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diff --git a/old/12154-h/003.jpg b/old/12154-h/003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d43dd3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12154-h/003.jpg diff --git a/old/12154-h/12154-h.htm b/old/12154-h/12154-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..66b2bb8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12154-h/12154-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1153 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" + content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of + Night Watches:THE WEAKER VESSEL + by W.W. Jacobs. +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {background:#faebd7;} + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin: 15%; + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; } + PRE { font-family: cursive} + .toc { margin-left: 15%; margin-bottom: 0em;} + CENTER { padding: 10px;} + // --> +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Weaker Vessel, 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: The Weaker Vessel + Night Watches, Part 4. + +Author: W.W. Jacobs + +Release Date: April 26, 2004 [EBook #12154] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WEAKER VESSEL *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="cover (127K)" src="cover.jpg" height="899" width="725" /> +</center> +<br><br> + + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="title (37K)" src="title.jpg" height="655" width="462" /> +</center> +<br><br> + + + + +<a name="2H_4_4"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h1> + THE WEAKER VESSEL +</h1> +<br /><br /> +<p> + Mr. Gribble sat in his small front parlour in a state of angry amazement. + It was half-past six and there was no Mrs. Gribble; worse still, there + was no tea. It was a state of things that had only happened once before. + That was three weeks after marriage, and on that occasion Mr. Gribble had + put his foot down with a bang that had echoed down the corridors of + thirty years. +</p> +<p> + The fire in the little kitchen was out, and the untidy remains of Mrs. + Gribble's midday meal still disgraced the table. More and more dazed, + the indignant husband could only come to the conclusion that she had gone + out and been run over. Other things might possibly account for her + behaviour; that was the only one that would excuse it. +</p> +<p> + His meditations were interrupted by the sound of a key in the front door, + and a second later a small, anxious figure entered the room and, leaning + against the table, strove to get its breath. The process was not helped + by the alarming distension of Mr. Gribble's figure. +</p> +<p> + "I—I got home—quick as I could—Henry," said Mrs. Gribble, panting. +</p> +<p> + "Where is my tea?" demanded her husband. "What do you mean by it? The + fire's out and the kitchen is just as you left it." +</p> +<p> + "I—I've been to a lawyer's, Henry," said Mrs. Gribble, "and I had to + wait." +</p> +<p> + "Lawyer's?" repeated her husband. +</p> +<p> + "I got a letter this afternoon telling me to call. Poor Uncle George, + that went to America, is gone." +</p> +<p> + "That is no excuse for neglecting me," said Mr. Gribble. "Of course + people die when they are old. Is that the one that got on and made + money?" +</p> +<p> + His wife, apparently struggling to repress a little excitement, nodded. + "He—he's left me two hundred pounds a year for life, Henry," she said, + dabbing at her pale blue eyes with a handkerchief. "They're going to pay + it monthly; sixteen pounds thirteen shillings and fourpence a month. + That's how he left it." +</p> +<p> + "Two hund—" began Mr. Gribble, forgetting himself. "Two hun——Go and + get my tea! If you think you're going to give yourself airs because your + uncle's left you money, you won't do it in my house." +</p> +<p> + He took a chair by the window, and, while his wife busied herself in the + kitchen, sat gazing in blank delight at the little street. Two hundred a + year! It was all he could do to resume his wonted expression as his wife + re-entered the room and began to lay the table. His manner, however, + when she let a cup and saucer slip from her trembling fingers to smash on + the floor left nothing to be desired. +</p> +<p> + "It's nice to have money come to us in our old age," said Mrs. Gribble, + timidly, as they sat at tea. "It takes a load off my mind." +</p> +<p> + "Old age!" said her husband, disagreeably. "What d'ye mean by old age? + I'm fifty-two, and feel as young as ever I did." +</p> +<p> + "You look as young as ever you did," said the docile Mrs. Gribble. + "I can't see no change in you. At least, not to speak of." +</p> +<p> + "Not so much talk," said her husband. "When I want your opinion of my + looks I'll ask you for it. When do you start getting this money?" +</p> +<p> + "Tuesday week; first of May," replied his wife. "The lawyers are going + to send it by registered letter." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Gribble grunted. +</p> +<p> + "I shall be sorry to leave the house for some things," said his wife, + looking round. "We've been here a good many years now, Henry." +</p> +<p> + "Leave the house!" repeated Mr. Gribble, putting down his tea-cup and + staring at her. +</p> +<p> + "Leave the house! What are you talking about?" +</p> +<p> + "But we can't stay here, Henry," faltered Mrs. Gribble. "Not with all + that money. They are building some beautiful houses in Charlton Grove + now—bathroom, tiled hearths, and beautiful stained glass in the front + door; and all for twenty-eight pounds a year." +</p> +<p> + "Wonderful!" said the other, with a mocking glint in his eye. +</p> +<p> + "And iron palings to the front garden, painted chocolate-colour picked + out with blue," continued his wife, eyeing him wistfully. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Gribble struck the table a blow with his fist. "This house is good + enough for me," he roared; "and what's good enough for me is good enough + for you. You want to waste money on show; that's what you want. Stained + glass and bow-windows! You want a bow-window to loll about in, do you? + Shouldn't wonder if you don't want a servant-gal to do the work." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gribble flushed guiltily, and caught her breath. +</p> +<p> + "We're going to live as we've always lived," pursued Mr. Gribble. "Money + ain't going to spoil me. I ain't going to put on no side just because + I've come in for a little bit. If you had your way we should end up in + the workhouse." +</p> +<p> + He filled his pipe and smoked thoughtfully, while Mrs. Gribble cleared + away the tea-things and washed up. Pictures, good to look upon, formed + in the smoke-pictures of a hale, hearty man walking along the primrose + path arm-in-arm with two hundred a year; of the mahogany and plush of the + saloon bar at the Grafton Arms; of Sunday jaunts, and the Oval on summer + afternoons. +</p> +<p> + He ate his breakfast slowly on the first of the month, and, the meal + finished, took a seat in the window with his pipe and waited for the + postman. Mrs. Gribble's timid reminders concerning the flight of time + and consequent fines for lateness at work fell on deaf ears. He jumped + up suddenly and met the postman at the door. +</p> +<p> + "Has it come?" inquired Mrs. Gribble, extending her hand. +</p> +<p> + By way of reply her husband tore open the envelope and, handing her the + covering letter, counted the notes and coin and placed them slowly in his + pockets. Then, as Mrs. Gribble looked at him, he looked at the clock, + and, snatching up his hat, set off down the road. +</p> +<p> + He was late home that evening, and his manner forbade conversation. Mrs. + Gribble, with the bereaved air of one who has sustained an irremediable + loss, sighed fitfully, and once applied her handkerchief to her eyes. +</p> +<p> + "That's no good," said her husband at last; "that won't bring him back." +</p> +<p> + "Bring who back?" inquired Mrs. Gribble, in genuine surprise. +</p> +<p> + "Why, your Uncle George," said Mr. Gribble. "That's what you're turning + on the water-cart for, ain't it?" +</p> +<p> + "I wasn't thinking of him," said Mrs. Gribble, trying to speak bravely. + "I was thinking of——" +</p> +<p> + "Well, you ought to be," interrupted her husband. "He wasn't my uncle, + poor chap, but I've been thinking of him, off and on, all day. That + bloater-paste you are eating now came from his kindness. I brought it + home as a treat." +</p> +<p> + "I was thinking of my clothes," said Mrs. Gribble, clenching her hands + together under the table. "When I found I had come in for that money, + the first thing I thought was that I should be able to have a decent + dress. My old ones are quite worn out, and as for my hat and jacket—" +</p> +<p> + "Go on," said her husband, fiercely. "Go on. That's just what I said: + trust you with money, and we should be poorer than ever." +</p> +<p> + "I'm ashamed to be seen out," said Mrs. Gribble. +</p> +<p> + "A woman's place is the home," said Mr. Gribble; "and so long as I'm + satisfied with your appearance nobody else matters. So long as I am + pleased, that's everything. What do you want to go dressing yourself up + for? Nothing looks worse than an over-dressed woman." +</p> +<p> + "What are we going to do with all that money, then?" inquired Mrs. + Gribble, in trembling tones. +</p> +<p> + "That'll do," said Mr. Gribble, decidedly. "That'll do. One o' these + days you'll go too far. You start throwing that money in my teeth and + see what happens. I've done my best for you all these years, and there's + no reason to suppose I sha'n't go on doing so. What did you say? What!" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gribble turned to him a face rendered ghastly by terror. "I—I + said—it was my money," she stammered. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Gribble rose, and stood for a full minute regarding her. Then, + kicking a chair out of his way, he took his hat from its peg in the + passage and, with a bang of the street-door that sent a current of fresh, + sweet air circulating through the house, strode off to the Grafton Arms. +</p> +<p> + It was past eleven when he returned, but even the spectacle of his wife + laboriously darning her old dress failed to reduce his good-humour in the + slightest degree. In a frivolous mood he even took a feather from the + dismembered hat on the table and stuck it in his hair. He took the stump + of a strong cigar from his lips and, exhaling a final cloud of smoke, + tossed it into the fireplace. +</p> +<p> + "Uncle George dead," he said, at last, shaking his head. "Hadn't + pleasure acquaintance, but good man. Good man." +</p> +<p> + He shook his head again and gazed mistily at his wife. +</p> +<p> + "He was a teetotaller," she remarked, casually. +</p> +<p> + "He was tee-toiler," repeated Mr. Gribble, regarding her equably. "Good + man. Uncle George dead-tee-toller." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gribble gathered up her work and began to put it away. +</p> +<p> + "Bed-time," said Mr. Gribble, and led the way upstairs, singing. +</p> +<p> + His good-humour had evaporated by the morning, and, having made a light + breakfast of five cups of tea, he went off, with lagging steps, to work. + It was a beautiful spring morning, and the idea of a man with two hundred + a year and a headache going off to a warehouse instead of a day's outing + seemed to border upon the absurd. What use was money without freedom? + His toil was sweetened that day by the knowledge that he could drop it + any time he liked and walk out, a free man, into the sunlight. +</p> +<p> + By the end of a week his mind was made up. Each day that passed made his + hurried uprising and scrambled breakfast more and more irksome; and on + Monday morning, with hands in trouser-pockets and legs stretched out, he + leaned back in his chair and received his wife's alarming intimations as + to the flight of time with a superior and sphinx-like smile. +</p> +<p> + "It's too fine to go to work to-day," he said, lazily. "Come to that, + any day is too fine to waste at work." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gribble sat gasping at him. +</p> +<p> + "So on Saturday I gave 'em a week's notice," continued her husband, "and + after Potts and Co. had listened while I told 'em what I thought of 'em, + they said they'd do without the week's notice." +</p> +<p> + "You've never given up your job?" said Mrs. Gribble. +</p> +<p> + "I spoke to old Potts as one gentleman of independent means to another," + said Mr. Gribble, smiling. "Thirty-five bob a week after twenty years' + service! And he had the cheek to tell me I wasn't worth that. When I + told him what he was worth he talked about sending for the police. What + are you looking like that for? I've worked hard for you for thirty + years, and I've had enough of it. Now it's your turn." +</p> +<p> + "You'd find it hard to get another place at your age," said his wife; + "especially if they wouldn't give you a good character." +</p> +<p> + "Place!" said the other, staring. "Place! I tell you I've done with + work. For a man o' my means to go on working for thirty-five bob + a week is ridiculous." +</p> +<p> + "But suppose anything happened to me," said his wife, in a troubled + voice. +</p> +<p> + "That's not very likely," said Mr. Gribble. +</p> +<p> + "You're tough enough. And if it did your money would come to me." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gribble shook her head. +</p> +<p> + "WHAT?" roared her husband, jumping up. +</p> +<p> + "I've only got it for life, Henry, as I told you," said Mrs. Gribble, in + alarm. "I thought you knew it would stop when I died." +</p> +<p> + "And what's to become of me if anything happens to you, then?" demanded + the dismayed Mr. Gribble. "What am I to do?" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gribble put her handkerchief to her eyes. +</p> +<p> + "And don't start weakening your constitution by crying," shouted the + incensed husband. +</p> +<p> + "What are you mumbling?" +</p> +<p> + "I sa—sa—said, let's hope—you'll go first," sobbed his wife. "Then it + will be all right." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Gribble opened his mouth, and then, realizing the inadequacy of the + English language for moments of stress, closed it again. He broke his + silence at last in favour of Uncle George. +</p> +<p> + "Mind you," he said, concluding a peroration which his wife listened to + with her fingers in her ears—"mind you, I reckon I've been absolutely + done by you and your precious Uncle George. I've given up a good + situation, and now, any time you fancy to go off the hooks, I'm to be + turned into the street." +</p> +<p> + "I'll try and live, for your sake, Henry," said his wife. +</p> +<p> + "Think of my worry every time you are ill," pursued the indignant Mr. + Gribble. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gribble sighed, and her husband, after a few further remarks + concerning Uncle George, his past and his future, announced his intention + of going to the lawyers and seeing whether anything could be done. He + came back in a state of voiceless gloom, and spent the rest of a + beautiful day indoors, smoking a pipe which had lost much of its flavour, + and regarding with a critical and anxious eye the small, weedy figure of + his wife as she went about her work. +</p> +<p> + The second month's payment went into his pocket as a matter of course, + but on this occasion Mrs. Gribble made no requests for new clothes or + change of residence. A little nervous cough was her sole comment. +</p> +<p> + "Got a cold?" inquired her husband, starting. +</p> +<p> + "I don't think so," replied his wife, and, surprised and touched at this + unusual display of interest, coughed again. +</p> +<p> + "Is it your throat or your chest?" he inquired, gruffly. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gribble coughed again to see. After five coughs she said she + thought it was her chest. +</p> +<p> + "You'd better not go out o' doors to-day, then," said Mr. Gribble. + "Don't stand about in draughts; and I'll fetch you in a bottle of + cough mixture when I go out. What about a lay-down on the sofa?" +</p> +<p> + His wife thanked him, and, reaching the sofa, watched with half-closed + eyes as he cleared the breakfast-table. It was the first time he had + done such a thing in his life, and a little honest pride in the + possession of such a cough would not be denied. Dim possibilities + of its vast usefulness suddenly occurred to her. +</p> +<p> + She took the cough mixture for a week, by which time other symptoms, + extremely disquieting to an ease-loving man, had manifested themselves. + Going upstairs deprived her of breath; carrying a loaded tea-tray + produced a long and alarming stitch in the side. The last time she ever + filled the coal-scuttle she was discovered sitting beside it on the floor + in a state of collapse. +</p> +<p> + "You'd better go and see the doctor," said Mr. Gribble. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gribble went. Years before the doctor had told her that she ought + to take life easier, and she was now able to tell him she was prepared to + take his advice. +</p> +<p> + "And, you see, I must take care of myself now for the sake of my + husband," she said, after she had explained matters. +</p> +<p> + "I understand," said the doctor. +</p> +<p> + "If anything happened to me—" began the patient. +</p> +<p> + "Nothing shall happen," said the other. "Stay in bed to-morrow morning, + and I'll come round and overhaul you." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gribble hesitated. "You might examine me and think I was all + right," she objected; "and at the same time you wouldn't know how I + feel." +</p> +<p> + "I know just how you feel," was the reply. "Good-bye." +</p> +<p> + He came round the following morning and, following the dejected Mr. + Gribble upstairs, made a long and thorough investigation of his patient. +</p> +<p> + "Say 'ninety-nine,'" he said, adjusting his stethoscope. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gribble ticked off "ninety-nines" until her husband's ears ached + with them. The doctor finished at last, and, fastening his bag, stood + with his beard in his hand, pondering. He looked from the little, + whitefaced woman on the bed to the bulky figure of Mr. Gribble. +</p> +<p> + "You had better lie up for a week," he said, decidedly. "The rest will + do you good." +</p> +<p> + "Nothing serious, I s'pose?" said Mr. Gribble, as he led the way + downstairs to the small parlour. +</p> +<p> + "She ought to be all right with care," was the reply. +</p> +<p> + "Care?" repeated the other, distastefully. "What's the matter with + her?" +</p> +<p> + "She's not very strong," said the doctor; "and hearts don't improve with + age, you know. Under favourable conditions she's good for some years + yet. The great thing is never to thwart her. Let her have her own way + in everything." +</p> +<p> + "Own way in everything?" repeated the dumbfounded Mr. Gribble. +</p> +<p> + The doctor nodded. "Never let her worry about anything," he continued; + "and, above all, never find fault with her." +</p> +<p> + "Not," said Mr. Gribble, thickly—"not even for her own good?" +</p> +<p> + "Unless you want to run the risk of losing her." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Gribble shivered. +</p> +<p> + "Let her have an easy time," said the doctor, taking up his hat. "Pamper + her a bit if you like; it won't hurt her. Above all, don't let that + heart of hers get excited." +</p> +<p> + He shook hands with the petrified Mr. Gribble and went off, grinning + wickedly. He had few favourites, and Mr. Gribble was not one of them. +</p> +<p> + For two days the devoted husband did the housework and waited on the + invalid. Then he wearied, and, at his wife's suggestion, a small girl + was engaged as servant. She did most of the nursing as well, and, having + a great love for the sensational, took a grave view of her mistress's + condition. +</p> +<p> + It was a relief to Mr. Gribble when his wife came downstairs again, and + he was cheered to see that she looked much better. His satisfaction was + so marked that it brought on her cough again. +</p> +<p> + "It's this house, I think," she said, with a resigned smile. "It never + did agree with me. +</p> +<p> + "Well, you've lived in it a good many years," said her husband, + controlling himself with difficulty. +</p> +<p> + "It's rather dark and small," said Mrs. Gribble. "Not but what it is + good enough for me. And I dare say it will last my time." +</p> +<p> + "Nonsense!" said her husband, gruffly. "You want to get out a bit more. + You've got nothing to do now we are wasting all this money on a servant. + Why don't you go out for little walks?" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gribble went, after several promptings, and the fruit of one of them + was handed by the postman to Mr. Gribble a few days afterwards. Half- + choking with wrath and astonishment, he stood over his trembling wife + with the first draper's bill he had ever received. +</p> +<p> + "One pound two shillings and threepence three-farthings!" he recited. + "It must be a mistake. It must be for somebody else." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gribble, with her hand to her heart, tottered to the sofa and lay + there with her eyes closed. +</p> +<p> + "I had to get some dress material," she said, in a quavering voice. "You + want me to go out, and I'm so shabby I'm ashamed to be seen." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Gribble made muffled noises in his throat; then, afraid to trust + himself, he went into the back-yard and, taking a seat on an upturned + bucket, sat with his head in his hands peering into the future. +</p> +<p> + The dressmaker's bill and a bill for a new hat came after the next + monthly payment; and a bill for shoes came a week later. Hoping much + from the well-known curative effects of fine feathers, he managed to + treat the affair with dignified silence. The only time he allowed full + play to his feelings Mrs. Gribble took to her bed for two days, and the + doctor had a heart-to-heart talk with him on the doorstep. +</p> +<p> + It was a matter of great annoyance to him that his wife still continued + to attribute her ill-health to the smallness and darkness of the house; + and the fact that there were only two of the houses in Charlton Grove + left caused a marked depression of spirits. It was clear that she was + fretting. The small servant went further, and said that she was fading + away. +</p> +<p> + They moved at the September quarter, and a slight, but temporary, + improvement in Mrs. Gribble's health took place. Her cheeks flushed and + her eyes sparkled over new curtains and new linoleum. The tiled hearths, + and stained glass in the front door filled her with a deep and solemn + thankfulness. The only thing that disturbed her was the fact that Mr. + Gribble, to avoid wasting money over necessaries, contrived to spend an + unduly large portion on personal luxuries. +</p> +<p> + "We ought to have some new things for the kitchen," she said one day. +</p> +<p> + "No money," said Mr. Gribble, laconically. +</p> +<p> + "And a mat for the bathroom." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Gribble got up and went out. +</p> +<p> + She had to go to him for everything. Two hundred a year and not a penny + she could call her own! She consulted her heart, and that faithful organ + responded with a bound that set her nerves quivering. If she could only + screw her courage to the sticking-point the question would be settled for + once and all. +</p> +<p> + White and trembling she sat at breakfast on the first of November, + waiting for the postman, while the unconscious Mr. Gribble went on with + his meal. The double-knocks down the road came nearer and nearer, and + Mr. Gribble, wiping his mouth, sat upright with an air of alert and + pleased interest. Rapid steps came to the front door, and a double bang + followed. +</p> +<p> + "Always punctual," said Mr. Gribble, good-humouredly. +</p> +<p> + His wife made no reply, but, taking a blue-crossed envelope from the maid + in her shaking fingers, looked round for a knife. Her gaze encountered + Mr. Gribble's outstretched hand. +</p> +<p> + "After you," he said sharply. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gribble found the knife, and, hacking tremulously at the envelope, + peeped inside it and, with her gaze fastened on the window, fumbled for + her pocket. She was so pale and shook so much that the words died away + on her husband's lips. +</p> +<a name="image-3"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="003.jpg" height="575" width="597" +alt="'you—you Had Better Let Me Take Care of That' +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + "You—you had better let me take care of that," he said, at last. +</p> +<p> + "It is—all right," gasped his wife. +</p> +<p> + She put her hand to her throat and, hardly able to believe in her + victory, sat struggling for breath. Before her, grim and upright, her + husband sat, a figure of helpless smouldering wrath. +</p> +<p> + "You might lose it," he said, at last. "I sha'n't lose it," said his + wife. +</p> +<p> + To avoid further argument, she arose and went slowly upstairs. Through + the doorway Mr. Gribble saw her helping herself up by the banisters, her + left hand still at her throat. Then he heard her moving slowly about in + the bedroom overhead. +</p> +<p> + He took out his pipe and filled it mechanically, and was just holding a + match to the tobacco when he paused and gazed with a puzzled air at the + ceiling. "Blamed if it don't sound like somebody dancing!" he growled. +</p> + + + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Weaker Vessel, by W.W. 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