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diff --git a/12210-0.txt b/12210-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6a3f449 --- /dev/null +++ b/12210-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,477 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12210 *** + +ODD CRAFT + +By W.W. Jacobs + + + +DIXON'S RETURN + +Talking about eddication, said the night-watchman, thoughtfully, the +finest eddication you can give a lad is to send 'im to sea. School is +all right up to a certain p'int, but arter that comes the sea. I've been +there myself and I know wot I'm talking about. All that I am I owe to +'aving been to sea. + +[Illustration: "Talking about eddication, said the night-watchman."] + +There's a saying that boys will be boys. That's all right till they go +to sea, and then they 'ave to be men, and good men too. They get knocked +about a bit, o' course, but that's all part o' the eddication, and when +they get bigger they pass the eddication they've received on to other +boys smaller than wot they are. Arter I'd been at sea a year I spent all +my fust time ashore going round and looking for boys wot 'ad knocked me +about afore I sailed, and there was only one out o' the whole lot that I +wished I 'adn't found. + +Most people, o' course, go to sea as boys or else not at all, but I mind +one chap as was pretty near thirty years old when 'e started. It's a +good many years ago now, and he was landlord of a public-'ouse as used to +stand in Wapping, called the Blue Lion. + +His mother, wot had 'ad the pub afore 'im, 'ad brought 'im up very quiet +and genteel, and when she died 'e went and married a fine, handsome young +woman who 'ad got her eye on the pub without thinking much about 'im. I +got to know about it through knowing the servant that lived there. A +nice, quiet gal she was, and there wasn't much went on that she didn't +hear. I've known 'er to cry for hours with the ear-ache, pore gal. + +Not caring much for 'er 'usband, and being spoiled by 'im into the +bargain, Mrs. Dixon soon began to lead 'im a terrible life. She was +always throwing his meekness and mildness up into 'is face, and arter +they 'ad been married two or three years he was no more like the landlord +o' that public-'ouse than I'm like a lord. Not so much. She used to get +into such terrible tempers there was no doing anything with 'er, and for +the sake o' peace and quietness he gave way to 'er till 'e got into the +habit of it and couldn't break 'imself of it. + +They 'adn't been married long afore she 'ad her cousin, Charlie Burge, +come in as barman, and a month or two arter that 'is brother Bob, who 'ad +been spending a lot o' time looking for work instead o' doing it, came +too. They was so comfortable there that their father--a 'ouse-painter by +trade--came round to see whether he couldn't paint the Blue Lion up a bit +and make 'em look smart, so that they'd get more trade. He was one o' +these 'ere fust-class 'ousepainters that can go to sleep on a ladder +holding a brush in one hand and a pot o' paint in the other, and by the +time he 'ad finished painting the 'ouse it was ready to be done all over +agin. + +I dare say that George Dixon--that was 'is name--wouldn't ha' minded so +much if 'is wife 'ad only been civil, but instead o' that she used to +make fun of 'im and order 'im about, and by-and-by the others began to +try the same thing. As I said afore, Dixon was a very quiet man, and if +there was ever anybody to be put outside Charlie or Bob used to do it. +They tried to put me outside once, the two of 'em, but they on'y did it +at last by telling me that somebody 'ad gone off and left a pot o' beer +standing on the pavement. They was both of 'em fairly strong young chaps +with a lot of bounce in 'em, and she used to say to her 'usband wot fine +young fellers they was, and wot a pity it was he wasn't like 'em. + +Talk like this used to upset George Dixon awful. Having been brought up +careful by 'is mother, and keeping a very quiet, respectable 'ouse--I +used it myself--he cert'nly was soft, and I remember 'im telling me once +that he didn't believe in fighting, and that instead of hitting people +you ought to try and persuade them. He was uncommon fond of 'is wife, +but at last one day, arter she 'ad made a laughing-stock of 'im in the +bar, he up and spoke sharp to her. + +"Wot?" ses Mrs. Dixon, 'ardly able to believe her ears. + +"Remember who you're speaking to; that's wot I said," ses Dixon. + +"'Ow dare you talk to me like that?" screams 'is wife, turning red with +rage. "Wot d'ye mean by it?" + +"Because you seem to forget who is master 'ere," ses Dixon, in a +trembling voice. + +"Master?" she ses, firing up. "I'll soon show you who's master. Go out +o' my bar; I won't 'ave you in it. D'ye 'ear? Go out of it." + +Dixon turned away and began to serve a customer. "D'ye hear wot I say?" +ses Mrs. Dixon, stamping 'er foot. "Go out o' my bar. Here, Charlie!" + +"Hullo!" ses 'er cousin, who 'ad been standing looking on and grinning. + +"Take the master and put 'im into the parlour," ses Mrs. Dixon, "and +don't let 'im come out till he's begged my pardon." + +"Go on," ses Charlie, brushing up 'is shirt-sleeves; "in you go. You +'ear wot she said." + +He caught 'old of George Dixon, who 'ad just turned to the back o' the +bar to give a customer change out of 'arf a crown, and ran 'im kicking +and struggling into the parlour. George gave 'im a silly little punch in +the chest, and got such a bang on the 'ead back that at fust he thought +it was knocked off. + +When 'e came to 'is senses agin the door leading to the bar was shut, and +'is wife's uncle, who 'ad been asleep in the easy-chair, was finding +fault with 'im for waking 'im up. + +"Why can't you be quiet and peaceable?" he ses, shaking his 'ead at him. +"I've been 'ard at work all the morning thinking wot colour to paint the +back-door, and this is the second time I've been woke up since dinner. +You're old enough to know better." + +"Go and sleep somewhere else, then," ses Dixon. "I don't want you 'ere +at all, or your boys neither. Go and give somebody else a treat; I've +'ad enough of the whole pack of you." + +[Illustration: "'Go and sleep somewhere else, then,' ses Dixon."] + +He sat down and put 'is feet in the fender, and old Burge, as soon as he +'ad got 'is senses back, went into the bar and complained to 'is niece, +and she came into the parlour like a thunderstorm. + +"You'll beg my uncle's pardon as well as mine afore you come out o' that +room," she said to her 'usband; "mind that." + +George Dixon didn't say a word; the shame of it was a'most more than 'e +could stand. Then 'e got up to go out o' the parlour and Charlie pushed +'im back agin. Three times he tried, and then 'e stood up and looked at +'is wife. + +"I've been a good 'usband to you," he ses; "but there's no satisfying +you. You ought to ha' married somebody that would ha' knocked you about, +and then you'd ha' been happy. I'm too fond of a quiet life to suit +you." + +"Are you going to beg my pardon and my uncle's pardon?" ses 'is wife, +stamping 'er foot. + +"No," ses Dixon; "I am not. I'm surprised at you asking it." + +"Well, you don't come out o' this room till you do," ses 'is wife. + +"That won't hurt me," ses Dixon. "I couldn't look anybody in the face +arter being pushed out o' my own bar." + +They kept 'im there all the rest o' the day, and, as 'e was still +obstinate when bedtime came, Mrs. Dixon, who wasn't to be beat, brought +down some bedclothes and 'ad a bed made up for 'im on the sofa. Some men +would ha' 'ad the police in for less than that, but George Dixon 'ad got +a great deal o' pride and 'e couldn't bear the shame of it. Instead o' +that 'e acted like a fourteen-year-old boy and ran away to sea. + +They found 'im gone when they came down in the morning, and the side-door +on the latch. He 'ad left a letter for 'is wife on the table, telling +'er wot he 'ad done. Short and sweet it was, and wound up with telling +'er to be careful that her uncle and cousins didn't eat 'er out of house +and 'ome. + +She got another letter two days arterward, saying that he 'ad shipped as +ordinary seaman on an American barque called the _Seabird,_ bound for +California, and that 'e expected to be away a year, or thereabouts. + +"It'll do 'im good," ses old Burge, when Mrs. Dixon read the letter to +'em. "It's a 'ard life is the sea, and he'll appreciate his 'ome when 'e +comes back to it agin. He don't know when 'e's well off. It's as +comfortable a 'ome as a man could wish to 'ave." It was surprising wot a +little difference George Dixon's being away made to the Blue Lion. +Nobody seemed to miss 'im much, and things went on just the same as afore +he went. Mrs. Dixon was all right with most people, and 'er relations +'ad a very good time of it; old Burge began to put on flesh at such a +rate that the sight of a ladder made 'im ill a'most, and Charlie and Bob +went about as if the place belonged to 'em. + +They 'eard nothing for eight months, and then a letter came for Mrs. +Dixon from her 'usband in which he said that 'e had left the _Seabird_ +after 'aving had a time which made 'im shiver to think of. He said that +the men was the roughest of the rough and the officers was worse, and +that he 'ad hardly 'ad a day without a blow from one or the other since +he'd been aboard. He'd been knocked down with a hand-spike by the second +mate, and had 'ad a week in his bunk with a kick given 'im by the +boatswain. He said 'e was now on the _Rochester Castle,_ bound for +Sydney, and he 'oped for better times. + +That was all they 'eard for some months, and then they got another letter +saying that the men on the _Rochester Castle_ was, if anything, worse +than those on the Seabird, and that he'd begun to think that running away +to sea was diff'rent to wot he'd expected, and that he supposed 'e'd done +it too late in life. He sent 'is love to 'is wife and asked 'er as a +favour to send Uncle Burge and 'is boys away, as 'e didn't want to find +them there when 'e came home, because they was the cause of all his +sufferings. + +"He don't know 'is best friends," ses old Burge. "'E's got a nasty +sperrit I don't like to see." + +"I'll 'ave a word with 'im when 'e does come home," ses Bob. "I s'pose +he thinks 'imself safe writing letters thousands o' miles away." + +The last letter they 'ad came from Auckland, and said that he 'ad shipped +on the _Monarch,_ bound for the Albert Docks, and he 'oped soon to be at +'ome and managing the Blue Lion, same as in the old happy days afore he +was fool enough to go to sea. + +That was the very last letter, and some time arterward the _Monarch_ was +in the missing list, and by-and-by it became known that she 'ad gone down +with all hands not long arter leaving New Zealand. The only difference +it made at the Blue Lion was that Mrs. Dixon 'ad two of 'er dresses dyed +black, and the others wore black neckties for a fortnight and spoke of +Dixon as pore George, and said it was a funny world, but they supposed +everything was for the best. + +It must ha' been pretty near four years since George Dixon 'ad run off to +sea when Charlie, who was sitting in the bar one arternoon reading the +paper, things being dull, saw a man's head peep through the door for a +minute and then disappear. A'most direckly arterward it looked in at +another door and then disappeared agin. When it looked in at the third +door Charlie 'ad put down 'is paper and was ready for it. + +"Who are you looking for?" he ses, rather sharp. "Wot d'ye want? Are +you 'aving a game of peepbo, or wot?" + +The man coughed and smiled, and then 'e pushed the door open gently and +came in, and stood there fingering 'is beard as though 'e didn't know wot +to say. + +"I've come back, Charlie," he ses at last. + +"Wot, George!" ses Charlie, starting. "Why, I didn't know you in that +beard. We all thought you was dead, years ago." + +"I was pretty nearly, Charlie," ses Dixon, shaking his 'ead. "Ah! I've +'ad a terrible time since I left 'once." + +"'You don't seem to ha' made your fortune," ses Charlie, looking down at +'is clothes. "I'd ha' been ashamed to come 'ome like that if it 'ad been +me." + +"I'm wore out," ses Dixon, leaning agin the bar. "I've got no pride +left; it's all been knocked out of me. How's Julia?" + +"She's all right," ses Charlie. "Here, Ju--" + +"H'sh!" ses Dixon, reaching over the bar and laying his 'and on his arm. +"Don't let 'er know too sudden; break it to 'er gently." + +"Fiddlesticks!" ses Charlie, throwing his 'and off and calling, "Here, +Julia! He's come back." + +Mrs. Dixon came running downstairs and into the bar. "Good gracious!" +she ses, staring at her 'us-band. "Whoever'd ha' thought o' seeing you +agin? Where 'ave you sprung from?" + +"Ain't you glad to see me, Julia?" ses George Dixon. + +"Yes, I s'pose so; if you've come back to behave yourself," ses Mrs. +Dixon. "What 'ave you got to say for yourself for running away and then +writing them letters, telling me to get rid of my relations?" + +"That's a long time ago, Julia," ses Dixon, raising the flap in the +counter and going into the bar. "I've gone through a great deal o' +suffering since then. I've been knocked about till I 'adn't got any +feeling left in me; I've been shipwrecked, and I've 'ad to fight for my +life with savages." + +"Nobody asked you to run away," ses his wife, edging away as he went to +put his arm round 'er waist. "You'd better go upstairs and put on some +decent clothes." + +[Illustration: "You'd better go upstairs and put on some decent +clothes."] + +Dixon looked at 'er for a moment and then he 'ung his 'ead. + +"I've been thinking o' you and of seeing you agin every day since I went +away, Julia," he ses. "You'd be the same to me if you was dressed in +rags." + +He went upstairs without another word, and old Burge, who was coming +down, came down five of 'em at once owing to Dixon speaking to 'im afore +he knew who 'e was. The old man was still grumbling when Dixon came down +agin, and said he believed he'd done it a-purpose. + +"You run away from a good 'ome," he ses, "and the best wife in Wapping, +and you come back and frighten people 'arf out o' their lives. I never +see such a feller in all my born days." + +"I was so glad to get 'ome agin I didn't think," ses Dixon. "I hope +you're not 'urt." + +He started telling them all about his 'ardships while they were at tea, +but none of 'em seemed to care much about hearing 'em. Bob said that the +sea was all right for men, and that other people were sure not to like +it. + +"And you brought it all on yourself," ses Charlie. "You've only got +yourself to thank for it. I 'ad thought o' picking a bone with you over +those letters you wrote." + +"Let's 'ope 'e's come back more sensible than wot 'e was when 'e went +away," ses old Burge, with 'is mouth full o' toast. + +By the time he'd been back a couple o' days George Dixon could see that +'is going away 'adn't done any good at all. Nobody seemed to take any +notice of 'im or wot he said, and at last, arter a word or two with +Charlie about the rough way he spoke to some o' the customers, Charlie +came in to Mrs. Dixon and said that he was at 'is old tricks of +interfering, and he would not 'ave it. + +"Well, he'd better keep out o' the bar altogether," ses Mrs. Dixon. +"There's no need for 'im to go there; we managed all right while 'e was +away." + +"Do you mean I'm not to go into my own bar?" ses Dixon, stammering. + +"Yes, I do," ses Mrs. Dixon. "You kept out of it for four years to +please yourself, and now you can keep out of it to please me." + +"I've put you out o' the bar before," ses Charlie, "and if you come +messing about with me any more I'll do it agin. So now you know." + +He walked back into the bar whistling, and George Dixon, arter sitting +still for a long time thinking, got up and went into the bar, and he'd +'ardly got his foot inside afore Charlie caught 'old of 'im by the +shoulder and shoved 'im back into the parlour agin. + +"I told you wot it would be," ses Mrs. Dixon, looking up from 'er sewing. +"You've only got your interfering ways to thank for it." + +"This is a fine state of affairs in my own 'ouse," ses Dixon, 'ardly able +to speak. "You've got no proper feeling for your husband, Julia, else +you wouldn't allow it. Why, I was happier at sea than wot I am 'ere." + +"Well, you'd better go back to it if you're so fond of it," ses 'is wife. + +"I think I 'ad," ses Dixon. "If I can't be master in my own 'ouse I'm +better at sea, hard as it is. You must choose between us, Julia--me or +your relations. I won't sleep under the same roof as them for another +night. Am I to go?" + +"Please yourself," ses 'is wife. "I don't mind your staying 'ere so long +as you behave yourself, but the others won't go; you can make your mind +easy on that." + +"I'll go and look for another ship, then," ses Dixon, taking up 'is cap. +"I'm not wanted here. P'r'aps you wouldn't mind 'aving some clothes +packed into a chest for me so as I can go away decent." + +He looked round at 'is wife, as though 'e expected she'd ask 'im not to +go, but she took no notice, and he opened the door softly and went out, +while old Burge, who 'ad come into the room and 'eard what he was saying, +trotted off upstairs to pack 'is chest for 'im. + +In two hours 'e was back agin and more cheerful than he 'ad been since he +'ad come 'ome. Bob was in the bar and the others were just sitting down +to tea, and a big chest, nicely corded, stood on the floor in the corner +of the room. + +"That's right," he ses, looking at it; "that's just wot I wanted." + +"It's as full as it can be," ses old Burge. "I done it for you myself. +'Ave you got a ship?" + +"I 'ave," ses Dixon. "A jolly good ship. No more hardships for me this +time. I've got a berth as captain." + +"Wot?" ses 'is wife. "Captain? You!" + +"Yes," ses Dixon, smiling at her. "You can sail with me if you like." + +"Thankee," ses Mrs. Dixon, "I'm quite comfortable where I am." + +"Do you mean to say you've got a master's berth?" ses Charlie, staring at +'im. + +"I do," ses Dixon; "master and owner." + +Charlie coughed. "Wot's the name of the ship?" he asks, winking at the +others. + +"The BLUE LION," ses Dixon, in a voice that made 'em all start. "I'm +shipping a new crew and I pay off the old one to-night. You first, my +lad." + +"Pay off," ses Charlie, leaning back in 'is chair and staring at 'im in a +puzzled way. "Blue Lion?" + +"Yes," ses Dixon, in the same loud voice. "When I came 'ome the other +day I thought p'r'aps I'd let bygones be bygones, and I laid low for a +bit to see whether any of you deserved it. I went to sea to get +hardened--and I got hard. I've fought men that would eat you at a meal. +I've 'ad more blows in a week than you've 'ad in a lifetime, you +fat-faced land-lubber." + +He walked to the door leading to the bar, where Bob was doing 'is best to +serve customers and listen at the same time, and arter locking it put the +key in 'is pocket. Then 'e put his 'and in 'is pocket and slapped some +money down on the table in front o' Charlie. + +"There's a month's pay instead o' notice," he ses. "Now git." + +"George!" screams 'is wife. "'Ow dare you? 'Ave you gone crazy?" + +"I'm surprised at you," ses old Burge, who'd been looking on with 'is +mouth wide open, and pinching 'imself to see whether 'e wasn't dreaming. + +"I don't go for your orders," ses Charlie, getting up. "Wot d'ye mean by +locking that door?" + +"Wot!" roars Dixon. "Hang it! I mustn't lock a door without asking my +barman now. Pack up and be off, you swab, afore I start on you." + +Charlie gave a growl and rushed at 'im, and the next moment 'e was down +on the floor with the 'ardest bang in the face that he'd ever 'ad in 'is +life. Mrs. Dixon screamed and ran into the kitchen, follered by old +Burge, who went in to tell 'er not to be frightened. Charlie got up and +went for Dixon agin; but he 'ad come back as 'ard as nails and 'ad a +rushing style o' fighting that took Charlie's breath away. By the time +Bob 'ad left the bar to take care of itself, and run round and got in the +back way, Charlie had 'ad as much as 'e wanted and was lying on the +sea-chest in the corner trying to get 'is breath. + +[Illustration: "Charlie had 'ad as much as 'e wanted and was lying on the +sea-chest."] + +"Yes? Wot d'ye want?" ses Dixon, with a growl, as Bob came in at the +door. + +He was such a 'orrible figure, with the blood on 'is face and 'is beard +sticking out all ways, that Bob, instead of doing wot he 'ad come round +for, stood in the doorway staring at 'im without a word. + +"I'm paying off," ses Dixon. "'Ave you got any-thing to say agin it?" + +"No," ses Bob, drawing back. + +"You and Charlie'll go now," ses Dixon, taking out some money. "The old +man can stay on for a month to give 'im time to look round. Don't look +at me that way, else I'll knock your 'ead off." + +He started counting out Bob's money just as old Burge and Mrs. Dixon, +hearing all quiet, came in out of the kitchen. + +"Don't you be alarmed on my account, my dear," he ses, turning to 'is +wife; "it's child's play to wot I've been used to. I'll just see these +two mistaken young fellers off the premises, and then we'll 'ave a cup o' +tea while the old man minds the bar." + +Mrs. Dixon tried to speak, but 'er temper was too much for 'er. She +looked from her 'usband to Charlie and Bob and then back at 'im agin and +caught 'er breath. + +"That's right," ses Dixon, nodding his 'ead at her. "I'm master and +owner of the Blue Lion and you're first mate. When I'm speaking you keep +quiet; that's dissipline." + + +I was in that bar about three months arterward, and I never saw such +a change in any woman as there was in Mrs. Dixon. Of all the +nice-mannered, soft-spoken landladies I've ever seen, she was the best, +and on'y to 'ear the way she answered her 'usband when he spoke to 'er +was a pleasure to every married man in the bar. + +[Illustration: "The way she answered her 'usband was a pleasure to every +married man in the bar."] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Dixon's Return, by W.W. Jacobs + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12210 *** |