him with a bang, and then discovered that it was
+raining.  Too proud to return for his umbrella, he turned up his
+coat-collar and, thrusting his hands in his pockets, walked slowly down
+the desolate little street.  By the time he had walked a dozen yards he
+began to think that he might as well have waited until the morning;
+before he had walked fifty he was certain of it.
+
+He passed the night at a coffee-house, and rose so early in the morning
+that the proprietor took it as a personal affront, and advised him to get
+his breakfast elsewhere.  It was the longest day in Mr. Hatchard's
+experience, and, securing modest lodgings that evening, he overslept
+himself and was late at the warehouse next morning for the first time in
+ten years.
+
+His personal effects arrived next day, but no letter came from his wife,
+and one which he wrote concerning a pair of missing garments received no
+reply.  He wrote again, referring to them in laudatory terms, and got a
+brief reply to the effect that they had been exchanged in part payment on
+a pair of valuable pink vases, the pieces of which he could have by
+paying the carriage.
+
+In six weeks Mr. Hatchard changed his lodgings twice.  A lack of those
+home comforts which he had taken as a matter of course during his married
+life was a source of much tribulation, and it was clear that his weekly
+bills were compiled by a clever writer of fiction.  It was his first
+experience of lodgings, and the difficulty of saying unpleasant things to
+a woman other than his wife was not the least of his troubles.  He
+changed his lodgings for a third time, and, much surprised at his wife's
+continued silence, sought out a cousin of hers named Joe Pett, and poured
+his troubles into that gentleman's reluctant ear.
+
+"If she was to ask me to take her back," he concluded, "I'm not sure,
+mind you, that I wouldn't do so."
+
+"It does you credit," said Mr. Pett.  "Well, ta-ta; I must be off."
+
+"And I expect she'd be very much obliged to anybody that told her so,"
+said Mr. Hatchard, clutching at the other's sleeve.
+
+Mr. Pett, gazing into space, said that he thought it highly probable.
+
+"It wants to be done cleverly, though," said Mr. Hatchard, "else she
+might get the idea that I wanted to go back."
+
+"I s'pose you know she's moved?"  said Mr. Pett, with the air of a man
+anxious to change the conversation.
+
+"Eh?" said the other.
+
+"Number thirty-seven, John Street," said Mr. Pett.  "Told my wife she's
+going to take in lodgers.  Calling herself Mrs. Harris, after her maiden
+name."
+
+He went off before Mr. Hatchard could recover, and the latter at once
+verified the information in part by walking round to his old house.  Bits
+of straw and paper littered the front garden, the blinds were down, and a
+bill was pasted on the front parlor window.  Aghast at such
+determination, he walked back to his lodgings in gloomy thought.
+
+On Saturday afternoon he walked round to John Street, and from the corner
+of his eye, as he passed, stole a glance at No. 37.  He recognized the
+curtains at once, and, seeing that there was nobody in the room, leaned
+over the palings and peered at a card that stood on the window-sash:
+
+                       FURNISHED APARTMENTS
+                       FOR SINGLE YOUNG MAN
+                        BOARD IF DESIRED.
+
+He walked away whistling, and after going a little way turned and passed
+it again.  He passed in all four times, and then, with an odd grin
+lurking at the corners of his mouth, strode up to the front door and
+knocked loudly.  He heard somebody moving about inside, and, more with
+the idea of keeping his courage up than anything else, gave another heavy
+knock at the door.  It was thrown open hastily, and the astonished face
+of his wife appeared before him.
+
+"What do you want?" she inquired, sharply.
+
+Mr. Hatchard raised his hat.  "Good-afternoon, ma'am," he said, politely.
+
+"What do you want?" repeated his wife.
+
+"I called," said Mr. Hatchard, clearing his throat--"I called about the
+bill in the window."
+
+[Illustration: "I called about the bill in the window."]
+
+Mrs. Hatchard clutched at the door-post.
+
+"Well?"  she gasped.
+
+"I'd like to see the rooms," said the other.
+
+"But you ain't a single young man," said his wife, recovering.
+
+"I'm as good as single," said Mr. Hatchard.  "I should say, better."
+
+"You ain't young," objected Mrs. Hatchard.  "I'm three years younger than
+what you are," said Mr. Hatchard, dispassionately.
+
+His wife's lips tightened and her hand closed on the door; Mr. Hatchard
+put his foot in.
+
+"If you don't want lodgers, why do you put a bill up?" he inquired.
+
+"I don't take the first that comes," said his wife.
+
+"I'll pay a week in advance," said Mr. Hatchard, putting his hand in his
+pocket.  "Of course, if you're afraid of having me here--afraid o' giving
+way to tenderness, I mean----"
+
+"Afraid?"  choked Mrs. Hatchard.  "Tenderness!  I--I----"
+
+"Just a matter o' business," continued her husband; "that's my way of
+looking at it--that's a man's way.  I s'pose women are different.  They
+can't----"
+
+"Come in," said Mrs. Hatchard, breathing hard Mr. Hatchard obeyed, and
+clapping a hand over his mouth ascended the stairs behind her.  At the
+top she threw open the door of a tiny bedroom, and stood aside for him to
+enter.  Mr. Hatchard sniffed critically.
+
+"Smells rather stuffy," he said, at last.
+
+"You needn't have it," said his wife, abruptly.  "There's plenty of other
+fish in the sea."
+
+"Yes; and I expect they'd stay there if they saw this room," said the
+other.
+
+"Don't think I want you to have it; because I don't," said Mrs. Hatchard,
+making a preliminary movement to showing him downstairs.
+
+"They might suit me," said Mr. Hatchard, musingly, as he peeped in at the
+sitting-room door.  "I shouldn't be at home much.  I'm a man that's fond
+of spending his evenings out."
+
+Mrs. Hatchard, checking a retort, eyed him grimly.
+
+"I've seen worse," he said, slowly; "but then I've seen a good many.  How
+much are you asking?"
+
+"Seven shillings a week," replied his wife.  "With breakfast, tea, and
+supper, a pound a week."
+
+Mr. Hatchard nearly whistled, but checked himself just in time.
+
+"I'll give it a trial," he said, with an air of unbearable patronage.
+
+Mrs. Hatchard hesitated.
+
+"If you come here, you quite understand it's on a business footing," she
+said.
+
+"O' course," said the other, with affected surprise.  "What do you think
+I want it on?"
+
+"You come here as a stranger, and I look after you as a stranger,"
+continued his wife.
+
+"Certainly," said the other.  "I shall be made more comfortable that way,
+I'm sure.  But, of course, if you're afraid, as I said before, of giving
+way to tender----"
+
+"Tender fiddlesticks!" interrupted his wife, flushing and eying him
+angrily.
+
+"I'll come in and bring my things at nine o'clock to-night," said Mr.
+Hatchard.  "I'd like the windows open and the rooms aired a bit.  And
+what about the sheets?"
+
+"What about them?"  inquired his wife.
+
+"Don't put me in damp sheets, that's all," said Mr. Hatchard.  "One place
+I was at----"
+
+He broke off suddenly.
+
+"Well!"  said his wife, quickly.
+
+"Was very particular about them," said Mr. Hatchard, recovering.  "Well,
+good-afternoon to you, ma'am."
+
+"I want three weeks in advance," said his wife.  "Three--" exclaimed the
+other.  "Three weeks in advance?  Why----"
+
+"Those are my terms," said Mrs. Hatchard.  "Take 'em or leave 'em.
+P'r'aps it would be better if you left 'em."
+
+Mr. Hatchard looked thoughtful, and then with obvious reluctance took his
+purse from one pocket and some silver from another, and made up the
+required sum.
+
+"And what if I'm not comfortable here?"  he inquired, as his wife hastily
+pocketed the money.  "It'll be your own fault," was the reply.
+
+Mr. Hatchard looked dubious, and, in a thoughtful fashion, walked
+downstairs and let himself out.  He began to think that the joke was of
+a more complicated nature than he had expected, and it was not without
+forebodings that he came back at nine o'clock that night accompanied by a
+boy with his baggage.
+
+His gloom disappeared the moment the door opened.  The air inside was
+warm and comfortable, and pervaded by an appetizing smell of cooked
+meats.  Upstairs a small bright fire and a neatly laid supper-table
+awaited his arrival.
+
+He sank into an easy-chair and rubbed his hands.  Then his gaze fell on a
+small bell on the table, and opening the door he rang for supper.
+
+"Yes, sir," said Mrs. Hatchard, entering the room.  "Supper, please,"
+said the new lodger, with dignity.
+
+Mrs. Hatchard looked bewildered.  "Well, there it is," she said,
+indicating the table.  "You don't want me to feed you, do you?"
+
+The lodger eyed the small, dry piece of cheese, the bread and butter, and
+his face fell.  "I--I thought I smelled something cooking," he said at
+last.
+
+[Illustration: "'I--I thought I smelled something cooking,' he said."]
+
+"Oh, that was my supper," said Mrs. Hatchard, with a smile.
+
+"I--I'm very hungry," said Mr. Hatchard, trying to keep his temper.
+
+"It's the cold weather, I expect," said Mrs. Hatchard, thoughtfully;
+"it does affect some people that way, I know.  Please ring if you want
+anything."
+
+She left the room, humming blithely, and Mr. Hatchard, after sitting for
+some time in silent consternation, got up and ate his frugal meal.  The
+fact that the water-jug held three pints and was filled to the brim gave
+him no satisfaction.
+
+He was still hungry when he arose next morning, and, with curiosity
+tempered by uneasiness, waited for his breakfast.  Mrs. Hatchard came in
+at last, and after polite inquiries as to how he had slept proceeded to
+lay breakfast.  A fresh loaf and a large teapot appeared, and the smell
+of frizzling bacon ascended from below.  Then Mrs. Hatchard came in
+again, and, smiling benevolently, placed an egg before him and withdrew.
+Two minutes later he rang the bell.
+
+"You can clear away," he said, as Mrs. Hatchard entered the room.
+
+"What, no breakfast?"  she said, holding up her hands.  "Well, I've heard
+of you single young men, but I never thought----"
+
+"The tea's cold and as black as ink," growled the indignant lodger, "and
+the egg isn't eatable."
+
+"I'm afraid you're a bit of a fault-finder," said Mrs. Hatchard, shaking
+her head at him.  "I'm sure I try my best to please.  I don't mind what I
+do, but if you're not satisfied you'd better go."
+
+"Look here, Emily--" began her husband.
+
+"Don't you 'Emily' me!"  said Mrs. Hatchard, quickly.  "The idea!  A
+lodger, too!  You know the arrangement.  You'd better go, I think, if you
+can't behave yourself."
+
+"I won't go till my three weeks are up," said Mr. Hatchard, doggedly, "so
+you may as well behave yourself."
+
+"I can't pamper you for a pound a week," said Mrs. Hatchard, walking to
+the door.  "If you want pampering, you had better go."
+
+A week passed, and the additional expense caused by getting most of his
+meals out began to affect Mr. Hatchard's health.  His wife, on the
+contrary, was in excellent spirits, and, coming in one day, explained the
+absence of the easy-chair by stating that it was wanted for a new lodger.
+
+"He's taken my other two rooms," she said, smiling--"the little back
+parlor and the front bedroom--I'm full up now."
+
+"Wouldn't he like my table, too?"  inquired Mr. Hatchard, with bitter
+sarcasm.
+
+His wife said that she would inquire, and brought back word next day that
+Mr. Sadler, the new lodger, would like it.  It disappeared during Mr.
+Hatchard's enforced absence at business, and a small bamboo table, weak
+in the joints, did duty in its stead.
+
+The new lodger, a man of middle age with a ready tongue, was a success
+from the first, and it was only too evident that Mrs. Hatchard was trying
+her best to please him.  Mr. Hatchard, supping on bread and cheese, more
+than once left that wholesome meal to lean over the balusters and smell
+the hot meats going into Mr. Sadler.
+
+"You're spoiling him," he said to Mrs. Hatchard, after the new lodger had
+been there a week.  "Mark my words--he'll get above himself."
+
+"That's my look-out," said his wife briefly.  "Don't come to me if you
+get into trouble, that's all," said the other.
+
+Mrs. Hatchard laughed derisively.  "You don't like him, that's what it
+is," she remarked.  "He asked me yesterday whether he had offended you in
+any way."
+
+"Oh!  He did, did he?" snarled Mr. Hatchard.  "Let him keep himself to
+himself, and mind his own business."
+
+"He said he thinks you have got a bad temper," continued his wife.  "He
+thinks, perhaps, it's indigestion, caused by eating cheese for supper
+always."
+
+Mr. Hatchard affected not to hear, and, lighting his pipe, listened fer
+some time to the hum of conversation between his wife and Mr. Sadler
+below.  With an expression of resignation on his face that was almost
+saintly he knocked out his pipe at last and went to bed.
+
+Half an hour passed, and he was still awake.  His wife's voice had
+ceased, but the gruff tones of Mr. Sadler were still audible.  Then he
+sat up in bed and listened, as a faint cry of alarm and the sound of
+somebody rushing upstairs fell on his ears.  The next moment the door of
+his room burst open, and a wild figure, stumbling in the darkness, rushed
+over to the bed and clasped him in its arms.
+
+"Help!" gasped his wile's voice.  "Oh, Alfred!  Alfred!"
+
+"Ma'am!"  said Mr. Hatchard in a prim voice, as he struggled in vain to
+free himself.
+
+"I'm so--so--fr-frightened!"  sobbed Mrs. Hatchard.
+
+"That's no reason for coming into a lodger's room and throwing your arms
+round his neck," said her husband, severely.
+
+"Don't be stu-stu-stupid," gasped Mrs. Hatchard.  "He--he's sitting
+downstairs in my room with a paper cap on his head and a fire-shovel in
+his hand, and he--he says he's the--the Emperor of China."
+
+"He?  Who?" inquired her husband.
+
+"Mr. Sad-Sadler," replied Mrs. Hatchard, almost strangling him.  "He made
+me kneel in front o' him and keep touching the floor with my head."
+
+The chair-bedstead shook in sympathy with Mr. Hatchard's husbandly
+emotion.
+
+"Well, it's nothing to do with me," he said at last.
+
+"He's mad," said his wife, in a tense whisper; "stark staring mad.  He
+says I'm his favorite wife, and he made me stroke his forehead."
+
+The bed shook again.
+
+"I don't see that I have any right to interfere," said Mr. Hatchard,
+after he had quieted the bedstead.  "He's your lodger."
+
+"You're my husband," said Mrs. Hatchard.  "Ho!" said Mr. Hatchard.
+"You've remembered that, have you?"
+
+"Yes, Alfred," said his wife.
+
+"And are you sorry for all your bad behavior?" demanded Mr. Hatchard.
+
+Mrs. Hatchard hesitated.  Then a clatter of fire-irons downstairs moved
+her to speech.
+
+"Ye-yes," she sobbed.
+
+"And you want me to take you back?"  queried the generous Mr. Hatchard.
+
+"Ye-ye-yes," said his wife.
+
+Mr. Hatchard got out of bed and striking a match lit the candle, and,
+taking his overcoat from a peg behind the door, put it on and marched
+downstairs.  Mrs. Hatchard, still trembling, followed behind.
+
+"What's all this?"  he demanded, throwing the door open with a flourish.
+
+Mr. Sadler, still holding the fire-shovel sceptre-fashion and still with
+the paper cap on his head, opened his mouth to reply.  Then, as he saw
+the unkempt figure of Mr. Hatchard with the scared face of Mrs. Hatchard
+peeping over his shoulder, his face grew red, his eyes watered, and his
+cheeks swelled.
+
+"K-K-K-Kch!  K-Kch!" he said, explosively.  "Talk English, not Chinese,"
+said Mr. Hatchard, sternly.
+
+[Illustration: "'K-K-K-Kch!  K-Kch!' he said, explosively."]
+
+Mr. Sadler threw down the fire-shovel, and to Mr. Hatchard's great
+annoyance, clapped his open hand over his mouth and rocked with
+merriment.
+
+"Sh--sh--she--she--" he spluttered.
+
+"That'll do," said Mr. Hatchard, hastily, with a warning frown.
+
+"Kow-towed to me," gurgled Mr. Sadler.  "You ought to have seen it, Alf.
+I shall never get over it--never.  It's--no--no good win-winking at me; I
+can't help myself."
+
+He put his handkerchief to his eyes and leaned back exhausted.  When he
+removed it, he found himself alone and everything still but for a murmur
+of voices overhead.  Anon steps sounded on the stairs, and Mr. Hatchard,
+grave of face, entered the room.
+
+"Outside!" he said, briefly.
+
+"What!" said the astounded Mr. Sadler.  "Why, it's eleven o'clock."
+
+"I can't help it if it's twelve o'clock," was the reply.  "You shouldn't
+play the fool and spoil things by laughing.  Now, are you going, or have
+I got to put you out?"
+
+He crossed the room and, putting his hand on the shoulder of the
+protesting Mr. Sadler, pushed him into the passage, and taking his coat
+from the peg held it up for him.  Mr. Sadler, abandoning himself to his
+fate, got into it slowly and indulged in a few remarks on the subject of
+ingratitude.
+
+"I can't help it," said his friend, in a low voice.  "I've had to swear
+I've never seen you before."
+
+"Does she believe you?" said the staring Mr. Sadler, shivering at the
+open door.
+
+"No," said Mr. Hatchard, slowly, "but she pre-tends to."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Homeward Bound, by W.W. Jacobs
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10782 ***