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Jacobs. +</title> +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + * { font-family: Times; + } + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin: 15%; + margin-top: .75em; + font-size: 14pt; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; } + PRE { font-family: Courier, monospaced;} + .toc { margin-left: 15%; font-size: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0em;} + CENTER { padding: 10px;} + // --> +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Homeward Bound, by W.W. Jacobs + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Homeward Bound + Sailor's Knots, Part 2. + +Author: W.W. Jacobs + +Release Date: January 22, 2004 [EBook #10782] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOMEWARD BOUND *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<h1> + SAILORS' KNOTS +</h1> +<br /> +<h2> + By W.W. Jacobs +</h2> +<br /><br /> +<h3> + 1909 +</h3> + +<br><br> +<h2>Part 2.</h2> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="title (50K)" src="title.jpg" height="718" width="453" /> +</center> +<br><br> +<br /><br /> +<hr> +<br /><br /> + + +<h2>List of Illustrations</h2> +<br /> +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + + + + + +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-5"> +Taking One of the Vases from The Mantelpiece, he Dashed It +To Pieces on the Fender. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-6"> +"I Called About the Bill in The Window." +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-7"> +"'I—i Thought I Smelled Something Cooking,' he Said." +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-8"> +"'K-k-k-kch! K-kch!' he Said, Explosively." +</a></p> + + + + + + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + + +<a name="2H_4_2"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + HOMEWARD BOUND +</h2> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "Pretty, ain't they?" said his wife, nodding at them. +</p> +<p> + "Who gave 'em to you?" inquired Mr. Hatchard, sternly. +</p> +<p> + His wife shook her head. "You don't get vases like that given to you," + she said, slowly. "Leastways, I don't." +</p> +<p> + "Do you mean to say you bought 'em?" demanded her husband. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Hatchard nodded. +</p> +<p> + "After all I said to you about wasting my money?" persisted Mr. Hatchard, + in amazed accents. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Hatchard nodded, more brightly than before. +</p> +<p> + "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!" +</p> +<p> + "I bought 'em with my own money," said his wife, tossing her head. +</p> +<p> + "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?" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Hatchard's still comely face took on a deeper tinge. +</p> +<p> + "Keeping me?" she said, sharply. "You'd better stop before you say + anything you might be sorry for, Alfred." +</p> +<p> + "I should have to talk a long time before I said that," retorted the + other. +</p> +<p> + "I'm not so sure," said his wife. "I'm beginning to be tired of it." +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "Oh, be quiet, and don't talk nonsense," said his wife. +</p> +<p> + "Talking," continued Mr. Hatchard, "as I said before, is no good. Deeds, + not words, is what is wanted." +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<a name="image-5"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="005.jpg" height="426" width="488" +alt="Taking One of the Vases from The Mantelpiece, he Dashed It +To Pieces on the Fender. +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + "And I'd do it again," said that lady, breathlessly, "if there was + another vase." +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "I—I hope I didn't hurt you—much?" said his wife. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Hatchard drew himself up and regarded her with lofty indignation. +</p> +<p> + "You might have killed me," he said at last, in thrilling tones. "Then + what would you have done?" +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "Why I married at all I don't know," said her husband, in a deep voice. +</p> +<p> + "We were both fools," said Mrs. Hatchard, in a resigned voice; "that's + what it was. However, it can't be helped now." +</p> +<p> + "Some men would go and leave you," said Mr. Hatchard. +</p> +<p> + "Well, go," said his wife, bridling. "I don't want you." +</p> +<p> + "Don't talk nonsense," said the other. +</p> +<p> + "It ain't nonsense," said Mrs. Hatchard. "If you want to go, go. + I don't want to keep you." +</p> +<p> + "I only wish I could," said her husband, wistfully. +</p> +<p> + "There's the door," said Mrs. Hatchard, pointing. "What's to prevent + you?" +</p> +<p> + "And have you going to the magistrate?" observed Mr. Hatchard. +</p> +<p> + "Not me," was the reply. +</p> +<p> + "Or coming up, full of complaints, to the ware-house?" +</p> +<p> + "Not me," said his wife again. +</p> +<p> + "It makes my mouth water to think of it," said Mr. Hatchard. "Four years + ago I hadn't a care in the world." +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "What for?" inquired Mr. Hatchard. +</p> +<p> + "Keep from laughing," was the reply. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "You can go, as I said before," said his wife. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "Mind!" said Mr. Hatchard, raising his hand with great solemnity. "If I + go, I never come back again." +</p> +<p> + "I'll take care of that," said his wife, equably. "You are far more + likely to ask to come back than I am." +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "I've a good mind to take you at your word," he said, at last. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "If she was to ask me to take her back," he concluded, "I'm not sure, + mind you, that I wouldn't do so." +</p> +<p> + "It does you credit," said Mr. Pett. "Well, ta-ta; I must be off." +</p> +<p> + "And I expect she'd be very much obliged to anybody that told her so," + said Mr. Hatchard, clutching at the other's sleeve. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Pett, gazing into space, said that he thought it highly probable. +</p> +<p> + "It wants to be done cleverly, though," said Mr. Hatchard, "else she + might get the idea that I wanted to go back." +</p> +<p> + "I s'pose you know she's moved?" said Mr. Pett, with the air of a man + anxious to change the conversation. +</p> +<p> + "Eh?" said the other. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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: +</p> + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + +<pre> +FURNISHED APARTMENTS +FOR SINGLE YOUNG MAN +BOARD IF DESIRED. +</pre> + + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + + +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "What do you want?" she inquired, sharply. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Hatchard raised his hat. "Good-afternoon, ma'am," he said, politely. +</p> +<p> + "What do you want?" repeated his wife. +</p> +<p> + "I called," said Mr. Hatchard, clearing his throat—"I called about the + bill in the window." +</p> +<a name="image-6"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="006.jpg" height="703" width="414" +alt="'i Called About the Bill in The Window.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + Mrs. Hatchard clutched at the door-post. +</p> +<p> + "Well?" she gasped. +</p> +<p> + "I'd like to see the rooms," said the other. +</p> +<p> + "But you ain't a single young man," said his wife, recovering. +</p> +<p> + "I'm as good as single," said Mr. Hatchard. "I should say, better." +</p> +<p> + "You ain't young," objected Mrs. Hatchard. "I'm three years younger than + what you are," said Mr. Hatchard, dispassionately. +</p> +<p> + His wife's lips tightened and her hand closed on the door; Mr. Hatchard + put his foot in. +</p> +<p> + "If you don't want lodgers, why do you put a bill up?" he inquired. +</p> +<p> + "I don't take the first that comes," said his wife. +</p> +<p> + "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——" +</p> +<p> + "Afraid?" choked Mrs. Hatchard. "Tenderness! I—I——" +</p> +<p> + "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——" +</p> +<p> + "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. +</p> +<p> + "Smells rather stuffy," he said, at last. +</p> +<p> + "You needn't have it," said his wife, abruptly. "There's plenty of other + fish in the sea." +</p> +<p> + "Yes; and I expect they'd stay there if they saw this room," said the + other. +</p> +<p> + "Don't think I want you to have it; because I don't," said Mrs. Hatchard, + making a preliminary movement to showing him downstairs. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Hatchard, checking a retort, eyed him grimly. +</p> +<p> + "I've seen worse," he said, slowly; "but then I've seen a good many. How + much are you asking?" +</p> +<p> + "Seven shillings a week," replied his wife. "With breakfast, tea, and + supper, a pound a week." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Hatchard nearly whistled, but checked himself just in time. +</p> +<p> + "I'll give it a trial," he said, with an air of unbearable patronage. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Hatchard hesitated. +</p> +<p> + "If you come here, you quite understand it's on a business footing," she + said. +</p> +<p> + "O' course," said the other, with affected surprise. "What do you think + I want it on?" +</p> +<p> + "You come here as a stranger, and I look after you as a stranger," + continued his wife. +</p> +<p> + "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——" +</p> +<p> + "Tender fiddlesticks!" interrupted his wife, flushing and eying him + angrily. +</p> +<p> + "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?" +</p> +<p> + "What about them?" inquired his wife. +</p> +<p> + "Don't put me in damp sheets, that's all," said Mr. Hatchard. "One place + I was at——" +</p> +<p> + He broke off suddenly. +</p> +<p> + "Well!" said his wife, quickly. +</p> +<p> + "Was very particular about them," said Mr. Hatchard, recovering. "Well, + good-afternoon to you, ma'am." +</p> +<p> + "I want three weeks in advance," said his wife. "Three—" exclaimed the + other. "Three weeks in advance? Why——" +</p> +<p> + "Those are my terms," said Mrs. Hatchard. "Take 'em or leave 'em. + P'r'aps it would be better if you left 'em." +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "Yes, sir," said Mrs. Hatchard, entering the room. "Supper, please," + said the new lodger, with dignity. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Hatchard looked bewildered. "Well, there it is," she said, + indicating the table. "You don't want me to feed you, do you?" +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<a name="image-7"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="007.jpg" height="494" width="615" +alt="''i—i Thought I Smelled Something Cooking,' he Said.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + "Oh, that was my supper," said Mrs. Hatchard, with a smile. +</p> +<p> + "I—I'm very hungry," said Mr. Hatchard, trying to keep his temper. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "You can clear away," he said, as Mrs. Hatchard entered the room. +</p> +<p> + "What, no breakfast?" she said, holding up her hands. "Well, I've heard + of you single young men, but I never thought——" +</p> +<p> + "The tea's cold and as black as ink," growled the indignant lodger, "and + the egg isn't eatable." +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "Look here, Emily—" began her husband. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "I won't go till my three weeks are up," said Mr. Hatchard, doggedly, "so + you may as well behave yourself." +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "He's taken my other two rooms," she said, smiling—"the little back + parlor and the front bedroom—I'm full up now." +</p> +<p> + "Wouldn't he like my table, too?" inquired Mr. Hatchard, with bitter + sarcasm. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "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. +</p> +<p> + 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." +</p> +<p> + "Oh! He did, did he?" snarled Mr. Hatchard. "Let him keep himself to + himself, and mind his own business." +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "Help!" gasped his wile's voice. "Oh, Alfred! Alfred!" +</p> +<p> + "Ma'am!" said Mr. Hatchard in a prim voice, as he struggled in vain to + free himself. +</p> +<p> + "I'm so—so—fr-frightened!" sobbed Mrs. Hatchard. +</p> +<p> + "That's no reason for coming into a lodger's room and throwing your arms + round his neck," said her husband, severely. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + "He? Who?" inquired her husband. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + The chair-bedstead shook in sympathy with Mr. Hatchard's husbandly + emotion. +</p> +<p> + "Well, it's nothing to do with me," he said at last. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + The bed shook again. +</p> +<p> + "I don't see that I have any right to interfere," said Mr. Hatchard, + after he had quieted the bedstead. "He's your lodger." +</p> +<p> + "You're my husband," said Mrs. Hatchard. "Ho!" said Mr. Hatchard. + "You've remembered that, have you?" +</p> +<p> + "Yes, Alfred," said his wife. +</p> +<p> + "And are you sorry for all your bad behavior?" demanded Mr. Hatchard. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Hatchard hesitated. Then a clatter of fire-irons downstairs moved + her to speech. +</p> +<p> + "Ye-yes," she sobbed. +</p> +<p> + "And you want me to take you back?" queried the generous Mr. Hatchard. +</p> +<p> + "Ye-ye-yes," said his wife. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "What's all this?" he demanded, throwing the door open with a flourish. +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "K-K-K-Kch! K-Kch!" he said, explosively. "Talk English, not Chinese," + said Mr. Hatchard, sternly. +</p> +<a name="image-8"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="008.jpg" height="511" width="609" +alt="''K-k-k-kch! K-kch!' he Said, Explosively.' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "Sh—sh—she—she—" he spluttered. +</p> +<p> + "That'll do," said Mr. Hatchard, hastily, with a warning frown. +</p> +<p> + "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." +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "Outside!" he said, briefly. +</p> +<p> + "What!" said the astounded Mr. Sadler. "Why, it's eleven o'clock." +</p> +<p> + "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?" +</p> +<p> + 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. +</p> +<p> + "I can't help it," said his friend, in a low voice. "I've had to swear + I've never seen you before." +</p> +<p> + "Does she believe you?" said the staring Mr. Sadler, shivering at the + open door. +</p> +<p> + "No," said Mr. Hatchard, slowly, "but she pre-tends to." +</p> + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Homeward Bound, by W.W. 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Jacobs + +Release Date: January 22, 2004 [EBook #10782] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOMEWARD BOUND *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + +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. 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