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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/34538-h.zip b/34538-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0bb086d --- /dev/null +++ b/34538-h.zip diff --git a/34538-h/34538-h.htm b/34538-h/34538-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0526c6f --- /dev/null +++ b/34538-h/34538-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7491 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Hole in the Wall, by Arthur Morrison</title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.sidenote { + width: 20%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; + margin-left: 1em; + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; + color: black; + background: #eeeeee; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Hole in the Wall, by Arthur Morrison</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Hole in the Wall</p> +<p>Author: Arthur Morrison</p> +<p>Release Date: December 1, 2010 [eBook #34538]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOLE IN THE WALL***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Janet Kegg, Mary Meehan,<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>THE HOLE IN THE WALL</h1> + +<h2>BY ARTHUR MORRISON</h2> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>LONDON<br /> +EYRE & SPOTTISWOODE</h3> + +<h3>The Hole in the Wall <i>was first published in 1902.</i><br /> +<i>First published in The Century Library, 1947.</i></h3> + +<h3><i>The Century Library is printed in England by Billing and<br /> +Sons Ltd., Guildford and Esher, for Eyre & Spottiswoode<br /> +(Publishers) Ltd., 15 Bedford Street, London, W.C. 2, and<br /> +bound by James Burn and Company Ltd., Royal Mills, Esher</i></h3> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><i>To</i><br /> +MRS. CHARLES EARDLEY-WILMOT</h3> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. IN BLUE GATE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. IN THE HIGHWAY</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. IN THE CLUB-ROOM</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. IN BLUE GATE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. ON THE COP</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. ON THE COP</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. IN THE BAR-PARLOUR</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. ON THE COP</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. ON THE COP</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. ON THE COP</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. IN THE BAR-PARLOUR</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX. STEPHEN'S TALE</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>My grandfather was a publican—and a sinner, as you will see. His +public-house was the Hole in the Wall, on the river's edge at Wapping; +and his sins—all of them that I know of—are recorded in these pages. +He was a widower of some small substance, and the Hole in the Wall was +not the sum of his resources, for he owned a little wharf on the river +Lea. I called him Grandfather Nat, not to distinguish him among a +multitude of grandfathers—for indeed I never knew another of my +own—but because of affectionate habit; a habit perhaps born of the fact +that Nathaniel Kemp was also my father's name. My own is Stephen.</p> + +<p>To remember Grandfather Nat is to bethink me of pear-drops. It is +possible that that particular sort of sweetstuff is now obsolete, and I +cannot remember how many years have passed since last I smelt it; for +the pear-drop was a thing that could be smelt farther than seen, and +oftener; so that its smell—a rather fulsome, vulgar smell I now +believe—is almost as distinct to my imagination while I write as it was +to my nose thirty years ago. For pear-drops were an unfailing part of +the large bagful of sticky old-fashioned lollipops that my grandfather +brought on his visits, stuffed into his overcoat pocket, and hard to get +out without a burst and a spill. His custom was invariable, so that I +think I must have come to regard the sweets as some natural production +of his coat pocket; insomuch that at my mother's funeral my muddled +brain scarce realised the full desolation of the circumstances till I +discovered that, for the first time in my experience, my grandfather's +pocket was void of pear-drops. But with this new bereavement the world +seemed empty indeed, and I cried afresh.</p> + +<p>Associated in my memory with my grandfather's bag of sweets, almost more +than with himself, was the gap in the right hand where the middle finger +had been; for it was commonly the maimed hand that hauled out the paper +bag, and the gap was plain and singular against the white paper. He had +lost the finger at sea, they told me; and as my notion of losing a thing +was derived from my Noah's ark, or dropping a marble through a grating, +I was long puzzled to guess how anything like that could have happened +to a finger. Withal the circumstance fascinated me, and added vastly to +the importance and the wonder of my grandfather in my childish eyes.</p> + +<p>He was perhaps a little over the middle height, but so broad and so deep +of chest and, especially, so long of arm, as to seem squat. He had some +grey hair, but it was all below the line of his hat-brim; above that it +was as the hair of a young man. So that I was led to reason that colour +must be washed out of hair by exposure to the weather; as perhaps in his +case it was. I think that his face was almost handsome, in a rough, +hard-bitten way, and he was as hairy a man as I ever saw. His short +beard was like curled wire; but I can remember that long after I had +grown to resent being kissed by women, being no longer a baby, I gladly +climbed his knee to kiss my grandfather, though his shaven upper-lip was +like a rasp.</p> + +<p>In these early days I lived with my mother in a little house of a short +row that stood on a quay, in a place that was not exactly a dock, nor a +wharf, nor a public thoroughfare; but where people from the dock trying +to find a wharf, people from a wharf looking for the dock, and people +from the public thoroughfare in anxious search of dock and wharves, used +to meet and ask each other questions. It was a detached piece of +Blackwall which had got adrift among locks and jetties, and was liable +to be cut off from the rest of the world at any moment by the arrival of +a ship and the consequent swinging of a bridge, worked by two men at a +winch. So that it was a commonplace of my early childhood (though the +sight never lost its interest) to observe from a window a ship, passing +as it were up the street, warped into dock by the capstans on the quay. +And the capstan-songs of the dockmen—<i>Shenandore</i>, <i>Mexico is covered +with Snow</i>, <i>Hurrah for the Black Ball Line</i>, and the like—were as much +my nursery rhymes as <i>Little Boy Blue</i> and <i>Sing a Song o' Sixpence</i>. +These things are done differently nowadays; the cottages on the quay are +gone, and the neighbourhood is a smokier place, where the work is done +by engines, with no songs.</p> + +<p>My father was so much at sea that I remember little of him at all. He +was a ship's officer, and at the time I am to tell of he was mate of the +brig <i>Juno</i>, owned by Viney and Marr, one of the small shipowning firms +that were common enough thirty years ago, though rarer now; the sort of +firm that was made by a pushing skipper and an ambitious shipping clerk, +beginning with a cheap vessel bought with money raised mainly by pawning +the ship. Such concerns often did well, and sometimes grew into great +lines; perhaps most of them yielded the partners no more than a +comfortable subsistence; and a good few came to grief, or were kept +going by questionable practices which have since become +illegal—sometimes in truth by what the law called crime, even then. +Viney had been a ship's officer—had indeed served under Grandfather +Nat, who was an old skipper. Marr was the business man who had been a +clerk. And the firm owned two brigs, the <i>Juno</i> and another; though how +much of their value was clear property and how much stood for borrowed +money was matter of doubt and disagreement in the conversation of mates +and skippers along Thames shore. What nobody disagreed about, however, +was that the business was run on skinflint principles, and that the +vessels were so badly found, so ill-kept, and so grievously +under-manned, that the firm ought to be making money. These things by +the way, though they are important to remember. As I was saying, I +remember little of my father, because of his long voyages and short +spells at home. But my mother is so clear and so kind in my recollection +that sometimes I dream of her still, though she died before I was eight.</p> + +<p>It was while my father was on a long voyage with the <i>Juno</i> that there +came a time when she took me often upon her knee, asking if I should +like a little brother or sister to play with; a thing which I demanded +to have brought, instantly. There was a fat woman called Mrs. Dann, who +appeared in the household and became my enemy. She slept with my mother, +and my cot was thrust into another room, where I lay at night and +brooded—sometimes wept with jealousy thus to be supplanted; though I +drew what consolation I might from the prospect of the promised +playmate. Then I could not go near my mother at all, for she was ill, +and there was a doctor. And then ... I was told that mother and +baby-brother were gone to heaven together; a thing I would not hear of, +but fought savagely with Mrs. Dann on the landing, shouting to my mother +that she was not to die, for I was coming. And when, wearied with +kicking and screaming—for I fought with neighbours as well as with the +nurse and the undertaker, conceiving them to be all in league to deprive +me of my mother—when at last the woman from next door took me into the +bedroom, and I saw the drawn face that could not smile, and my tiny +brother that could not play, lying across the dead breast, I so behaved +that the good soul with me blubbered aloud; and I had an added grief in +the reflection that I had kicked her shins not half an hour before. I +have never seen that good woman since; and I am ashamed to write that I +cannot even remember her name.</p> + +<p>I have no more to say of my mother, and of her funeral only so much as +records the least part of my grief. Some of her relations came, whom I +cannot distinctly remember seeing at any other time: a group of elderly +and hard-featured women, who talked of me as "the child," very much as +they might have talked of some troublesome article of baggage; and who +turned up their noses at my grandfather: who, for his part, was uneasily +respectful, calling each of them "mum" very often. I was not attracted +by my mother's relations, and I kept as near my grandfather as possible, +feeling a vague fear that some of them might have a design of taking me +away. Though indeed none was in the least ambitious of that +responsibility.</p> + +<p>They were not all women, for there was one quiet little man in their +midst, who, when not eating cake or drinking wine, was sucking the bone +handle of a woman's umbrella, which he carried with him everywhere, +indoors and out. He was in the custody of the largest and grimmest of +ladies, whom the others called Aunt Martha. He was so completely in her +custody that after some consideration I judged he must be her son; +though indeed he seemed very old for that. I now believe him to have +been her husband; but I cannot remember to have heard his name, and I +cannot invent him a better one than Uncle Martha.</p> + +<p>Uncle Martha would have behaved quite well, I am convinced, if he had +been left alone, and would have acquitted himself with perfect propriety +in all the transactions of the day; but it seemed to be Aunt Martha's +immovable belief that he was wholly incapable of any action, even the +simplest and most obvious, unless impelled by shoves and jerks. +Consequently he was shoved into the mourning carriage—we had two—and +jerked into the corner opposite to the one he selected; shoved +out—almost on all fours—at the cemetery; and, perceiving him entering +the little chapel of his own motion, Aunt Martha overtook him and jerked +him in there. This example presently impressed the other ladies with the +expediency of shoving Uncle Martha at any convenient opportunity; so +that he arrived home with us at last in a severely jostled condition, +faithful to the bone-handled umbrella through everything.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat had been liberal in provision for the funeral party, and +the cake and port wine, the gin and water, the tea and the watercress, +occupied the visitors for some time; a period illuminated by many moral +reflections from a rather fat relation, who was no doubt, like most of +the others, an aunt.</p> + +<p>"Ah well," said the Fat Aunt, shaking her head, with a deep sigh that +suggested repletion; "ah well; it's what we must all come to!"</p> + +<p>There had been a deal of other conversation, but I remember this remark +because the Fat Aunt had already made it twice.</p> + +<p>"Ah, indeed," assented another aunt, a thin one; "so we must, sooner or +later."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; as I often say, we're all mortal."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"We've all got to be born, an' we've all got to die."</p> + +<p>"That's true!"</p> + +<p>"Rich an' poor—just the same."</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>"In the midst of life we're in the middle of it."</p> + +<p>"Ah yes!"</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat, deeply impressed, made haste to refill the Fat Aunt's +glass, and to push the cake-dish nearer. Aunt Martha jerked Uncle +Martha's elbow toward his glass, which he was neglecting, with a sudden +nod and a frown of pointed significance—even command.</p> + +<p>"It's a great trial for all of the family, I'm sure," pursued the Fat +Aunt, after applications to glass and cake-dish; "but we must bear up. +Not that we ain't had trials enough, neither."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," replied Aunt Martha with a snap at my grandfather, as +though he were the trial chiefly on her mind; which Grandfather Nat took +very humbly, and tried her with watercress.</p> + +<p>"Well, she's better off, poor thing," the Fat Aunt went on.</p> + +<p>Some began to say "Ah!" again, but Aunt Martha snapped it into "Well, +let's hope so!"—in the tone of one convinced that my mother couldn't be +much worse off than she had been. From which, and from sundry other +remarks among the aunts, I gathered that my mother was held to have hurt +the dignity of her family by alliance with Grandfather Nat's. I have +never wholly understood why; but I put the family pride down to the +traditional wedding of an undoubted auctioneer with Aunt Martha's +cousin. So Aunt Martha said "Let's hope so!" and, with another sudden +frown and nod, shoved Uncle Martha toward the cake.</p> + +<p>"What a blessing the child was took too!" was the Fat Aunt's next +observation.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that it is!" murmured the chorus. But I was puzzled and shocked to +hear such a thing said of my little brother.</p> + +<p>"And it's a good job there's only one left."</p> + +<p>The chorus agreed again. I began to feel that I had seriously disobliged +my mother's relations by not dying too.</p> + +<p>"And him a boy; boys can look after themselves." This was a thin aunt's +opinion.</p> + +<p>"Ah, and that's a blessing," sighed the Fat Aunt; "a great blessing."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Aunt Martha. "And it's not to be expected that his +mother's relations can be burdened with him."</p> + +<p>"Why, no indeed!" said the Fat Aunt, very decisively.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it wouldn't be poor Ellen's wish to cause more trouble to her +family than she has!" And Aunt Martha, with a frown at the watercress, +gave Uncle Martha another jolt. It seemed to me that he had really eaten +all he wanted, and would rather leave off; and I wondered if she always +fed him like that, or if it were only when they were visiting.</p> + +<p>"And besides, it 'ud be standing in the child's way," Aunt Martha +resumed, "with so many openings as there is in the docks here, quite +handy."</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was because I was rather dull in the head that day, from one +cause and another; at any rate I could think of no other openings in the +docks but those between the ships and the jetties, and at the +lock-sides, which people sometimes fell into, in the dark; and I +gathered a hazy notion that I was expected to make things comfortable by +going out and drowning myself.</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course it would," said the Fat Aunt.</p> + +<p>"It stands to reason," said a thin one.</p> + +<p>"Anybody can see <i>that</i>," said the others.</p> + +<p>"And many a boy's gone out to work no older."</p> + +<p>"Ah, and been members o' Parliament afterwards, too."</p> + +<p>The prospect of an entry into Parliament presented so stupefying a +contrast with that of an immersion in the dock that for some time the +ensuing conversation made little impression on me. On the part of my +mother's relations it was mainly a repetition of what had gone before, +very much in the same words; and as to my grandfather, he had little to +say at all, but expressed himself, so far as he might, by furtive pats +on my back; pats increasing in intensity as the talk of the ladies +pointed especially and unpleasingly to myself. Till at last the food and +drink were all gone. Whereupon the Fat Aunt sighed her last moral +sentiment, Uncle Martha was duly shoved out on the quay, and I was left +alone with Grandfather Nat.</p> + +<p>"Well Stevy, ol' mate," said my grandfather, drawing me on his knee; "us +two's left alone; left alone, ol' mate."</p> + +<p>I had not cried much that day—scarce at all in fact, since first +meeting my grandfather in the passage and discovering his empty +pocket—for, as I have said, I was a little dull in the head, and trying +hard to think of many things. But now I cried indeed, with my face +against my grandfather's shoulder, and there was something of solace in +the outburst; and when at last I looked up I saw two bright drops +hanging in the wiry tangle of my grandfather's beard, and another lodged +in the furrow under one eye.</p> + +<p>"'Nough done, Stevy," said my grandfather; "don't cry no more. You'll +come home along o' me now, won't ye? An' to-morrow we'll go in the +London Dock, where the sugar is."</p> + +<p>I looked round the room and considered, as well as my sodden little head +would permit. I had never been in the London Dock, which was a wonderful +place, as I had gathered from my grandfather's descriptions: a paradise +where sugar lay about the very ground in lumps, and where you might eat +it if you would, so long as you brought none away. But here was my home, +with nobody else to take care of it, and I felt some muddled sense of a +new responsibility. "I'm 'fraid I can't leave the place, Gran'fa' Nat," +I said, with a dismal shake of the head. "Father might come home, an' he +wouldn't know, an'——"</p> + +<p>"An' so—an' so you think you've got to stop an' keep house?" my +grandfather asked, bending his face down to mine.</p> + +<p>The prospect had been oppressing my muzzy faculties all day. If I +escaped being taken away, plainly I must keep house, and cook, and buy +things and scrub floors, at any rate till my father came home; though it +seemed a great deal to undertake alone. So I answered with a nod and a +forlorn sniff.</p> + +<p>"Good pluck! good pluck!" exclaimed my grandfather, exultantly, clapping +his hand twice on my head and rubbing it vigorously. "Stevy, ol' mate, +me an' you'll get on capital. I knowed you'd make a plucked 'un. But you +won't have to keep house alone jest yet. No. You an' me'll keep house +together, Stevy, at the Hole in the Wall. Your father won't be home a +while yet; an' I'll settle all about this here place. But Lord! what a +pluck for a shaver!" And he brightened wonderfully.</p> + +<p>In truth there had been little enough of courage in my poor little body, +and Grandfather Nat's words brought me a deal of relief. Beyond the +vague terrors of loneliness and responsibility, I had been troubled by +the reflection that housekeeping cost money, and I had none. For though +my mother's half-pay note had been sent in the regular way to Viney and +Marr a week before, there had been neither reply nor return of the +paper. The circumstance was unprecedented and unaccountable, though the +explanation came before very long.</p> + +<p>For the present, however, the difficulty was put aside. I put my hand in +my grandfather's, and, the door being locked behind us and the key in +his pocket, we went out together, on the quay, over the bridge and into +the life that was to be new for us both.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>IN BLUE GATE</h3> + + +<p>While his mother's relations walked out of Stephen's tale, and left his +grandfather in it, the tales of all the world went on, each man hero in +his own.</p> + +<p>Viney and Marr were owners of the brig <i>Juno</i>, away in tropic seas, with +Stephen's father chief mate; and at this time the tale of Viney and Marr +had just divided into two, inasmuch as the partners were separated and +the firm was at a crisis—the crisis responsible for the withholding of +Mrs. Kemp's half-pay. No legal form had dissolved the firm, indeed, and +scarce half a mile of streets lay between the two men; but in truth Marr +had left his partner with uncommon secrecy and expedition, carrying with +him all the loose cash he could get together; and a man need travel a +very little way to hide in London. So it was that Mr. Viney, left alone +to bear the firm's burdens, was loafing, sometimes about his house in +Commercial Road, Stepney, sometimes in the back streets and small +public-houses hard by; pondering, no doubt, the matter contained in a +paper that had that afternoon stricken the colour from the face of one +Crooks, ship-chandler, of Shadwell, and had hardly less disquieted +others in related trades. While Marr, for the few days since his flight +no more dressed like the business partner in a shipowning concern, nor +even like a clerk, but in serge and anklejacks, like a foremast hand, +was playing up to his borrowed character by being drunk in Blue Gate.</p> + +<p>The Blue Gate is gone now—it went with many places of a history only +less black when Ratcliff Highway was put to rout. As you left High +Street, Shadwell, for the Highway—they made one thoroughfare—the Blue +Gate was on your right, almost opposite an evil lane that led downhill +to the New Dock. Blue Gate Fields, it was more fully called, though +there was as little of a field as of a gate, blue or other, about the +place, which was a street, narrow, foul and forbidding, leading up to +Back Lane. It was a bad and a dangerous place, the worst in all that +neighbourhood: worse than Frederick Street—worse than Tiger Bay. The +sailor once brought to anchor in Blue Gate was lucky to get out with +clothes to cover him—lucky if he saved no more than his life. Yet +sailors were there in plenty, hilarious, shouting, drunk and drugged. +Horrible draggled women pawed them over for whatever their pockets might +yield, and murderous ruffians were ready at hand whenever a knock on the +head could solve a difficulty.</p> + +<p>Front doors stood ever open in the Blue Gate, and some houses had no +front doors at all. At the top of one of the grimy flights of stairs +thus made accessible from the street, was a noisy and ill-smelling room; +noisy because of the company it held; ill-smelling partly because of +their tobacco, but chiefly because of the tobacco and the liquor of many +that had been there before, and because of the aged foulness of the +whole building. There were five in the room, four men and a woman. One +of the men was Marr, though for the present he was not using that name. +He was noticeable amid the group, being cleaner than the rest, +fair-haired, and dressed like a sailor ashore, though he lacked the +sunburn that was proper to the character. But sailor or none, there he +sat where many had sat before him, a piece of the familiar prey of Blue +Gate, babbling drunk and reasonless. The others were watchfully sober +enough, albeit with a great pretence of jollity; they had drunk level +with the babbler, but had been careful to water his drink with gin. As +for him, he swayed and lolled, sometimes on the table before him, +sometimes on the shoulder of the woman at his side. She was no beauty, +with her coarse features, dull eyes, and tousled hair, her thick voice +and her rusty finery; but indeed she was the least repulsive of that +foul company.</p> + +<p>On the victim's opposite side sat a large-framed bony fellow, with a +thin, unhealthy face that seemed to belong to some other body, and dress +that proclaimed him long-shore ruffian. The woman called him Dan, and +nods and winks passed between the two, over the drooping head between +them. Next Dan was an ugly rascal with a broken nose; singular in that +place, as bearing in his dress none of the marks of waterside habits, +crimpery and the Highway, but seeming rather the commonplace town rat of +Shoreditch or Whitechapel. And, last, a blind fiddler sat in a corner, +fiddling a flourish from time to time, roaring with foul jest, and +roiling his single white eye upward.</p> + +<p>"No, I won'av another," the fair-haired man said, staring about him with +uncertain eyes. "Got bishness 'tend to. I say, wha' pubsh this? 'Tain' +Brown Bear, ish't? Ish't Brown Bear?"</p> + +<p>"No, you silly," the woman answered playfully. "'Tain't the Brown Bear; +you've come 'ome along of us."</p> + +<p>"O! Come home—come home.... I shay—this won' do! Mus'n' go 'ome +yet—get collared y'know!" This with an owlish wink at the bottle before +him.</p> + +<p>Dan and the woman exchanged a quick look; plainly something had gone +before that gave the words significance. "No," Marr went on, "mus'n' go +'ome. I'm sailor man jus' 'shore from brig <i>Juno</i> in from Barbadoes.... +No, not <i>Juno</i>, course not. Dunno <i>Juno</i>. 'Tain' <i>Juno</i>. D'year? 'Tain' +<i>Juno</i>, ye know, my ship. Never heard o' <i>Juno</i>. Mine's 'nother ship.... +I say, wha'sh name my ship?"</p> + +<p>"You're a rum sailor-man," said Dan, "not to know the name of your own +ship ten minutes together. Why, you've told us about four different +names a'ready."</p> + +<p>The sham seaman chuckled feebly.</p> + +<p>"Why, I don't believe you're a sailor at all, mate," the woman remarked, +still playfully. "You've just bin a-kiddin' of us fine!"</p> + +<p>The chuckle persisted, and turned to a stupid grin. "Ha, ha! Ha, ha! +Have it y'r own way." This with a clumsily stealthy grope at the breast +pocket—a movement that the others had seen before, and remembered. +"Have it y'r own way. But I say; I say, y'know"—suddenly +serious—"you're all right, ain't you? Eh? All right, you know, eh? I +s-say—I hope you're—orright?"</p> + +<p>"Awright, mate? Course we are!" And Dan clapped him cordially on the +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Awright, mate?" shouted the blind man, his white eye rolling and +blinking horribly at the ceiling. "Right as ninepence! An' a 'a'penny +over, damme!"</p> + +<p>"<i>We're</i> awright," growled the broken-nosed man, thickly.</p> + +<p>"<i>We</i> don't tell no secrets," said the woman.</p> + +<p>"Thash all very well, but I was talkin' about the <i>Juno</i>, y'know. Was'n +I talkin' about <i>Juno</i>?" A look of sleepy alarm was on the fair man's +face as he turned his eyes from one to another.</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's so," answered the fellow at his side. "Brig <i>Juno</i> in from +Barbadoes."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Thash where you're wrong; she <i>ain't</i> in—see?" Marr wagged his +head, and leered the profoundest sagacity. "She <i>ain't</i> in. What's more, +'ow d'you know she ever will come in, eh? 'Ow d'ye know that? Thash one +for ye, ole f'ler! Whar'll ye bet me she ever gets as far as—but I say, +I say; I say, y'know, you're all right, ain't you? Qui' sure you're +orrigh'?"</p> + +<p>There was a new and a longer chorus of reassurance, which Dan at last +ended with: "Go on; the <i>Juno</i> ain't ever to come back; is that it?"</p> + +<p>Marr turned and stared fishily at him for some seconds. "Wha'rr you +mean?" he demanded, at length, with a drivelling assumption of dignity. +"Wha'rr you mean? N-never come back? Nishe remark make 'spectable +shipowner! Whassor' firm you take us for, eh?"</p> + +<p>The blind fiddler stopped midway in a flourish and pursed his lips +silently. Dan looked quickly at the fiddler, and as quickly back at the +drunken man. Marr's attitude and the turn of his head being favourable, +the woman quietly detached his watch.</p> + +<p>"Whassor' firm you take us for?" he repeated. "D'ye think 'cause +we're—'cause I come here—'cause I come 'ere an'——" he stopped +foolishly, and tailed off into nothing, smiling uneasily at one and +another.</p> + +<p>The woman held up the watch behind him—a silver hunter, engraved with +Marr's chief initial—a noticeably large letter M. Dan saw it, shook his +head and frowned, pointed and tapped his own breast pocket, all in a +moment. And presently the woman slipped the watch back into the pocket +it came from.</p> + +<p>"'Ere, 'ave another drink," said Dan hospitably. "'Ave another all round +for the last, 'fore the fiddler goes. 'Ere y'are, George, reach out."</p> + +<p>"Eh?" ejaculated the fiddler. "Eh? I ain't goin'! Didn't the genelman +ask me to come along? Come, I'll give y' a toon. I'll give y' a chant as +'ll make yer 'air curl!"</p> + +<p>"Take your drink, George," Dan insisted, "we don't want our 'air +curled."</p> + +<p>The fiddler groped for and took the drink, swallowed it, and twangled +the fiddle-strings. "Will y'ave <i>Black Jack</i>?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No," Dan answered with a rising voice. "We won't 'ave Black Jack, an' +what's more we won't 'ave Blind George, see? You cut your lucky, soon as +ye like!"</p> + +<p>"Awright, awright, cap'en," the fiddler remonstrated, rising +reluctantly. "You're 'ard on a pore blind bloke, damme. Ain't I to get +nothin' out o' this 'ere? I ask ye fair, didn't the genelman tell me to +come along?"</p> + +<p>Marr, ducking and lolling over the table, here looked up and said, +"Whassup? Fiddler won' go? Gi'm twopence an' kick'm downstairs. 'Ere +y'are!" and he pulled out some small change between his fingers, and +spilt it on the table.</p> + +<p>Dan and the broken-nosed man gathered it up and thrust it into the blind +man's hand. "This ain't the straight game," he protested, in a hoarse +whisper, as they pushed him through the doorway. "I want my reg'lars out +o' that lot. D'ye 'ear? I want my reg'lars!"</p> + +<p>But they shut the door on him, whereupon he broke into a torrent of +curses on the landing; and presently, having descended several of the +stairs, reached back to let drive a thump at the door with his stick; +and so went off swearing into the street.</p> + +<p>Marr sniggered feebly. "Chucked out fiddler," he said. "Whash we do now? +I won'ave any more drink. I 'ad 'nough.... Think I'll be gett'n' +along.... Here, what you after, eh?"</p> + +<p>He clapped his hand again to his breast pocket, and turned suspiciously +on the woman. "You keep y'r hands off," he said. "Wha' wan' my pocket?"</p> + +<p>"Awright, mate," the woman answered placidly. "I ain't a touchin' yer +pockets. Why, look there—yer watchguard's 'angin'; you'll drop that +presently an' say it's me, I s'pose!"</p> + +<p>"You'd better get away from the genelman if you can't behave yourself +civil," interposed Dan, pushing the woman aside and getting between +them. "'Ere, mate, you got to 'ave another drink along o' me. I'll turn +her out arter the fiddler, if she ain't civil."</p> + +<p>"I won'ave another drink," said Marr, thickly, struggling unsteadily to +his feet and dropping back instantly to his chair. "I won'avanother."</p> + +<p>"We'll see about that," replied Dan. "'Ere, you get out," he went on, +addressing the woman as he hauled her up by the shoulders. "You get out; +we're goin' to be comf'table together, us two an' 'im. Out ye go!" He +thrust her toward the door and opened it. "I'm sick o' foolin' about," +he added in an angry undertone; "quick's the word."</p> + +<p>"O no, Dan—don't," the woman pleaded, whispering on the landing. "Not +that way! Not again! I'll get it from him easy in a minute! Don't do it, +Dan!"</p> + +<p>"Shut yer mouth! I ain't askin' you. You shove off a bit."</p> + +<p>"Don't, Dan!"</p> + +<p>But the door was shut.</p> + +<p>"I tell ye I won'avanother!" came Marr's voice from within.</p> + +<p>The woman went down the stairs, her gross face drawn as though she wept, +though her eyes were dry. At the door she looked back with something +like a shudder, and then turned her steps down the street.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The two partners in Viney and Marr were separated indeed; but now it was +by something more than half a mile of streets.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>I had never been home with Grandfather Nat before. I fancy that some +scruples of my mother's, in the matter of the neighbourhood and the +character of the company to be seen and heard at the Hole in the Wall, +had hitherto kept me from the house, and even from the sugary elysium of +the London Dock. Now I was going there at last, and something of eager +anticipation overcame the sorrow of the day.</p> + +<p>We went in an omnibus, which we left in Commercial Road. Here my +grandfather took order to repair my disappointment in the matter of +pear-drops; and we left the shop with such a bagful that it would not go +into the accustomed pocket at all. A little way from this shop, and on +the opposite side of the way, stood a house which my mother had more +than once pointed out to me already; and as we came abreast of it now, +Grandfather Nat pointed it out also. "Know who lives there, Stevy?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said; "Mr. Viney, that father's ship belongs to."</p> + +<p>There was a man sitting on the stone baluster by the landing of the +front steps, having apparently just desisted from knocking at the door. +He was pale and agitated, and he slapped his leg distractedly with a +folded paper.</p> + +<p>"Why," said my grandfather, "that's Crooks, the ship-chandler. He looks +bad; wonder what's up?"</p> + +<p>With that the door opened, and a servant-girl, in bonnet and shawl, +emerged with her box, lifting and dragging it as best she might. The man +rose and spoke to her, and I supposed that he was about to help. But at +her answer he sank back on the balustrade, and she hauled the box to the +pavement by herself. The man looked worse than ever, now, and he moved +his head from side to side; so that it struck me that it might be that +his mother also was dead; perhaps to-day; and at the thought all the +flavour went from the pear-drop in my mouth.</p> + +<p>We turned up a narrow street which led us to a part where the river +plainly was nearer at every step; for well I knew the curious smell that +grew as we went, and that had in it something of tar, something of rope +and junk, something of ships' stores, and much of a blend of unknown +outlandish merchandise. We met sailors, some with parrots and +accordions, and many with undecided legs; and we saw more of the +hang-dog fellows who were not sailors, though they dressed in the same +way, and got an inactive living out of sailors, somehow. They leaned on +posts, they lurked in foul entries, they sat on sills, smoking; and +often one would accost and hang to a passing sailor, with a grinning, +trumped-up cordiality that offended and repelled me, child as I was. And +there were big, coarse women, with flaring clothes, and hair that shone +with grease; though for them I had but a certain wonder; as for why they +all seemed to live near the docks; why they all grew so stout; and why +they never wore bonnets.</p> + +<p>As we went where the street grew fouler and more crooked, and where dark +entries and many turnings gave evidence of the complication of courts +and alleys about us, we heard a hoarse voice crooning a stave of a +sea-song, with the low scrape of a fiddle striking in here and there, as +it were at random. And presently there turned a corner ahead and faced +toward us a blind man, with his fiddle held low against his chest, and +his face lifted upward, a little aside. He checked at the corner to hit +the wall a couple of taps with the stick that hung from his wrist, and +called aloud, with fouler words than I can remember or could print: "Now +then, damn ye! Ain't there ne'er a Christian sailor-man as wants a toon +o' George? Who'll 'ave a toon o' George? Ain't ye got no money, damn ye? +Not a brown for pore blind George? What a dirty mean lot it is! Who'll +'ave a 'ornpipe? Who'll 'ave a song o' pore George?... O damn y' all!"</p> + +<p>And so, with a mutter and another tap of the stick, he came creeping +along, six inches at a step, the stick dangling loose again, and the bow +scraping the strings to the song:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fire on the fore-top, fire on the bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fire on the main-deck, fire down below!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fire! fire! fire down below!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fetch a bucket o' water; fire down below!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The man's right eye was closed, but the left was horribly wide and white +and rolling, and it quite unpleasantly reminded me of a large china +marble that lay at that moment at the bottom of my breeches pocket, +under some uniform buttons, a key you could whistle on, a brass knob +from a fender, and a tangle of string. So much indeed was I possessed +with this uncomfortable resemblance in later weeks, when I had seen +Blind George often, and knew more of him, that at last I had no choice +but to fling the marble into the river; though indeed it was something +of a rarity in marbles, and worth four "alleys" as big as itself.</p> + +<p>My grandfather stopped his talk as we drew within earshot of the +fiddler; but blind men's ears are keen beyond the common. The bow +dropped from the fiddle, and Blind George sang out cheerily: "Why, 'ere +comes Cap'en Nat, 'ome from the funeral; and got 'is little grandson +what 'e's goin' to take care of an' bring up so moral in 'is celebrated +'ouse o' call!" All to my extreme amazement: for what should this +strange blind man know of me, or of my mother's funeral?</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat seemed a little angry. "Well, well," he said, "your ears +are sharp, Blind George; they learn a lot as ain't your business. If +your eyes was as good as your ears you'd ha' had your head broke 'fore +this—a dozen times!"</p> + +<p>"If my eyes was as good as my ears, Cap'en Nat Kemp," the other +retorted, "there's many as wouldn't find it so easy to talk o' breakin' +my 'ed. Other people's business! Lord! I know enough to 'ang some of +'em, that's what I know! I could tell you some o' <i>your</i> business if I +liked,—some as you don't know yourself. Look 'ere! You bin to a +funeral. Well, it ain't the last funeral as 'll be wanted in your +family; see? The kid's mother's gone; don't you be too sure 'is father's +safe! I bin along o' some one you know, an' <i>'e</i> don't look like lastin' +for ever, 'e don't; 'e ain't in 'ealthy company."</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat twitched my sleeve, and we walked on.</p> + +<p>"Awright!" the blind man called after us, in his tone of affable +ferocity. "Awright, go along! You'll see things, some day, near as well +as I can, what's blind!"</p> + +<p>"That's a bad fellow, Stevy," Grandfather Nat said, as we heard the +fiddle and the song begin again. "Don't you listen to neither his talk +nor his songs. Somehow it don't seem nat'ral to see a blind man such a +bad 'un. But a bad 'un he is, up an' down."</p> + +<p>I asked how he came to know about the funeral, and especially about my +coming to Wapping—a thing I had only learned of myself an hour before. +My grandfather said that he had probably learned of the funeral from +somebody who had been at the Hole in the Wall during the day, and had +asked the reason of the landlord's absence; and as to myself, he had +heard my step, and guessed its meaning instantly. "He's a keen sharp +rascal, Stevy, an' he makes out all of parties' business he can. He knew +your father was away, an' he jumped the whole thing at once. That's his +way. But I don't stand him; he don't corne into my house barrin' he +comes a customer, which I can't help."</p> + +<p>Of the meaning of the blind man's talk I understood little. But he +shocked me with a sense of insult, and more with one of surprise. For I +had entertained a belief, born of Sunday-school stories, that blindness +produced saintly piety—unless it were the piety that caused the +blindness—and that in any case a virtuous meekness was an essential +condition of the affliction. So I walked in doubt and cogitation.</p> + +<p>And so, after a dive down a narrower street than any we had yet +traversed (it could scarce be dirtier), and a twist through a steep and +serpentine alley, we came, as it grew dusk, to the Hole in the Wall. Of +odd-looking riverside inns I can remember plenty, but never, before or +since, have I beheld an odder than this of Grandfather Nat's. It was +wooden and clap-boarded, and, like others of its sort, it was everywhere +larger at top than at bottom. But the Hole in the Wall was not only +top-heavy, but also most alarmingly lopsided. By its side, and half +under it, lay a narrow passage, through which one saw a strip of the +river and its many craft, and the passage ended in Hole-in-the-Wall +Stairs. All of the house that was above the ground floor on this side +rested on a row of posts, which stood near the middle of the passage; +and the burden of these posts, twisted, wavy, bulging, and shapeless, +hung still more toward the opposite building; while the farther side, +bounded by a later brick house, was vertical, as though a great wedge, +point downward, had been cut away to permit the rise of the newer wall. +And the effect was as of a reeling and toppling of the whole +construction away from its neighbour, and an imminent downfall into the +passage. And when, later, I examined the side looking across the river, +supported on piles, and bulging and toppling over them also, I decided +that what kept the Hole in the Wall from crashing into the passage was +nothing but its countervailing inclination to tumble into the river.</p> + +<p>Painted large over the boards of the front, whose lapped edges gave the +letters ragged outlines, were the words THE HOLE IN THE WALL; and below, +a little smaller, NATHANIEL KEMP. I felt a certain pride, I think, in +the importance thus given the family name, and my esteem of my +grandfather increased proportionably with the size of the letters.</p> + +<p>There was a great noise within, and Grandfather Nat, with a quick look +toward the entrance, grunted angrily. But we passed up the passage and +entered by a private door under the posts. This door opened directly +into the bar parlour, the floor whereof was two steps below the level of +the outer paving; and the size whereof was about thrice that of a +sentry-box.</p> + +<p>The din of a quarrel and a scuffle came from the bar, and my +grandfather, thrusting me into a corner, and giving me his hat, ran out +with a roar like that of a wild beast. At the sound the quarrel hushed +in its height. "What's this?" my grandfather blared, with a thump on the +counter that made the pots jump. "What sort of a row's this in my house? +Damme, I'll break y' in halves, every mother's son of ye!"</p> + +<p>I peeped through the glass partition, and saw, first, the back of the +potman's head (for the bar-floor took another drop) and beyond that and +the row of beer-pulls, a group of rough, hulking men, one with blood on +his face, and all with an odd look of sulky guilt.</p> + +<p>"Out you go!" pursued Grandfather Nat, "every swab o' ye! Can't leave +the place not even to go to—not for nothin', without a row like this, +givin' the house a bad name! Go on, Jim Crute! Unless I'm to chuck ye!"</p> + +<p>The men had begun filing out awkwardly, with nothing but here and there: +"Awright, guv'nor"—"Awright, cap'en." "Goin', ain't I?" and the like. +But one big ruffian lagged behind, scowling and murmuring rebelliously.</p> + +<p>In a flash Grandfather Nat was through the counter-wicket. With a dart +of his long left arm he had gripped the fellow's ear and spun him round +with a wrench that I thought had torn the ear from the head; and in the +same moment had caught him by the opposite wrist, so as to stretch the +man's extended arm, elbow backward, across his own great chest; a +posture in which the backward pull against the elbow joint brought a +yell of agony from the victim. Only a man with extraordinarily long arms +could have done the thing exactly like that. The movement was so +savagely sudden that my grandfather had kicked open the door and flung +Jim Crute headlong into the street ere I quite understood it; when there +came a check in my throat and tears in my eyes to see the man so cruelly +handled.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat stood a moment at the door, but it seemed that his +customer was quelled effectually, for presently he turned inward again, +with such a grim scowl as I had never seen before. And at that a queer +head appeared just above the counter—I had supposed the bar to be +wholly cleared—and a very weak and rather womanish voice said, in tones +of over-inflected indignation: "Serve 'em right, Cap'en Kemp, I'm sure. +Lot o' impudent vagabones! Ought to be ashamed o' theirselves, that they +ought. Pity every 'ouse ain't kep' as strict as this one is, that's what +I say!"</p> + +<p>And the queer head looked round the vacant bar with an air of virtuous +defiance, as though anxious to meet the eye of any so bold as to +contradict.</p> + +<p>It was anything but a clean face on the head, and it was overshadowed by +a very greasy wideawake hat. Grubbiness and unhealthy redness contended +for mastery in the features, of which the nose was the most surprising, +wide and bulbous and knobbed all over; so that ever afterward, in any +attempt to look Mr. Cripps in the face, I found myself wholly +disregarding his eyes, and fixing a fascinated gaze on his nose; and I +could never recall his face to memory as I recalled another, but always +as a Nose, garnished with a fringe of inferior features. The face had +been shaved—apparently about a week before; and by the sides hung long +hair, dirtier to look at than the rest of the apparition.</p> + +<p>My grandfather gave no more than a glance in the direction of this +little man, passed the counter and re-joined me, pulling off his coat as +he came. Something of my tingling eyes and screwed mouth was visible, I +suppose, for he stooped as he rolled up his shirt-sleeves and said: +"Why, Stevy boy, what's amiss?"</p> + +<p>"You—you—hurt the man's ear," I said, with a choke and a sniff; for +till then Grandfather Nat had seemed to me the kindest man in the world.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat looked mightily astonished. He left his shirt-sleeve +where it was, and thrust his fingers up in his hair behind, through the +grey and out at the brown on top. "What?" he said. "Hurt 'im? Hurt 'im? +Why, s'pose I did? He ain't a friend o' yours, is he, young 'un?"</p> + +<p>I shook my head and blinked. There was a gleam of amusement in my +grandfather's grim face as he sat in a chair and took me between his +knees. "Hurt 'im?" he repeated. "Why, Lord love ye, <i>I'd</i> get hurt if I +didn't hurt some of 'em, now an' then. They're a rough lot—a bitter bad +lot round here, an' it's hurt or be hurt with them, Stevy. I got to +frighten 'em, my boy—an' I do it, too."</p> + +<p>I was passing my fingers to and fro in the matted hair on my +grandfather's arm, and thinking. He seemed a very terrible man now, and +perhaps something of a hero; for, young as I was, I was a boy. So +presently I said, "Did you ever kill a man, Gran'fa' Nat?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>Many small matters of my first few hours at the Hole in the Wall were +impressed on me by later events. In particular I remember the innocent +curiosity with which I asked: "Did you ever kill a man, Gran'fa' Nat?"</p> + +<p>There was a twitch and a frown on my grandfather's face, and he sat back +as one at a moment's disadvantage. I thought that perhaps he was trying +to remember. But he only said, gruffly, and with a quick sound like a +snort: "Very nigh killed myself once or twice, Stevy, in my time," and +rose hastily from his chair to reach a picture of a ship that was +standing on a shelf. "There," he said, "that's a new 'un, just done; +pretty picter, ain't it? An' that there," pointing to another hanging on +the wall, "that's the <i>Juno</i>, what your father's on now."</p> + +<p>I had noticed that the walls, both of the bar and of the bar-parlour, +were plentifully hung with paintings of ships; ships becalmed, ships in +full sail, ships under bare spars; all with painful blue skies over +them, and very even-waved seas beneath; and ships in storms, with torn +sails, pursued by rumbustious piles of sooty cloud, and pelted with +lengths of scarlet lightning. I fear I should not have recognised my +father's ship without help, but that was probably because I had only +seen it, months before, lying in dock, battered and dingy, with a +confusion of casks and bales about the deck, and naked yards dangling +above; whereas in the picture (which was a mile too small for the brig) +it was booming along under a flatulent mountain of clean white sail, and +bulwarks and deck-fittings were gay with lively and diversified colour.</p> + +<p>I said something about its being a fine ship, or a fine picture, and +that there were a lot of them.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he said, "they do mount up, one arter another. It's one gentleman +as did 'em all—him out in the bar now, with the long hair. Sometimes I +think I'd rather a-had money; but it's a talent, that's what it is!"</p> + +<p>The artist beyond the outer bar had been talking to the potman. Now he +coughed and said: "Ha—um! Cap'en Kemp, sir! Cap'en Kemp! No doubt as +you've 'eard the noos to-day?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Grandfather Nat, finishing the rolling of his shirt-sleeves +as he stepped down into the bar; "not as I know on. What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Not about Viney and Marr?"</p> + +<p>"No. What about 'em?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps rose on his toes with the importance of his information, and +his eyes widened to a moment's rivalry with his nose. "Gone wrong," he +said, in a shrill whisper that was as loud as his natural voice. "Gone +wrong. Unsolvent. Cracked up. Broke. Busted, in a common way o' +speakin'." And he gave a violent nod with each synonym.</p> + +<p>"No," said Grandfather Nat; "surely not Viney and Marr?"</p> + +<p>"Fact, Cap'en; I can assure you, on 'igh a'thority. It's what I might +call the universal topic in neighbourin' circles, an' a gen'ral subjick +o' local discussion. You'd 'a 'eard it 'fore this if you'd bin at 'ome."</p> + +<p>My grandfather whistled, and rested a hand on a beer-pull.</p> + +<p>"Not a stiver for nobody, they say," Mr. Cripps pursued, "not till they +can sell the wessels. What there was loose Marr's bolted with; or, as +you might put it, absconded; absconded with the proceeds. An' gone +abroad, it's said."</p> + +<p>"I see the servant gal bringin' out her box from Viney's just now," said +Grandfather Nat. "An' Crooks the ship-chandler was on the steps, very +white in the gills, with a paper. Well, well! An' you say Marr's +bolted?"</p> + +<p>"Absconded, Cap'en Kemp; absconded with the proceeds; 'opped the twig. +Viney says 'e's robbed 'im as well as the creditors, but I 'ear some o' +the creditors' observation is 'gammon.' An' they say the wessels is +pawned up to their r'yals. Up to their r'yals!"</p> + +<p>"Well," commented my grandfather, "I wouldn't ha' thought it. The <i>Juno</i> +was that badly found, an' they did everything that cheap, I thought they +made money hand over fist."</p> + +<p>"Flyin' too 'igh, Cap'en Kemp, flyin' too 'igh. You knowed Viney long +'fore 'e elevated hisself into a owner, didn't you? What was he then? +Why, 'e was your mate one voy'ge, wasn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, an' more."</p> + +<p>"So I've 'eard tell. Well, arter that surely 'e was flyin' too 'igh! An' +now Marr's absconded with the proceeds!"</p> + +<p>The talk in the bar went on, being almost entirely the talk of Mr. +Cripps; who valued himself on the unwonted importance his news gave him, +and aimed at increasing it by saying the same thing a great many times; +by saying it, too, when he could, in terms and phrases that had a strong +flavour of the Sunday paper. But as for me, I soon ceased to hear, for I +discovered something of greater interest on the shelf that skirted the +bar-parlour. It was a little model of a ship in a glass case, and it was +a great marvel to me, with all its standing and running rigging +complete, and a most ingenious and tumultuous sea about it, made of +stiff calico cockled up into lumps and ridges, and painted the proper +colour. Much better than either of the two we had at home, for these +latter were only half-models, each nothing but one-half of a little ship +split from stem to stern, and stuck against a board, on which were +painted sky, clouds, seagulls, and (in one case) a lighthouse; an +exasperating make-believe that had been my continual disappointment.</p> + +<p>But this was altogether so charming and delightful and real, and the +little hatches and cuddy-houses so thrilled my fancy, that I resolved to +beg of my grandfather to let me call the model my own, and sometimes +have the glass case off. So I was absorbed while the conversation in the +bar ranged from the ships and their owners to my father, and from him to +me; as was plain when my grandfather called me.</p> + +<p>"Here he is," said my grandfather, with a deal of pride in his voice, +putting his foot on a stool and lifting me on his knee. "Here he is, an' +a plucked 'un; ain't ye, Stevy?" He rubbed his hand over my head, as he +was fond of doing. "Plucked? Ah! Why, he was agoin' to keep house all by +hisself, with all the pluck in life, till his father come home! Warn't +ye, Stevy boy? But he's come along o' me instead, an' him an' me's goin' +to keep the Hole in the Wall together, ain't we? Pardners: eh, Stevy?"</p> + +<p>I think I never afterwards saw my grandfather talking so familiarly with +his customers. I perceived now that there was another in the bar in +addition to Mr. Cripps; a pale, quiet, and rather ragged man who sat in +an obscure corner with an untouched glass of liquor by him.</p> + +<p>"Come," said my grandfather, "have one with me, Mr. Cripps, an' drink +the new pardner's health. What is it? An' you—you drink up too, an' +have another." This last order Grandfather Nat flung at the man in the +corner, just in the tones in which I had heard a skipper on a ship tell +a man to "get forrard lively" with a rope fender, opposite our quay at +Blackwall.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure 'ere's wishin' the young master every 'ealth an' 'appiness," +said Mr. Cripps, beaming on me with a grin that rather frightened than +pleased me, it twisted the nose so. "Every 'ealth and 'appiness, I'm +sure!"</p> + +<p>The pale man in the corner only looked up quickly, as if fearful of +obtruding himself, gulped the drink that had been standing by him, and +receiving another, put it down untasted where the first had stood.</p> + +<p>"That ain't drinkin' a health," said my grandfather, angrily. +"There—that's it!" and he pointed to the new drink with the hand that +held his own.</p> + +<p>The pale man lifted it hurriedly, stood up, looked at me and said +something indistinct, gulped the liquor and returned the glass to the +counter; whereupon the potman, without orders, instantly refilled it, +and the man carried it back to his corner and put it down beside him, as +before.</p> + +<p>I began to wonder if the pale man suffered from some complaint that made +it dangerous to leave him without a drink close at hand, ready to be +swallowed at a moment's notice. But Mr. Cripps blinked, first at his own +glass and then at the pale man's; and I fancy he thought himself +unfairly treated.</p> + +<p>Howbeit his affability was unconquerable. He grinned and snapped his +fingers playfully at me, provoking my secret indignation; since that was +what people did to please babies.</p> + +<p>"An' a pretty young gent 'e is too," said Mr. Cripps, "of considerable +personal attractions. Goin' to bring 'im up to the trade, I s'pose, +Cap'en Kemp?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no," said Grandfather Nat, with some dignity. "No. Something +better than that, I'm hopin'. Pardners is all very well for a bit, but +Stevy's goin' to be a cut above his poor old gran'father, if I can do +it. Eh, boy?" He rubbed my head again, and I was too shy, sitting there +in the bar, to answer. "Eh, boy? Boardin' school an' a gentleman's job +for this one, if the old man has his way."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps shook his head sagaciously, and could plainly see that I was +cut out for a statesman. He also lifted his empty glass, looked at it +abstractedly, and put it down again. Nothing coming of this, he +complimented my personal appearance once more, and thought that my +portrait should certainly be painted, as a memorial in my future days of +greatness.</p> + +<p>This notion seemed to strike my grandfather rather favourably, and he +forthwith consulted a slate which dangled by a string; during his +contemplation of which, with its long rows of strokes, Mr. Cripps +betrayed a certain anxious discomfort. "Well," said Grandfather Nat at +length, "you are pretty deep in, you know, an' it might as well be that +as anything else. But what about that sign? Ain't I ever goin' to get +that?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps knitted his brows and his nose, turned up his eyes and shook +his head. "It ain't come to me yet, Cap'en Kemp," he said; "not yet. I'm +still waiting for what you might call an inspiration. But when it comes, +Cap'en Kemp—when it comes! Ah! you'll 'ave a sign then! Sich a sign! +You'll 'ave sich a sign as'll attract the 'ole artistic feelin' of +Wapping an' surroundin' districks of the metropolis, I assure you. An' +the signs on the other 'ouses—phoo!" Mr. Cripps made a sweep of the +hand, which I took to indicate generally that all other publicans, +overwhelmed with humiliation, would have no choice but straightway to +tear down their own signs and bury them.</p> + +<p>"Umph! but meanwhile I haven't got one at all," objected Grandfather +Nat; "an' they have."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, sir—some sort o' signs. But done by mere jobbers, and poor +enough too. My hart, Cap'en Kemp—I respect my hart, an' I don't rush at +a job like that. It wants conception, sir, a job like that—conception. +The common sort o' sign's easy enough. You go at it, an' you do it or +hexicute it, an' when it's done or hexicuted—why there it is. A ship, +maybe, or a crown, or a Turk's 'ed or three cats an' a fryin' pan. +Simple enough—no plannin', no composition, no invention. But a 'ole in +a wall, Cap'en Kemp—it takes a hartist to make a picter o' that; an' it +takes study, an' meditation, an' invention!"</p> + +<p>"Simplest thing o' the lot," said Captain Nat. "A wall, an' a hole in +it. Simplest thing o' the lot!"</p> + +<p>"As you observe, Cap'en Kemp, it may seem simple enough; that's because +you're thinkin' o' subjick, instead o' treatment. A common jobber, if +you'll excuse my sayin' it, 'ud look at it just in that light—a wall +with a 'ole in it, an' 'e'd give it you, an' p'rhaps you'd be satisfied +with it. But I soar 'igher, sir, 'igher. What I shall give you'll be a +'ole in the wall to charm the heye and delight the intelleck, sir. A +dramatic 'ole in the wall, sir, a hepic 'ole in the wall; a 'ole in the +wall as will elevate the mind and stimilate the noblest instinks of the +be'older. Cap'en Kemp, I don't 'esitate to say that my 'ole in the wall, +when you get it, will be—ah! it'll be the moral palladium of Wapping!"</p> + +<p>"<i>When</i> I get it," my grandfather replied with a chuckle, "anything +might happen without surprisin' me. I think p'rhaps I might be so +startled as to forget the bit you've had on account, an' pay full cash."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps's eyes brightened at the hint. "You're always very 'andsome +in matters o' business, Cap'en Kemp," he said, "an' I always say so. +Which reminds me, speakin' of 'andsome things. This morning goin' to see +my friend as keeps the mortuary, I see as 'andsome a bit o' panel for to +paint a sign as ever I come across. A lovely bit o' stuff to be +sure—enough to stimulate anybody's artistic invention to look at it, +that it was. Not dear neither—particular moderate in fact. I'm afraid +it may be gone now; but if I'd 'a 'ad the money——"</p> + +<p>A noise of trampling and singing without neared the door, and with a +bang and a stagger a party of fresh customers burst in and swept Mr. +Cripps out of his exposition. Two were sun-browned sailors, shouting and +jovial, but the rest, men and women, sober and villainous in their mock +jollity, were land-sharks plain to see. The foremost sailor drove +against Mr. Cripps, and having almost knocked him down, took him by the +shoulders and involved him in his flounderings; apologising, meanwhile, +at the top of his voice, and demanding to know what Mr. Cripps would +drink. Whereupon Grandfather Nat sent me back to the bar-parlour and the +little ship, and addressed himself to business and the order of the bar.</p> + +<p>And so he was occupied for the most of the evening. Sometimes he sat +with me and taught me the spars and rigging of the model, sometimes I +peeped through the glass at the business of the house. The bar remained +pretty full throughout the evening, in its main part, and my grandfather +ruled its frequenters with a strong voice and an iron hand.</p> + +<p>But there was one little space partitioned off, as it might be for the +better company: which space was nearly always empty. Into this quieter +compartment I saw a man come, rather late in the evening, furtive and a +little flustered. He was an ugly ruffian with a broken nose; and he was +noticeable as being the one man I had seen in my grandfather's house who +had no marks of seafaring or riverside life about him, but seemed merely +an ordinary London blackguard from some unmaritime neighbourhood. He +beckoned silently to Grandfather Nat, who walked across and conferred +with him. Presently my grandfather left the counter and came into the +bar-parlour. He had something in his closed hand, which he carried to +the lamp to examine, so that I could see it was a silver watch; while +the furtive man waited expectantly in the little compartment. The watch +interested me, for the inward part swung clean out from the case, and +hung by a single hinge, in a way I had never seen before. I noticed, +also, that a large capital letter M was engraved on the back.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat shut the watch and strode into the bar.</p> + +<p>"Here you are," he said aloud, handing it to the broken-nosed man. "Here +you are. It seems all right—good enough watch, I should say."</p> + +<p>The man was plainly disconcerted—frightened, indeed—by this public +observation; and answered with an eager whisper.</p> + +<p>"What?" my grandfather replied, louder than ever; "want me to buy it? +Not me. This ain't a pawnshop. I don't want a watch; an' if I did, how +do I know where you got it?"</p> + +<p>Much discomposed by this rebuff, the fellow hurried off. Whereupon I was +surprised to see the pale man rise from the corner of the bar, put his +drink, still untasted, in a safe place on the counter, beyond the edge +of the partition, and hurry out also. Cogitating this matter in my +grandfather's arm-chair, presently I fell asleep.</p> + +<p>What woke me at length was the loud voice of Grandfather Nat, and I +found that it was late, and he was clearing the bar before shutting up. +I rubbed my eyes and looked out, and was interested to see that the pale +man had come back, and was now swallowing his drink at last before going +out after the rest. Whereat I turned again, drowsily enough, to the +model ship.</p> + +<p>But a little later, when Grandfather Nat and I were at supper in the +bar-parlour, and I was dropping to sleep again, I was amazed to see my +grandfather pull the broken-nosed man's watch out of his pocket and put +it in a tin cash-box. At that I rubbed my eyes, and opened them so wide +on the cash-box, that Grandfather Nat said, "Hullo, Stevy! Woke up with +a jump? Time you was in bed."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>IN THE HIGHWAY</h3> + + +<p>The Hole in the Wall being closed, its customers went their several +ways; the sailors, shouting and singing, drifting off with their retinue +along Wapping Wall toward Ratcliff; Mr. Cripps, fuller than usual of +free drinks—for the sailors had come a long voyage and were +proportionally liberal—scuffling off, steadily enough, on the way that +led to Limehouse; for Mr. Cripps had drunk too much and too long ever to +be noticeably drunk. And last of all, when the most undecided of the +stragglers from Captain Nat Kemp's bar had vanished one way or another, +the pale, quiet man moved out from the shadow and went in the wake of +the noisy sailors.</p> + +<p>The night was dark, and the streets. The lamps were few and feeble, and +angles, alleys and entries were shapes of blackness that seemed more +solid than the walls about them. But instead of the silence that +consorts with gloom, the air was racked with human sounds; sounds of +quarrels, scuffles, and brawls, far and near, breaking out fitfully amid +the general buzz and whoop of discordant singing that came from all +Wapping and Ratcliff where revellers rolled into the open.</p> + +<p>A stone's throw on the pale man's way was a swing bridge with a lock by +its side, spanning the channel that joined two dock-basins. The pale +man, passing along in the shadow of the footpath, stopped in an angle. +Three policemen were coming over the bridge in company—they went in +threes in these parts—and the pale man, who never made closer +acquaintance with the police than he could help, slunk down by the +bridge-foot, as though designing to make the crossing by way of the +narrow lock; no safe passage in the dark. But he thought better of it, +and went by the bridge, as soon as the policemen had passed.</p> + +<p>A little farther and he was in Ratcliff Highway, where it joined with +Shadwell High Street, and just before him stood Paddy's Goose. The house +was known by that name far beyond the neighbourhood, among people who +were unaware that the actual painted sign was the White Swan. Paddy's +Goose was still open, for its doors never closed till one; though there +were a few houses later even than this, where, though the bars were +cleared and closed at one, in accordance with Act of Parliament, the +doors swung wide again ten minutes later. There was still dancing within +at Paddy's Goose, and the squeak of fiddles and the thump of feet were +plain to hear. The pale man passed on into the dark beyond its lights, +and soon the black mouth of Blue Gate stood on his right.</p> + +<p>Blue Gate gave its part to the night's noises, and more; for a sudden +burst of loud screams—a woman's—rent the air from its innermost deeps; +screams which affected the pale man not at all, nor any other passenger; +for it might be murder or it might be drink, or sudden rage or fear, or +a quarrel; and whatever it might be was common enough in Blue Gate.</p> + +<p>Paddy's Goose had no monopoly of music, and the common plenty of street +fiddlers was the greater as the early houses closed. Scarce eighty yards +from Blue Gate stood Blind George, fiddling his hardest for a party +dancing in the roadway. Many were looking on, drunk or sober, with +approving shouts; and every face was ghastly phosphorescent in the glare +of a ship's blue-light that a noisy negro flourished among the dancers. +Close by, a woman and a man were quarrelling in the middle of a group; +but the matter had no attention till of a sudden it sprang into a fight, +and the man and another were punching and wrestling in a heap, bare to +the waist. At this the crowd turned from the dancers, and the negro ran +yelping to shed his deathly light on the new scene.</p> + +<p>The crowd howled and scrambled, and a drunken sailor fell in the mud. +Quick at the chance, a ruffian took him under the armpits and dragged +him from among the trampling feet to a near entry, out of the glare. +There he propped his prey, with many friendly words, and dived among his +pockets. The sailor was dazed, and made no difficulty; till the thief +got to the end of the search in a trouser pocket, and thence pulled a +handful of silver. With that the victim awoke to some sense of affairs, +and made a move to rise; but the other sprang up and laid him over with +a kick on the head, just as the pale man came along. The thief made off, +leaving a few shillings and sixpences on the ground, which the pale man +instantly gathered up. He looked from the money to the man, who lay +insensible, with blood about his ear; and then from the man to the +money. Then he stuffed some few of the shillings into the sailor's +nearest pocket and went off with the rest.</p> + +<p>The fight rose and fell, the crowd grew, and the blue light burned down. +In twenty seconds the pale man was back again. He bent over the bleeding +sailor, thrust the rest of the silver into the pocket, and finally +vanished into the night. For, indeed, though the pale man was poor, and +though he got a living now in a way scarce reputable: yet he had once +kept a chandler's shop. He had kept it till neither sand in the sugar +nor holes under the weights would any longer induce it to keep him; and +then he had fallen wholly from respectability. But he had drawn a +line—he had always drawn a line. He had never been a thief; and, with a +little struggle, he remembered it now.</p> + +<p>Back in Blue Gate the screams had ceased. For on a black stair a large +bony man shook a woman by the throat, so that she could scream no more. +He cursed in whispers, and threatened her with an end of all noise if +she opened her mouth again. "Ye stop out of it all this time," he said, +"an' when ye come ye squall enough to bring the slops from Arbour +Square!"</p> + +<p>"O! O!" the woman gasped. "I fell on it, Dan! I fell on it! I fell on it +in the dark!..."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There was nothing commoner in the black streets about the Highway than +the sight of two or three men linked by the arms, staggering, singing +and bawling. Many such parties went along the Highway that night, many +turned up its foul tributaries; some went toward and over the bridge by +the lock that was on the way to the Hole in the Wall. But they were +become fewer, and the night noises of the Highway were somewhat abated, +when a party of three emerged from the mouth of Blue Gate. Of them that +had gone before the songs were broken and the voices unmelodious enough; +yet no other song sung that night in the Highway was so wild as the song +of these men—or rather of two of them, who sang the louder because of +the silence of the man between them; and no other voices were so +ill-governed as theirs. The man on the right was large, bony and +powerful; he on the left was shorter and less to be noticed, except that +under some rare and feeble lamp it might have been perceived that his +face was an ugly one, with a broken nose. But what reveller so drunk, +what drunkard so insensible, what clod so silent as the man they dragged +between them? His feet trailed in the mire, and his head, hidden by a +ragged hat, hung forward on his chest. So they went, reeling ever where +the shadows were thickest, toward the bridge; but in all their reelings +there was a stealthy hasting forward, and an anxious outlook that went +ill with their song. The song itself, void alike of tune and jollity, +fell off altogether as they neared the bridge, and here they went the +quicker. They turned down by the bridge foot, though not for the reason +the pale man had, two hours before, for now no policeman was in sight; +and soon were gone into the black shadow about the lock-head....</p> + +<p>It was the deep of the night, and as near quiet as the Highway ever +knew; with no more than a cry here or there, a distant fiddle, and the +faint hum of the wind in the rigging of ships. Off in Blue Gate the +woman sat on the black stair, with her face in her hands, waiting for +company before returning to the room where she had fallen over something +in the dark.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>High under the tiles of the Hole in the Wall, I had at first a night of +disturbed sleep. I was in my old familiar cot, which had been brought +during the evening, on a truck. But things were strange, and, in +particular, my grandfather, who slept on the opposite side of the room, +snored so amazingly, and with a sound so unlike anything I had ever +heard before, that I feared he must be choking to death, and climbed out +of bed, once, to see. There were noises from without too, sometimes of +discordant singing, sometimes of quarrels; and once, from a distance, a +succession of dreadful screams. Then the old house made curious sounds +of its own; twice I was convinced of stealthy steps on the stair, and +all night the very walls creaked aloud. So for long, sleepy as I was, I +dozed and started and rolled and lay awake, wondering about the little +ship in the bar-parlour, and Mr. Cripps, and the pale man, and the watch +with the M on it. Also I considered again the matter of my prayers, +which I had already discussed with Grandfather Nat, to his obvious +perplexity, by candle-light. For I was urgent to know if I must now +leave my mother out, and if I might not put my little dead brother in; +being very anxious to include them both. My grandfather's first opinion +was, that it was not the usual thing; which opinion he expressed with +hesitation, and a curious look of the eyes that I wondered at. But I +argued that God could bless them just as well in heaven as here; and +Grandfather Nat admitted that no doubt there was something in that. +Whereupon I desired to know if they would hear if I said in my prayers +that I was quite safe with him, at the Hole in the Wall; or if I should +rather ask God to tell them. And at that my grandfather stood up and +turned away, with a rub and a pat on my head, toward his own bed; +telling me to say whatever I pleased, and not to forget Grandfather Nat.</p> + +<p>So that now, having said what I pleased, and having well remembered +Grandfather Nat, and slept and woke and dozed and woke again, I took +solace from his authority and whispered many things to my little dead +brother, whom I could never play with: of the little ship in the glass +case, and the pictures, and of how I was going to the London Dock +to-morrow; and so at last fell asleep soundly till morning.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat was astir early, and soon I was looking from the window +by his bed at the ships that lay so thick in the Pool, tier on tier. +Below me I could see the water that washed between the slimy piles on +which the house rested, and to the left were the narrow stairs that +terminated the passage at the side. Several boats were moored about +these stairs, and a waterman was already looking out for a fare. Out in +the Pool certain other boats caught the eye as they dodged about among +the colliers, because each carried a bright fire amidships, in a +brazier, beside a man, two small barrels of beer, and a very large +handbell. The men were purlmen, Grandfather Nat told me, selling +liquor—hot beer chiefly, in the cold mornings—to the men on the +colliers, or on any other craft thereabout. It struck me that the one +thing lacking for perfect bliss in most rowing boats was just such a +brazier of cosy fire as the purl-boat carried; so that after very little +consideration I resolved that when I grew up I would not be a sailor, +nor an engine-driver, nor any one of a dozen other things I had thought +of, but a purlman.</p> + +<p>The staircase would have landed one direct into the bar-parlour but for +an enclosing door, which strangers commonly mistook for that of a +cupboard. A step as light as mine was possibly a rarity on this +staircase; for, coming down before my grandfather, I startled a lady in +the bar-parlour who had been doing something with a bottle which +involved the removal of the cork; which cork she snatched hastily from a +shelf and replaced, with no very favourable regard to myself; and +straightway dropped on her knees and went to work with a brush and a +dustpan. She was scarce an attractive woman, I thought, being rusty and +bony, slack-faced and very red-nosed. She swept the carpet and dusted +the shelves with an air of angry contempt for everything she touched, +and I got into the bar out of her way as soon as I could. The potman was +flinging sawdust about the floor, and there, in the same corner, sat the +same pale, ragged man that was there last night, with the same full +glass of liquor—or one like it—by his side: like a trade fixture that +had been there all night.</p> + +<p>When Grandfather Nat appeared, I learned the slack-faced woman's name. +"This here's my little gran'son, Mrs. Grimes," he said, "as is goin' to +live here a bit, 'cordin' as I mentioned yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Hindeed?" said Mrs. Grimes, with a glance that made me feel more +contemptible than the humblest article she had dusted that morning. +"Hindeed? Then it'll be more work more pay, Cap'en Kemp."</p> + +<p>"Very well, mum," my grandfather replied. "If you reckon it out more +work——"</p> + +<p>"Ho!" interjected Mrs. Grimes, who could fill a misplaced aspirate with +subtle offence; "reckon or not, I s'pose there's another bed to be made? +An' buttons to be sewed? An' plates for to be washed? An' dirt an' +litter for to be cleared up everywhere? To say nothink o' crumbs—which +the biscuit-crumbs in the bar-parlour this mornin' was thick an' +shameful!"</p> + +<p><i>I</i> had had biscuits, and I felt a reprobate. "Very well, mum," +Grandfather Nat said, peaceably; "we'll make out extry damages, mum. A +few days'll give us an idea. Shall we leave it a week an' see how things +go?"</p> + +<p>"Ham I to consider that a week's notice, Captain Kemp?" Mrs. Grimes +demanded, with a distinct rise of voice. "Ham I or ham I not?"</p> + +<p>"Notice!" My grandfather was puzzled, and began to look a trifle angry. +"Why, damme, who said notice? What——"</p> + +<p>"Because notice is as easy give as took, Cap'en Kemp, as I'd 'ave you +remember. An' slave I may be though better brought up than slave-drivers +any day, but swore at vulgar I won't be, nor trampled like dirt an' +litter beneath the feet, an' will not endure it neither!" And with a +great toss of the head Mrs. Grimes flounced through the staircase door, +and sniffed and bridled her way to the upper rooms.</p> + +<p>Her exit relieved my mind; first, because I had a wretched consciousness +that I was causing all the trouble, and a dire fear that Grandfather Nat +might dislike me for it; and second, because when he looked angry I had +a fearful foreboding vision of Mrs. Grimes being presently whirled round +by the ear and flung into the street, as Jim Crute had been. But it was +not long ere I learned that Mrs. Grimes was one of those persons who +grumble and clamour and bully at everything and everybody on principle, +finding that, with a concession here and another there, it pays very +well on the whole; and so nag along very comfortably through life. As +for herself, as I had seen, Mrs. Grimes did not lack the cunning to +carry away any fit of virtuous indignation that seemed like to push her +employer out of his patience.</p> + +<p>My grandfather looked at the bottle that Mrs. Grimes had recorked.</p> + +<p>"That rum shrub," he said, "ain't properly mixed. It works in the bottle +when it's left standing, an' mounts to the cork. I notice it almost +every morning."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The day was bright, and I resigned myself with some impatience to wait +for an hour or two till we could set out for the docks. It was a matter +of business, my grandfather explained, that he must not leave the bar +till a fixed hour—ten o'clock; and soon I began to make a dim guess at +the nature of the business, though I guessed in all innocence, and +suspected not at all.</p> + +<p>Contrary to my evening observation, at this early hour the larger bar +was mostly empty, while the obscure compartment at the side was in far +greater use than it had been last night. Four or five visitors must have +come there, one after another: perhaps half a dozen. And they all had +things to sell. Two had watches—one of them was a woman; one had a +locket and a boatswain's silver call; and I think another had some +silver spoons. Grandfather Nat brought each article into the +bar-parlour, to examine, and then returned it to its owner; which +behaviour seemed to surprise none of them as it had surprised the man +last night; so that doubtless he was a stranger. To those with watches +my grandfather said nothing but "Yes, that seems all right," or "Yes, +it's a good enough watch, no doubt." But to the man with the locket and +the silver call he said, "Well, if ever you want to sell 'em you might +get eight bob; no more"; and much the same to him with the spoons, +except that he thought the spoons might fetch fifteen shillings.</p> + +<p>Each of the visitors went out with no more ado; and as each went, the +pale man in the larger bar rose, put his drink safely on the counter, +just beyond the partition, and went out too; and presently he came back, +with no more than a glance at Grandfather Nat, took his drink, and sat +down again.</p> + +<p>At ten o'clock my grandfather looked out of the bar and said to the pale +man: "All right—drink up."</p> + +<p>Whereupon the pale man—who would have been paler if his face had been +washed—swallowed his drink at last, flat as it must have been, and went +out; and Grandfather Nat went out also, by the door into the passage. He +was gone scarce two minutes, and when he returned he unlocked a drawer +below the shelf on which the little ship stood, and took from it the +cash box I had seen last night. His back was turned toward me, and +himself was interposed between my eyes and the box, which he rested on +the shelf; but I heard a jingling that suggested spoons.</p> + +<p>So I said, "Did the man go to buy the spoons for you, Gran'fa' Nat?"</p> + +<p>My grandfather looked round sharply, with something as near a frown as +he ever directed on me. Then he locked the box away hastily, with a +gruff laugh. "You won't starve, Stevy," he said, "as long as wits finds +victuals. But see here," he went on, becoming grave as he sat and drew +me to his knee; "see here, Stevy. What you see here's my business, +private business; understand? You ain't a tell-tale, are you? Not a +sneak?"</p> + +<p>I repudiated the suggestion with pain and scorn; for I was at least old +enough a boy to see in sneakery the blackest of crimes.</p> + +<p>"No, no, that you ain't, I know," Grandfather Nat went on, with a pinch +of my chin, though he still regarded me earnestly. "A plucked 'un's +never a sneak. But there's one thing for you to remember, Stevy, afore +all your readin' an' writin' an' lessons an' what not. You must never +tell of anything you see here, not to a soul—that is, not about me +buyin' things. I'm very careful, but things don't always go right, an' I +might get in trouble. I'm a straight man, an' I pay for all I have in +any line o' trade; I never stole nor cheated not so much as a farden all +my life, nor ever bought anything as I <i>knew</i> was stole. See?"</p> + +<p>I nodded gravely. I was trying hard to understand the reason for all +this seriousness and secrecy, but at any rate I was resolved to be no +tale-bearer; especially against Grandfather Nat.</p> + +<p>"Why," he went on, justifying himself, I fancy, more for his own +satisfaction than for my information; "why, even when it's on'y just +suspicious I won't buy—except o' course through another party. That's +how I guard myself, Stevy, an' every man has a right to buy a thing +reasonable an' sell at a profit if he can; that's on'y plain trade. An' +yet nobody can't say truthful as he ever sold me anything over that +there counter, or anywhere else, barrin' what I have reg'lar of the +brewer an' what not. I may look at a thing or pass an opinion, but +what's that? Nothin' at all. But we've got to keep our mouths shut, +Stevy, for fear o' danger; see? You wouldn't like poor old Grandfather +Nat to be put in gaol, would ye?"</p> + +<p>The prospect was terrible, and I put my hands about my grandfather's +neck and vowed I would never whisper a word.</p> + +<p>"That's right, Stevy," the old man answered, "I know you won't if you +don't forget yourself—so don't do that. Don't take no notice, not even +to me."</p> + +<p>There was a knock at the back door, which opened, and disclosed one of +the purlmen, who had left his boat in sight at the stairs, and wanted a +quart of gin in the large tin can he brought with him. He was a short, +red-faced, tough-looking fellow, and he needed the gin, as I soon +learned, to mix with his hot beer to make the purl. He had a short +conversation with my grandfather when the gin was brought, of which I +heard no more than the words "high water at twelve." But as he went down +the passage he turned, and sang out: "You got the news, Cap'en, o' +course?"</p> + +<p>"What? Viney and Marr?"</p> + +<p>The man nodded, with a click and a twitch of the mouth. Then he snapped +his fingers, and jerked them expressively upward. After which he +ejaculated the single word "Marr," and jerked his thumb over his +shoulder. By which I understood him to repeat, with no waste of +language, the story that it was all up with the firm, and the junior +partner had bolted.</p> + +<p>"That," said Grandfather Nat, when the man was gone—"that's Bill Stagg, +an' he's the on'y purlman as don't come ashore to sleep. Sleeps in his +boat, winter an' summer, does Bill Stagg. How'd you like that, Stevy?"</p> + +<p>I thought I should catch cold, and perhaps tumble overboard, if I had a +bad dream; and I said so.</p> + +<p>"Ah well, Bill Stagg don't mind. He was A.B. aboard o' me when Mr. Viney +was my mate many years ago, an' a good A.B. too. Bill Stagg, he makes +fast somewhere quiet at night, an' curls up snug as a weevil. Mostly +under the piles o' this here house, when the wind ain't east. Saves him +rent, ye see; so he does pretty well."</p> + +<p>And with that my grandfather put on his coat and reached the pilot cap +that was his everyday wear.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>We walked first to the head of the stairs, where opened a wide picture +of the Thames and all its traffic, and where the walls were plastered +with a dozen little bills, each headed "Found Drowned," and each with +the tale of some nameless corpse under the heading.</p> + +<p>"That's my boat, Stevy," said my grandfather, pointing to a little +dinghy with a pair of sculls in her; "our boat, if you like, seeing as +we're pardners. Now you shall do which you like; walk along to the dock, +where the sugar is, or come out in our boat."</p> + +<p>It was a hard choice to make. The glory and delight of the part +ownership of a real boat dazzled me like another sun in the sky; but I +had promised myself the docks and the sugar for such a long time. So we +compromised; the docks to-day and the boat to-morrow.</p> + +<p>Out in the street everybody seemed to know Grandfather Nat. Those who +spoke with him commonly called him Captain Kemp, except a few old +acquaintances to whom he was Captain Nat. Loafers and crimps gazed after +him and nodded together; and small ship-chandlers gave him good morning +from their shop-doors.</p> + +<p>A hundred yards from the Hole in the Wall, at a turn, there was a swing +bridge and a lock, such as we had by the old house in Blackwall. At the +moment we came in hail the men were at the winch, and the bridge began +to part in the middle; for a ship was about to change berth to the inner +dock. "Come, Stevy," said my grandfather, "we'll take the lock 'fore +they open that. Not afraid if I'm with you, are you?"</p> + +<p>No, I was not afraid with Grandfather Nat, and would not even be +carried. Though the top of the lock was not two feet wide, and was +knotted, broken and treacherous in surface and wholly unguarded on one +side, where one looked plump down into the foul dock-water; and though +on the other side there was but a slack chain strung through loose iron +stanchions that staggered in their sockets. Grandfather Nat gripped me +by the collar and walked me before him; but relief tempered my triumph +when I was safe across; my feet never seemed to have twisted and slipped +and stumbled so much before in so short a distance—perhaps because in +that same distance I had never before recollected so many tales of men +drowned in the docks by falling off just such locks, in fog, or by +accidental slips.</p> + +<p>A little farther along, and we came upon Ratcliff Highway. I saw the +street then for the first time, and in truth it was very wonderful. I +think there could never have been another street in this country at once +so foul and so picturesque as Ratcliff Highway at the time I speak of. +Much that I saw I could not understand, child as I was; and by so much +the more was I pleased with it all, when perhaps I should have been +shocked. From end to end of the Highway and beyond, and through all its +tributaries and purlieus everything and everybody was for, by, and of, +the sailor ashore; every house and shop was devoted to his convenience +and inconvenience; in the Highway it seemed to me that every other house +was a tavern, and in several places two stood together. There were shops +full of slops, sou'westers, pilot-coats, sea-boots, tin pannikins, and +canvas kit-bags like giants' bolsters; and rows of big knives and +daggers, often engraved with suggestive maxims. A flash of memory +recalls the favourite: "Never draw me without cause, never sheathe me +without honour." I have since seen the words "cause" and "honour" put to +uses less respectable.</p> + +<p>The pawn-shops had nothing in them that had not come straight from a +ship—sextants and boatswain's pipes being the choice of the stock. And +pawn-shops, slop-shops, tobacco-shops—every shop almost—had somewhere +in its window a selection of those curiosities that sailors make abroad +and bring home: little ship-models mysteriously erected inside bottles, +shells, albatross heads, saw-fish snouts, and bottles full of sand of +different colours, ingeniously packed so as to present a figure or a +picture when viewed from without.</p> + +<p>Men of a dozen nations were coming or going in every score of yards. The +best dressed, and the worst, were the negroes; for the black cook who +was flush went in for adornments that no other sailor-man would have +dreamed of: a white shirt, a flaming tie, a black coat with satin +facings—even a white waistcoat and a top hat. While the cleaned-out and +shipless nigger was a sad spectacle indeed. Then there were Spaniards, +swart, long-haired, bloodshot-looking fellows, whose entire shore outfit +consisted commonly of a red shirt, blue trousers, anklejacks with the +brown feet visible over them, a belt, a big knife, and a pair of large +gold ear-rings. Big, yellow-haired, blue-eyed Swedes, who were full pink +with sea and sun, and not brown or mahogany-coloured, like the rest; +slight, wicked-looking Malays; lean, spitting Yankees, with stripes, and +felt hats, and sing-song oaths; sometimes a Chinaman, petticoated, +dignified, jeered at; a Lascar, a Greek, a Russian; and everywhere the +English Jack, rolling of gait—sometimes from habit alone, sometimes for +mixed reasons—hard, red-necked, waistcoatless, with his knife at his +belt, like the rest: but more commonly a clasp-knife than one in a +sheath. To me all these strangely bedight men were matter of delight and +wonder; and I guessed my hardest whence each had come last, what he had +brought in his ship, and what strange and desperate adventures he had +encountered on the way. And wherever I saw bare, hairy skin, whether an +arm, or the chest under an open shirt, there were blue devices of ships, +of flags, of women, of letters and names. Grandfather Nat was tattooed +like that, as I had discovered in the morning, when he washed. He had +been a fool to have it done, he said, as he flung the soapy water out of +window into the river, and he warned me that I must be careful never to +make such a mistake myself; which made me sorry, because it seemed so +gallant an embellishment. But my grandfather explained that you could be +identified by tattoo-marks, at any length of time, which might cause +trouble. I remembered that my own father was tattooed with an anchor and +my mother's name; and I hoped he would never be identified, if it were +as bad as that.</p> + +<p>In the street oyster-stalls stood, and baked-potato cans; one or two +sailors were buying, and one or two fiddlers, but mostly the customers +were the gaudy women, who seemed to make a late breakfast in this way. +Some had not stayed to perform a greater toilet than to fling clothes on +themselves unhooked and awry, and to make a straggling knot of their +hair; but the most were brilliant enough in violet or scarlet or blue, +with hair oiled and crimped and hung in thick nets, and with bright +handkerchiefs over their shoulders—belcher yellows and kingsmen and +blue billies. And presently we came on one who was dancing with a sailor +on the pavement, to the music of one of the many fiddlers who picked up +a living hereabouts; and she wore the regular dancing rig of the +Highway—short skirts and high red morocco boots with brass heels. She +covered the buckle and grape-vined with great precision, too, a contrast +with her partner, whose hornpipe was unsteady and vague in the figures, +for indeed he seemed to have "begun early"—perhaps had not left off all +night. Two more pairs of these red morocco boots we saw at a place next +a public house, where a shop front had been cleared out to make a +dancing room, with a sort of buttery-hatch communicating with the +tavern; and where a flushed sailor now stood with a pot in each hand, +roaring for a fiddler.</p> + +<p>But if the life and the picturesqueness of the Highway in some sort +disguised its squalor, they made the more hideously apparent the +abomination of the by-streets: which opened, filthy and menacing, at +every fifty yards as we went. The light seemed greyer, the very air +thicker and fouler in these passages; though indeed they formed the +residential part whereof the Highway was the market-place. The children +who ran and tumbled in these places, the boy of nine equally with the +infant crawling from doorstep to gutter, were half naked, shoeless, and +disguised in crusted foulness; so that I remember them with a certain +sickening, even in these latter days; when I see no such pitiably +neglected little wretches, though I know the dark parts of London well +enough.</p> + +<p>At the mouth of one of these narrow streets, almost at the beginning of +the Highway, Grandfather Nat stopped and pointed.</p> + +<p>It was a forbidding lane, with forbidding men and women hanging about +the entrance; and far up toward the end there appeared to be a crowd and +a fight; in the midst whereof a half-naked man seemed to be rushing from +side to side of the street.</p> + +<p>"That's the Blue Gate," said my grandfather, and resumed his walk. "It's +dangerous," he went on, "the worst place hereabout—perhaps anywhere. +Wuss'n Tiger Bay, a mile. You must never go near Blue Gate. People get +murdered there, Stevy—murdered—many's a man; sailor-men mostly; an' +nobody never knows. Pitch them in the Dock sometimes, sometimes in the +river, so's they're washed away. I've known 'em taken to +Hole-in-the-Wall Stairs at night."</p> + +<p>I gripped my grandfather's hand tighter, and asked, in all innocence, if +we should see any, if we kept watch out of window that night. He +laughed, thought the chance scarce worth a sleepless night, and went on +to tell me of something else. But I overheard later in a bar +conversation a ghastly tale of years before; of a murdered man's body +that had been dragged dripping through the streets at night by two men +who supported its arms, staggering and shouting and singing, as though +the three were merely drunk; and how it was dropped in panic ere it was +brought to the waterside, because of a collision with three live sailors +who really were drunk.</p> + +<p>One or two crimps' carts came through from the docks as we walked, drawn +by sorry animals, and piled high with shouting sailors and their +belongings—chief among these the giant bolster-bags. The victims went +to their fate gloriously enough, hailing and chaffing the populace on +the way, and singing, each man as he list. Also we saw a shop with a +window full of parrots and monkeys; and a very sick kangaroo in a wooden +cage being carried in from a van.</p> + +<p>And so we came to the London Dock at last. And there, in the +sugar-sheds, stood more sugar than ever I had dreamed of in my wildest +visions—thousands of barrels, mountains of sacks. And so many of the +bags were rat-bitten, or had got a slit by accidentally running up +against a jack-knife; and so many of the barrels were defective, or had +stove themselves by perverse complications with a crowbar; that the +heavy, brown, moist stuff was lying in heaps and lumps everywhere; and I +supposed that it must be called "foot-sugar" because you couldn't help +treading on it.</p> + +<p>It was while I was absorbed in this delectable spectacle, that I heard a +strained little voice behind me, and turned to behold Mr. Cripps +greeting my grandfather.</p> + +<p>"Good mornin', Cap'en Kemp, sir," said Mr. Cripps. "I been a-lookin' at +the noo Blue Crosser—the <i>Emily Riggs</i>. She ought to be done, ye know, +an' a han'some picter she'd make; but the skipper seems busy. Why, an' +there's young master Stephen, I do declare; 'ow are ye, sir?"</p> + +<p>As he bent and the nose neared, I was seized with a horrid fear that he +was going to kiss me. But he only shook hands, after all—though it was +not at all a clean hand that he gave.</p> + +<p>"Why, Cap'en Kemp," he went on, "this is what I say a phenomenal +coincidence; rather unique, in fact. Why, you'll 'ardly believe as I was +a thinkin' o' you not 'arf an hour ago, scarcely! Now you wouldn't 'a' +thought that, would ye?"</p> + +<p>There was a twinkle in Grandfather Nat's eye. "All depends," he said.</p> + +<p>"Comin' along from the mortuary, I see somethink——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, something in the mortuary, no doubt," my grandfather interrupted, +quizzically. "Well, what was in the mortuary? I bet there was a corpse +in the mortuary."</p> + +<p>"Quite correct, Cap'en Kemp, so there was; three of 'em, an' a very sad +sight; decimated, Cap'en Kemp, by the watery element. But it wasn't them +I was——"</p> + +<p>"What! It wasn't a corpse as reminded you of me? That's rum. Then I +expect somebody told you some more about Viney and Marr. Come, what's +the latest about Viney an' Marr? Tell us about that."</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat was humorously bent on driving Mr. Cripps from his mark, +and Mr. Cripps deferred. "Well, it's certainly a topic," he said, "a +universal topic. Crooks the ship-chandler's done for, they +say—unsolvent. The <i>Minerva's</i> reported off Prawle Point in to-day's +list, an' they say as she'll be sold up as soon as she's moored. But +there—she's hypotenused, Cap'en Kemp; pawned, as you might say; up the +flue. It's a matter o' gen'ral information that she's pawned up to 'er +r'yals—up to 'er main r'yals, sir. Which reminds me, speakin' o' +r'yals, there's a timber-shop just along by the mortuary——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, no doubt," Grandfather Nat interrupted, "they must put 'em +somewhere. Any news o' the <i>Juno</i>?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, she ain't reported; not doo Barbadoes yet, or mail not in, +any'ow. They'll sell 'er too, but the creditors won't get none of it. +She's hypotenused as deep as the other—up to her r'yals; an' there's +nothin' else to sell. So it's the gen'ral opinion there won't be much to +divide, Marr 'avin' absconded with the proceeds. An' as regards what I +was agoin' to——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you was goin' to tell me some more about Marr, I expect," my +grandfather persisted. "Heard where he's gone?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps shook his head. "They don't seem likely to ketch 'im, Cap'en +Nat. Some says 'e's absconded out o' the country, others says 'e's +'idin' in it. Nobody knows 'im much, consequence o' Viney doin' all the +outdoor business—I on'y see 'im once myself. Viney, 'e thinks 'e's gone +abroad, they say; an' 'e swears Marr's the party as 'as caused the +unsolvency, 'avin' bin a-doin' of 'im all along; 'im bein' in charge o' +the books. An' it's a fact, Cap'en Kemp, as you never know what them +chaps may get up to with the proceeds as 'as charge o' books. The +paper's full of 'em every week—always absconding with somebody's +proceeds! An' by the way, speakin' o' proceeds——"</p> + +<p>This time Captain Nat made no interruption, but listened with an amused +resignation.</p> + +<p>"Speakin' o' proceeds," said Mr. Cripps, "it was bein' temp'ry out o' +proceeds as made me think o' you as I come along from the mortuary. For +I see as 'andsome a bit o' panel for to paint a sign on as ever I come +across. It was——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. Enough to stimilate you to paint it fine, only to look at +it, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, Cap'n Kemp, so it was."</p> + +<p>"Not dear, neither?"</p> + +<p>"No—not to say dear, seein' 'ow prices is up. If I'd 'ad——"</p> + +<p>"Well, well, p'raps prices'll be down a bit soon," said Grandfather Nat, +grinning and pulling out a sixpence. "I ain't good for no more than that +now, anyhow!" And having passed over the coin he took my hand and turned +away, laughing and shaking his head.</p> + +<p>Seeing that my grandfather wanted his sign, it seemed to me that he was +losing an opportunity, and I said so.</p> + +<p>"What!" he said, "let him buy the board? Why, he's had half a dozen +boards for that sign a'ready!"</p> + +<p>"Half a dozen?" I said. "Six boards? What did he do with them?"</p> + +<p>"Ate 'em!" said Grandfather Nat, and laughed the louder when I stared.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>I found it quite true that one might eat the loose sugar wherever he +judged it clean enough—as most of it was. And nothing but Grandfather +Nat's restraining hand postponed my first bilious attack.</p> + +<p>Thus it was that I made acquaintance with the Highway, and with the +London Docks, in their more picturesque days, and saw and delighted in a +thousand things more than I can write. Port was drunk then, and hundreds +of great pipes lay in rows on a wide quay where men walked with wooden +clubs, whacking each pipe till the "shive" or wooden bung sprang into +the air, to be caught with a dexterity that pleased me like a conjuring +trick. And many a thirsty dock-labourer, watching his opportunity, would +cut a strip of bread from his humble dinner as he strolled near a pipe, +and, absorbed in the contemplation of the indefinite empyrean, absently +dip his sippet into the shive-hole as he passed; recovering it in a +state so wet and discoloured that its instant consumption was +imperative.</p> + +<p>And so at last we came away from the docks by the thoroughfare then +called Tanglefoot Lane; not that that name, or anything like it, was +painted at the corner; but because it was the road commonly taken by +visitors departing from the wine-vaults after bringing tasting-orders.</p> + +<p>As we passed Blue Gate on our way home, I saw, among those standing at +the corner, a coarse-faced, untidy woman, talking to a big, bony-looking +man with a face so thin and mean that it seemed misplaced on such +shoulders. The woman was so much like a score of others then in sight, +that I should scarce have noted her, were it not that she and the man +stopped their talk as we passed, with a quick look, first at my +grandfather, and then one at the other; and then the man turned his back +and walked away. Presently the woman came after us, walking quickly, +glancing doubtfully at Grandfather Nat as she passed; and at last, after +twice looking back, she turned and waited for us to come up.</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, Cap'en Kemp," she said in a low, but a very thick voice, +"but might I speak to you a moment, sir?"</p> + +<p>My grandfather looked at her sharply. "Well," he said, "what is it?"</p> + +<p>"In regards to a man as sold you a watch las' night——"</p> + +<p>"No," Grandfather Nat interrupted with angry decision, "he didn't."</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, sir, jesso sir—'course not; which I mean to say 'e sold it +to a man near to your 'ouse. Is it brought true as that party—not +meanin' you, sir, 'course not, but the party in the street near your +'ouse—is it brought true as that party'll buy somethink more—somethink +as I needn't tell now, sir, p'raps, but somethink spoke of between that +party an' the other party—I mean the party as sold it, an' don't mean +you, sir, 'course not?"</p> + +<p>It was plain that the woman, who had begun in trepidation, was confused +and abashed the more by the hard frown with which Captain Nat regarded +her. The frown persisted for some moments; and then my grandfather said: +"Don't know what you mean. If somebody bought anything of a friend o' +yours, an' your friend wants to sell him something else, I suppose he +can take it to him, can't he? And if it's any value, there's no reason +he shouldn't buy it, so far as I know." And Grandfather Nat strode on.</p> + +<p>The woman murmured some sort of acknowledgment, and fell back, and in a +moment I had forgotten her; though I remembered her afterward, for good +reason enough.</p> + +<p>In fact, it was no later than that evening. I was sitting in the +bar-parlour with Grandfather Nat, who had left the bar to the care of +the potman. My grandfather was smoking his pipe, while I spelled and +sought down the narrow columns of <i>Lloyd's List</i> for news of my father's +ship. It was my grandfather's way to excuse himself from reading, when +he could, on the plea of unsuitable eyes; though I suspect that, apart +from his sight, he found reading a greater trouble than he was pleased +to own.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing here about the <i>Juno</i>, Grandfather Nat," I said. +"Nothing anywhere."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said my grandfather, "La Guaira was the last port, an' we must +keep eyes on the list for Barbadoes. Maybe the mail's late." Most of +Lloyd's messages came by mail at that time. "Let's see," he went on; +"Belize, La Guaira, Barbadoes"; and straightway began to figure out +distances and chances of wind.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat had been considering whether or not we should write to +my father to tell him that my mother was dead, and he judged that there +was little chance of any letter reaching the <i>Juno</i> on her homeward +passage.</p> + +<p>"Belize, La Guaira, Barbadoes," said Grandfather Nat, musingly. "It's +the rough reason thereabout, an' it's odds she may be blown out of her +course. But the mail——"</p> + +<p>He stopped and turned his head. There was a sudden stamp of feet outside +the door behind us, a low and quick voice, a heavy thud against the +door, and then a cry—a dreadful cry, that began like a stifled scream +and ended with a gurgle.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat reached the door at a bound, and as he flung it wide a +man came with it and sank heavily at his feet, head and one shoulder +over the threshold, and an arm flung out stiffly, so that the old man +stumbled across it as he dashed at a dark shadow without.</p> + +<p>I was hard at my grandfather's heels, and in a flash of time I saw that +another man was rising from over the one on the doorsill. But for the +stumble Grandfather Nat would have had him. In that moment's check the +fellow spun round and dashed off, striking one of the great posts with +his shoulder, and nearly going down with the shock.</p> + +<p>All was dark without, and what I saw was merely confused by the light +from the bar-parlour. My grandfather raised a shout and rushed in the +wake of the fugitive, toward the stairs, and I, too startled and too +excited to be frightened yet, skipped over the stiff arm to follow him. +At the first step I trod on some object which I took to be my +grandfather's tobacco-pouch, snatched it up, and stuffed it in my jacket +pocket as I ran. Several men from the bar were running in the passage, +and down the stairs I could hear Captain Nat hallooing across the river.</p> + +<p>"Ahoy!" came a voice in reply. "What's up?" And I could see the fire of +a purl-boat coming in.</p> + +<p>"Stop him, Bill!" my grandfather shouted. "Stop him! Stabbed a man! He's +got my boat, and there's no sculls in this damned thing! Gone round them +barges!"</p> + +<p>And now I could distinguish my grandfather in a boat, paddling +desperately with a stretcher, his face and his shirt-sleeves touched +with the light from the purl-man's fire.</p> + +<p>The purl-boat swung round and shot off, and presently other boats came +pulling by, with shouts and questions. Then I saw Grandfather Nat, a +black form merely, climbing on a barge and running and skipping along +the tier, from one barge to another, calling and directing, till I could +see him no more. There were many men on the stairs by this time, and +others came running and jostling; so I made my way back to the +bar-parlour door.</p> + +<p>It was no easy thing to get in here, for a crowd was gathering. But a +man from the bar who recognised me made a way, and as soon as I had +pushed through the crowd of men's legs I saw that the injured man was +lying on the floor, tended by the potman; while Mr. Cripps, his face +pallid under the dirt, and his nose a deadly lavender, stood by, with +his mouth open and his hands dangling aimlessly.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The stabbed man lay with his head on a rolled-up coat of my +grandfather's, and he was bad for a child to look at. His face had gone +tallowy; his eyes, which turned (and frightened me) as I came in, were +now directed steadily upward; he breathed low and quick, and though Joe +the potman pressed cloths to the wound in his chest, there was blood +about his lips and chin, and blood bubbled dreadfully in his mouth. But +what startled me most, and what fixed my regard on his face despite my +tremors, so that I could scarce take my eyes from it, was the fact that, +paleness and blood and drawn cheeks notwithstanding, I saw in him the +ugly, broken-nosed fellow who had been in the private compartment last +night, with a watch to sell; the watch, with an initial on the back, +that now lay in Grandfather Nat's cash-box.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>Somebody had gone for a doctor, it was said, but a doctor was not always +easy to find in Wapping. Mrs. Grimes, who was at some late work +upstairs, was not disturbed at first by the noise, since excitement was +not uncommon in the neighbourhood. But now she came to the stairfoot +door, and peeped and hurried back. For myself, I squeezed into a far +corner and stared, a little sick; for there was a deal of blood, and Joe +the potman was all dabbled, like a slaughterman.</p> + +<p>My grandfather returned almost on the doctor's heels, and with my +grandfather were some river police, in glazed hats and pilot coats. The +doctor puffed and shook his head, called for cold water, and cloths, and +turpentine, and milk. Cold water and cloths were ready enough, and +turpentine was easy to get, but ere the milk came it was useless. The +doctor shook his head and puffed more than ever, wiped his hands and +pulled his cuffs down gingerly. I could not see the man on the floor, +now, for the doctor was in the way; but I heard him, just before the +doctor stood up. The noise sent my neck cold at the back; though indeed +it was scarce more than the noise made in emptying a large bottle by +up-ending it.</p> + +<p>The doctor stood up and shook his head. "Gone," he said. "And I couldn't +have done more than keep him alive a few minutes, at best. It was the +lung, and bad—two places. Have they got the man?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Grandfather Nat, "nor ain't very likely, I'd say. Never saw +him again, once he got behind a tier o' lighters. Waterside chap, +certain; knows the river well enough, an' these stairs. I couldn't ha' +got that boat o' mine off quicker, not myself."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said one of the river policemen, "he's a waterside chap, that's +plain enough. Any other 'ud a-bolted up the street. Never said nothing, +did he—this one?" He was bending over the dead man; while the others +cleared the people back from the door, and squeezed Mr. Cripps out among +them.</p> + +<p>"No, not a word," answered Joe the potman. "Couldn't. Tried to nod once +when I spoke to 'im, but it seemed to make 'im bleed faster."</p> + +<p>"Know him, Cap'en Nat?" asked the sergeant.</p> + +<p>"No," answered my grandfather, "I don't know him. Might ha' seen him +hanging about p'raps. But then I see a lot doin' that."</p> + +<p>I wondered if Grandfather Nat had already forgotten about the silver +watch with the M on it, or if he had merely failed to recognise the man. +But I remembered what he had said in the morning, after he had bought +the spoons, and I reflected that I had best hold my tongue.</p> + +<p>And now voices without made it known that the shore police were here, +with a stretcher; and presently, with a crowding and squeezing in the +little bar-parlour that drove me deeper into my corner and farther under +the shelf, the uncomely figure was got from the floor to the stretcher, +and so out of the house.</p> + +<p>It was plain that my grandfather was held in good regard by the police; +and I think that his hint that a drop of brandy was at the service of +anybody who felt the job unpleasant might have been acted on, if there +had not been quite as many present at once. When at last they were gone, +and the room clear, he kicked into a heap the strip of carpet that the +dead man had lain on; and as he did it, he perceived me in my corner.</p> + +<p>"What—you here all the time, Stevy?" he said. "I thought you'd gone +upstairs. Here—it ain't right for boys in general, but you've got a +turn; drink up this."</p> + +<p>I believe I must have been pale, and indeed I felt a little sick now +that the excitement was over. The thing had been very near, and the +blood tainted the very air. So that I gulped the weak brandy and water +without much difficulty, and felt better. Out in the bar Mr. Cripps's +thin voice was raised in thrilling description.</p> + +<p>Feeling better, as I have said, and no longer faced with the melancholy +alternatives of crying or being ill, I bethought me of my grandfather's +tobacco-pouch. "You dropped your pouch, Gran'father Nat," I said, "and I +picked it up when I ran out."</p> + +<p>And with that I pulled out of my jacket pocket—not the pouch at all; +but a stout buckled pocket-book of about the same size.</p> + +<p>"That ain't a pouch, Stevy," said Grandfather Nat; "an' mine's here in +my pocket. Show me."</p> + +<p>He opened the flap, and stood for a moment staring. Then he looked up +hastily, turned his back to the bar, and sat down. "Whew! Stevy!" he +said, with amazement in his eyes and the pocket-book open in his hand; +"you're in luck; luck, my boy. See!"</p> + +<p>Once more he glanced quickly over his shoulder, toward the bar; and then +took in his fingers a folded bunch of paper, and opened it. "Notes!" he +said, in a low voice, drawing me to his side. "Bank of England notes, +every one of 'em! Fifties, an' twenties, an' tens, an' fives! Where was +it?"</p> + +<p>I told him how I had run out at his heels, had trodden on the thing in +the dark, and had slipped it into my pocket, supposing it to be his old +leather tobacco-pouch, from which he had but just refilled his pipe; and +how I had forgotten about it, in my excitement, till the people were +gone, and the brandy had quelled my faintness.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," commented Grandfather Nat, "it's a wonderful bit o' luck, +anyhow. This is what the chap was pulling away from him when I opened +the door, you can lay to that; an' he lost it when he hit the post, I'll +wager; unless the other pitched it away. But that's neither here nor +there.... What's that?" He turned his head quickly. "That stairfoot door +ain't latched again, Stevy. Made me jump: fancied it was the other."</p> + +<p>There was nothing else in the pocket-book, it would seem, except an old +photograph. It was a faded, yellowish thing, and it represented a rather +stout woman, seated, with a boy of about fourteen at her side; both very +respectably dressed in the fashion of twenty years earlier. Grandfather +Nat put it back, and slipped the pocket-book into the same cash-box that +had held the watch with the M engraved on its back.</p> + +<p>The stairfoot door clicked again, and my grandfather sent me to shut it. +As I did so I almost fancied I could hear soft footsteps ascending. But +then I concluded I was mistaken; for in a few moments Mrs. Grimes was +plainly heard coming downstairs, with an uncommonly full tread; and +presently she presented herself.</p> + +<p>"Good law, Cap'en Kemp," exclaimed Mrs. Grimes, with a hand clutching at +her chest, and her breath a tumultuous sigh; "Good law! I am that bad! +What with extry work, an' keepin' on late, an' murders under my very +nose, I cannot a-bear it—no!" And she sank into a chair by the +stairfoot door, letting go her brush and dustpan with a clatter.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat turned to get the brandy-bottle again. Mrs. Grimes's +head drooped faintly, and her eyelids nearly closed. Nevertheless I +observed that the eyes under the lids were very sharp indeed, following +my grandfather's back, and traversing the shelf where he had left the +photograph; yet when he brought the brandy, he had to rouse her by a +shake.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>I went to bed early that night—as soon as Mrs. Grimes was gone, in +fact. My grandfather had resolved that such a late upsitting as last +night's must be no more than an indulgence once in a way. He came up +with me, bringing the cash-box to put away in the little wall-cupboard +against his bed-head where it always lay, at night, with a pistol by its +side. Grandfather Nat peeped to see the pocket-book safe once more, and +chuckled as he locked it away. This done, he sat by my side, and talked +till I began to fall asleep.</p> + +<p>The talk was of the pocket-book, and what should be done with the money. +Eight hundred pounds was the sum, and two five-pound notes over, and I +wondered why a man with so much money should come, the evening before, +to sell his watch.</p> + +<p>"Looks as though the money wasn't his, don't it?" commented Grandfather +Nat. "Though anyhow it's no good to him now. You found it, an' it's +yours, Stevy."</p> + +<p>I remembered certain lessons of my mother's as to one's proper behaviour +toward lost property, and I mentioned them. But Grandfather Nat clearly +resolved me that this was no case in point. "It can't be his, because +he's dead," Captain Nat argued; "an' if it's the other chap's—well, let +him come an' ask for it. That's fair enough, you know, Stevy. An' if he +don't come—it ain't likely he will, is it?—then it's yours; and I'll +keep it to help start you in life when you grow up. I won't pay it into +the bank—not for a bit, anyhow. There's numbers on bank notes: an' they +lead to trouble, often. But they're as good one time as another, an' +easy sent abroad later on, or what not. So there you are, my boy! Eight +hundred odd to start you like a gentleman, with as much more as +Grandfather Nat can put to it. Eh?"</p> + +<p>He kissed me and rubbed his hands in my curls, and I took the occasion +to communicate my decision as to being a purlman. Grandfather Nat +laughed, and patted my head down on the pillow; and for a little I +remembered no more.</p> + +<p>I awoke in an agony of nightmare. The dead man, with blood streaming +from mouth and eyes, was dragging my grandfather down into the river, +and my mother with my little dead brother in her arms called me to throw +out the pocket-book, and save him; and throw I could not, for the thing +seemed glued to my fingers. So I awoke with a choke and a cry, and sat +up in bed.</p> + +<p>All was quiet about me, and below were the common evening noises of the +tavern; laughs, argumentation, and the gurgle of drawn beer; though +there was less noise now than when I had come up, and I judged it not +far from closing time. Out in the street a woman was singing a ballad; +and I got out of bed and went to the front room window to see and to +hear; for indeed I was out of sorts and nervous, and wished to look at +people.</p> + +<p>At the corner of the passage there was a small group who pointed and +talked together—plainly discussing the murder; and as one or two +drifted away, so one or two more came up to join those remaining. No +doubt the singing woman had taken this pitch as one suitable to her +ware—for she sang and fluttered at length in her hand one of the +versified last dying confessions that even so late as this were hawked +about Ratcliff and Wapping. What murderer's "confession" the woman was +singing I have clean forgotten; but they were all the same, all set to a +doleful tune which, with modifications, still does duty, I believe, as +an evening hymn; and the burden ran thus, for every murderer and any +murder:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Take warning by my dreadful fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The truth I can't deny;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This dreadful crime that I are done<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I are condemned to die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The singular grammar of the last two lines I never quite understood, not +having noticed its like elsewhere; but I put it down as a distinguishing +characteristic of the speech of murderers.</p> + +<p>I waited till the woman had taken her ballads away, and I had grown +uncommonly cold in the legs, and then crept back to bed. But now I had +fully awakened myself, and sleep was impossible. Presently I got up +again, and looked out over the river. Very black and mysterious it lay, +the blacker, it seemed, for the thousand lights that spotted it, craft +and shore. No purlmen's fires were to be seen, for work on the colliers +was done long ago, but once a shout and now a hail came over the water, +faint or loud, far or near; and up the wooden wall I leaned on came the +steady sound of the lapping against the piles below. I wondered where +Grandfather Nat's boat—our boat—lay now; if the murderer were still +rowing in it, and would row and row right away to sea, where my father +was, in his ship; or if he would be caught, and make a dying confession +with all the "haves" and "ams" replaced by "ares"; or if, indeed, he had +already met providential retribution by drowning. In which case I +doubted for the safety of the boat, and Grandfather would buy another. +And my legs growing cold again, I retreated once more.</p> + +<p>I heard the customers being turned into the street, and the shutters +going up; and then I got under the bed-clothes, for I recalled the +nightmare, and it was not pleasant. It grew rather worse, indeed, for my +waking fancy enlarged and embellished it, and I longed to hear the tread +of Grandfather Nat ascending the stair. But he was late to-night. I +heard Joe the potman, who slept off the premises, shut the door and go +off up the street. For a few minutes Grandfather Nat was moving about +the bar and the bar-parlour; and then there was silence, save for the +noises—the clicks and the creaks—that the old house made of itself.</p> + +<p>I waited and waited, sometimes with my head out of the clothes, +sometimes with no more than a contrived hole next my ear, listening. +Till at last I could wait no longer, for the house seemed alive with +stealthy movement, and I shook with the indefinite terror that comes, +some night or another, to the most unimaginative child. I thought, at +first, of calling to my grandfather, but that would seem babyish; so I +said my prayers over again, held my breath, and faced the terrors of the +staircase. The boards sang and creaked under my bare feet, and the black +about me was full of dim coloured faces. But I pushed the door and drew +breath in the honest lamplight of the bar-parlour at last.</p> + +<p>Nobody was there, and nobody was in the bar. Could he have gone out? Was +I alone in the house, there, where the blood was still on the carpet? +But there was a slight noise from behind the stairs, and I turned to +look farther.</p> + +<p>Behind the bar-parlour and the staircase were two rooms, that projected +immediately over the river, with their frames resting on the piles. One +was sometimes used as a parlour for the reception of mates and skippers, +though such customers were rare; the other held cases, bottles and +barrels. To this latter I turned, and mounting the three steps behind +the staircase, pushed open the door; and was mightily astonished at what +I saw.</p> + +<p>There was my grandfather, kneeling, and there was one half of Bill Stagg +the purlman, standing waist-deep in the floor. For a moment it was +beyond me to guess what he was standing on, seeing that there was +nothing below but water; but presently I reasoned that the tide was +high, and he must be standing in his boat. He was handing my grandfather +some small packages, and he saw me at once and pointed. Grandfather Nat +turned sharply, and stared, and for a moment I feared he was angry. Then +he grinned, shook his finger at me, and brought it back to his lips with +a tap.</p> + +<p>"All right—my pardner," he whispered, and Bill Stagg grinned too. The +business was short enough, and in a few seconds Bill Stagg, with another +grin at me, and something like a wink, ducked below. My grandfather, +with noiseless care, put back in place a trap-door—not a square, +noticeable thing, but a clump of boards of divers lengths that fell into +place with as innocent an aspect as the rest of the floor. This done, he +rolled a barrel over the place, and dropped the contents of the packages +into a row of buckets that stood near.</p> + +<p>"What's that, Grandfather Nat?" I ventured to ask, when all was safely +accomplished.</p> + +<p>My grandfather grinned once more, and shook his head. "Go on," he said, +"I'll tell you in the bar-parlour. May as well now as let ye find out." +He blew out the light of his candle and followed me.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, wrapping my cold feet in my nightgown as I sat on his +knee. "What brought ye down, Stevy? Did we make a noise?"</p> + +<p>I shook my head. "I—I felt lonely," I said.</p> + +<p>"Lonely? Well, never mind. An' so ye came to look for me, eh? Well, now, +this is another one o' the things as you mustn't talk about, Stevy—a +little secret between ourselves, bein' pardners."</p> + +<p>"The stuff in the pail, Gran'fa' Nat?"</p> + +<p>"The stuff in the pail, an' the hole in the floor. You're sure you won't +get talkin', an' get your poor old gran'father in trouble?"</p> + +<p>Yes, I was quite sure; though I could not see as yet what there was to +cause trouble.</p> + +<p>"The stuff Bill Stagg brought, Stevy, is 'bacca. 'Bacca smashed down so +hard that a pound ain't bigger than that matchbox. An' I pitch it in the +water to swell it out again; see?"</p> + +<p>I still failed to understand the method of its arrival. "Did Bill Stagg +steal it, gran'father?" I asked.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat laughed. "No, my boy," he said; "he bought it, an' I buy +it. It comes off the Dutch boats. But it comes a deal cheaper takin' it +in that way at night-time. There's a big place I'll show you one day, +Stevy—big white house just this side o' London Bridge. There's a lot o' +gentlemen there as wants to see all the 'bacca that comes in from +aboard, an' they take a lot o' trouble over it, and charge too, fearful. +So they're very angry if parties—same as you an' me—takes any in +without lettin' 'em know, an' payin' 'em the money. An' they can get you +locked up."</p> + +<p>This seemed a very unjust world that I had come into, in which +Grandfather Nat was in danger of such terrible penalties for such +innocent transactions—buying a watch, or getting his tobacco cheap. So +I said: "I think people are very wicked in this place."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said my grandfather, "I s'pose none of us ain't over good. But +there—I've told you about it now, an' that's better than lettin' you +wonder, an' p'raps go asking other people questions. So now you know, +Stevy. We've got our little secrets between us, an' you've got to keep +'em between us, else—well, you know. Nothing about anything I buy, nor +about what I take in <i>there</i>,"—with a jerk of the thumb—"nor about +'bacca in buckets o' water."</p> + +<p>"Nor about the pocket-book, Gran'fa' Nat?"</p> + +<p>"Lord no. 'Specially not about that. You see, Stevy, pardners is +pardners, an' they must stick together, eh? We'll stick together, won't +we?"</p> + +<p>I nodded hard and reached for my grandfather's neck.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that we will. What others like to think they can; they can't prove +nothing, nor it wouldn't be their game. But we're pardners, an' I've +told you what—well, what you might ha' found out in a more awkward way. +An' it ain't so bad a thing to have a pardner to talk to, neither. I +never had one till now—not since your gran'mother died, that you never +saw, Stevy; an' that was twenty years ago. I been alone most o' my +life—not even a boy, same as it might be you. 'Cause why? When your +father was your age, an' older, I was always at sea, an' never saw him, +scarcely; same as him an' you now."</p> + +<p>And indeed Grandfather Nat and I knew each other better than my father +knew either of us. And so we sat for a few minutes talking of ourselves, +and once more of the notes in the pocket-book upstairs; till the tramp +of the three policemen on the beat stayed in the street without, and we +heard one of the three coming down the passage.</p> + +<p>He knocked sharply at the bar-parlour door, and Grandfather Nat put me +down and opened it.</p> + +<p>"Good evenin', Cap'en Kemp," said the policeman. "We knew you was up, +seein' a bit o' light." Then he leaned farther in, and in a lower voice, +said: "He ain't been exactly identified yet, but it's thought some of +our chaps knows 'im. Know if anything's been picked up?"</p> + +<p>My heart gave a jump, as probably did my grandfather's. "Picked up?" he +repeated. "Why, what? What d'ye mean?"</p> + +<p>"Well, there was nothing partic'lar on the body, an' our chaps didn't +see the knife. We thought if anybody about 'ad picked up anything, knife +or what not, you might 'ear. So there ain't nothing?"</p> + +<p>"No," Grandfather Nat answered blankly. "I've seen no knife, nor heard +of none."</p> + +<p>"All right, Cap'en Kemp—if you do hear of anything, give us the tip. +Good night!"</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat looked oddly at me, and I at him. I think we had a +feeling that our partnership was sealed. And so with no more words we +went to bed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>I had never seen either of the partners in the firm of Viney and Marr: +as I may have said already. On the day after the man was stabbed at our +side door I saw them both.</p> + +<p>That morning the tide was low, and Hole-in-the-Wall Stairs ended in a +causeway in the midst of a little flat of gravel and mud. So, since the +mud was nowhere dangerous, and there was no deep water to fall into, I +was allowed to go down the steps alone and play on the foreshore while +Grandfather Nat was busy with his morning's affairs; the two or three +watermen lying by the causeway undertaking to keep an eye on me. And +there I took my pleasure as I would, now raking in the wet pebbles, and +heaving over big stones that often pulled me on to all-fours, now +climbing the stairs to peep along the alley, and once or twice running +as far as the bar-parlour door to report myself to Grandfather Nat, and +inform him of my discoveries.</p> + +<p>The little patch of foreshore soon rendered up all its secrets, and its +area grew less by reason of the rising tide; so that I turned to other +matters of interest. Out in mid-stream a cluster of lighters lay moored, +waiting for the turn of the tide. Presently a little tug came puffing +and fussing from somewhere alongshore, and after much shoving and +hauling and shouting, scuffled off, trailing three of the lighters +behind it; from which I conjectured that their loads were needed in a +hurry. But the disturbance among the rest of the lighters was not done +with when the tug had cleared the three from their midst; for a hawser +had got foul of a rudder, and two or three men were at work with poles +and hooks, recrimination and forcible words, to get things clear. Though +the thing seemed no easy job; and it took my attention for some time.</p> + +<p>But presently I tired of it, and climbed the steps to read the bills +describing the people who had been found drowned. There were eleven of +the bills altogether, fresh and clean; and fragments of innumerable +others, older and dirtier, were round about them. Ten men and one woman +had been picked up, it would seem, and all within a week or two, as I +learned when I had spelled out the dates. I pored at these bills till I +had read them through, being horribly fascinated by the personal marks +and peculiarities so baldly set forth; the scars, the tattoo marks, the +colour of the dead eyes; the clothes and boots and the contents of the +pockets—though indeed most of the pockets would seem to have been +empty. The woman—they guessed her age at twenty-two—wore one earring; +and I entangled myself in conjectures as to what had become of the +other.</p> + +<p>I was disturbed by a shout from the causeway. I looked and saw Bill +Stagg in his boat. "Is your gran'father there?" shouted Bill Stagg. +"Tell him they've found his boat."</p> + +<p>This was joyful news, and I rushed to carry it. "They've found our boat, +Grandfather Nat," I cried. "Bill Stagg says so!"</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat was busy in the bar, and he received the information +with calmness. "Ah," he said, "I knew it 'ud turn up somewhere. Bill +Stagg there?" And he came out leisurely in his shirt sleeves, and stood +at the head of the stairs.</p> + +<p>"P'lice galley found your boat, cap'en," Bill Stagg reported. "You'll +have to go up to the float for it."</p> + +<p>"Right. Know where it was?"</p> + +<p>"Up agin Elephant stairs"—Bill Stagg pointed across the river—"turned +adrift and jammed among the lighters."</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat nodded serenely. Bill Stagg nodded in reply, shoved off +from the causeway and went about his business.</p> + +<p>The hawser was still foul among the lighters out in the stream, and a +man had pulled over in a boat to help. I had told grandfather of the +difficulty, and how long it had baffled the lightermen, and was asking +the third of a string of questions about it all, when there was a step +behind, and a voice: "Good mornin', Cap'en Nat."</p> + +<p>My grandfather turned quickly. "Mr. Viney!" he said. "Well.... Good +mornin'."</p> + +<p>I turned also, and I was not prepossessed by Mr. Viney. His face—a face +no doubt originally pale and pasty, but too long sun-burned to revert to +anything but yellow in these later years of shore-life—his yellow face +was ever stretched in an uneasy grin, a grin that might mean either +propitiation or malice, and remained the same for both. He had the +watery eyes and the goatee beard that were not uncommon among seamen, +and in total I thought he much resembled one of those same hang-dog +fellows that stood at corners and leaned on posts in the neighbourhood, +making a mysterious living out of sailors; one of them, that is to say, +in a superior suit of clothes that seemed too good for him. I suppose he +may have been an inch taller than Grandfather Nat; but in the contrast +between them he seemed very small and mean.</p> + +<p>He offered his hand with a stealthy gesture, rather as though he were +trying to pick my grandfather's waistcoat pocket; so that the old man +stared at the hand for a moment, as if to see what he would be at, +before he shook it.</p> + +<p>"Down in the world again, Cap'en Nat," said Viney, with a shrug.</p> + +<p>"Ay, I heard," answered Captain Nat. "I'm very sorry; but there—perhaps +you'll be up again soon...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"I come to ask you about something," Viney proceeded, as they walked +away toward the bar-parlour door. "Something you'll tell me, bein' an +old shipmate, if you can find out, I'm sure. Can we go into your place? +No, there's a woman there."</p> + +<p>"Only one as does washin' up an' such. I'll send her upstairs if you +like."</p> + +<p>"No, out here's best; we'll walk up and down; people get hangin' round +doors an' keyholes in a place like that. Here we can see who's near us."</p> + +<p>"What, secrets?"</p> + +<p>"Ay." Viney gave an ugly twist to his grin. "I know some o' yours—one +big un' at any rate, Cap'en Nat, don't I? So I can afford to let you +into a little 'un o' mine, seein' I can't help it. Now I'd like to know +if you've seen anything of Marr."</p> + +<p>"No,—haven't seen him for months. Bolted, they tell me, an'—well you +know better'n me, I expect."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Viney replied with emphasis. "I ought to know, but I +don't. See here now. Less than a week ago he cleared out, an' then I +filed my petition. He might ha' been gone anywhere—bolted. Might be +abroad, as would seem most likely. In plain fact he was only coming down +in these parts to lie low. See? Round about here a man can lie low an' +snug, an' safer than abroad, if he likes. And he had money with him—all +we could get together. See?" And Viney frowned and winked, and glanced +stealthily over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Ah," remarked Captain Nat, drily, "I see. An' the creditors——"</p> + +<p>"Damn the creditors! See here, Cap'en Nat Kemp. Remember a man called +Dan Webb?"</p> + +<p>Captain Nat paled a little, and tightened his lips.</p> + +<p>"Remember a man called Dan Webb?" Viney repeated, stopping in his walk +and facing the other with the uneasy grin unchanged. "A man called Dan +Webb, aboard o' the <i>Florence</i> along o' you an' me? 'Cause I do, anyhow. +That's on'y my little hint—we're good friends altogether, o' course, +Cap'en Nat; but you know what it means. Well, Marr had money with him, +as I said. He was to come to a quiet anchorage hereabout, got up like a +seaman, an' let me know at once."</p> + +<p>Captain Nat, his mouth still set tight, nodded, with a grunt.</p> + +<p>"Well, he didn't let me know. I heard nothing at all from him, an' it +struck me rather of a heap to think that p'raps he'd put the double on +me, an' cleared out in good earnest. But yesterday I got news. A blind +fiddler chap gave me some sort o' news."</p> + +<p>Captain Nat remembered the meeting at the street corner in the evening +after the funeral. "Blind George?" he queried.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that was all the name he gave me; a regular thick 'un, that blind +chap, an' a flow o' language as would curl the sheathing off a ship's +bottom. He came the evening before, it seems, but found the place shut +up—servant gal took her hook. Well now, he'd done all but see Marr down +here at the Blue Gate—he'd seen him as clear as a blind man could, he +said, with his ears: an' he came to me to give me the tip an' earn +anything I'd give him for it. It amounted to this. It was plain enough +Marr had come along here all right, an' pitched on some sort o' +quarters; but it was clear he wasn't fit to be trusted alone in such a +place at all. For the blind chap found him drunk, an' in tow with as +precious a pair o' bully-boys as Blue Gate could show. Not only drunk, +neither, but drunk with a slack jaw—drunk an' gabbling, drunk an' +talkin' business—<i>my</i> business—an' lettin' out all there was to +let,—this an' that an' t'other an' Lord knows what! It was only because +of his drunken jabber that the blind man found out who he was."</p> + +<p>"And this was the day before yesterday?" asked Captain Nat.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Captain Nat shook his head. "If he was like that the day before +yesterday," he said, "in tow with such chaps as you say,—well, whatever +he had on him ain't on him now. An' it 'ud puzzle a cleverer man than me +to find it. You may lay to that."</p> + +<p>Viney swore, and stamped a foot, and swore again. "But see," he said, +"ain't there a chance? It was in notes, all of it. Them chaps'll be +afraid to pass notes. Couldn't most of it be got back on an arrangement +to cash the rest? You can find 'em if you try, with all your chances. +Come—I'll pay fair for what I get, to you an' all."</p> + +<p>"See how you've left it," remarked Captain Nat; and Viney swore again. +"This was all done the day before yesterday. Well, you don't hear of it +yourself till yesterday, an' now you don't come to me till to-day."</p> + +<p>Viney swore once more, and grinned twice as wide in his rage. "Yes," he +said, "that was Blind George's doing. I sent him back to see what <i>he</i> +could do, an' ain't seen him since. Like as not he's standing in with +the others."</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's likely," the old man answered, "very likely. Blind George is +as tough a lot as any in Blue Gate, for all he's blind. You'd never ha' +heard of it at all if they'd ha' greased him a bit at first. I expect +they shut him out, to keep the plant to themselves; an' so he came to +you for anything he could pick up. An' now——"</p> + +<p>Viney cursed them all, and Blind George and himself together; but most +he cursed Marr; and so talking, the two men walked to and fro in the +passage.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>I could see that Viney was angry, and growing angrier still. But I gave +all my attention to the work at the fouled hawser. The man in the boat, +working patiently with a boat-hook, succeeded suddenly and without +warning, so that he almost pitched headlong into the river. The rope +came up from its entanglement with a spring and a splash, flinging some +amazing great object up with it, half out of water; and the men gave a +cry as this thing lapsed heavily to the surface.</p> + +<p>The man in the boat snatched his hook again and reached for the thing as +it floated. Somebody threw him a length of line, and with this he made +it fast to his boat, and began pulling toward the stairs, towing it. I +was puzzled to guess what the object might be. It was no part of the +lighter's rudder, for it lay in, rather than on, the water, and it +rolled and wallowed, and seemed to tug heavily, so that the boatman had +to pull his best. I wondered if he had caught some curious +water-creature—a porpoise perhaps, or a seal, such as had been flung +ashore in a winter storm at Blackwall a year before.</p> + +<p>Viney and Grandfather Nat had turned their steps toward the stairs, and +as they neared, my grandfather, lifting his eyes, saw the boatman and +his prize, and saw the watermen leaving their boats for the foreshore. +With a quick word to Viney he hastened down the stairs; and Viney +himself, less interested, followed half way down, and waited.</p> + +<p>The boatman brought up alongside the foreshore, and he and another +hauled at the tow-rope. The thing in the water came in, rolling and +bobbing, growing more hideously distinct as it came; it checked at the +mud and stones, turned over, and with another pull lay ashore, staring +and grey and streaming: a dead man.</p> + +<p>The lips were pulled tight over the teeth, and, the hair being fair, it +was the plainer to see that one side of the head and forehead was black +and open with a great wound. The limbs lay limp and tumbled, all; but +one leg fell aside with so loose a twist that plainly it was broken, and +I heard, afterwards, that it was the leg that had caused the difficulty +with the hawser.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat, down at the waterside, had no sooner caught sight of +the dead face than with wide eyes he turned to Viney, and shouted the +one word "Look!" Then he went and took another view, longer and closer; +and straightway came back in six strides to the stairs, whereon Viney +was no longer standing, but sitting, his face tallowy and his grin +faded.</p> + +<p>"See him?" cried Grandfather Nat in a hushed voice. "See him! It's Marr +himself, if I know him at all! Come—come and see!"</p> + +<p>Viney pulled his arm from the old man's grasp, turned, and crawled up a +stair or two. "No," he said faintly, "I—I won't, now—I—they'd know me +p'raps, some of them." His breath was short, and he gulped. "Good God," +he said presently, "it's him—it's him sure enough. And the clothes he +had on.... But ... Cap'en—Cap'en Nat; go an' try his pockets.—Go on. +There's a pocket-book—leather pocket-book.... Go on!"</p> + +<p>"What's the good?" asked Captain Nat, with a lift of the eyebrows, and +the same low voice. "What's the good? I can't fetch it away, with all +them witnesses. Go yourself, an' say you're his pardner; you'd have a +chance then."</p> + +<p>"No—no. I—it ain't good enough. You know 'em; I don't. I'll stand in +with you—give you a hundred if it's all there! Square 'em—you know +'em!"</p> + +<p>"If they're to be squared you can do it as well as me. There'll be an +inquest on this, an' evidence. I ain't going to be asked what I did with +the man's pocket-book. No. I don't meddle in this, Mr. Viney. If it +ain't good enough for you to get it for yourself, it ain't good enough +for me to get it for you."</p> + +<p>"Kemp, I'll go you halves—there! Get it, an' there's four hundred for +you. Eight hundred an' odd quid, in a pocket-book. Come, that's worth +it, ain't it? Eight hundred an' odd quid—in a leather pocket-book! An' +I'll go you halves."</p> + +<p>Captain Nat started at the words, and stood for a moment, staring. +"Eight hundred!" he repeated under his breath. "Eight hundred an' odd +quid. In a leather pocket-book. Ah!" And the stare persisted, and grew +thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Viney, now a little more himself. "Now you know; and it's +worth it, ain't it? Don't waste time—they're turning him over +themselves. You can manage all these chaps. Go on!"</p> + +<p>"I'll see if anything's there," answered Captain Nat. "More I can't; an' +if there's nothing that's an end of it."</p> + +<p>He went down to where the men were bending over the body, to disengage +the tow-line. He looked again at the drawn face under the gaping +forehead, and said something to the men; then he bent and patted the +soddened clothes, now here, now there; and at last felt in the +breast-pocket.</p> + +<p>Meantime Viney stood feverishly on the stairs, watching; fidgeting +nervously down a step, and then down another, and then down two more. +And so till Captain Nat returned.</p> + +<p>The old man shook his head. "Cleaned out," he reported. "Cleaned out, o' +course. Hit on the head an' cleaned out, like many a score better men +before him, down these parts. Not a thing in the pockets anywhere. +Flimped clean."</p> + +<p>Viney's eyes were wild. "Nothing at all left?" he said. "Nothing of his +own? Not a watch, nor anything?"</p> + +<p>"No, not a watch, nor anything."</p> + +<p>Viney stood staring at space for some moments, murmuring many oaths. +Then he asked suddenly, "Where's this blind chap? Where can I find Blind +George?"</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat shook his head. "He's all over the neighbourhood," he +answered. "Try the Highway; I can't give you nearer than that."</p> + +<p>And with no more counsel to help him, Mr. Viney was fain to depart. He +went grinning and cursing up the passage and so toward the bridge, +without another word or look. And when I turned to my grandfather I saw +him staring fixedly at me, lost in thought, and rubbing his hand up in +his hair behind, through the grey and out at the brown on top.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>IN THE CLUB-ROOM</h3> + + +<p>By the side of the bills stuck at the corner of Hole-in-the-Wall +Stairs—the bills that had so fascinated Stephen—a new one appeared, +with the heading "Body Found." It particularised the personal marks and +description of the unhappy Marr; his "fresh complexion," his brown hair, +his serge suit and his anklejacks. The bill might have stood on every +wall in London till it rotted, and never have given a soul who knew him +a hint to guess the body his: except Viney, who knew the fact already. +And the body might have been buried unidentified ere Viney would have +shown himself in the business, were it not for the interference of Mr. +Cripps. For industry of an unprofitable kind was a piece of Mr. Cripps's +nature; and, moreover, he was so regular a visitor at the mortuary as to +have grown an old friend of the keeper. His persistent prying among the +ghastly liers-in-state, at first on plea of identifying a friend—a +contingency likely enough, since his long-shore acquaintance was +wide—and later under the name of friendly calls, was an indulgence that +had helped him to consideration as a news-monger, and twice had raised +him to the elevation of witness at an inquest; a distinction very +gratifying to his simple vanity. He entertained high hopes of being +called witness in the case of the man stabbed at the side door of the +Hole in the Wall; and was scarce seen at Captain Nat's all the next day, +preferring to frequent the mortuary. So it happened that he saw the +other corpse that was carried thence from Hole-in-the-Wall Stairs.</p> + +<p>"There y'are," said the mortuary-keeper. "There's a fresh 'un, just in +from the river, unknown. <i>You</i> dunno 'im either, I expect."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Cripps was quite sure that he did. Curious and eager, he walked +up between the two dead men, his grimy little body being all that +divided them in this their grisly reunion. "I <i>do</i> know 'im," he +insisted, thoughtfully. "Leastways I've seen 'im somewheres, I'm sure." +The little man gazed at the dreadful head, and then at the rafters: then +shut his eyes with a squeeze that drove his nose into amazing lumps and +wrinkles; then looked at the head again, and squeezed his eyelids +together once more; and at last started back, his eyes rivalling his +very nose itself for prominence. "Why!" he gasped, "it is! It is, s'elp +me!... It's Mr. Marr, as is pardners with Mr. Viney! I on'y see 'im once +in my life, but I'll swear it's 'im!... Lord, what a phenomenal go!"</p> + +<p>And with that Mr. Cripps rushed off incontinent to spread the news +wherever anybody would listen. He told the police, he told the loafers, +he told Captain Nat and everybody in his bar; he told the watermen at +the stairs, he shouted it to the purlmen in their boats, and he wriggled +into conversation with perfect strangers to tell them too. So that it +came to pass that Viney, being called upon by the coroner's officer, was +fain to swallow his reluctance and come forward at the inquest.</p> + +<p>That was held at the Hole in the Wall twenty-four hours after the body +had been hauled ashore. The two inquests were held together, in fact, +Marr's and that of the broken-nosed man, stabbed in the passage. Two +inquests, or even three, in a day, made no uncommon event in those +parts, where perhaps a dozen might be held in a week, mostly ending with +the same doubtful verdict—Found Drowned. But here one of the inquiries +related to an open and witnessed murder, and that fact gave some touch +of added interest to the proceedings.</p> + +<p>Accordingly a drifting group hung about the doors of the Hole in the +Wall at the appointed time,—just such an idle, changing group as had +hung there all the evening after the man had been stabbed; and in the +midst stood Blind George with his fiddle, his vacant white eye rolling +upward, his mouth full of noisy ribaldry, and his fiddle playing +punctuation and chorus to all he said or sang. He turned his ear at the +sound of many footsteps leaving the door near him.</p> + +<p>"There they go!" he sang out; "there they go, twelve on 'em!" And indeed +it was the jury going off to view the bodies. "There they go, twelve +good men an' true, an' bloomin' proud they are to fancy it! Got a copper +for Blind George, gentlemen? Not a brown for pore George?... Not them; +not a brass farden among the 'ole dam good an' lawful lot.... Ahoy! +ain't Gubbins there,—the good an' lawful pork-butcher as 'ad to pay +forty bob for shovin' a lump o' fat under the scales? Tell the crowner +to mind 'is pockets!"</p> + +<p>The idlers laughed, and one flung a copper, which Blind George snatched +almost before it had fallen. "Ha! ha!" he cried, "there's a toff +somewhere near, I can tell by the sound of his money! Here goes for a +stave!" And straightway be broke into:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O they call me Hanging Johnny,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With my hang, boys, hang!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The mortuary stood at no great distance and soon the jury were back in +the club-room over the bar, and at work on the first case. The police +had had some difficulty as to identification of the stabbed man. The +difficulty arose not only because there were no relations in the +neighbourhood to feel the loss, but as much because the persons able to +make the identification kept the most distant possible terms with the +police, and withheld information from them as a matter of principle. +Albeit a reluctant ruffian was laid hold of who was induced sulkily to +admit that he had known the deceased to speak to, and lodged near him in +Blue Gate; that the deceased was called Bob Kipps; that he was quite +lately come into the neighbourhood; and that he had no particular +occupation, as far as witness knew. It needed some pressure to extract +the information that Kipps, during the short time he was in Blue Gate, +chiefly consorted with one Dan Ogle, and that witness had seen nothing +of Ogle that day, nor the day before.</p> + +<p>There was also a woman called to identify—a woman more reluctant than +the man; a woman of coarse features, dull eyes, tousled hair, and thick +voice, sluttish with rusty finery. Name, Margaret Flynn; though at the +back of the little crowd that had squeezed into the court she was called +Musky Mag. It was said there, too, that Mag, in no degree one of the +fainting sort, had nevertheless swooned when taken into the +mortuary—gone clean off with a flop; true, she explained it, afterward, +by saying that she had only expected to see one body, but found herself +brought face to face with two; and of course there was the other +there—Marr's. But it was held no such odds between one corpse and two +that an outer-and-outer like Mag should go on the faint over it. This +was reasonable enough, for the crowd. But not for a woman who had sat to +drink with three men, and in a short hour or so had fallen over the +battered corpse of one of them, in the dark of her room; who had been +forced, now, to view the rent body of a second, and in doing it to meet +once again the other, resurrected, bruised, sodden and horrible; and who +knew that all was the work of the last of the three, and that man in +peril of the rope: the man, too, of all the world, in her eye....</p> + +<p>Her evidence, given with plain anxiety and a nervous unsteadiness of the +mouth, added nothing to the tale. The man was Bob Kipps; he was a +stranger till lately—came, she had heard tell, from Shoreditch or +Hoxton; saw him last a day or two ago: knew nothing of his death beyond +what she had heard; did not know where Dan Ogle was (this very +vehemently, with much shaking of the head); had not seen him with +deceased—but here the police inspector handed the coroner a scribbled +note, and the coroner having read it and passed it back, said no more. +Musky Mag stood aside; while the inspector tore the note into small +pieces and put the pieces in his pocket.</p> + +<p>Nathaniel Kemp, landlord of the house, told the story of the murder as +he saw it, and of his chase of the murderer. Did not know deceased, and +should be unable to identify the murderer if he met him again, having +seen no more than his figure in the dark.</p> + +<p>All this time Mr. Cripps had been standing, in eager trepidation, +foremost among the little crowd, nodding and lifting his hand anxiously, +strenuous to catch the coroner's officer's attention at the dismissal of +each witness, and fearful lest his offer of evidence, made a dozen times +before the coroner came, should be forgotten. Now at last the coroner's +officer condescended to notice him, and being beckoned, Mr. Cripps +swaggered forward, his greasy widewake crushed under his arm, and his +face radiant with delighted importance. He bowed to the coroner, kissed +the book with a flourish, and glanced round the court to judge how much +of the due impression was yet visible.</p> + +<p>The coroner signified that he was ready to hear whatever Mr. Cripps knew +of this matter.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps "threw a chest," stuck an arm akimbo, and raised the other +with an oratorical sweep so large that his small voice, when it came, +seemed all the smaller. "Hi was in the bar, sir," he piped, "the bar, +sir, of this 'ouse, bein' long acquainted with an' much respectin' +Cap'en Kemp, an' in the 'abit of visitin' 'ere in the intervals of the +pursoot of my hart. Hem! Hi was in the bar, sir, when my attention was +attracted by a sudden noise be'hind, or as I may say, in the rear of, +the bar-parlour. Hi was able to distinguish, gentlemen of the jury, what +might be called, in a common way o' speakin', a bump or a bang, sich as +would be occasioned by an unknown murderer criminally shoving his +un'appy victim's 'ed agin the back-door of a public-'ouse. Hi was able +to distinguish it, sir, from a 'uman cry which follered: a 'uman cry, or +as it might be, a holler, sich as would be occasioned by the un'appy +victim 'avin' 'is 'ed shoved agin the back-door aforesaid. Genelmen, I +'esitated not a moment. I rushed forward."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps paused so long to give the statement effect that the coroner +lost patience. "Yes," he said, "you rushed forward. Do you mean you +jumped over the bar?"</p> + +<p>For a moment Mr. Cripps's countenance fell; truly it would have been +more imposing to have jumped over the bar. But he was on his oath, and +he must do his best with the facts. "No, sir," he explained, a little +tamely, "not over the bar, but reether the opposite way, so to speak, +towards the door. I rushed forward, genelmen, in a sort of rearwards +direction, through the door, an' round into the alley. Immediate as I +turned the corner, genelmen, I be'eld with my own eyes the unknown +murderer; I see 'im a-risin' from over 'is un'appy victim, an' I see as +the criminal tragedy had transpired. I—I rushed forward."</p> + +<p>The sensation he looked for being slow in coming, another rush seemed +expedient; but it fell flat as the first, and Mr. Cripps struggled on, +desperately conscious that he had nothing else to say.</p> + +<p>"I rushed forward, sir; seein' which the miscreant absconded—absconded, +no doubt with—with the proceeds; an' seein' Cap'en Kemp abscondin' +after him, I turned an' be'eld the un'appy victim—the corpse now in +custody, sir—a-layin' in the bar-parlour, 'elpless an'—an' +decimated.... I—rushed forward."</p> + +<p>It was sad to see how little the coroner was impressed; there was even +something in his face not unlike a smile; and Mr. Cripps was at the end +of his resources. But if he could have seen the face of Musky Mag, in +the little crowd behind him, he might have been consoled. She alone, of +all who heard, had followed his rhetoric with an agony of attention, +word by word: even as she had followed the earlier evidence. Now her +strained face was the easier merely by contrast with itself when Mr. +Cripps was in full cry; and a moment later it was tenser than ever.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, Mr. Cripps," the coroner said; "no doubt you were very +active, but we don't seem to have increased the evidence. You say you +saw the man who stabbed the deceased in the passage. Did you know him at +all? Ever see him before?"</p> + +<p>Here, mayhap, was some chance of an effect after all. Mr. Cripps could +scarce have distinguished the murderer from one of the posts in the +alley; but he said, with all the significance he could give the words: +"Well, sir, I won't go so far as to swear to 'is name, sir; no, sir, not +to 'is <i>name</i>, certainly not." And therewith he made his sensation at +last, bringing upon himself the twenty-four eyes of the jury all +together.</p> + +<p>The coroner looked up sharply. "Oh," he said, "you know him by sight +then? Does he belong to the neighbourhood?"</p> + +<p>Now it was not Mr. Cripps who had said he knew the murderer by sight, +but the coroner. Far be it from him, thought the aspirant for fame, to +contradict the coroner, and so baulk himself of the credit thus thrust +upon him. So he answered with the same cautious significance and a +succession of portentous nods. "Your judgment, sir, is correct; quite +correct."</p> + +<p>"Come then, this is important. You would be able to recognise him again, +of course?"</p> + +<p>There was no retreat—Mr. Cripps was in for it. It was an unforeseen +consequence of the quibble, but since plunge he must he plunged neck and +crop. "I'd know 'im anywhere," he said triumphantly.</p> + +<p>There was an odd sound in the crowd behind, and a fall. Captain Nat +strode across, and the crowd wondered; for Musky Mag had fainted again.</p> + +<p>The landlord lifted her, and carried her to the stairs. When the door +had closed behind them, and the coroner's officer had shouted the little +crowd into silence, the inquest took a short course to its end.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps, in the height of his consequence, began to feel serious +misgivings as to the issue of his stumble beyond the verities; and the +coroner's next words were a relief.</p> + +<p>"I think that will be enough, Mr. Cripps," the coroner said; "no doubt +the police will be glad of your assistance." And with that he gave the +jury the little summing up that the case needed. There was the medical +evidence, and the evidence of the stabbing, and that evidence pointed to +an unmistakable conclusion. Nobody was in custody, nor had the murderer +been positively identified, and such evidence as there was in this +respect was for the consideration of the police. He thought the jury +would have no difficulty in arriving at a verdict. The jury had none; +and the verdict was Murder by some Person or Persons unknown.</p> + +<p>The other inquest gave even less trouble. Mr. Henry Viney, shipowner, +had seen the body, and identified it as that of his partner Lewis Marr. +Marr had suddenly disappeared a week ago, and an examination of his +accounts showed serious defalcations, in consequence of which witness +had filed his petition in bankruptcy. Whether or not Marr had taken +money with him witness could not say, as deceased had entire charge of +the accounts; but it seemed more likely that embezzlement had been going +on for some time past, and Marr had fled when detection could no longer +be averted. This might account for his dressing, and presumably seeking +work, as a sailor.</p> + +<p>The divisional surgeon of police had examined the body, and found a +large wound on the head, fully sufficient to have caused death, +inflicted either by some heavy, blunt instrument, or by a fall from a +height on a hard substance. One thigh was fractured, and there were +other wounds and contusions, but these, as well as the broken thigh, +were clearly caused after death. The blow on the head might have been +caused by an accident on the riverside, or it might have been inflicted +wilfully by an assailant.</p> + +<p>Then there was the evidence of the man who had found the body foul of a +rudder and a hawser, and of the police who had found nothing on the +body. And there was no more evidence at all. The coroner having +sympathised deeply with Mr. Viney, gave the jury the proper lead, and +the jury with perfect propriety returned the open verdict that the +doctor's evidence and the coroner's lead suggested. The case, except for +the circumstances of Marr's flight, was like a hundred others inquired +upon thereabout in the course of a few weeks, and in an hour it was in a +fair way to be forgotten, even by the little crowd that clumped +downstairs to try both cases all over again in the bar of the Hole in +the Wall.</p> + +<p>To the coroner, the jury, and the little crowd, these were two inquests +with nothing to connect them but the accident of time and the +convenience of the Hole in the Wall club-room. But Blind George, +standing in the street with his fiddle, and getting the news from the +club-room in scraps between song and patter, knew more and guessed +better.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>I found it a busy morning at the Hole in the Wall, that of the two +inquests. I perceived that, by some occult understanding, business in +one department was suspended; the pale man idled without, and nobody +came into the little compartment to exhibit valuables. Grandfather Nat +had a deal to do in making ready the club-room over the bar, and then in +attending the inquests. And it turned out that Mrs. Grimes had settled +on this day in particular to perform a vast number of extra feats of +housewifery in the upper floors. Notwithstanding the disturbance of this +additional work, Mrs. Grimes was most amazingly amiable, even to me; but +she was so persistent in requiring, first the key of one place, then of +another, next of a chest of drawers, and again of a cupboard, that at +last my grandfather distractedly gave her the whole bunch, and told her +not to bother him any more. The bunch held all she could require—indeed +I think it comprised every key my grandfather had, except that of his +cash-box—and she went away with it amiable still, notwithstanding the +hastiness of his expressions; so that I was amazed to find Mrs. Grimes +so meek, and wondered vaguely and childishly if it were because she felt +ill, and expected to die shortly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps was in the bar as soon as the doors were open, in a wonderful +state of effervescence. He was to make a great figure at the inquest, it +appeared, and the pride and glory of it kept him nervously on the strut, +till the coroner came, and Mr. Cripps mounted to the club-room with the +jury. He was got up for his part as completely as circumstances would +allow; grease was in his hair, his hat stood at an angle, and his face +exhibited an unfamiliar polish, occasioned by a towel.</p> + +<p>For my own part, I sat in the bar-parlour and amused myself as I might. +Blind George was singing in the street, and now and again I could hear +the guffaw that signalised some sally that had touched his audience. +Above, things were quiet enough for some while, and then my grandfather +came heavily downstairs carrying a woman who had fainted. I had not +noticed the woman among the people who went up, but now Grandfather Nat +brought her through the bar, and into the parlour; and as she lay on the +floor just as the stabbed man had lain, I recognised her face also; for +she was the coarse-faced woman who had stopped my grandfather near Blue +Gate with vague and timid questions, when we were on our way from the +London Dock.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat roared up the little staircase for Mrs. Grimes, and +presently she descended, amiable still; till she saw the coarse woman, +and was asked to help her. She looked on the woman with something of +surprise and something of confusion; but carried it off at once with a +toss of the head, a high phrase or so—"likes of 'er—respectable +woman"—and a quick retreat upstairs.</p> + +<p>I believe my grandfather would have brought her down again by main +force, but the woman on the floor stirred, and began scrambling up, even +before she knew where she was. She held the shelf, and looked dully +about her, with a hoarse "Beg pardon, sir, beg pardon." Then she went +across toward the door, which stood ajar, stared stupidly, with a look +of some dawning alarm, and said again, "Beg pardon, sir—I bin queer"; +and with that was gone into the passage.</p> + +<p>It was not long after her departure ere the business above was over, and +the people came tramping and talking down into the bar, filling it +close, and giving Joe the potman all the work he could do. The coroner +came down by our private stairs into the bar-parlour, ushered with great +respect by my grandfather; and at his heels, taking occasion by a +desperately extemporised conversation with Grandfather Nat, came Mr. +Cripps.</p> + +<p>There had never been an inquest at the Hole in the Wall before, and my +grandfather had been at some exercise of mind as to the proper +entertainment of the coroner. He had decided, after consideration, that +the gentleman could scarce be offended at the offer of a little lunch, +and to that end he had made ready with a cold fowl and a bottle of +claret, which Mrs. Grimes would presently be putting on the table. The +coroner was not offended, but he would take no lunch; he was very +pleasantly obliged by the invitation, but his lunch had been already +ordered at some distance; and so he shook hands with Grandfather Nat and +went his way. A circumstance that had no small effect on my history.</p> + +<p>For it seemed to Mr. Cripps, who saw the coroner go, that by dexterous +management the vacant place at our dinner-table (for what the coroner +would call lunch we called dinner) might fall to himself. It had +happened once or twice before, on special occasions, that he had been +allowed to share a meal with Captain Nat, and now that he was brushed +and oiled for company, and had publicly distinguished himself at an +inquest, he was persuaded that the occasion was special beyond +precedent, and he set about to improve it with an assiduity and an +innocent cunning that were very transparent indeed. So he was +affectionately admiring with me, deferentially loquacious with my +grandfather, and very friendly with Joe the potman and Mrs. Grimes. It +was a busy morning, he observed, and he would be glad to do anything to +help.</p> + +<p>At that time the houses on Wapping Wall were not encumbered with +dust-bins, since the river was found a more convenient receptacle for +rubbish. Slops were flung out of a back window, and kitchen refuse went +the same way, or was taken to the river stairs and turned out, either +into the water or on the foreshore, as the tide might chance. Mrs. +Grimes carried about with her in her dustings and sweepings an old +coal-scuttle, which held hearth-bushes, shovels, ashes, cinders, +potato-peelings, and the like; and at the end of her work, when the +brushes and shovels had been put away, she carried the coal-scuttle, +sometimes to the nearest window, but more often to the river stairs, and +flung what remained into the Thames.</p> + +<p>Just as Mr. Cripps was at his busiest and politest, Mrs. Grimes appeared +with the old coal-scuttle, piled uncommonly high with ashes and dust and +half-burned pipe-lights. She set it down by the door, gave my +grandfather his keys, and turned to prepare the table. Instantly Mr. +Cripps, watchful in service, pounced on the scuttle.</p> + +<p>"I'll pitch this 'ere away for you, mum," he said, "while you're seein' +to Cap'en Kemp's dinner"; and straightway started for the stairs.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grimes's back was turned at the moment, and this gave Mr. Cripps +the start of a yard or two; but she flung round and after him like a +maniac; so that both Grandfather Nat and I stared in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Give me that scuttle!" she cried, snatching at the hinder handle. "Mind +your own business, an' leave my things alone!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps was amazed also, and he stuttered, "I—I—I—on'y—on'y——"</p> + +<p>"Drop it, you fool!" the woman hissed, so suddenly savage that Mr. +Cripps did drop it, with a start that sent him backward against a post; +and the consequence was appalling.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps was carrying the coal-scuttle by its top handle, and Mrs. +Grimes, reaching after it, had seized that at the back; so that when Mr. +Cripps let go, everything in the scuttle shot out on the paving-stones; +first, of course, the ashes and the pipe-lights; then on the top of +them, crowning the heap—Grandfather Nat's cash-box!</p> + +<p>I suppose my grandfather must have recovered from his astonishment +first, for the next thing I remember is that he had Mrs. Grimes back in +the bar-parlour, held fast by the arm, while he carried his cash-box in +the disengaged hand. Mr. Cripps followed, bewildered but curious; and my +grandfather, pushing his prisoner into a far corner, turned and locked +the door.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grimes, who had been crimson, was now white; but more, it seemed to +me, with fury than with fear. My grandfather took the key from his +watchguard and opened the box, holding it where the contents were +visible to none but himself. He gave no more than a quick glance within, +and re-locked it; from which I judged—and judged aright—that the +pocket-book was safe.</p> + +<p>"There's witnesses enough here," said my grandfather,—for Joe the +potman was now staring in from the bar—"to give you a good dose o' +gaol, mum. 'Stead o' which I pay your full week's money and send you +packin'!" He pulled out some silver from his pocket. "Grateful or not to +me don't matter, but I hope you'll be honest where you go next, for your +own sake."</p> + +<p>"Grateful! Honest!" Mrs. Grimes gasped, shaking with passion. "'Ear 'im +talk! Honest! Take me to the station now, and bring that box an' show +'em inside it! Go on!"</p> + +<p>I felt more than a little alarmed at this challenge, having regard to +the history of the pocket-book; and I remembered the night when we first +examined it, the creaking door, and the soft sounds on the stairs. But +Grandfather Nat was wholly undisturbed; he counted over the money +calmly, and pushed it across the little table.</p> + +<p>"There it is, mum," he said, "an' there's your bonnet an' shawl in the +corner. There's nothing else o' yours in the place, I believe, so +there's no need for you to go out o' my sight till you go out of it +altogether. That you'd better do quick. I'll lay the dinner myself."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grimes swept up the money and began fixing her bonnet on her head +and tying the strings under her chin, with savage jerks and a great play +of elbow; her lips screwing nervously, and her eyes blazing with spite.</p> + +<p>"Ho yus!" she broke out—though her rage was choking her—as she +snatched her shawl. "Ho yus! A nice pusson, Cap'en Nat Kemp, to talk +about honesty an' gratefulness—a nice pusson! A nice teacher for young +master 'opeful, I must say, an' 'opin' 'e'll do ye credit! It ain't the +last you'll see o' me, Captain Nat Kemp!... Get out o' my way, you old +lickspittle!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps got out of it with something like a bound, and Mrs. Grimes +was gone with a flounce and a slam of the door.</p> + +<p>Scold as she was, and furious as she was, I was conscious that something +in my grandfather's scowl had kept her speech within bounds, and +shortened her clamour; for few cared to face Captain Nat's anger. But +with the slam of the door the scowl broke, and he laughed.</p> + +<p>"Come," he said, "that's well over, an' I owe you a turn, Mr. Cripps, +though you weren't intending it. Stop an' have a bit of dinner. And if +you'd like something on account to buy the board for the sign—or say +two boards if you like—we'll see about it after dinner."</p> + +<p>It will be perceived that Grandfather Nat had no reason to regret the +keeping of his cash-box key on his watchguard. For had it been with the +rest, in Mrs. Grimes's hands, she need never have troubled to smuggle +out the box among the ashes, since the pocket-book was no such awkward +article, and would have gone in her pocket. Mrs. Grimes had taken her +best chance and failed. The disorders caused by the inquests had left +her unobserved, the keys were in her hands, and the cash-box was left in +the cupboard upstairs; but the sedulous Mr. Cripps had been her +destruction.</p> + +<p>As for that artist, he attained his dinner, and a few shillings under +the name of advance; and so was well pleased with his morning's work.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>A policeman brought my grandfather a bill, which was stuck against the +bar window with gelatines; and just such another bill was posted on the +wall at the head of Hole-in-the-Wall Stairs, above the smaller bills +that advertised the found bodies. This new bill was six times the size +of those below; it was headed "Murder" in grim black capitals, and it +set forth an offer of fifty pounds reward for information which should +lead to the apprehension of the murderer of Robert Kipps.</p> + +<p>The offer gave Grandfather Nat occasion for much solemn banter of Mr. +Cripps; banter which seemed to cause Mr. Cripps a curious uneasiness, +and time and again stopped his eloquence in full flood. He had been at +the pains to cut from newspapers such reports of the inquest as were +printed; and though they sadly disappointed him by their brevity, and +all but two personally affronted him by disregarding his evidence and +himself altogether, still he made great play with the exceptional two, +in the bar. But he was quick to drop the subject when Captain Nat urged +him in pursuit of the reward.</p> + +<p>"Come," my grandfather would say, "you're neglecting your fortune, you +know. There's fifty pound waitin' for you to pick up, if you'd only go +an' collar that murderer. An' you'd know him anywhere." Whereupon Mr.</p> + +<p>Cripps would look a little frightened, and subside.</p> + +<p>I did not learn till later how the little painter's vanity had pushed +him over bounds at the inquest, so far that he committed himself to an +absolute recognition of the murderer. The fact alarmed him not a little, +on his return to calmness, and my grandfather, who understood his +indiscretion as well as himself, and enjoyed its consequences, in his +own grim way, amused himself at one vacant moment and another by setting +Mr. Cripps's alarm astir again.</p> + +<p>"You're throwing away your luck," he would say, perhaps, "seein' you +know him so well by sight. If you're too well-off to bother about fifty +pound, give some of us poor 'uns a run for it, an' put us on to him. I +wish I'd been able to see him so clear." For in truth Grandfather Nat +well knew that nobody had had so near a chance of seeing the murderer's +face as himself; and that Mr. Cripps, at the top of the passage—perhaps +even round the corner—had no chance at all.</p> + +<p>It was because of Mr. Cripps's indiscretion, in fact—this I learned +later still—that the police were put off the track of the real +criminal. For after due reflection on the direful complications +whereinto his lapse promised to fling him, that distinguished witness, +as I have already hinted, fell into a sad funk. So, though he needs must +hold to the tale that he knew the man by sight, and could recognise him +again, he resolved that come what might, he would identify nobody, and +so keep clear of further entanglements. Now the police suspicions fell +shrewdly on Dan Ogle, a notorious ruffian of the neighbourhood. He had +been much in company of the murdered man of late, and now was suddenly +gone from his accustomed haunts. Moreover, there was the plain agitation +of the woman he consorted with, Musky Mag, at the inquest: she had +fainted, indeed, when Mr. Cripps had been so positive about identifying +the murderer. These things were nothing of evidence, it was true; for +that they must depend on the witness who saw the fellow's face, knew him +by sight, and could identify him. But when they came to this witness +with their inquiries and suggestions the thing went overboard at a +breath. Was the assassin a tall man? Not at all—rather short, in fact. +Was he a heavy-framed, bony fellow? On the contrary, he was fat rather +than bony. Did Mr. Cripps ever happen to have seen a man called Dan +Ogle, and was this man at all like him? Mr. Cripps had been familiar +with Dan Ogle's appearance from his youth up (this was true, for the +painter's acquaintance was wide and diverse) but the man who killed Bob +Kipps was as unlike him as it was possible for any creature on two legs +to be. Then, would Mr. Cripps, if the thing came to trial, swear that +the man he saw was not Dan Ogle? Mr. Cripps was most fervently and +desperately ready and anxious to swear that it was not, and could not by +any possibility be Dan Ogle, or anybody like him.</p> + +<p>This brought the police inquiries to a fault; even had their suspicions +been stronger and better supported, it would have been useless to arrest +Dan Ogle, supposing they could find him; for this, the sole possible +witness to identity, would swear him innocent. So they turned their +inquiries to fresh quarters, looking among the waterside population +across the river—since it was plain that the murderer had rowed +over—for recent immigrants from Wapping. For a little while Mr. Cripps +was vexed and disquieted with invitations to go with a plain-clothes +policeman and "take a quiet look" at some doubtful characters; but of +course with no result, beyond the welcome one of an occasional free +drink ordered as an excuse for waiting at bars and tavern-corners; and +in time these attentions ceased, for the police were reduced to waiting +for evidence to turn up; and Mr. Cripps breathed freely once more. While +Dan Ogle remained undisturbed, and justice was balked for a while; for +it turned out in the end that when the police suspected Dan Ogle they +were right, and when they went to other conjectures they were wrong.</p> + +<p>All this was ahead of my knowledge at the moment, however, as, indeed, +it is somewhat ahead of my story; and for the while I did no more than +wonder to see Mr. Cripps abashed at an encouragement to earn fifty +pounds; for he seemed not a penny richer than before, and still +impetrated odd coppers on account of the signboard of promise.</p> + +<p>Once or twice we saw Mr. Viney, and on each occasion he borrowed money +off Grandfather Nat. The police were about the house a good deal at this +time, because of the murder, or I think he might have come oftener. The +first time he came I heard him telling my grandfather that he had got +hold of Blind George, that Blind George had told him a good deal about +the missing money, and that with his help he hoped for a chance of +saving some of it. He added, mysteriously, that it had been "nearer +hereabouts than you might think, at one time"; a piece of news that my +grandfather received with a proper appearance of surprise. But was it +safe to confide in Blind George? Viney swore for answer, and said that +the rascal had stipulated for such a handsome share that it would pay +him to play square.</p> + +<p>On the last of these visits I again overheard some scraps of their talk, +and this time it was angrier. I judged that Viney wanted more money than +my grandfather was disposed to give him. They were together in the back +room where the boxes and bottles were—the room into which I had seen +Bill Stagg's head and shoulders thrust by way of the trap-door. My +grandfather's voice was low, and from time to time he seemed to be +begging Viney to lower his; so that I wondered to find Grandfather Nat +so mild, since in the bar he never twice told a man to lower his voice, +but if once were not enough, flung him into the street. And withal Viney +paid no heed, but talked as he would, so that I could catch his phrases +again and again.</p> + +<p>"Let them hush as is afraid—I ain't," he said. And again: "O, am I? Not +me.... It's little enough for me, if it does; not the rope, anyway." And +later, "Yes, the rope, Cap'en Kemp, as you know well enough; the rope at +Newgate Gaol.... Dan Webb, aboard o' the <i>Florence</i>.... The <i>Florence</i> +that was piled up on the Little Dingoes in broad day.... As you was +ordered o' course, but that don't matter.... That's what I want now, an' +no less. Think it lucky I offer to pay back when I get—... Well, be +sensible—... I'm friendly enough.... Very well."</p> + +<p>Presently my grandfather, blacker than common about brow and eyes, but a +shade paler in the cheek, came into the bar-parlour and opened the trade +cash-box—not the one that Mrs. Grimes had hidden among the cinders, but +a smaller one used for gold and silver. He counted out a number of +sovereigns—twenty, I believe—put the box away, and returned to the +back room. And in a few minutes, with little more talk, Mr. Viney was +gone.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat came into the bar-parlour again, and his face cleared +when he saw me, as it always would, no matter how he had been ruffled. +He stood looking in my face for a little, but with the expression of one +whose mind is engaged elsewhere. Then he rubbed his hand on my head, and +said abstractedly, and rather to himself, I fancied, than to me: "Never +mind, Stevy; we got it back beforehand, forty times over." A remark that +I thought over afterward, in bed, with the reflection that forty times +twenty was eight hundred.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Viney's talk in the back room brought most oddly into my mind, +in a way hard to account for, the first question I put to my grandfather +after my arrival at the Hole in the Wall: "Did you ever kill a man, +Grandfather Nat?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>The repeated multiplication of twenty by forty sent me to sleep that +night, and I woke with that arithmetical exercise still running in my +head. A candle was alight in the room—ours was one of several houses in +Wapping Wall without gas—and I peeped sleepily over the bed-clothes. +Grandfather Nat was sitting with the cash-box on his knees, and the +pocket-book open in his hand. He may just have been counting the notes +over again, or not; but now he was staring moodily at the photograph +that lay with them. Once or twice he turned his eyes aside, and then +back again to the picture, as though searching his memory for some old +face; then I thought he would toss it away as something valueless; but +when his glance fell on the fireless grate he returned the card to its +place and locked the box.</p> + +<p>When the cash-box was put away in the little cupboard at his bed-head, +he came across and looked down at me. At first I shut my eyes, but +peeped. I found him looking on me with a troubled and thoughtful face; +so that presently I sat up with a jump and asked him what he was +thinking about.</p> + +<p>"Fox's sleep, Stevy?" he said, with his hand under my chin. "Well, boy, +I was thinking about you. I was thinking it's a good job your father's +coming home soon, Stevy; though I don't like parting with you."</p> + +<p>Parting with me? I did not understand. Wouldn't father be going away +again soon?</p> + +<p>"Well, I dunno, Stevy, I dunno. I've been thinking a lot just lately, +that's a fact. This place is good enough for me, but it ain't a good +place to bring up a boy like you in; not to make him the man I want you +to be, Stevy. Somehow it didn't strike me that way at first, though it +ought to ha' done. It ought to ha' done, seein' it struck strangers—an' +not particular moral strangers at that."</p> + +<p>He was thinking of Blind George and Mrs. Grimes. Though at the moment I +wondered if his talk with Mr. Viney had set him doubting.</p> + +<p>"No, Stevy," he resumed, "it ain't giving you a proper chance, keeping +you here. You can't get lavender water out o' the bilge, an' this part's +the bilge of all London. I want you to be a better man than me, Stevy."</p> + +<p>I could not imagine anybody being a better man than Grandfather Nat, and +the prospect of leaving him oppressed me dismally. And where was I to +go? I remembered the terrible group of aunts at my mother's funeral, and +a shadowy fear that I might be transferred to one of those virtuous +females—perhaps to Aunt Martha—put a weight on my heart. "Don't send +me away, Gran'fa Nat!" I pleaded, with something pulling at the corners +of my mouth; "I haven't been a bad boy yet, have I?"</p> + +<p>He caught me up and sat me on his fore-arm, so that my face almost +touched his, and I could see my little white reflection in his eyes. +"You're the best boy in England, Stevy," he said, and kissed me +affectionately. "The best boy in the world. An' I wouldn't let go o' you +for a minute but for your own good. But see now, Stevy, see; as to goin' +away, now. You'll have to go to school, my boy, won't you? An' the best +school we can manage—a gentleman's school; boardin' school, you know. +Well, that'll mean goin' away, won't it? An' then it wouldn't do for you +to go to a school like that, not from here, you know—which you'll +understand when you get there, among the others. My boy—my boy an' your +father's—has got to be as good a gentleman as any of 'em, an' not +looked down on because o' comin' from a Wapping public like this, an' +sent by a rough old chap like me. See?"</p> + +<p>I thought very hard over this view of things, which was difficult to +understand. Who should look down on me because of Grandfather Nat, of +whom I was so fond and so proud? Grandfather Nat, who had sailed ships +all over the world, had seen storms and icebergs and wrecks, and who was +treated with so much deference by everybody who came to the Hole in the +Wall? Then I thought again of the aunts at the funeral, and remembered +how they had tilted their chins at him; and I wondered, with +forebodings, if people at a boarding school were like those aunts.</p> + +<p>"So I've been thinking, Stevy, I've been thinking," my grandfather went +on, after a pause. "Now, there's the wharf on the Cop. The work's +gettin' more, and Grimes is gettin' older. But you don't know about the +wharf. Grimes is the man that manages there for me; he's Mrs. Grimes's +brother-in-law, an' when his brother died he recommended the widder to +me, an' that's how she came: an' now she's gone; but that's neither here +nor there. Years ago Grimes himself an' a boy was enough for all the +work there was; now there's three men reg'lar, an' work for more. Most +o' the lime comes off the barges there for the new gas-works, an' more +every week. Now there's business there, an' a respectable business—too +much for Grimes. An' if your father'll take on a shore job—an' it's a +hard life, the sea—here it is. He can have a share—have the lot if he +likes—for your sake, Stevy; an' it'll build up into a good thing. +Grimes'll be all right—we can always find a job for him. An' you can go +an' live with your father somewhere respectable an' convenient; not such +a place as Wapping, an' not such people. An' you can go to school from +there, like any other young gentleman. We'll see about it when your +father comes home."</p> + +<p>"But shan't I ever see you, Gran'fa' Nat?"</p> + +<p>"See me, my boy? Ay, that you will—if you don't grow too proud—that +you will, an' great times we'll have, you an' your father an' me, all +ashore together, in the holidays, won't we? An' I'll take care of your +own little fortune—the notes—till you're old enough to have it. I've +been thinking about that, too." Here he stood me on my bed and playfully +pushed me back and forward by the shoulders. "I've been thinking about +that, an' if it was lyin' loose in the street I'd be puzzled clean to +say who'd really lost it, what with one thing an' another. But it +<i>ain't</i> in the street, an' it's yours, with no puzzle about it. But +there—lie down, Stevy, an' go to sleep. Your old grandfather's holdin' +forth worse'n a parson, eh? Comes o' bein' a lonely man an' havin' +nobody to talk to, except myself, till you come. Lie down an' don't +bother yourself. We must wait till your father comes home. We'll keep +watch for the <i>Juno</i> in the List,—she ought to ha' been reported at +Barbadoes before this. An' we must run down to Blackwall, too, an' see +if there's any letters from him. So go to sleep now, Stevy—we'll settle +it all—we'll settle it all when your father comes home!"</p> + +<p>So I lay and dozed, with words to send me to sleep instead of figures: +till they made a tune and seemed to dance to it. "When father comes +home: when father comes home: we'll settle it all, when father comes +home!" And presently, in some unaccountable way, Mr. Cripps came into +the dance with his "Up to their r'yals, up to their r'yals: the wessels +is deep in, up to their r'yals!" and so I fell asleep wholly.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>In the morning I was astir early, and watching the boats and the +shipping from the bedroom window ere my grandfather had ceased his +alarming snore. It was half an hour later, and Grandfather Nat was busy +with his razor on the upper lip that my cheeks so well remembered, when +we heard Joe the potman at the street door. Whereat I took the keys and +ran down to let him in; a feat which I accomplished by aid of a pair of +steps, much tugging at heavy bolts, and a supreme wrench at the big key.</p> + +<p>Joe brought <i>Lloyd's List</i> in with him every morning from the early +newsagent's in Cable Street. I took the familiar journal at once, and +dived into the midst of its quaint narrow columns, crowded with italics, +in hope of news from Barbadoes. For I wished to find for myself, and run +upstairs, with a child's importance, to tell Grandfather Nat. But there +was no news from Barbadoes—that is, there was no news of my father's +ship. The name Barbadoes stood boldly enough, with reports below it, of +arrivals and sailings, and one of an empty boat washed ashore; but that +was all. So I sat where I was, content to wait, and to tell Grandfather +Nat presently, offhand from over my paper, like a politician in the bar, +that there was no news. Thus, cutting the leaves with a table-knife, my +mind on my father's voyage, it occurred to me that I could not spell La +Guaira, the name of the port his ship was last reported from; and I +turned the paper to look for it. The name was there, with only one +message attached, and while I was slowly conning the letters over for +the third time, I was suddenly aware of a familiar word beneath—the +name of the <i>Juno</i> herself. And this was the notice that I read:</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">La Guaira</span>, Sep. 1.</p> + +<p>The <i>Juno</i> (brig) of London, Beecher, from this for Barbadoes, +foundered N of Margarita. Total loss. All crew saved except +first mate. Master and crew landed Margarita.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>I cannot remember how I reached Grandfather Nat. I must have climbed the +stairs, and I fancy I ran into him on the landing; but I only remember +his grim face, oddly grey under the eyes, as he sat on his bed and took +the paper in his hand. I do not know even what I said, and I doubt if I +knew then; the only words present to my mind were "all crew saved except +first mate"; and very likely that was what I said.</p> + +<p>My grandfather drew me between his knees, and I stood with his arm about +me and his bowed head against my cheek. I noticed bemusedly that with +his hair fresh-brushed the line between the grey and the brown at the +back was more distinct than common; and when there was a sudden clatter +in the bar below I wondered if Joe had smashed something, or if it were +only a tumble of the pewters. So we were for a little; and then +Grandfather Nat stood up with a sound between a sigh and a gulp, looking +strangely askant at me, as though it surprised him to find I was not +crying. For my part I was dimly perplexed to see that neither was he; +though the grey was still under his eyes, and his face seemed pinched +and older. "Come, Stevy," he said, and his voice was like a groan; +"we'll have the house shut again."</p> + +<p>I cannot remember that he spoke to me any more for an hour, except to +ask if I would eat any breakfast, which I did with no great loss of +appetite; though indeed I was trying very hard to think, hindered by an +odd vacancy of mind that made a little machine of me.</p> + +<p>Breakfast done, my grandfather sent Joe for a cab to take us to +Blackwall. I was a little surprised at the unaccustomed conveyance, and +rather pleased. When we were ready to go, we found Mr. Cripps and two +other regular frequenters of the bar waiting outside. I think Mr. Cripps +meant to have come forward with some prepared condolence; but he stopped +short when he saw my grandfather's face, and stood back with the others. +The four-wheeler was a wretched vehicle, reeking of strong tobacco and +stale drink; for half the employment of such cabs as the neighbourhood +possessed was to carry drunken sailors, flush of money, who took bottles +and pipes with them everywhere.</p> + +<p>Whether it was the jolting of the cab—Wapping streets were paved with +cobbles—that shook my faculties into place; whether it was the +association of the cab and the journey to Blackwall that reminded me of +my mother's funeral; or whether it was the mere lapse of a little time, +I cannot tell. But as we went, the meaning of the morning's news grew on +me, and I realised that my father was actually dead, drowned in the sea, +and that I was wholly an orphan; and it struck me with a sense of +self-reproach that the fact afflicted me no more than it did. When my +mother and my little brother had died I had cried myself sodden and +faint; but now, heavy of heart as I was, I felt curiously ashamed that +Grandfather Nat should see me tearless. True, I had seen very little of +my father, but when he was at home he was always as kind to me as +Grandfather Nat himself, and led me about with him everywhere; and last +voyage he had brought me a little boomerang, and only laughed when I +hove it through a window that cost him three shillings. Thus I pondered +blinkingly in the cab; and I set down my calmness to the reflection that +my mother would have him always with her now, and be all the happier in +heaven for it; for she always cried when he went to sea.</p> + +<p>So at last we came in sight of the old quay, and had to wait till the +bridge should swing behind a sea-beaten ship, with her bulwarks patched +with white plank, and the salt crust thick on her spars. I could see +across the lock the three little front windows of our house, shut close +and dumb; and I could hear the quick chanty from the quay, where the +capstan turned:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O, I served my time on the Black Ball Line,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hurrah for the Black Ball Line!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the South Sea north to the sixty-nine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hurrah for the Black Ball Line!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And somehow with that I cried at last.</p> + +<p>The ship passed in, the bridge shut, and the foul old cab rattled till +it stopped before the well-remembered door. The house had been closed +since my mother was buried, Grandfather Nat paying the rent and keeping +the key on my father's behalf; and now the door opened with a protesting +creak and a shudder, and the air within was close and musty.</p> + +<p>There were two letters on the mat, where they had fallen from the +letter-flap, and both were from my father, as was plain from the +writing. We carried them into the little parlour, where last we had sat +with the funeral party, and my grandfather lifted the blind and flung +open the window. Then he sat and put one letter on each knee.</p> + +<p>"Stevy," he said, and again his voice was like a groan; "look at them +postmarks. Ain't one Belize?"</p> + +<p>Yes, one was Belize, the other La Guaira; and both for my mother.</p> + +<p>"Ah, one's been lyin' here; the other must ha' come yesterday, by the +same mail as brought the news." He took the two letters again, turned +them over and over, and shook his head. Then he replaced them on his +knees and rested his fists on his thighs, just above where they lay.</p> + +<p>"I don't know as we ought to open 'em, Stevy," he said wearily. "I +dunno, Stevy, I dunno."</p> + +<p>He turned each over once more, and shut his fists again. "I dunno, I +dunno.... Man an' wife, between 'emselves.... Wouldn't do it, living.... +Stevy boy, we'll take 'em home an' burn 'em."</p> + +<p>But to me the suggestion seemed incomprehensible—even shocking. I could +see no reason for burning my father's last message home. "Perhaps +there's a little letter for me, Gran'father Nat," I said. "He used to +put one in sometimes. Can't we look? And mother used to read me her +letters too."</p> + +<p>My grandfather sat back and rubbed his hand up through his hair behind, +as he would often do when in perplexity. At last he said, "Well, well, +it's hard to tell. We should never know what we'd burnt, if we did.... +We'll look, Stevy.... An' I'll read no further than I need. Come, the +Belize letter's first.... Send I ain't doin' wrong, that's all."</p> + +<p>He tore open the cover and pulled out the sheets of flimsy foreign +note-paper, holding them to the light almost at arm's length, as +long-sighted men do. And as he read, slowly as always, with a leathery +forefinger following the line, the grey under the old man's eyes grew +wet at last, and wetter. What the letter said is no matter here. There +was talk of me in it, and talk of my little brother—or sister, as it +might have been for all my father could know. And again there was the +same talk in the second letter—the one from La Guaira. But in this +latter another letter was enclosed, larger than that for my mother, +which was in fact uncommonly short. And here, where the dead spoke to +the dead no more, but to the living, was matter that disturbed my +grandfather more than all the rest.</p> + +<p>The enclosure was not for me, as I had hoped, but for Grandfather Nat +himself; and it was not a simple loose sheet folded in with the rest, +but a letter in its own smaller envelope, close shut down, with the +words "Capn. Kemp" on the face. My grandfather read the first few lines +with increasing agitation, and then called me to the window.</p> + +<p>"See here, Stevy," he said, "it's wrote small, to get it in, an' I'm +slow with it. Read it out quick as you can."</p> + +<p>And so I read the letter, which I keep still, worn at the folds and +corners by the old man's pocket, where he carried it afterward.</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear Father</span>,—Just a few lines private hoping they find you +well. This is my hardest trip yet, and the queerest, and I +write in case anything happens and I don't see you again. This +is for yourself, you understand, and I have made it all +cheerful to the Mrs., specially as she is still off her health, +no doubt. Father, the <i>Juno</i> was not meant to come home this +trip, and if ever she rounds Blackwall Point again it will be +in spite of the skipper. He had his first try long enough back, +on the voyage out, and it was then she was meant to go; for she +was worse found than ever I saw a ship—even a ship of Viney's; +and not provisioned for more than half the run out, proper +rations. And I say it plain, and will say it as plain to +anybody, that the vessel would have been piled up or dropped +under and the insurance paid months before you get this if I +had not pretty nigh mutinied more than once. He said he would +have me in irons, but he shan't have the chance if I can help +it. You know Beecher. Four times I reckon he has tried to pile +her up, every time in the best weather and near a safe +port—<i>foreign</i>. The men would have backed me right +through—some of them did—but they deserted one after another +all round the coast, Monte Video, Rio and Bahia, and small +blame to them, and we filled up with half-breeds and such. The +last of the ten and the boy went at Bahia, so that now I have +no witness but the second mate, and he is either in it or a +fool—I think a fool: but perhaps both. Not a man to back me. +Else I might have tried to report or something, at Belize, +though that is a thing best avoided of course. No doubt he has +got his orders, so I am not to blame him, perhaps. But I have +got no orders—not to lose the ship, I mean—and so I am doing +my duty. Twice I have come up and took the helm from him, but +that was with the English crew aboard. He has been quiet +lately, and perhaps he has given the job up; at any rate I +expect he won't try to pile her up again—more likely a quiet +turn below with a big auger. He is still mighty particular +about the long-boat being all right, and the falls clear, etc. +If he does it I have a notion it may be some time when I have +turned in; I can't keep awake all watches. And he knows I am +about the only man aboard who won't sign whatever he likes +before a consul. You know what I mean; and you know Beecher +too. Don't tell the Mrs. of course. Say this letter is about a +new berth or what not. No doubt it is all right, but it came in +my head to drop you a line, on the off chance, and a precious +long line I have made of it. So no more at present from—Your +Affectionate Son,</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nathaniel</span>.</p> + +<p>P.S. I am in half a mind to go ashore at Barbadoes, and report. +But perhaps best not. That sort of thing don't do.</p></blockquote> + +<p>While I read, my grandfather had been sitting with his head between his +hands, and his eyes directed to the floor, so that I could not see his +face. So he remained for a little while after I had finished, while I +stood in troubled wonder. Then he looked up, his face stern and hard +beyond the common: and his was a stern face at best.</p> + +<p>"Stevy," he said, "do you know what that means, that you've been +a-readin'?"</p> + +<p>I looked from his face to the letter, and back again. "It +means—means ... I think the skipper sank the ship on purpose."</p> + +<p>"It means Murder, my boy, that's what it means. Murder, by the law of +England! 'Feloniously castin' away an' destroyin';' that's what they +call the one thing, though I'm no lawyer-man. An' it means prison; +though why, when a man follows orders faithful, I can't say; but well I +know it. An' if any man loses his life thereby it's Murder, whether +accidental or not; Murder an' the Rope, by the law of England, an' +bitter well I know that too! O bitter well I know it!"</p> + +<p>He passed his palm over his forehead and eyes, and for a moment was +silent. Then he struck the palm on his knee and broke forth afresh.</p> + +<p>"Murder, by the law of England, even if no more than accident in God's +truth. How much the more then this here, when the one man as won't stand +and see it done goes down in his berth? O, I've known that afore, too, +with a gimlet through the door-frame; an' I know Beecher. But orders is +orders, an' it's them as gives them as is to reckon with. I've took +orders myself.... Lord! Lord! an' I've none but a child to talk to! A +little child!... But you're no fool, Stevy. See here now, an' remember. +You know what's come to your father? He's killed, wilful; murdered, like +what they hang people for, at Newgate, Stevy, by the law. An' do you +know who's done it?"</p> + +<p>I was distressed and bewildered, as well as alarmed by the old man's +vehemence. "The captain," I said, whimpering again.</p> + +<p>"Viney!" my grandfather shouted. "Henry Viney, as I might ha' served the +same way, an' I wish I had! Viney and Marr's done it; an' Marr's paid +for it already. Lord, Lord!" he went on, with his face down in his hands +and his elbows on his knees. "Lord! I see a lot of it now! It was what +they made out o' the insurance that was to save the firm; an' when my +boy put in an' stopped it all the voyage out, an' more, they could hold +on no longer, but plotted to get out with what they could lay hold of. +Lord! it's plain as print, plain as print! Stevy!" He lowered his hands +and looked up. "Stevy! that money's more yours now than ever. If I ever +had a doubt—if it don't belong to the orphan they've made—but there, +it's sent you, boy, sent you, an' any one 'ud believe in Providence +after that."</p> + +<p>In a moment more he was back at his earlier excitement. "But it's +Viney's done it," he said, with his fist extended before him. "Remember, +Stevy, when you grow up, it's Viney's done it, an' it's Murder, by the +law of England. Viney has killed your father, an' if it was brought +against him it 'ud be Murder!"</p> + +<p>"Then," I said, "we'll go to the police station and they will catch +him."</p> + +<p>My grandfather's hand dropped. "Ah, Stevy, Stevy," he groaned, "you +don't know, you don't know. It ain't enough for that, an' if it was—if +it was, I can't; I can't—not with you to look after. I might do it, an' +risk all, if it wasn't for that.... My God, it's a judgment on me—a +cruel judgment! My own son—an' just the same way—just the same way!... +I can't, Stevy, not with you to take care of. Stevy, I must keep myself +safe for your sake, an' I can't raise a hand to punish Viney. I can't, +Stevy, I can't; for I'm a guilty man myself, by the law of England—an' +Viney knows it! Viney knows it! Though it wasn't wilful, as God's my +judge!"</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat ended with a groan, and sat still, with his head bowed +in his hands. Again I remembered, and now with something of awe, my +innocent question: "Did you ever kill a man, Grandfather Nat?"</p> + +<p>Still he sat motionless and silent, till I could endure it no longer: +for in some way I felt frightened. So I went timidly and put my arm +about his neck. I fancied, though I was not sure, that I could feel a +tremble from his shoulders; but he was silent still. Nevertheless I was +oddly comforted by the contact, and presently, like a dog anxious for +notice, ventured to stroke the grey hair.</p> + +<p>Soon then he dropped his hands and spoke. "I shouldn't ha' said it, +Stevy; but I'm all shook an' worried, an' I talked wild. It was no need +to say it, but there ain't a soul alive to speak to else, an' somehow I +talk as it might be half to myself. But you know what about things I +say—private things—don't you? Remember?" He sat erect again, and +raised a forefinger warningly, even sternly. "Remember, Stevy!... But +come—there's things to do. Give me the letter. We'll get together any +little things to be kep', papers an' what not, an' take 'em home. An' +I'll have to think about the rest, what's best to be done; sell 'em, or +what. But I dunno, I dunno!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>IN BLUE GATE</h3> + + +<p>In her den at the black stair-top in Blue Gate, Musky Mag lurked, +furtive and trembling, after the inquests at the Hole in the Wall. Where +Dan Ogle might be hiding she could not guess, and she was torn between a +hundred fears and perplexities. Dan had been seen, and could be +identified; of that she was convinced, and more than convinced, since +she had heard Mr. Cripps's testimony. Moreover she well remembered at +what point in her own evidence the police-inspector had handed the note +to the coroner, and she was not too stupid to guess the meaning of that. +How could she warn Dan, how help or screen him, how put to act that +simple fidelity that was the sole virtue remaining in her, all the +greater for the loss of the rest? She had no money; on the other hand +she was confident that Dan must have with him the whole pocket-book full +of notes which had cost two lives already, and now seemed like to cost +the life she would so gladly buy with her own; for they had not been +found on Kipps's body, nor in any way spoken of at the inquest. But then +he might fear to change them. He could scarcely carry a single one to +the receivers who knew him, for his haunts would be watched; more, a +reward was offered, and no receiver would be above making an extra fifty +pounds on the transaction. For to her tortured mind it seemed every +moment more certain that the cry was up, and not the police alone, but +everybody else was on the watch to give the gallows its due. She was +uneasy at having no message. Doubtless he needed her help, as he had +needed it so often before; doubtless he would come for it if he could, +but that would be to put his head in the noose. How could she reach him, +and give it? Even if she had known where he lay, to go to him would be +to lead the police after her, for she had no doubt that her own +movements would be watched. She knew that the boat wherein he had +escaped had been found on the opposite side of the river, and she, like +others, judged from that that he might be lurking in some of the +waterside rookeries of the south bank; the more as it was the commonest +device of those "wanted" in Ratcliff or Wapping to "go for a change" to +Rotherhithe or Bankside, and for those in a like predicament on the +southern shores to come north in the same way. But again, to go in +search of him were but to share with the police whatever luck might +attend the quest. So that Musky Mag feared alike to stay at home and to +go abroad; longed to find Dan, and feared it as much; wished to aid him, +yet equally dreaded that he should come to her or that she should go to +him. And there was nothing to do, therefore, but to wait and listen +anxiously; to listen for voices, or footsteps, even for creaks on the +stairs; for a whistle without that might be a signal; for an uproar or a +sudden hush that might announce the coming of the police into Blue Gate; +even for a whisper or a scratching at door or window wherewith the +fugitive might approach, fearful lest the police were there before him. +But at evening, when the place grew dark, and the thickest of the gloom +drew together, to make a monstrous shadow on the floor, where once she +had fallen over something in the dark—then she went and sat on the +stair-head, watching and dozing and waking in terror.</p> + +<p>So went a day and a night, and another day. The corners of the room grew +dusk again, and with the afternoon's late light the table flung its +shadow on that same place on the floor; so that she went and moved it +toward the wall.</p> + +<p>As she set it down she started and crouched, for now at last there was a +step on the stair—an unfamiliar step. A woman's, it would seem, and +stealthy. Musky Mag held by the table, and waited.</p> + +<p>The steps ceased at the landing, and there was a pause. Then, with no +warning knock, the door was pushed open, and a head was thrust in, +covered by an old plaid shawl; a glance about the room, and the rest of +the figure followed, closing the door behind it; and, the shawl being +flung back from over the bonnet, there stood Mrs. Grimes, rusty and +bony, slack-faced and sour.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grimes screwed her red nose at the woman before her, jerked up her +crushed bonnet, and plucked her rusty skirt across her knees with the +proper virtuous twitch. Then said Mrs. Grimes: "Where's my brother Dan?"</p> + +<p>For a moment Musky Mag disbelieved eyes and ears together. The visit +itself, even more than the question, amazed and bewildered her. She had +been prepared for any visitor but this. For Mrs. Grimes's relationship +to Dan Ogle was a thing that exemplary lady made as close a secret as +she could, as in truth was very natural. She valued herself on her +respectability; she was the widow of a decent lighterman, of a decent +lightering and wharf-working family, and she called herself +"house-keeper" (though she might be scarce more than charwoman) at the +Hole in the Wall. She had never acknowledged her lawless brother when +she could in any way avoid it, and she had, indeed, bargained that he +should not come near her place of employment, lest he compromise her; +and so far from seeking him out in his lodgings, she even had a way of +failing to see him in the street. What should she want in Blue Gate at +such a time as this, asking thus urgently for her brother Dan? What but +the reward? For an instant Mag's fears revived with a jump, though even +as it came she put away the fancy that such might be the design of any +sister, however respectable.</p> + +<p>"Where's my brother Dan?" repeated Mrs. Grimes, abruptly.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't know, mum," faltered Mag, husky and dull. "I ain't seen 'im +for—for—some time."</p> + +<p>"O, nonsense. I want 'im particular. I got somethink to tell 'im +important. If you won't say where 'e is, go an' find 'im."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could, mum, truly. But I can't."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean 'e's left you?" Mrs. Grimes bridled high, and helped it +with a haughty sniff.</p> + +<p>"No, mum, not quite, in your way of speakin', I think, mum. But +'e's—'e's just gone away for a bit."</p> + +<p>"Ho. In trouble again, you mean, eh?"</p> + +<p>"O, no, mum, not there," Mag answered readily; for, with her, "trouble" +was merely a genteel name for gaol. "Not there—not for a long while."</p> + +<p>"Where then?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I dunno, mum; not at all."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grimes tightened her lips and glared; plainly she believed none of +these denials. "P'raps 'e's wanted," she snapped, "an' keepin' out o' +the way just now. Is that it?"</p> + +<p>This was what no torture would have made Mag acknowledge; but, with all +her vehemence of denial, her discomposure was plain to see. "No, mum, +not that," she declared, pleadingly. "Reely 'e ain't, mum—reely 'e +ain't; not that!"</p> + +<p>"Pooh!" exclaimed Mrs. Grimes, seating herself with a flop. "That's a +lie, plain enough. 'E's layin' up somewhere, an' you know it. What harm +d'ye suppose I'm goin' to do 'im? 'E ain't robbed me—leastways not +lately. I got a job for 'im, I tell you—money in 'is pocket. If you +won't tell me, go an' tell 'im; go on. An' I'll wait."</p> + +<p>"It's Gawd's truth, mum, I don't know where 'e is," Mag protested +earnestly. "'Ark! there's someone on the stairs! They'll 'ear. Go away, +mum, do. I'll try an' find 'im an' tell 'im—s'elp me I will! Go +away—they're comin'!"</p> + +<p>In truth the footsteps had reached the stair-top, and now, with a thump, +the door was thrust open, and Blind George appeared, his fiddle under +his arm, his stick sweeping before him, and his white eye rolling at the +ceiling.</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" he sung out. "Lady visitors! Or is it on'y one? 'Tain't polite +to tell the lady to go away, Mag! Good afternoon, mum, good afternoon!" +He nodded and grinned at upper vacancy, as one might at a descending +angel; Mrs. Grimes, meanwhile, close at his elbow, preparing to get away +as soon as he was clear past her. For Blind George's keenness of hearing +was well known, and she had no mind he should guess her identity.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, mum!" the blind man repeated. "Havin' tea?" He advanced +another step, and extended his stick. "What!" he added, suddenly +turning. "What! Table gone? What's this? Doin' a guy? Clearin' out?"</p> + +<p>"No, George," Mag answered. "I only moved the table over to the wall. +'Ere it is—come an' feel it." She made a quick gesture over his +shoulder, and Mrs. Grimes hurried out on tip-toe.</p> + +<p>But at the first movement Blind George turned sharply. "There she goes," +he said, making for the door. "She don't like me. Timid little darlin'! +Hullo, my dear!" he roared down the stairs. "Hullo! you never give me a +kiss! I know you! Won't you say good-bye?"</p> + +<p>He waited a moment, listening intently; but Mrs. Grimes scuttled into +the passage below without a word, and instantly Blind George +supplemented his endearments with a burst of foul abuse, and listened +again. This expedient succeeded no better than the first, and Mrs. +Grimes was gone without a sound that might betray her identity.</p> + +<p>Blind George shut the door. "Who was that?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nobody partic'lar," Mag answered with an assumption of +indifference. "On'y a woman I know—name o' Jane. What d'you want?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, now you're come to it." Blind George put his fiddle and bow on the +table and groped for a chair. "Fust," he went on, "is there anybody else +as can 'ear? Eh? Cracks or crannies or peepholes, eh? 'Cause I come as a +pal, to talk private business, I do."</p> + +<p>"It's all right, George; nobody can hear. What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Why," said the blind man, catching her tight by the arm, and leaning +forward to whisper; "it's Dan, that's what it is. It's Dan!"</p> + +<p>She was conscious of a catching of the breath and a thump of the heart; +and Blind George knew it too, for he felt it through the arm.</p> + +<p>"It's Dan," he repeated. "So now you know if it's what you'd like +listened to."</p> + +<p>"Go on," she said.</p> + +<p>"Ah. Well, fust thing, all bein' snug, 'ere's five bob; catch 'old." He +slid his right hand down to her wrist, and with his left pressed the +money into hers. "All right, don't be frightened of it, it won't 'urt +ye! Lord, I bet Dan 'ud do the same for me if I wanted it, though 'e is +a bit rough sometimes. I ain't rich, but I got a few bob by me; an' if a +pal ain't to 'ave 'em, who is? Eh? Who is?"</p> + +<p>He grinned under the white eye so ghastly a counterfeit of friendly +good-will that the woman shrank, and pulled at the wrist he held.</p> + +<p>"Lord love ye," he went on, holding tight to the wrist, "I ain't the +bloke to round on a pal as is under a cloud. See what I might 'a' done, +if I'd 'a' wanted. I might 'a' gone an' let out all sorts o' things, as +you know very well yerself, at the inquest—both the inquests. But did +I? Not me. Not a bit of it. <i>That</i> ain't my way. No; I lay low, an' said +nothing. What arter that? Why, there's fifty quid reward offered, fifty +quid—a fortune to a pore bloke like me. An' all I got to do is to go +and say 'Dan Ogle' to earn it—them two words an' no more. Ain't that +the truth? D'y' hear, ain't that the truth?"</p> + +<p>He tugged at her wrist to extort an answer, and the woman's face was +drawn with fear. But she made a shift to say, with elaborate +carelessness, "Reward? What reward, George? I dunno nothin' about it."</p> + +<p>"Gr-r-r!" he growled, pushing the wrist back, but gripping it still. +"That ain't 'andsome, not to a pal it ain't; not to a faithful pal as +comes to do y' a good turn. You know all about it well enough; an' you +needn't think as I don't know too. Blind, ain't I? Blind from a kid, but +not a fool! You ought to know that by this time—not a fool. Look +'ere!"—with another jerk at the woman's arm—"look 'ere. The last time +I was in this 'ere room there was me an' you an' Dan an' two men as is +dead now, an' post-mortalled, an' inquested an' buried, wasn't there? +Well, Dan chucked me out. I ain't bearin' no malice for that, mind +ye—ain't I just give ye five bob, an' ain't I come to do ye a turn? I +was chucked out, but ye don't s'pose I dunno what 'appened arter I was +gone, do ye? Eh?"</p> + +<p>The room was grown darker, and though the table was moved, the shadow on +the floor took its old place, and took its old shape, and grew; but it +was no more abhorrent than the shadowy face with its sightless white eye +close before hers, and the hand that held her wrist, and by it seemed to +feel the pulse of her very mind. She struggled to her feet.</p> + +<p>"Let go my wrist," she said. "I'll light a candle. You can go on."</p> + +<p>"Don't light no candle on my account," he said, chuckling, as he let her +hand drop. "It's a thing I never treat myself to. There's parties as is +afraid o' the dark, they tell me—I'm used to it."</p> + +<p>She lit the candle, and set it where it lighted best the place of the +shadow. Then she returned and stood by the chair she had been sitting +in. "Go on," she said again. "What's this good turn you want to do me?"</p> + +<p>"Ah," he replied, "that's the pint!" He caught her wrist again with a +sudden snatch, and drew her forward. "Sit down, my gal, sit down, an' +I'll tell ye comfortable. What was I a-sayin'? Oh, what 'appened arter I +was gone; yes. Well, that there visitor was flimped clean, clean as a +whistle; but fust—eh?—fust!" Blind George snapped his jaws, and made a +quick blow in the air with his stick. "Eh? Eh? Ah, well, never mind! But +now I'll tell you what the job fetched. Eight 'undred an' odd quid in a +leather pocket-book, an' a silver watch! Eh? I thought that 'ud make ye +jump. Blind, ain't I? Blind from a kid,—but not a fool!"</p> + +<p>"Well now," he proceeded, "so far all right. If I can tell ye that, I +can pretty well tell ye all the rest, can't I? All about Bob Kipps goin' +off to sell the notes, an' Dan watchin' 'im, bein' suspicious, an' +catchin' 'im makin' a bolt for the river, an'—eh?" He raised the stick +in his left hand again, but now point forward, with a little stab toward +her breast. "Eh? Eh? Like that, eh? All right—don't be frightened. I'm +a pal, I am. It served that cove right, I say, playin' a trick on a pal. +I don't play a trick on a pal. I come 'ere to do 'im a good turn, I do. +Don't I?—Well, Dan got away, an' good luck to 'im. 'E got away, clear +over the river, with the eight 'undred quid in the leather pocket-book. +An' now 'e's a-layin' low an' snug, an' more good luck to 'im, says I, +bein' a pal. Ain't that right?"</p> + +<p>Mag shuffled uneasily. "Go on," she said, "if you think you know such a +lot. You ain't come to that good turn yet that you talk so much about."</p> + +<p>"Right! Now I'll come to it. Now you know I know as much as +anybody—more'n anybody 'cept Dan, p'rhaps a bit more'n what you know +yourself; an' I kep' it quiet when I might 'a' made my fortune out of +it; kep' it quiet, bein' a faithful pal. An' bein' a faithful pal an' +all I come 'ere with five bob for ye, bein' all I can afford, 'cos I +know you're a bit short, though Dan's got plenty—got a fortune. Why +should you be short, an' Dan got a fortune? On'y 'cos you want a pal as +you can trust, like me! That's all. 'E can't come to you 'cos o' showin' +'isself. <i>You</i> can't go to 'im 'cos of being watched an' follered. So I +come to do ye both a good turn goin' between, one to another. Where is +'e?"</p> + +<p>Mag was in some way reassured. She feared and distrusted Blind George, +and she was confounded to learn how much he knew: but at least he was +still ignorant of the essential thing. So she said, "Knowin' so much +more'n me, I wonder you dunno that too. Any'ow <i>I</i> don't."</p> + +<p>"What? <i>You</i> dunno. Dunno where 'e is?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't; no more'n you."</p> + +<p>"O, that's all right—all right for anybody else; but not for a pal like +me—not for a pal as is doin' y' a good turn. Besides, it ain't you +on'y; it's 'im. 'Ow'll 'e get on with the stuff? 'E won't be able to +change it, an' 'e'll be as short as you, an' p'rhaps get smugged with it +on 'im. That 'ud never do; an' I can get it changed. What part o' +Rotherhithe is it, eh? I can easy find 'im. Is it Dockhead?"</p> + +<p>"There or anywhere, for all I know. I tell ye, George, I dunno no more'n +you. Let go my arm, go on."</p> + +<p>But he gave it another pull—an angry one. "What? What?" he cried. "If +Dan knowed as you was keepin' 'is ol' pal George from doin' 'im a good +turn, what 'ud 'e do, eh? 'E'd give it you, my beauty, wouldn't 'e? Eh? +Eh?" He twisted the arm, ground his teeth, and raised his stick +menacingly.</p> + +<p>But this was a little too much. He was a man, and stronger, but at any +rate he was blind. She rose and struggled to twist her arm from his +grasp. "If you don't put down that stick, George," she said, "if you +don't put it down an' let go my arm, I'll give it you same as Bob Kipps +got it—s'elp me I will! I'll give you the chive—I will! Don't you make +me desprit!"</p> + +<p>He let go the wrist and laughed. "Whoa, beauty!" he cried; "don't make a +rumpus with a faithful pal! If you won't tell me I s'pose you won't, +bein' a woman; whether it's bad for Dan or not, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you I can't, George; I swear solemn I dunno no more'n +you—p'rhaps not so much. 'E ain't bin near nor sent nor nothing, +since—since then. That's gospel truth. If I do 'ear from 'im I'll—well +then I'll see."</p> + +<p>"Will ye tell 'im, then? 'Ere, tell 'im this. Tell 'im he mustn't go +tryin' to sell them notes, or 'e'll be smugged. Tell 'im I can put 'im +in the way o' gettin' money for 'em—'ard quids, an' plenty on 'em. Tell +'im that, will ye? Tell 'im I'm a faithful pal, an' nobody can do it but +me. I know things you don't know about, nor 'im neither. Tell 'im +to-night. Will ye tell 'im to-night?"</p> + +<p>"'Ow can I tell 'im to-night? I'll tell 'im right enough when I see 'im. +I s'pose you want to make your bit out of it, pal or not."</p> + +<p>"There y'are!" he answered quickly. "There y'are! If you won't believe +in a pal, look at that! If I make a fair deal, man to man, with them +notes, an' get money for 'em instead o' smuggin'—quids instead o' +quod—I'll 'ave my proper reg'lars, won't I? An' proper reg'lars on all +that, paid square, 'ud be more'n I could make playin' the snitch, if +Dan'll be open to reason. See? You won't forget, eh?" He took her arm +again eagerly, above the elbow. "Know what to say, don't ye? Best for +all of us. 'E mustn't show them notes to a soul, till 'e sees me. <i>I'm</i> +a pal. <i>I</i> got the little tip 'ow to do it proper—see? Now you know. +Gimme my fiddle. 'Ere we are. Where's the door? All right—don't +forget!"</p> + +<p>Blind George clumped down the black stair, and so reached the street of +Blue Gate. At the door he paused, listening till he was satisfied of +Musky Mag's movements above; then he walked a few yards along the dark +street, and stopped.</p> + +<p>From a black archway across the street a man came skulking out, and over +the roadway to Blind George's side. It was Viney. "Well?" he asked +eagerly. "What's your luck?"</p> + +<p>Blind George swore vehemently, but quietly. "Precious little," he +answered. "She dunno where 'e is. I thought at first it was kid, but it +ain't. She ain't 'eard, an' she dunno. I couldn't catch hold o' the +other woman, an' she got away an' never spoke. You see 'er again when +she came out, didn't ye? Know 'er?"</p> + +<p>"Not me—she kept her shawl tighter about her head than ever. An' if she +hadn't it ain't likely I'd know her. What now? Stand watch again? I'm +sick of it."</p> + +<p>"So am I, but it's for good pay, if it comes off. Five minutes might do +it. You get back, an' wait in case I tip the whistle."</p> + +<p>Viney crept growling back to his arch, and Blind George went and +listened at Mag's front door for a few moments more. Then he turned into +the one next it, and there waited, invisible, listening still.</p> + +<p>Five minutes went, and did not do it, and ten minutes went, and five +times ten. Blue Gate lay darkling in evening, and foul shadows moved +about it. From one den and another came a drawl and a yaup of drunken +singing; a fog from the river dulled the lights at the Highway end, and +slowly crept up the narrow way. It was near an hour since Viney and +Blind George had parted, when there grew visible, coming through the +mist from the Highway, the uncertain figure of a stranger: drifting +dubiously from door to door, staring in at one after another, and +wandering out toward the gutter to peer ahead in the gloom.</p> + +<p>Blind George could hear, as well as another could see, that here was a +stranger in doubt, seeking somebody or some house. Soon the man, +middle-sized, elderly, a trifle bent, and all dusty with lime, came in +turn to the door where he stood; and at once Blind George stepped full +against him with an exclamation and many excuses.</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, guv'nor! Pore blind chap! 'Ope I didn't 'urt ye! Was ye +wantin' anybody in this 'ouse?"</p> + +<p>The limy man looked ahead, and reckoned the few remaining doors to the +end of Blue Gate. "Well," he said, "I fancy it's 'ere or next door. D'ye +know a woman o' the name o' Mag—Mag Flynn?"</p> + +<p>"I'm your bloke, guv'nor. Know 'er? Rather. Up 'ere—I'll show ye. Lord +love ye, she's an old friend o' mine. Come on.... I should say you'd be +in the lime trade, guv'nor, wouldn't you? I smelt it pretty strong, an' +I'll never forget the smell o' lime. Why, says you? Why, 'cos o' losin' +my blessed sight with lime, when I was a innocent kid. Fell on a +slakin'—bed, guv'nor, an' blinded me blessed self; so I won't forget +the smell o' lime easy. Ain't you in the trade, now? Ain't I right?" He +stopped midway on the stairs to repeat the question. "Ain't I right? Is +it yer own business or a firm?"</p> + +<p>"Ah well, I do 'ave to do with lime a good bit," said the stranger, +evasively. "But go on, or else let me come past."</p> + +<p>Blind George turned, and reaching the landing, thumped his stick on the +door and pushed it open. "'Ere y'are," he sang out. "'Ere's a genelman +come to see ye, as I found an' showed the way to. Lord love ye, 'e'd +never 'a' found ye if it wasn't for me. But I'm a old pal, ain't I? A +faithful old pal!"</p> + +<p>He swung his stick till he found a chair, and straightway sat in it, +like an invited guest. "Lord love ye, yes," he continued, rolling his +eye and putting his fiddle across his knees; "one o' the oldest pals +she's got, or 'im either."</p> + +<p>The newcomer looked in a puzzled way from Blind George to the woman, and +back again. "It's private business I come about," he said, shortly.</p> + +<p>"All right, guv'nor," shouted Blind George, heartily, "Out with it! +We're all pals 'ere! Old pals!"</p> + +<p>"You ain't my old pal, anyhow," the limy man observed. "An' if the +room's yours, we'll go an' talk somewheres else."</p> + +<p>"Get out, George, go along," said Mag, with some asperity, but more +anxiety. "You clear out, go on."</p> + +<p>"O, all right, if you're goin' to be unsociable," said the fiddler, +rising. "Damme, <i>I</i> don't want to stay—not me. I was on'y doin' the +friendly, that's all; bein' a old pal. But I'm off all right—I'm off. +So long!"</p> + +<p>He hugged his fiddle once more, and clumped down into the street. He +tapped with his stick till he struck the curb, and then crossed the +muddy roadway; while Viney emerged again from the dark arch to meet him.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Blind George, whispering huskily. "It's business now, +I think—business. You come on now. You'll 'ave to foller 'em if they +come out together. If they don't—well, you must look arter the one as +does."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>ON THE COP</h3> + + +<p>When the limy man left Blue Gate he went, first, to the Hole in the +Wall, there to make to Captain Kemp some small report on the wharf by +the Lea. This did not keep him long, and soon he was on his journey home +to the wharf itself, by way of the crooked lanes and the Commercial +Road.</p> + +<p>He had left Blue Gate an hour and more when Musky Mag emerged from her +black stairway, peering fearfully about the street ere she ventured her +foot over the step. So she stood for a few seconds, and then, as one +chancing a great risk, stepped boldly on the pavement, and, turning her +back to the Highway, walked toward Back Lane. This was the nearer end of +Blue Gate, and, the corner turned, she stopped short, and peeped back. +Satisfied that she had no follower, she crossed Back Lane, and taking +every corner, as she came to it, with a like precaution, threaded the +maze of small, ill-lighted streets that lay in the angle between the +great Rope Walk and Commercial Road. This wide road she crossed, and +then entered the dark streets beyond, in rear of the George Tavern; and +so, keeping to obscure parallel ways, sometimes emerging into the glare +of the main road, more commonly slinking in its darker purlieus, but +never out of touch with it, she travelled east; following in the main +the later course of the limy man, who had left Blue Gate by its opposite +end.</p> + +<p>The fog, that had dulled the lights in Ratcliff Highway, met her again +near Limehouse Basin; but, ere she reached the church, she was clear of +it once more. Beyond, the shops grew few, and the lights fewer. For a +little while decent houses lined the way: the houses of those last +merchants who had no shame to live near the docks and the works that +brought their money. At last, amid a cluster of taverns and shops that +were all for the sea and them that lived on it, the East India Dock +gates stood dim and tall, flanked by vast raking walls, so that one +might suppose a Chinese city to seethe within. And away to the left, the +dark road that the wall overshadowed was lined on the other side by +hedge and ditch, with meadows and fields beyond, that were now no more +than a vast murky gulf; so that no stranger peering over the hedge could +have guessed aright if he looked on land or on water, or on mere black +vacancy.</p> + +<p>Here the woman made a last twist: turning down a side street, and coming +to a moment's stand in an archway. This done, she passed through the +arch into a path before a row of ill-kept cottages; and so gained the +marshy field behind the Accident Hospital, the beginning of the waste +called The Cop.</p> + +<p>Here the great blackness was before her and about her, and she stumbled +and laboured on the invisible ground, groping for pits and ditches, and +standing breathless again and again to listen. The way was so hard as to +seem longer than it was, and in the darkness she must needs surmount +obstacles that in daylight she would have turned. Often a ditch barred +her way; and when, after long search, a means of crossing was found, it +was commonly a plank to be traversed on hands and knees. There were +stagnant pools, too, into which she walked more than once; and twice she +suffered a greater shock of terror: first at a scurry of rats, and later +at quick footsteps following in the sodden turf—the footsteps, after +all, of nothing more terrible than a horse of inquiring disposition, out +at grass.</p> + +<p>So she went for what seemed miles: though there was little more than +half a mile in a line from where she had left the lights to where at +last she came upon a rough road, seamed with deep ruts, and made visible +by many whitish blotches where lime had fallen, and had there been +ground into the surface. To the left this road stretched away toward the +lights of Bromley and Bow Common, and to the right it rose by an easy +slope over the river wall skirting the Lea, and there ended at Kemp's +Wharf.</p> + +<p>Not a creature was on the road, and no sound came from the black space +behind her. With a breath of relief she set foot on the firmer ground, +and hurried up the slope. From the top of the bank she could see Kemp's +Wharf just below, with two dusty lighters moored in the dull river; and +beyond the river the measureless, dim Abbey Marsh. Nearer, among the +sheds, a dog barked angrily at the sound of strange feet.</p> + +<p>A bright light came from the window of the little house that made office +and dwelling for the wharf-keeper, and something less of the same light +from the open door; for there the limy man stood waiting, leaning on the +door-post, and smoking his pipe.</p> + +<p>He grunted a greeting as Mag came down the bank. "Bit late," he said. +"But it ain't easy over the Cop for a stranger."</p> + +<p>"Where?" the woman whispered eagerly. "Where is he?"</p> + +<p>The limy man took three silent pulls at his pipe. Then he took it from +his mouth with some deliberation, and said: "Remember what I said? I +don't want 'im 'ere. I dunno what 'e's done, an' don't want; but if 'e +likes to come 'idin' about, I ain't goin' to play the informer. I dunno +why I should promise as much as that, just 'cos my brother married 'is +sister. <i>She</i> ain't done me no credit, from what I 'ear now. Though she +'ad a good master, as I can swear; 'cos 'e's mine too."</p> + +<p>"Where is he?" was all Mag's answer, again in an anxious whisper.</p> + +<p>"Unnerstand?" the limy man went on. "I'm about done with the pair on 'em +now, but I ain't goin' to inform. 'E come 'ere a day or two back an' +claimed shelter; an' seein' as I was goin' up to Wappin' to-night, 'e +wanted me to tell you where 'e was. Well, I've done that, an' I ain't +goin' to do no more; see? 'E ain't none o' mine, an' I won't 'ave part +nor parcel with 'im, nor any of ye. I keep myself decent, I do. I shan't +say 'e's 'ere an' I shan't say 'e ain't; an' the sooner 'e goes the +better 'e'll please me. See?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Grimes, sir; but tell me where he is!"</p> + +<p>The limy man took his pipe from his mouth, and pointed with a +comprehensive sweep of the stem at the sheds round about. "You can go +an' look in any o' them places as ain't locked," he said off-handedly. +"The dog's chained up. Try the end one fust."</p> + +<p>Grimes the wharfinger resumed his pipe, and Mag scuffled off to where +the light from the window fell on the white angle of a small wooden +shelter. The place was dark within, dusted about with lime, and its door +stood inward. She stopped and peered.</p> + +<p>"All right," growled Dan Ogle from the midst of the dark. "Can't ye see +me now y' 'ave come?" And he thrust his thin face and big shoulders out +through the opening.</p> + +<p>"O Dan!" the woman cried, putting out her hands as though she would take +him by the neck, but feared repulse. "O Dan! Thank Gawd you're safe, +Dan! I bin dyin' o' fear for you, Dan!"</p> + +<p>"G-r-r-r!" he snorted. "Stow that! What I want's money. Got any?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>ON THE COP</h3> + + +<p>It was at a bend of the river-wall by the Lea, in sight of Kemp's Wharf, +that Dan Ogle and his sister met at last. Dan had about as much regard +for her as she had for him, and the total made something a long way +short of affection. But common interests brought them together. Mrs. +Grimes had told Mag that she knew of something that would put money in +Dan's pocket; and, as money was just what Dan wanted in his pocket, he +was ready to hear what his sister had to tell: more especially as it +seemed plain that she was unaware—exactly—of the difficulty that had +sent him into hiding.</p> + +<p>So, instructed by Mag, she came to the Cop on a windy morning, where, +from the top of the river-wall, one might look east over the Abbey +Marsh, and see an unresting and unceasing press of grey and mottled +cloud hurrying up from the flat horizon to pass overhead, and vanish in +the smoke of London to the West. Mrs. Grimes avoided the wharf; for she +saw no reason why her brother-in-law, her late employer's faithful +servant, should witness her errand. She climbed the river-wall at a +place where it neared the road at its Bromley end, and thence she walked +along the bank-top.</p> + +<p>Arrived where it made a sharp bend, she descended a little way on the +side next the river, and there waited. Dan, on the look-out from his +shed, spied her be-ribboned bonnet from afar, and went quietly and +hastily under shelter of the river-wall toward where she stood. Coming +below her on the tow-path, he climbed the bank, and brother and sister +stood face to face; unashamed ruffianism looking shabby respectability +in the eyes.</p> + +<p>"Umph," growled Dan. "So 'ere y'are, my lady."</p> + +<p>"Yes," the woman answered, "'ere I am; an' there you are—a nice +respectable sort of party for a brother!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, ain't I? If I was as respectable as my sister I might get a job up +at the Hole in the Wall, mightn't I? 'Specially as I 'ear as there's a +vacancy through somebody gettin' the sack over a cash-box!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grimes glared and snapped. "I s'pose you got that from 'im," she +said, jerking her head in the direction of the wharf. "Well, I ain't +come 'ere to call names—I come about that same cash-box; at any rate I +come about what's in it.... Dan, there's a pile o' bank notes in that +box, that don't belong to Cap'en Nat Kemp no more'n they belong to you +or me! Nor as much, p'raps, if you'll put up a good way o' gettin' at +'em!"</p> + +<p>"You put up a way as wasn't a good un, seemin'ly," said Dan. "'Ow d'ye +mean they don't belong to Kemp?"</p> + +<p>"There was a murder at the Hole in the Wall; a week ago."</p> + +<p>"Eh?" Dan's jaw shut with a snap, and his eye was full of sharp inquiry.</p> + +<p>"A man was stabbed against the bar-parlour door, an' the one as did it +got away over the river. One o' the two dropped a leather pocket-book +full o' notes, an' the kid—Kemp's grandson—picked it up in the rush +when nobody see it. I see it, though, afterward, when the row was over. +I peeped from the stairs, an' I see Kemp open it an' take out +notes—bunches of 'em—dozens!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, you did, did ye?" Dan observed, staring hard at his sister. +"Bunches o' bank notes—dozens. See a photo, too? Likeness of a woman +an' a boy? 'Cos it was there."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grimes stared now. "Why, yes," she said. "But—but 'ow do you come +to know? Eh?... Dan!... Was you—was you——"</p> + +<p>"Never mind whether I was nor where I was. If it 'adn't been for you I'd +a had them notes now, safe an' snug, 'stead o' Cap'en Nat. You lost me +them!"</p> + +<p>"I did?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you. Wouldn't 'ave me come to the Hole in the Wall in case Cap'en +Nat might guess I was yer brother—bein' so much like ye! Like you! +G-r-r-r! 'Ope I ain't got a face like that!"</p> + +<p>"Ho yes! You're a beauty, Dan Ogle, ain't ye? But what's all that to do +with the notes?" Mrs. Grimes's face was blank with wonder and doubt, but +in her eyes there was a growing and hardening suspicion. "What's all +that to do with the notes?"</p> + +<p>"It's all to do with 'em. 'Cos o' that I let another chap bring a watch +to sell, 'stead o' takin' it myself. An' 'e come back with a fine tale +about Cap'en Nat offerin' to pay 'igh for them notes; an' so I was fool +enough to let 'im take them too, 'stead o' goin' myself. But I watched +'im, though—watched 'im close. 'E tried to make a bolt—an'—an' so +Cap'en Nat got the notes after all, it seems, then?"</p> + +<p>"Dan," said Mrs. Grimes retreating a step; "Dan, it was you! It was you, +an' you're hiding for it!"</p> + +<p>The man stood awkward and sulky, like a loutish schoolboy, detected and +defiant.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said at length, "s'pose it was? <i>You</i> ain't got no proof of +it; an' if you 'ad——What 'a' ye come 'ere for, eh?"</p> + +<p>She regarded him now with a gaze of odd curiosity, which lasted through +the rest of their talk; much as though she were convinced of some +extraordinary change in his appearance, which nevertheless eluded her +observation.</p> + +<p>"I told you what I come for," she answered, after a pause. "About +gettin' them notes away from Kemp—the old wretch!"</p> + +<p>"Umph! Old wretch. 'Cos 'e wanted to keep 'is cash-box, eh? Well, what's +the game?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grimes in no way abated her intent gaze, but she came a little +closer, with a sidling step, as if turning her back to a possible +listener. "There was two inquests at the Hole in the Wall," she said; +"two on the same day. There was Kipps, as lost the notes when Cap'en +Kemp got 'em. An' there was Marr the shipowner—an' it was 'im as lost +'em first!"</p> + +<p>She took a pace back as she said this, looking for its effect. But Dan +made no answer. Albeit his frown grew deeper and his eye sharper, and he +stood alert, ready to treat his sister as friend or enemy according as +she might approve herself.</p> + +<p>"Marr lost 'em first," she repeated, "an' I can very well guess how, +though when I came here I didn't know you was in it. How did I know, +thinks you, that Marr lost 'em first? I got eyes, an' I got ears, an' I +got common sense; an' I see the photo you spoke of—Marr an' 'is mother, +most likely; anyhow the boy was Marr, plain, whoever the woman was. It +on'y wanted a bit o' thinkin' to judge what them notes had gone through. +But I didn't dream you was so deep in it! Lor, no wonder Mag was +frightened when I see 'er!"</p> + +<p>Still Dan said nothing, but his eyes seemed brighter and +smaller—perhaps dangerous.</p> + +<p>So the woman proceeded quickly: "It's all right! You needn't be +frightened of my knowin' things! All the more reason for your gettin' +the notes now, if you lost 'em before. But it's halves for me, mind ye. +Ain't it halves for me?"</p> + +<p>Dan was silent for a moment. Then he growled, "We ain't got 'em yet."</p> + +<p>"No, but it's halves when we do get 'em; or else I won't say another +word. Ain't it halves?"</p> + +<p>Dan Ogle could afford any number of promises, if they would win him +information. "All right," he said. "Halves it is, then, when we get 'em. +An' how are we goin' to do it?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grimes sidled closer again. "Marr the shipowner lost 'em first," +she said, "an' he was pulled out o' the river, dead an' murdered, just +at the back o' the Hole in the Wall. See?"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Don't see it? Kemp's got the pocket-book."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Don't see it yet? Well; there's more. There's a room at the back o' the +Hole in the Wall, where it stands on piles, with a trap-door over the +water. The police don't know there's a trap-door there. I do."</p> + +<p>Dan Ogle was puzzled and suspicious. "What's the good o' that?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"I didn't think you such a fool, Dan Ogle. There's a man murdered with +notes on him, an' a photo, an' a watch—you said there was a watch. He's +found in the river just behind the Hole in the Wall. There's a +trap-door—secret—at the Hole in the Wall, over the water; just the +place he might 'a' been dropped down after he was killed. An' Kemp the +landlord's got the notes an' the pocket-book an' the photo all complete; +an' most likely the watch too, since you tell me he bought it; an' Viney +could swear to 'em. Ain't all that enough to hang Cap'en Nat Kemp, if +the police was to drop in sudden on the whole thing?"</p> + +<p>Dan's mouth opened, and his face cleared a little. "I s'pose," he said, +"you mean you might put it on to the police as it was Cap'en Nat did it; +an' when they searched they'd find all the stuff, an' the pocket-book, +an' the watch, an' the likeness, an' the trap-door; an' that 'ud be +evidence enough to put 'im on the string?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I mean it," replied Mrs. Grimes, with hungry spite in her +eyes. "Of course I mean it! An' dearly I'd love to see it done, too! +Cap'en Nat Kemp, with 'is money an' 'is gran'son 'e's goin' to make a +gentleman of, an' all! ''Ope you'll be honest where you go next,' says +Cap'en Kemp, 'whether you're grateful to me or not!' Honest an' +grateful! I'll give 'im honest an' grateful!"</p> + +<p>Dan Ogle grinned silently. "No," he said, "you won't forgive 'im, I bet, +if it was only 'cos you began by makin' such a pitch to marry 'im!" A +chuckle broke from behind the grin. "You'd rather hang him than get his +cash-box now, I'll swear!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grimes was red with anger. "I would that!" she cried. "You're +nearer truth than you think, Dan Ogle! An' if you say too much you'll +lose the money you're after, for I'll go an' do it! So now!"</p> + +<p>Dan clicked his tongue derisively. "Thought you'd come to tell me how to +get the stuff," he said. "'Stead o' that you tell me how to hang Cap'en +Nat, very clever, an' lose it. I don't see that helps us."</p> + +<p>"Go an' threaten him."</p> + +<p>"Threaten Cap'en Nat?" exclaimed Dan, glaring contempt, and spitting it. +"Oh yes, I see myself! Cap'en Nat ain't that sort o' mug. I'm as 'ard as +most, but I ain't 'ard enough for a job like that: or soft enough, for +that's what I'd be to try it on. Lor' lumme! Go an' ask any man up the +Highway to face Cap'en Nat, an' threaten him! Ask the biggest an' +toughest of 'em. Ask Jim Crute, with his ear like a blue-bag, that he +chucked out o' the bar like a kitten, last week! 'Cap'en Nat,' says I, +'if you don't gimme eight hundred quid, I'll hit you a crack!' Mighty +fine plan that! That 'ud get it, wouldn't it? Ah, it 'ud get something!"</p> + +<p>"I didn't say that sort of threat, you fool! You've got no sense for +anything but bashing. There's the evidence that 'ud hang him; go an' +tell him that, and say he <i>shall</i> swing for it, if he doesn't hand +over!"</p> + +<p>Dan stared long and thoughtfully. Then his lip curled again. "Pooh!" he +said. "I'm a fool, am I? O! Anyhow, whether I am or not, I'm a fool's +brother. Threaten Cap'en Nat with the evidence, says you! What evidence? +The evidence what he's got in his own hands! S'pose I go, like a mug, +an' do it. Fust thing he does, after he's kicked me out, is to chuck the +pocket-book an' the likeness on the fire, an' the watch in the river. +Then he changes the notes, or sells 'em abroad, an' how do we stand +then? Why, you're a bigger fool than I thought you was!... What's that?"</p> + +<p>It was nothing but a gun on the marsh, where a cockney sportsman was out +after anything he could hit. But Dan Ogle's nerves were alert, and +throughout the conversation he had not relaxed his watch toward London; +so that the shot behind disturbed him enough to break the talk.</p> + +<p>"We've been here long enough," he said. "You hook it. I'll see about +Cap'en Nat. Your way's no good. I'll try another, an' if that don't come +off—well, then you can hang him if you like, an' welcome. But now hook +it, an' shut your mouth till I've had my go. 'Nough said. Don't go back +the way you come."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>My father's death wrought in Grandfather Nat a change that awed me. He +looked older and paler—even smaller. He talked less to me, but began, I +fancied, to talk to himself. Withal, his manner was kinder than before, +if that were possible; though it was with a sad kindness that distressed +and troubled me. More than once I woke at night with candle-light on my +face, and found him gazing down at me with a grave doubt in his eyes; +whereupon he would say nothing, but pat my cheek, and turn away.</p> + +<p>Early one evening as I sat in the bar-parlour, and my grandfather stood +moodily at the door between that and the bar, a man came into the +private compartment whom I had seen there frequently before. He was, in +fact, the man who had brought the silver spoons on the morning when I +first saw Ratcliff Highway, and he was perhaps the most regular visitor +to the secluded corner of the bar. This time he slipped quietly and +silently in at the door, and, remaining just within it, out of sight +from the main bar, beckoned; his manner suggesting business above the +common.</p> + +<p>But my grandfather only frowned grimly, and stirred not as much as a +finger. The man beckoned again, impatiently; but there was no favour in +Grandfather Nat's eye, and he answered with a growl. At that the man +grew more vehement, patted his breast pocket, jerked his thumb, and made +dumb words with a great play of mouth.</p> + +<p>"You get out!" said Grandfather Nat.</p> + +<p>A shade of surprise crossed the man's face, and left plain alarm behind +it. His eyes turned quickly toward the partition which hid the main bar +from him, and he backed instantly to the door and vanished.</p> + +<p>A little later the swing doors of the main bar were agitated, and an eye +was visible between them, peeping. They parted, and disclosed the face +of that same stealthy visitor but lately sent away from the other door. +Reassured, as it seemed, by what he saw of the company present, he came +boldly in, and called for a drink with an elaborate air of unconcern. +But, as he took the glass from the potman, I could perceive a sidelong +glance at my grandfather, and presently another. Captain Nat, however, +disregarded him wholly; while the pale man, aware of he knew not what +between them, looked alertly from one to the other, ready to abandon his +long-established drink, or to remain by it, according to circumstances.</p> + +<p>The man of the silver spoons looked indifferently from one occupant of +the bar to the next, as he took his cold rum. There was the pale man, +and Mr. Cripps, and a sailor, who had been pretty regular in the bar of +late, and who, though noisy and apt to break into disjointed song, was +not so much positively drunk as never wholly sober. And there were two +others, regular frequenters both. Having well satisfied himself of +these, the man of the silver spoons finished his rum and walked out. +Scarce had the door ceased to swing behind him, when he was once more in +the private compartment, now with a knowing and secure smile, a cough +and a nod. For plainly he supposed there must have been a suspicious +customer in the house, who was now gone.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat let fall the arm that rested against the door frame. +"Out you go!" he roared. "If you want another drink the other bar's good +enough for you. If you don't I don't want you here. So out you go!"</p> + +<p>The man was dumbfounded. He opened his mouth as though to say something, +but closed it again, and slunk backward.</p> + +<p>"Out you go!" shouted the unsober sailor in the large bar. "Out you go! +You 'bey orders, see? Lord, you'd better 'bey orders when it's Cap'en +Kemp! Ah, I know, I do!" And he shook his head, stupidly sententious.</p> + +<p>But the fellow was gone for good, and the pale man was all eyes, +scratching his cheek feebly, and gazing on Grandfather Nat.</p> + +<p>"Out he goes!" the noisy sailor went on. "That's cap'en's orders. +Cap'en's orders or mate's orders, all's one. Like father, like son. Ah, +I know!'"</p> + +<p>"Ah," piped Mr. Cripps, "a marvellous fine orficer Cap'en Kemp must ha' +been aboard ship, I'm sure. Might you ever ha' sailed under 'im?"</p> + +<p>"Me?" cried the sailor with a dull stare. "Me? Under <i>him</i>?... Well no, +not under <i>him</i>. But cap'en's orders or mate's orders, all's one."</p> + +<p>"P'raps," pursued Mr. Cripps in a lower voice, with a glance over the +bar, "p'raps you've been with young Mr. Kemp—the late?"</p> + +<p>"Him?" This with another and a duller stare. "Him? Um! Ah, well—never +mind. Never you mind, see? You mind your own business, my fine feller!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps retired within himself with no delay, and fixed an abstracted +gaze in his half-empty glass. I think he was having a disappointing +evening; people were disagreeable, and nobody had stood him a drink. +More, Captain Nat had been quite impracticable of late, and for days all +approaches to the subject of the sign, or the board to paint it on, had +broken down hopelessly at the start. As to the man just sent away, Mr. +Cripps seemed, and no doubt was, wholly indifferent. Captain Nat was +merely exercising his authority in his own bar, as he did every day, and +that was all.</p> + +<p>But the pale man was clearly uneasy, and that with reason. For, as +afterwards grew plain, the event was something greater than it seemed. +Indeed, it was nothing less than the end of the indirect traffic in +watches and silver spoons. From that moment every visitor to the private +compartment was sent away with the same peremptory incivility; every +one, save perhaps some rare stranger of the better sort, who came for +nothing but a drink. So that, in course of a day or two, the private +compartment went almost out of use; and the pale man's face grew paler +and longer as the hours went. He came punctually every morning, as +usual, and sat his time out with the stagnant drink before him, till he +received my grandfather's customary order to "drink up"; and then +vanished till the time appointed for his next attendance. But he made no +more excursions into the side court after sellers of miscellaneous +valuables. From what I know of my grandfather's character, I believe +that the pale man must have been paid regular wages; for Grandfather Nat +was not a man to cast off a faithful servant, though plainly the man +feared it. At any rate there he remained with his perpetual drink; and +so remained until many things came to an end together.</p> + +<p>There was a certain relief, and, I think, an odd touch of triumph in +Grandfather Nat's face and manner that night as he kissed me, and bade +me good-night. As for myself, I did not realise the change, but I had a +vague idea that my grandfather had sent away his customer on my account; +and for long I lay awake, and wondered why.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>IN THE BAR-PARLOUR</h3> + + +<p>Stephen was sound asleep, and the Hole in the Wall had closed its eyes +for the night. The pale man had shuffled off, with his doubts and +apprehensions, toward the Highway, and Mr. Cripps was already home in +Limehouse. Only the half-drunken sailor was within hail, groping toward +some later tavern, and Captain Nat, as he extinguished the lamps in the +bar, could hear his song in the distance—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The grub was bad an' the pay was low,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leave her, Johnny, leave her!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So hump your duds an' ashore you go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For it's time for us to leave her!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Captain Nat blew out the last light in the bar and went into the +bar-parlour. He took out the cash-box, and stood staring thoughtfully at +the lid for some seconds. He was turning at last to extinguish the lamp +at his elbow, when there was a soft step without, and a cautious tap at +the door.</p> + +<p>Captain Nat's eyes widened, and the cash-box went back under the shelf. +The tap was repeated ere the old man could reach the door and shoot back +the bolts. This done, he took the lamp in his left hand, and opened the +door.</p> + +<p>In the black of the passage a man stood, tall and rough. Just such a +figure Captain Nat had seen there before, less distinctly, and in a +briefer glimpse; for indeed it was Dan Ogle.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Captain Nat.</p> + +<p>"Good evenin', cap'en," Dan answered, with an uncouth mixture of respect +and familiarity. "I jist want five minutes with you."</p> + +<p>"O, you do, do you?" replied the landlord, reaching behind himself to +set the lamp on the table. "What is it? I've a notion I've seen you +before."</p> + +<p>"Very like, cap'en. It's all right; on'y business."</p> + +<p>"Then what's the business?"</p> + +<p>Dan Ogle glanced to left and right in the gloom of the alley, and edged +a step nearer. "Best spoke of indoors," he said, hoarsely. "Best for you +an' me too. Nothin' to be afraid of—on'y business."</p> + +<p>"Afraid of? Phoo! Come in, then."</p> + +<p>Dan complied, with an awkward assumption of jaunty confidence, and +Captain Nat closed the door behind him.</p> + +<p>"Nobody to listen, I suppose?" asked Ogle.</p> + +<p>"No, nobody. Out with it!"</p> + +<p>"Well, cap'en, just now you thought you'd seen me before. Quite right; +so you have. You see me in the same place—just outside that there door. +An' I borrowed your boat."</p> + +<p>"Umph!" Captain Nat's eyes were keen and hard. "Is your name Dan Ogle?"</p> + +<p>"That's it, cap'en." The voice was confident, but the eye was shifty. +"Now you know. A chap tried to do me, an' I put his light out. You went +for me, an' chased me, but you stuck your hooks in the quids right +enough." Dan Ogle tried a grin and a wink, but Captain Nat's frown never +changed.</p> + +<p>"Well, well," Dan went on, after a pause, "it's all right, anyhow. I +outed the chap, an' you took care o' the ha'pence; so we helped each +other, an' done it atween us. I just come along to-night to cut it up."</p> + +<p>"Cut up what?"</p> + +<p>"Why, the stuff. Eight hundred an' ten quid in notes, in a leather +pocket-book. Though I ain't particular about the pocket-book." Dan tried +another grin. "Four hundred an' five quid'll be good enough for me: +though it ought to be more, seein' I got it first, an' the risk an' +all."</p> + +<p>Captain Nat, with a foot on a chair and a hand on the raised knee, +relaxed not a shade of his fierce gaze. "Who told you," he asked +presently, "that I had eight hundred an' ten pound in a leather +pocket-book?"</p> + +<p>"O, a little bird—just a pretty little bird, cap'en."</p> + +<p>"Tell me the name o' that pretty little bird."</p> + +<p>"Lord lumme, cap'en, don't be bad pals! It ain't a little bird what'll +do any harm! It's all safe an' snug enough between us, an' I'm doin' it +on the square, ain't I? I knowed about you, an' you didn't know about +me; but I comes fair an' open, an' says it was me as done it, an' I on'y +want a fair share up between pals in a job together. That's all right, +ain't it?"</p> + +<p>"Was it a pretty little bird in a bonnet an' a plaid shawl? A scraggy +sort of a little bird with a red beak? The sort of little bird as likes +to feather its nest with a cash-box—one as don't belong to it? Is that +your pattern o' pretty little bird?"</p> + +<p>"Well, well, s'pose it is, cap'en? Lord, don't be bad pals! I ain't, am +I? Make things straight, an' I'll take care <i>she</i> don't go a +pretty-birdin' about with the tale. I'll guarantee that, honourable. You +ain't no need be afraid o' that."</p> + +<p>"D'ye think I look afraid?"</p> + +<p>"Love ye, cap'en, why, I didn't mean that! There ain't many what 'ud try +to frighten you. That ain't my tack. You're too hard a nut for <i>that</i>, +anybody knows." Dan Ogle fidgeted uneasily with a hand about his +neck-cloth; while the other arm hung straight by his side. "But look +here, now, cap'en," he went on; "you're a straight man, an' you don't +round on a chap as trusts you. That's right ain't it?"</p> + +<p>"Well?" Truly Captain Nat's piercing stare, his unwavering frown, were +disconcerting. Dan Ogle had come confidently prepared to claim a share +of the plunder, just as he would have done from any rascal in Blue Gate. +But, in presence of the man he knew for his master, he had had to begin +with no more assurance than he could force on himself; and now, though +he had met not a word of refusal, he was reduced well-nigh to pleading. +But he saw the best opening, as by a flash of inspiration; and beyond +that he had another resource, if he could but find courage to use it.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Captain Nat.</p> + +<p>"You're the sort as plays the square game with a man as trusts you, +cap'en. Very well. <i>I've</i> trusted you. I come an' put myself in your +way, an' told you free what I done, an' I ask, as man to man, for my +fair whack o' the stuff. Bein' the straight man you are, you'll do the +fair thing."</p> + +<p>Captain Nat brought his foot down from the chair, and the knee from +under his hand; and he clenched the hand on the table. But neither +movement disturbed his steady gaze. So he stood for three seconds. Then, +with an instant dart, he had Dan Ogle by the hanging arm, just above the +wrist.</p> + +<p>Dan sprang and struggled, but his wrist might have been chained to a +post. Twice he made offer to strike at Captain Nat's face with the free +hand, but twice the blow fainted ere it had well begun. Tall and +powerful as he was, he knew himself no match for the old skipper. Pallid +and staring, he whispered hoarsely: "No, cap'en—no! Drop it! Don't put +me away! Don't crab the deal! D' y' 'ear——"</p> + +<p>Captain Nat, grim and silent, slowly drew the imprisoned fore-arm +forward, and plucked a bare knife from within the sleeve. There was +blood on it, for his grip had squeezed arm and blade together.</p> + +<p>"Umph!" growled Captain Nat; "I saw that in time, my lad"; and he stuck +the knife in the shelf behind him.</p> + +<p>"S'elp me, cap'en, I wasn't meanin' anythink—s'elp me I wasn't," the +ruffian pleaded, cowering but vehement, with his neckerchief to his cut +arm. "That's on'y where I carry it, s'elp me—on'y where I keep it!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, I've seen it done before; but it's an awkward place if you get a +squeeze," the skipper remarked drily. "Now you listen to me. You say +you've come an' put yourself in my power, an' trusted me. So you +have—with a knife up your sleeve. But never mind that—I doubt if you'd +ha' had pluck to use it. You killed a man at my door, because of eight +hundred pounds you'd got between you; but to get that money you had to +kill another man first."</p> + +<p>"No, cap'en, no——"</p> + +<p>"Don't try to deny it, man! Why it's what's saving you! I know where +that money come from—an' it's murder that got it. Marr was the man's +name, an' he was a murderer himself; him an' another between 'em ha' +murdered my boy; murdered him on the high seas as much as if it was +pistol or poison. He was doin' his duty, an' it's murder, I tell +you—murder, by the law of England! That man ought to ha' been hung, but +he wasn't, an' he never would ha' been. He'd ha' gone free, except for +you, an' made money of it. But you killed that man, Dan Ogle, an' you +shall go free for it yourself; for that an' because I won't sell what +you trusted me with about this other."</p> + +<p>Captain Nat turned and took the knife from the shelf. "Now see," he went +on. "You've done justice on a murderer, little as you meant it; but +don't you come tryin' to take away the orphan's compensation—not as +much as a penny of it! Don't you touch the compensation, or I'll give +you up! I will that! Just you remember when you're safe. The man lied as +spoke to seein' you that night by the door; an' now he's gone back on +it, an' so you've nothing to fear from him, an' nothing to fear from the +police. Nothing to fear from anybody but me; so you take care, Dan +Ogle!... Come, enough said!"</p> + +<p>Captain Nat flung wide the door and pitched the knife into the outer +darkness. "There's your knife; go after it!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>ON THE COP</h3> + + +<p>When Viney followed the limy man from Musky Mag's door he kept him well +in view as far as the Hole in the Wall, and there waited. But when +Grimes emerged, and Viney took up the chase, he had scarce made +three-quarters of the way through the crooked lanes toward the +Commercial Road, when, in the confusion and the darkness of the +turnings, or in some stray rack of fog, the man of lime went wholly +amissing. Viney hurried forward, doubled, and scoured the turnings about +him. Drawing them blank, he hastened for the main road, and there +consumed well nigh an hour in profitless questing to and fro; and was +fain at last to seek out Blind George, and confess himself beaten.</p> + +<p>But Blind George made a better guess. After Viney's departure in the +wake of Grimes, he had stood patiently on guard in the black archway, +and had got his reward. For he heard Musky Mag's feet descend her +stairs; noted her timid pause at the door; and ear-watched her progress +to the street corner. There she paused again, as he judged, to see that +nobody followed; and then hurried out of earshot. He was no such fool as +to attempt to dog a woman with eyes, but contented himself with the +plain inference that she was on her way to see Dan Ogle, and that the +man whom Viney was following had brought news of Dan's whereabouts; and +with that he turned to the Highway and his fiddling. So that when he +learned that the limy man had called at the Hole in the Wall, and had +gone out of Viney's sight on his way east, Blind George was quick to +think of Kemp's Wharf, and to resolve that his next walk abroad should +lead him to the Lea bank.</p> + +<p>The upshot of this was that, after some trouble, Dan Ogle and Blind +George met on the Cop, and that Dan consented to a business interview +with Viney. He was confident enough in any dealings with either of them +so long as he cockered in them the belief that he still had the notes. +So he said very little, except that Viney might come and make any +proposal he pleased; hoping for some chance-come expedient whereby he +might screw out a little on account.</p> + +<p>And so it followed that on the morning after his unsuccessful +negotiation with Captain Nat, Dan Ogle found himself face to face with +Henry Viney at that self-same spot on the bank-side where he had talked +with Blind George.</p> + +<p>Dan was surly; first because it was policy to say little, and to seem +intractable, and again because, after the night's adventure, it came +natural. "So you're Viney, are you?" he said. "Well, I ain't afraid o' +you. I know about you. Blind George told me <i>your</i> game."</p> + +<p>"Who said anything about afraid?" Viney protested, the eternal grin +twitching nervously in his yellow cheeks. "We needn't talk about being +afraid. It seems to me we can work together."</p> + +<p>"O, does it? How?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you know, you can't change 'em."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"O, damn it, you know what I mean. The money—the notes."</p> + +<p>"O, that's what you mean, is it? Well, s'pose I can't?"</p> + +<p>"Well—of course—if you can't—eh? If you can't, they might be so much +rags, eh?"</p> + +<p>"P'raps they might—<i>if</i> I can't."</p> + +<p>"But you know you can't," retorted the other, with a spasm of +apprehension. "Else you'd have done it and—and got farther off."</p> + +<p>"Well, p'raps I might. But that ain't all you come to say. Go on."</p> + +<p>Viney thoughtfully scratched his lank cheek, peering sharply into Dan's +face. "Things bein' what they are," he said, reflectively, "they're no +more good to you than rags; not so much."</p> + +<p>"All right. S'pose they ain't; you don't think I'm a-goin' to make you a +present of 'em, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Why no, I didn't think that. I'll pay—reasonable. But you must +remember that they're no good to you at all—not worth rag price; so +whatever you got 'ud be clear profit."</p> + +<p>"Then how much clear profit will you give me?"</p> + +<p>Viney's forefinger paused on his cheek, and his gaze, which had sunk to +Dan Ogle's waistcoat, shot sharply again at his eyes. "Ten pounds," said +Viney.</p> + +<p>Dan chuckled, partly at the absurdity of the offer, partly because this +bargaining for the unproducible began to amuse him. "Ten pound clear +profit for me," he said, "an' eight hundred pound clear profit for you. +That's your idea of a fair bit o' trade!"</p> + +<p>"But it was mine first, and—and it's no good to you—you say so +yourself!"</p> + +<p>"No; nor no good to you neither—'cause why? You ain't got it!" Dan's +chuckle became a grin. "If you'd ha' said a hundred, now——"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Why, then I'd ha' said four hundred. That's what I'd ha' said!"</p> + +<p>"Four hundred? Why, you're mad! Besides I haven't got it—I've got +nothing till I can change the notes; only the ten."</p> + +<p>Dan saw the chance he had hoped for. "I'll make it dirt cheap," he said, +"first an' last, no less an' no more. Will you give me fifty down for +'em when you've got 'em changed?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will." Viney's voice was almost too eager.</p> + +<p>"Straight? No tricks, eh?"</p> + +<p>Viney was indignant at the suggestion. He scorned a trick.</p> + +<p>"No hoppin' the twig with the whole lot, an' leavin' me in the cart?"</p> + +<p>Viney was deeply hurt. He had never dreamed of such a thing.</p> + +<p>"Very well, I'll trust you. Give us the tenner on account." Dan Ogle +stuck out his hand carelessly; but it remained empty.</p> + +<p>"I said I'd give fifty when they're changed," grinned Viney, knowingly.</p> + +<p>"What? Well, I know that; an' not play no tricks. An' now when I ask you +to pay first the ten you've got, you don't want to do it! That don't +look like a chap that means to part straight and square, does it?"</p> + +<p>Viney put his hand in his pocket. "All right," he said, "that's fair +enough. Ten now an' forty when the paper's changed. Where's the paper?"</p> + +<p>"O, I ain't got that about me just now," Dan replied airily. "Be here +to-morrow, same time. But you can give me the ten now."</p> + +<p>Viney's teeth showed unamiably through his grin. "Ah," he said; "I'll be +here to-morrow with that, same time!"</p> + +<p>"What?" It was Dan's honour that smarted now. "What? Won't trust me with +ten, when I offer, free an' open, to trust you with forty? O, it's off +then. I'm done. It's enough to make a man sick." And he turned loftily +away.</p> + +<p>Viney's grin waxed and waned, and he followed Dan with his eyes, +thinking hard. Dan stole a look behind, and stopped.</p> + +<p>"Look here," Viney said at last. "Look here. Let's cut it short. We +can't sharp each other, and we're wasting time. You haven't got those +notes."</p> + +<p>Dan half-turned, and answered in a tone between question and retort. "O, +haven't I?" he said.</p> + +<p>"No; you haven't. See here; I'll give you five pounds if you'll show 'em +to me. Only show 'em."</p> + +<p>Dan was posed. "I said I hadn't got 'em about me," he said, rather +feebly.</p> + +<p>"No; nor can't get 'em. Can you? Cut it short."</p> + +<p>Dan looked up and down, and rubbed his cap about his head. "I know where +they are," he sulkily concluded.</p> + +<p>"You know where they are, but you can't get 'em," Viney retorted with +decision. "Can I get 'em?"</p> + +<p>Dan glanced at him superciliously. "You?" he answered. "Lord, no."</p> + +<p>"Can we get 'em together?"</p> + +<p>Dan took to rubbing his cap about his head again, and staring very +thoughtfully at the ground. Then he came a step nearer, and looked up. +"Two might," he said, "if you'd see it through. With nerve."</p> + +<p>Viney took him by the upper arm, and drew close. "We're the two," he +said. "You know where the stuff is, and you say we can get it. We'll +haggle no more. We're partners and we'll divide all we get. How's that?"</p> + +<p>"How about Blind George?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind Blind George—unless you want to make him a present. <i>I</i> +don't. Blind George can fish for himself. He's shoved out. We'll do it, +and we'll keep what we get. Now where are the notes? Who's got them?"</p> + +<p>Dan Ogle stood silent a moment, considering. He looked over the bank +toward the London streets, down on the grass at his feet, and then up at +an adventurous lark, that sang nearer and still nearer the town smoke. +Last he looked at Viney, and make up his mind. "Who's got 'em?" he +repeated; "Cap'en Nat Kemp's got 'em."</p> + +<p>"What? Cap'en——"</p> + +<p>"Cap'en Nat Kemp's got 'em."</p> + +<p>Viney took a step backward, turned his foot on the slope, and sat back +on the bank, staring at Dan Ogle. "Cap'en Nat Kemp?" he said. "Cap'en +Nat Kemp?"</p> + +<p>"Ay; Cap'en Nat Kemp. The notes, an' the leather pocket-book; an' the +photo; an' the whole kit. Marr's photo, ain't it, with his mother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Viney answered. "When he was a boy. He wasn't a particular +dutiful son, but he always carried it: for luck, or something. +But—Cap'en Kemp! Where did <i>he</i> get them?"</p> + +<p>Dan Ogle sat on the bank beside Viney, facing the river, and there told +him the tale he had heard from Mrs. Grimes. Also he told him, with many +suppressions, just as much of his own last night's adventure at the Hole +in the Wall as made it plain that Captain Nat meant to stick to what he +had got.</p> + +<p>Viney heard it all in silence, and sat for a while with his head between +his hands, thinking, and occasionally swearing. At last he looked up, +and dropped one hand to his knee. "I'd have it out of him by myself," he +said, "if it wasn't that I want to lie low a bit."</p> + +<p>Dan grunted and nodded. "I know," he replied, "The <i>Juno</i>. I know about +that."</p> + +<p>Viney started. "What do you know about that?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Pretty well all you could tell me. I hear things, though I am lyin' up; +but I heard before, too. Marr chattered like a poll-parrot."</p> + +<p>Viney swore, and dropped his other hand. "Ay; so Blind George said. +Well, there's nothing for me out of the insurance, and I'm going to let +the creditors scramble for it themselves. There'd be awkward questions +for me, with the books in the receiver's hands, and what not. So I'm not +showing for a bit. Though," he added, thoughtfully, "I don't know that I +mightn't try it, even now."</p> + +<p>Dan's eyes grew sharp. "We're doin' this together, Mr. Viney," he said. +"You'd better not go tryin' things without me; I mightn't like it. I +ain't a nice man to try games on with; one's tried a game over this +a'ready, mind."</p> + +<p>"I'm trying no games," Viney protested. "Tell us your way, if you don't +want to hear about mine."</p> + +<p>Dan Ogle was sitting with his chin on his doubled fists, gazing +thoughtfully at the muddy river. "My way's rough," he replied, "but it's +thorough. An' it wipes off scores. I owe Cap'en Nat one."</p> + +<p>Viney looked curiously at his companion. "Well?" he said.</p> + +<p>"An' there'd be more in it than eight hundred an' ten. P'raps a lump +more."</p> + +<p>"How?" Viney's eyes widened.</p> + +<p>"Umph." Dan was silent a moment. Then he turned and looked Viney in the +eyes. "Are you game?" he asked. "You ain't a faintin' sort, are you? You +oughtn't to be, seein' you was a ship's officer."</p> + +<p>Viney's mouth closed tight. "No," he said; "I don't think I am. What is +it?"</p> + +<p>Dan Ogle looked intently in his face for a few seconds, and then said: +"Only him an' the kid sleeps in the house."</p> + +<p>Viney started. "You don't mean breaking in?" he exclaimed. "I won't do +that; it's too—too——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, too risky, of course," Dan replied, with a curl of the lip. "But I +don't mean breakin' in. Nothing like it. But tell me first; s'pose +breakin' in <i>wasn't</i> risky; s'pose you knew you'd get away safe, with +the stuff. Would you do it then?" And he peered keenly at Viney's face.</p> + +<p>Viney frowned. "That don't matter," he said, "if it ain't the plan. +S'pose I would?"</p> + +<p>"Ha-ha! that'll do! I know your sort. Not that I blame you about the +busting—it 'ud take two pretty tough 'uns to face Cap'en Nat, I can +tell you. But now see here. Will you come with me, an' knock at his side +door to-night, after the place is shut?"</p> + +<p>"Knock? And what then?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you. You know the alley down to the stairs?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Black as pitch at night, with a row o' posts holding up the house. Now +when everybody's gone an' he's putting out the lights, you go an' tap at +the door."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"You tap at the door, an' he'll come. You're alone—see? I stand back in +the dark, behind a post. He never sees me. 'Good evenin',' says you. 'I +just want a word with you, if you'll step out.' And so he does."</p> + +<p>"And what then?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing else—not for you; that's all your job. Easy enough, ain't it?"</p> + +<p>Viney turned where he sat, and stared fixedly at his confederate's face. +"And then—then—what——"</p> + +<p>"Then I come on. He don't know I'm there—behind him."</p> + +<p>Viney's mouth opened a little, but with no grin; and for a minute the +two sat, each looking in the other's face. Then said Viney, with a +certain shrinking: "No, no; not that. It's hanging, you know; it's +hanging—for both."</p> + +<p>Dan laughed—an ugly laugh, and short. "It ain't hanging for <i>that</i>," he +said; "it's hanging for gettin' caught. An' where's the chance o' that? +We take our own time, and the best place you ever see for a job like +that, river handy at the end an' all; an' everything settled beforehand. +Safe a job as ever I see. Look at me. I ain't hung yet, am I? But I've +took my chances, an' took 'em when it wasn't safe, like as this is."</p> + +<p>Viney stared at vacancy, like a man in a brown study; and his dry tongue +passed slowly along his drier lips.</p> + +<p>"As for bein' safe," Dan went on, "what little risk there is, is for +<i>me</i>. You're all right. We don't know each other. Not likely. How should +you know I was hidin' there in the dark when you went to speak to Cap'en +Nat Kemp? Come to that, it might ha' been <i>you</i> outed instead o' your +friend what you was talkin' so sociable with. An' there's more there +than what's in the pocket-book. Remember that. There's a lump more than +that."</p> + +<p>Viney rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. "How do you know?" he +asked, huskily.</p> + +<p>"How do I know? How did I know about the pocket-book an' the notes? I +ain't been the best o' pals with my sister, but she couldn't ha' been +there all this time without my hearing a thing or two about Cap'en Nat; +to say nothing of what everybody knows as knows anything about him. +Money? O' course there's money in the place; no telling how much; an' +watches, an' things, as he buys. P'raps twice that eight hundred, an' +more."</p> + +<p>Viney's eyes were growing sharper—growing eager. "It sounds all right," +he remarked, a little less huskily. "Especially if there's more in it +than the eight hundred. But—but—are you—you know—sure about it?"</p> + +<p>"You leave that to me. I'll see after my department, an' yours is easy +enough. Come, it's a go, ain't it?"</p> + +<p>"But perhaps he'll make a row—call out, or something."</p> + +<p>"He ain't the sort o' chap to squeal; an' if he was he wouldn't—not the +way I'm goin' to do it. You'll see."</p> + +<p>"An' there's the boy—what about him?"</p> + +<p>"O, the kid? Upstairs. He's no account, after we've outed Cap'en Nat. No +more'n a tame rabbit. An' we'll have all night to turn the place over, +if we want it—though we shan't. We'll be split out before the potman +comes: fifty mile apart, with full pockets, an' nobody a ha'porth the +wiser."</p> + +<p>Viney bit at his fingers, and his eyes lifted and sank, quick and keen, +from the ground to Ogle's face, and back again. But it was enough, and +he asked for no more persuasion. Willing murderers both, they set to +planning details: what Viney should say, if it were necessary to carry +the talk with Captain Nat beyond the first sentence or so; where they +must meet; and the like. And here, on Viney's motion, a change was made +as regarded time. Not this immediate night, but the night following, was +resolved on for the stroke that should beggar the Hole in the Wall of +money and of life. For to Viney it seemed desirable, first, to get his +belongings away from his present lodgings, for plain reasons; so as to +throw off Blind George, and so as to avoid flight from a place where he +was known, on the very night of the crime. This it were well to do at +once; yet, all unprepared as he was, he could not guess what delays +might intervene; and so for all reasons Captain Nat and the child were +reprieved for twenty-four hours.</p> + +<p>Thus in full terms the treaty was made. Dan Ogle, shrink as he might +from Captain Nat face to face (as any ruffian in Blue Gate would), was +as ready to stab him in the back for vengeance as for gain. For he was +conscious that never in all his years of bullying and scoundrelism had +he cut quite so poor a figure in face of any man as last night in face +of Captain Nat. As to the gain, it promised to be large, and easy in the +getting; and for his sister, now that she could help no more,—she could +as readily be flung out of the business as Blind George. The opportunity +was undeniable. A better place for the purpose than the alley leading to +the head of Hole-in-the-Wall Stairs could never have been planned. Once +the house was shut, and the potman gone, no more was needed than to see +the next police patrol go by, and the thing was done. Here was the +proper accomplice too: a man known to Captain Nat, and one with whom he +would readily speak; and, in Ogle's eyes, the business was no more than +a common stroke of his trade, with an uncommon prospect of profit. As +for Viney, money was what he wanted, and here it could be made, as it +seemed, with no great risk. It was surer, far, than going direct to +Captain Nat and demanding the money under the old threat. That was a +little outworn, and, indeed, was not so substantial a bogey as it might +seem in the eyes of Captain Nat, for years remorseful, and now +apprehensive for his grandchild's sake; for the matter was old, and +evidence scarce, except Viney's own, which it would worse than +inconvenience him to give. So that a large demand might break down; +while here, as he was persuaded, was the certainty of a greater gain, +which was the main thing. And if any shadow of scruple against direct +and simple murder remained, it vanished in the reflection that not he, +but Ogle, would be the perpetrator, as well as the contriver. For +himself, he would but be opening an innocent conversation with Kemp. So +Viney told himself; and so desire and conscience are made to run +coupled, all the world over, and all time through.</p> + +<p>All being appointed, the two men separated. They stood up, they looked +about them, over the Lea and over the ragged field; and they shook +hands.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>ON THE COP</h3> + + +<p>It was morning still, as Viney went away over the Cop; and, when he had +vanished beyond the distant group of little houses, Dan Ogle turned and +crept lazily into his shelter: there to make what dinner he might from +the remnant of the food that Mag had brought him the evening before; and +to doze away the time on his bed of dusty sacks, till she should bring +more in the evening to come. He would have given much for a drink, for +since his retreat to Kemp's Wharf the lime had penetrated clothes and +skin and had invaded his very vitals. More particularly it had invaded +his throat; and the pint or so of beer that Mag brought in a bottle was +not enough to do more than aggravate the trouble. But no drink was +there, and no money to buy one; else he might well have ventured out to +a public-house, now that the police sought him no more. As for Grimes of +the wharf (who had been growing daily more impatient of Dan's stay), he +offered no better relief than a surly reference to the pump. So there +was nothing for it but to sit and swear; with the consolation that this +night should be his last at Kemp's Wharf.</p> + +<p>Sunlight came with the afternoon, and speckled the sluggish Lea; then +the shadow of the river wall fell on the water and it was dull again; +and the sun itself grew duller, and lower, and larger, in the haze of +the town. If Dan Ogle had climbed the bank, and had looked across the +Cop now, he would have seen Blind George, stick in hand, feeling his way +painfully among hummocks and ditches in the distance. Dan, however, was +expecting nobody, and he no longer kept watch on all comers, so that +Blind George neared unnoted. He gained the lime-strewn road at last, and +walked with more confidence. Up and over the bank, and down on the side +next the river, he went so boldly that one at a distance would never +have guessed him blind; for on any plain road he had once traversed he +was never at fault; and he turned with such readiness at the proper +spot, and so easily picked his way to the shed, that Dan had scarce more +warning than could bring him as far as the door, where they met.</p> + +<p>"Dan!" the blind man said; "Dan, old pal! It's you I can hear, I'll bet, +ain't it? Where are ye?" And he groped for a friendly grip.</p> + +<p>Dan Ogle was taken by surprise, and a little puzzled. Still, he could do +no harm by hearing what Blind George had to say; so he answered: "All +right. What is it?"</p> + +<p>Guided by the sound, Blind George straightway seized Dan's arm; for this +was his way of feeling a speaker's thoughts while he heard his words. +"He's gone," he said, "gone clean. Do you know where?"</p> + +<p>Dan glared into the sightless eye and shook his captured arm roughly. +"Who?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Viney. Did you let him have the stuff?"</p> + +<p>"What stuff? When?"</p> + +<p>"What stuff? That's a rum thing to ask. Unless—O!" George dropped his +voice and put his face closer. "Anybody to hear?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then why ask what stuff? You didn't let him have it this morning, did +you?"</p> + +<p>"Dunno what you mean. Never seen him this morning."</p> + +<p>Blind George retracted his head with a jerk, and a strange look grew on +his face: a look of anger and suspicion; strange because the great +colourless eye had no part in it. "Dan," he said, slowly, "them ain't +the words of a pal—not of a faithful pal, they ain't. It's a damn lie!"</p> + +<p>"Lie yourself!" retorted Dan, thrusting him away. "Let go my arm, go +on!"</p> + +<p>"I knew he was coming," Blind George went on, "an' I follered up, an' +waited behind them houses other side the Cop. I want my whack, I do. I +heared him coming away, an' I called to him, but he scuttled off. I know +his step as well as what another man 'ud know his face. I'm a poor blind +bloke, but I ain't a fool. What's your game, telling me a lie like that?"</p> + +<p>He was standing off from the door now, angry and nervously alert. Dan +growled, and then said: "You clear out of it. You come to me first from +Viney, didn't you? Very well, you're his pal in this. Go and talk to him +about it."</p> + +<p>"I've been—that's where I've come from. I've been to his lodgings in +Chapman Street, an' he's gone. Said he'd got a berth aboard ship—a lie. +Took his bag an' cleared, soon as ever he could get back from here. He's +on for doing me out o' my whack, arter I put it all straight for +him—that's about it. You won't put me in the cart, Dan, arter all I +done! Where's he gone?"</p> + +<p>"I dunno nothing about him, I tell you," Dan answered angrily. "You +sling your hook, or I'll make ye!"</p> + +<p>"Dan," said the blind man, in a voice between appeal and threat; "Dan, I +didn't put you away, when I found you was here!"</p> + +<p>"Put me away? You? You can go an' try it now, if you like. I ain't +wanted; they won't have me. An' if they would—how long 'ud you last, +next time you went into Blue Gate? Or even if you didn't go, eh? How +long would a man last, that had both his eyes to see with, eh?" And +indeed Blind George knew, as well as Dan himself, that London was +unhealthy for any traitor to the state and liberty of Blue Gate. "How +long would he last? You try it."</p> + +<p>"Who wants to try it? I on'y want to know——"</p> + +<p>"Shut your mouth, Blind George, an' get out o' this place!" Ogle cried, +fast losing patience, and making a quick step forward. "Go, or you'll be +lame as well as blind, if I get hold o' ye!"</p> + +<p>Blind George backed involuntarily, but his blank face darkened and +twisted devilishly, and he gripped his stick like a cudgel. "Ah, I'm +blind, ain't I? Mighty bold with a blind man, ain't ye? If my eyes was +like yours, or you was blind as me, you'd——"</p> + +<p>"Go!" roared Dan furiously, with two quick steps. "Go!"</p> + +<p>The blind man backed as quickly, fiercely brandishing his stick. "I'll +go—just as far as suits me, Dan Ogle!" he cried. "I ain't goin' to be +done out o' what's mine! One of ye's got away, but I'll stick to the +other! Keep off! I'll stick to ye till—keep off!"</p> + +<p>As Dan advanced, the stick, flourished at random, fell on his wrist with +a crack, and in a burst of rage he rushed at the blind man, and smote +him down with blow on blow. Blind George, beaten to a heap, but cowed +not at all, howled like a wild beast, and struck madly with his stick. +The stick reached its mark more than once, and goaded Ogle to a greater +fury. He punched and kicked at the plunging wretch at his feet: who, +desperate and unflinching, with his mouth spluttering blood and curses, +never ceased to strike back as best he might.</p> + +<p>At the noise Grimes came hurrying from his office. For a moment he stood +astonished, and then he ran and caught Dan by the arm. "I won't have +it!" he cried. "If you want to fight you go somewhere else. +You—why—why, damme, the man's blind!"</p> + +<p>Favoured by the interruption, Blind George crawled a little off, +smearing his hand through the blood on his face, breathless and +battered, but facing his enemy still, with unabashed malevolence. For a +moment Ogle turned angrily on Grimes, but checked himself, and let fall +his hands. "Blind?" he snarled. "He'll be dead too, if he don't keep +that stick to hisself; that's what he'll be!"</p> + +<p>The blind man got on his feet, and backed away, smearing the grisly face +as he went. "Ah! hold him back!" he cried, with a double mouthful of +oaths. "Hold him hack for his own sake! I ain't done with you, Dan Ogle, +not yet! Fight? Ah, I'll fight you—an' fight you level! I mean it! I +do! I'll fight you level afore I've done with you! Dead I'll be, will I? +Not afore you, an' not afore I've paid you!" So he passed over the bank, +threatening fiercely.</p> + +<p>"Look here," said Grimes to Ogle, "this ends this business. I've had +enough o' you. You find some other lodgings."</p> + +<p>"All right," Ogle growled. "I'm going: after to-night."</p> + +<p>"I dunno why I was fool enough to let you come," Grimes pursued. "An' +when I did, I never said your pals was to come too. I remember that +blind chap now; I see him in Blue Gate, an' I don't think much of him. +An' there was another chap this morning. Up to no good, none of ye; an' +like as not to lose me my job. So I'll find another use for that shed, +see?"</p> + +<p>"All right," the other sulkily repeated. "I tell ye I'm going: after +to-night."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>ON THE COP</h3> + + +<p>Once he had cut clear from his lodgings without delay and trouble, Viney +fell into an insupportable nervous impatience, which grew with every +minute. His reasons for the day's postponement now seemed wholly +insufficient: it must have been, he debated with himself, that the first +shock of the suggestion had driven him to the nearest excuse to put the +job off, as it were a dose of bitter physic. But now that the thing was +resolved upon, and nothing remained to do in preparation, the suspense +of inactivity became intolerable, and grew to torment. It was no matter +of scruple or compunction; of that he never dreamed. But the enterprise +was dangerous and novel, and, as the vacant hours passed, he imagined +new perils and dreamed a dozen hangings. Till at last, as night came on, +he began to fear that his courage could not hold out the time; and, +since there was now no reason for delay, he ended with a resolve to get +the thing over and the money in his pockets that same night, if it were +possible. And with that view he set out for the Cop....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Meantime no nervousness troubled his confederate; for him it was but a +good stroke of trade, with a turn of revenge in it; and the penniless +interval mattered nothing—could be slept off, in fact, more or less, +since there was nothing else to do.</p> + +<p>The sun sank below London, and night came slow and black over the +marshes and the Cop. Grimes, rising from the doorstep of his office, +knocked the last ashes from his pipe and passed indoors. Dan Ogle, +sitting under the lee of his shed, found no comfort in his own empty +pipe, and no tobacco in his empty pocket. He rose, stretched his arms, +and looked across the Lea and the Cop. He could see little or nothing, +for the dark was closing on him fast. "Blind man's holiday," muttered +Dan Ogle; and he turned in for a nap on his bed of sacks.</p> + +<p>A sulky red grew up into the darkening western sky, as though the +extinguished sun were singeing all the world's edge. So one saw London's +nimbus from this point every night, and saw below it the scattered +spangle of lights that were the suburban sentries of the myriads beyond. +The Cop and the marshes lay pitch-black, and nothing but the faint lap +of water hinted that a river divided them.</p> + +<p>Here, where an hour's habit blotted the great hum of London from the +consciousness, sounds were few. The perseverance of the lapping water +forced a groan now and again from the moorings of an invisible barge +lying by the wharf; and as often a ghostly rustle rose on the wind from +an old willow on the farther bank. And presently, more distinct than +either, came a steady snore from the shed where Dan Ogle lay....</p> + +<p>A rustle, that was not of any tree, began when the snore was at its +steadiest; a gentle rustle indeed, where something, some moving shadow +in the black about it, crept over the river wall. Clearer against a +faint patch, which had been white with lime in daylight, the figure grew +to that of a man; a man moving in that murky darkness with an amazing +facility, address, and quietness. Down toward the riverside he went, and +there stooping, dipped into the water some small coarse bag of cloth, +that hung in his hand. Then he rose, and, after a listening pause, +turned toward the shed whence came the snore.</p> + +<p>With three steps and a pause, and three steps more, he neared the door: +the stick he carried silently skimming the ground before him, his face +turned upward, his single eye rolling blankly at the sky that was the +same for him at night or noon; and the dripping cloth he carried +diffused a pungent smell, as of wetted quick-lime. So, creeping and +listening, he reached the door. Within, the snore was regular and deep.</p> + +<p>Nothing held the door but a latch, such as is lifted by a finger thrust +through a hole. He listened for a moment with his ear at this hole, and +then, with infinite precaution, inserted his finger, and lifted the +latch....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Up by the George Tavern, beyond Stepney, Henry Viney was hastening along +the Commercial Road to call Dan Ogle to immediate business. Ahead of him +by a good distance, Musky Mag hurried in the same direction, bearing +food in a saucer and handkerchief, and beer in a bottle. But hurry as +they might, here was a visitor well ahead of both....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The door opened with something of a jar, and with that there was a +little choke in the snore, and a moment's silence. Then the snore began +again, deep as before. Down on his knees went Dan Ogle's visitor, and so +crawled into the deep of the shed.</p> + +<p>He had been gone no more than a few seconds, when the snore stopped. It +stopped with a thump and a gasp, and a sudden buffeting of legs and +arms; and in the midst arose a cry: a cry of so hideous an agony that +Grimes the wharf-keeper, snug in his first sleep fifty yards away, +sprang erect and staring in bed, and so sat motionless for half a minute +ere he remembered his legs, and thrust them out to carry him to the +window. And the dog on the wharf leapt the length of its chain, +answering the cry with a torrent of wild barks.</p> + +<p>Floundering and tumbling against the frail boards of the shed, the two +men came out at the door in a struggling knot: Ogle wrestling and +striking at random, while the other, cunning with a life's blindness, +kept his own head safe, and hung as a dog hangs to a bull. His hands +gripped his victim by ear and hair, while the thumbs still drove at the +eyes the mess of smoking lime that clung and dripped about Ogle's head. +It trickled burning through his hair, and it blistered lips and tongue, +as he yelled and yelled again in the extremity of his anguish. Over they +rolled before the doorway; and Ogle, snatching now at last instead of +striking, tore away the hands from his face.</p> + +<p>"Fight you level, Dan Ogle, fight you level now!" Blind George gasped +between quick breaths. "Hit me now you're blind as me! Hit me! Knock me +down! Eh?"</p> + +<p>Quickly he climbed to his feet, and aimed a parting blow with the stick +that hung from his wrist. "Dead?" he whispered hoarsely. "Not afore I've +paid you! No!"</p> + +<p>He might have stayed to strike again, but his own hands were blistered +in the struggle, and he hastened off toward the bank, there to wash them +clear of the slaking lime. Away on the wharf the dog was yelping and +choking on its chain like a mad thing.</p> + +<p>Screaming still, with a growing hoarseness, and writhing where he lay, +the blinded wretch scratched helplessly at the reeking lime that +scorched his skin and seared his eyes almost to the brain. Grimes came +running in shirt and trousers, and, as soon as he could find how matters +stood, turned and ran again for oil. "Good God!" he said. "Lime in his +eyes! Slaking lime! Why—why—it must be the blind chap! It must! Fight +him level, he said—an' he's blinded him!..."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There was a group of people staring at the patients' door of the +Accident Hospital when Viney reached the spot. He was busy enough with +his own thoughts, but he stopped, and stared also, involuntarily. The +door was an uninteresting object, however, after all, and he turned: to +find himself face to face with one he well remembered. It was the limy +man he had followed from Blue Gate to the Hole in the Wall, and then +lost sight of.</p> + +<p>Grimes recognised Viney at once as Ogle's visitor of the morning. +"That's a pal o' yourn just gone in there," he said.</p> + +<p>Viney was taken aback. "A pal?" he asked. "What pal?"</p> + +<p>"Ogle—Dan Ogle. He's got lime in his eyes, an' blinded."</p> + +<p>"Lime? Blinded? How?"</p> + +<p>"I ain't goin' to say nothing about how—I dunno, an' 'tain't my +business. He's got it, anyhow. There's a woman in there along of +him—his wife, I b'lieve, or something. You can talk to her about it, if +you like, when she comes out. I've got nothing to do with it."</p> + +<p>Grimes had all the reluctance of his class to be "mixed up" in any +matter likely to involve trouble at a police-court; and what was more, +he saw himself possibly compromised in the matter of Ogle's stay at the +Wharf. But Viney was so visibly concerned by the news that soon the +wharf-keeper relented a little—thinking him maybe no such bad fellow +after all, since he was so anxious about his friend. "I've heard said," +he added presently in a lower tone, "I've heard said it was a blind chap +done it out o' spite; but of course I dunno; not to say myself; on'y +what I heard, you see. I don't think they'll let you in; but you might +see the woman. They won't let her stop long, 'specially takin' on as she +was."</p> + +<p>Indeed it was not long ere Musky Mag emerged, reluctant and pallid, +trembling at the mouth, staring but seeing nothing. Grimes took her by +the arm and led her aside, with Viney. "Here's a friend o' Dan's," +Grimes said, not unkindly, giving the woman a shake of the arm. "He +wants to know how he's gettin' on."</p> + +<p>"What's 'nucleate?" she asked hoarsely, with a dull look in Viney's +face. "What's 'nucleate? I heard a doctor say to let 'im rest to-night +an' 'nucleate in the mornin'. What's 'nucleate?"</p> + +<p>"Some sort o' operation," Grimes hazarded. "Did they say anything else?"</p> + +<p>"Blinded," the woman answered weakly. "Blinded. But the pain's eased +with the oil."</p> + +<p>"What did he say?" interposed Viney, fullest of his own concerns. "Did +he say someone did it?"</p> + +<p>"He told me about it—whispered. But I shan't say nothing; nor him, not +till he comes out."</p> + +<p>"I say—he mustn't get talkin' about it," Viney said, anxiously. +"It—it'll upset things. Tell him when you see him. Here, listen." He +took her aside out of Grimes's hearing. "It wouldn't do," he said, "it +wouldn't do to have anybody charged or anything just now. We've got +something big to pull off. I say—I ought to see him, you know. Can't I +see him? But there—someone might know me. No. But you must tell him. He +mustn't go informing, or anything like that, not yet. Tell him, won't +you?"</p> + +<p>"Chargin'? Infornin'?" Mag answered, with contempt in her shaking voice. +"'Course 'e wouldn't go informin', not Dan. Dan ain't that sort—'e +looks arter hisself, 'e does; 'e don't go chargin' people. Not if 'e was +dyin'."</p> + +<p>Indeed Viney did not sufficiently understand the morals of Blue Gate: +where to call in the aid of the common enemy, the police, was a foul +trick to which none would stoop. In Blue Gate a man inflicted his own +punishments, and to ask aid of the police was worse than mean and +scandalous: it was weak; and that in a place where the weak "did not +last," as the phrase went. It was the one restraint, the sole virtue of +the place, enduring to death; and like some other virtues, in some other +places, it had its admixture of necessity; for everybody was "wanted" in +turn, and to call for the help of a policeman who might, as likely as +not, begin by seizing oneself by the collar, would even have been poor +policy: bad equally for the individual and for the community. So that to +resort to the law's help in any form was classed with "narking" as the +unpardonable sin.</p> + +<p>"You're sure o' that, are you?" asked Viney, apprehensively.</p> + +<p>"Sure? 'Course I'm sure. Dunno what sort o' chap you take 'im for. +<i>'E's</i> no nark. An' besides—'e can't. There's other things, an'——"</p> + +<p>She turned away with a sigh that was near a sob, and her momentary +indignation lapsed once more into anxious grief.</p> + +<p>Viney went off with his head confused and his plans in the melting-pot. +Ogle's scheme was gone by the board, and alone he could scarce trust +himself in any enterprise so desperate. What should he do now? Make what +terms he might with Captain Nat? Need was pressing; but he must think.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>I have said something of the change in my grandfather's habits after the +news of the loss of the <i>Juno</i> and my father's death; something but not +all. Not only was he abstracted in manner and aged in look, but he grew +listless in matters of daily life, and even doubtful and infirm of +purpose: an amazing thing in him, whose decision of character had made +his a corner of the world in which his will was instant law. And with +it, and through it all, I could feel that I was the cause. "It ain't the +place for you, Stevy, never the place for you," he would say, wistful +and moody; wholly disregarding my protests, which I doubt he even heard. +"I've put one thing right," he said once, thinking aloud, as I sat on +his knee; "but it ain't enough; it ain't enough." And I was sure that he +was thinking of the watches and spoons.</p> + +<p>As to that matter, people with valuables had wholly ceased from coming +to the private compartment. But the pale man still sat in his corner, +and Joe the potman still supplied the drink he neglected. His uneasiness +grew less apparent in a day or so; but he remained puzzled and curious, +though no doubt well enough content with this, the most patent example +of Grandfather Nat's irresolution.</p> + +<p>As for Mr. Cripps, that deliberate artist's whole practice of life was +disorganised by Captain Nat's indifference, and he was driven to depend +for the barest necessaries on the casual generosity of the bar. In +particular he became the client of the unsober sailor I have spoken of +already: the disciplinarian, who had roared confirmation of my +grandfather's orders when the man of the silver spoons got his +dismissal. This sailor was old in the ways of Wapping, as in the +practice of soaking, it would seem, and he gave himself over to no +crimp. Being ashore, with money to spend, he preferred to come alone to +the bar of The Hole in the Wall, and spend it on himself, getting full +measure for every penny. Beyond his talent of ceaselessly absorbing +liquor without becoming wholly drunk, and a shrewd eye for his correct +change, he exhibited the single personal characteristic of a very +demonstrative respect for Captain Nat Kemp. He would confirm my +grandfather's slightest order with shouts and threats, which as often as +not were only to be quelled by a shout or a threat from my grandfather +himself, a thing of instant effect, however. "Ay, ay, sir!" the man +would answer, and humbly return to his pot. "Cap'en's orders" he would +sometimes add, with a wink and a hoarse whisper to a chance neighbour. +"Always 'bey cap'en's orders. Knowed 'em both, father <i>an'</i> son."</p> + +<p>So that Mr. Cripps's ready acquiescence in whatever was said loudly, and +in particular his own habit of blandiloquence, led to a sort of +agreement between the two, and an occasional drink at the sailor's +expense.</p> + +<p>But, meantime, his chief patron was grown so abstracted from +considerations of the necessities of genius, so impervious to hints, so +deaf to all suggestion of grant-in-aid, that Mr. Cripps was driven to a +desperate and dramatic stroke. One morning he appeared in the bar +carrying the board for the sign; no tale of a board, no description or +account of a board, no estimate or admeasurement of a board; but the +actual, solid, material board itself.</p> + +<p>By what expedient he had acquired it did not fully appear, and, indeed, +with him, cash and credit were about equally scarce. But upon one thing +he most vehemently insisted: that he dared not return home without the +money to pay for it. The ravening creditor would be lying in wait at the +corner of his street.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps's device for breaking through Captain Nat's abstraction +succeeded beyond all calculation. For my grandfather laid hands on Mr. +Cripps and the board together, and hauled both straightway into the +skippers' parlour at the back.</p> + +<p>"There's the board," he said with decision, "an' there's you. Where's +the paints an' brushes?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps's stock of paints was low, it seemed, or exhausted. His +brushes were at home and—his creditor was at the corner of the street.</p> + +<p>"If I could take the proceeds"—Mr. Cripps began; but Grandfather Nat +interrupted. "Here's you, an' here's the board, an' we'll soon get the +tools: I'll send for 'em or buy new. Here, Joe! Joe'll get 'em. You say +what you want, an' he'll fetch 'em. Here you are, an' here you stick, +an' do my signboard!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps dared not struggle for his liberty, and indeed a promise of +his meals at the proper hours reconciled him to my grandfather's +defiance of Magna Charta. So the skipper's parlour became his studio; +and there he was left in company with his materials, a pot of beer, and +a screw of tobacco. I much desired to see the painting, but it was ruled +that Mr. Cripps must not be disturbed. I think I must have restrained my +curiosity for an hour at least, ere I ventured on tip-toe to peep +through a little window used for the passing in and out of drinks and +empty glasses. Here my view was somewhat obstructed by Mr. Cripps's pot, +which, being empty, he had placed upside down in the opening, as a +polite intimation to whomsoever it might concern; but I could see that +Mr. Cripps's labours having proceeded so far as the selection of a +convenient chair, he was now taking relaxation in profound slumber. So I +went away and said nothing.</p> + +<p>When at last he was disturbed by the arrival of his dinner, Mr. Cripps +regained consciousness with a sudden bounce that almost deposited him on +the floor.</p> + +<p>"Conception," he gasped, rubbing his eyes, "conception, an' meditation, +an' invention, is what you want in a job like this!"</p> + +<p>"Ah," replied my grandfather grimly, "that's all, is it? Then common +things like dinner don't matter. Perhaps Joe'd better take it away?"</p> + +<p>But it seemed that Mr. Cripps wanted his dinner too. He had it; but +Grandfather Nat made it clear that he should consider meditation wholly +inconsistent with tea. So that, in course of the afternoon, Mr. Cripps +was fain to paint the board white, and so earn a liberal interval of +rest, while it dried. And at night he went away home without the price +of the board, but, instead, a note to the effect that the amount was +payable on application to Captain Kemp at the Hole in the Wall, Wapping. +This note was the production, after three successive failures, of my own +pen, and to me a matter of great pride and delight; so that I was sadly +disappointed to observe that Mr. Cripps received it with emotions of a +wholly different character.</p> + +<p>Next morning Mr. Cripps returned to durance with another pot and another +screw of tobacco. Grandfather Nat had business in the Minories in the +matter of a distiller's account; and for this reason divers injunctions, +stipulations, and warnings were entered into and laid upon Mr. Cripps +before his departure. As for instance:—</p> + +<p>It was agreed that Mr. Cripps should remain in the skipper's parlour.</p> + +<p>Also (after some trouble) that no exception should be made to the +foregoing stipulation, even in the event of Mr. Cripps feeling it +necessary to go out somewhere to study a brick wall (or the hole in it) +from nature.</p> + +<p>Nor even if he felt overcome by the smell of paint.</p> + +<p>Agreed, however: that an exception be granted in the event of the house +being on fire.</p> + +<p>Further: this with more trouble: that one pot of beer before dinner is +enough for any man seriously bent on the pursuit of art.</p> + +<p>Moreover: that the board must not be painted white again.</p> + +<p>Lastly: that the period of invention and meditation be considered at an +end; and that sleep on Mr. Cripps's part be regarded as an +acknowledgment that meals are over for the day.</p> + +<p>These articles being at length agreed and confirmed, and Mr. Cripps +having been duly witnessed to make certain marks with charcoal on the +white board, as a guarantee of good faith, Grandfather Nat and I set out +for the Minories.</p> + +<p>His moodiness notwithstanding, it was part of his new habit to keep me +near him as much as possible, day and night, with a sort of wistful +jealousy. So we walked hand in hand over the swing bridge, past Paddy's +Goose, into the Highway, and on through that same pageant of romance and +squalor. The tradesmen at their doors saluted Grandfather Nat with a +subdued regard, as I had observed most people to do since the news of +<i>Juno's</i> wreck. Indeed that disaster was very freely spoken of, all +along the waterside, as a deliberate scuttling, and it was felt that +Captain Nat could lay his bereavement to something worse than the fair +chance of the seas. Such things were a part of the daily talk by the +Docks, and here all the familiar features were present; while it was +especially noted that nothing had been seen of Viney since the news +came. He meant to lie safe, said the gossips; since, as a bankrupt, he +stood to gain nothing by the insurance.</p> + +<p>One tradesman alone, a publican just beyond Blue Gate, greeted my +grandfather noisily, but he was thoughtless with the pride of commercial +achievement. For he was enlarging his bar, a large one already, by the +demolition of the adjoining shop, and he was anxious to exhibit and +explain his designs.</p> + +<p>"Why, good mornin', Cap'en," cried the publican, from amid scaffold +poles and brick-dust. "You're a stranger lately. See what I'm doin'? +Here: come in here an' look. How's this, eh? Another pair o' doors just +over there, an' the bar brought round like so, an' that for Bottle an' +Jug, and throw the rest into Public Bar. Eh?"</p> + +<p>The party wall had already been removed, and the structure above rested +on baulks and beams. The bar was screened off now from the place of its +enlargement by nothing but canvas and tarpaulin, and my grandfather and +his acquaintance stood with their backs to this, to survey the work of +the builders.</p> + +<p>Waiting by my grandfather's side while he talked, I was soon aware that +business was brisk in the bar beyond the canvas; and I listened idly to +the hum of custom and debate. Suddenly I grew aware of a voice I +knew—an acrid voice just within the canvas.</p> + +<p>"Then if you're useless, I ain't," said the voice, "an' I shan't let it +drop." And indeed it was Mrs. Grimes who spoke.</p> + +<p>I looked up quickly at Grandfather Nat, but he was interested in his +discussion, and plainly had not heard. Mrs. Grimes's declaration drew a +growling answer in a man's voice, wholly indistinct; and I found a patch +in the canvas, with a loose corner, which afforded a peep-hole.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grimes was nearest, with her back to the canvas, so that her skirts +threatened to close my view. Opposite her were two persons, in the +nearest of whom I was surprised to recognise the coarse-faced woman I +had seen twice before: once when she came asking confused questions to +Grandfather Nat about the man who sold a watch, and once when she +fainted at the inquest, and Mrs. Grimes was too respectable to stay near +her. The woman looked sorrowful and drawn about the eyes and cheeks, and +she held to the arm of a tall, raw-boned man. His face was seamed with +ragged and blistered skin, and he wore a shade over the hollows where +now, peeping upward, I could see no eyes, but shut and sunken lids; so +that at first it was hard to recognise the fellow who had been talking +to this same coarse-faced woman by Blue Gate, when she left him to ask +those questions of my grandfather; and indeed I should never have +remembered him but that the woman brought him to my mind.</p> + +<p>It was this man whose growling answer I had heard. Now Mrs. Grimes spoke +again. "All my fault from the beginning?" she said. "O yes, I like that: +because I wanted to keep myself respectable! My fault or not, I shan't +wait any longer for you. If I ain't to have it, you shan't. An' if I +can't get the money I can get something else."</p> + +<p>The man growled again and swore, and beat his stick impotently on the +floor. "You're a fool," he said. "Can't you wait till I'm a bit +straight? You an' your revenge! Pah! When there's money to be had!"</p> + +<p>"Not much to be had your way, it seems, the mess you've made of it; an' +precious likely to do any better now, ain't you? An' as to money—well +there's rewards given——"</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat's hand fell on my cap, and startled me. He had +congratulated his friend, approved his plans, made a few suggestions, +and now was ready to resume the walk. He talked still as he took my +hand, and stood thus for a few minutes by the door, exchanging views +with the publican on the weather, the last ships in, and the state of +trade. I heard one more growl, louder and angrier than the others, from +beyond the screen, and a sharper answer, and then there was a movement +and the slam of a door; and I got over the step, and stretched my +grandfather's arm and my own to see Mrs. Grimes go walking up the +street.</p> + +<p>When we were free of the publican, I told Grandfather Nat that I had +seen Mrs. Grimes in the bar. He made so indifferent a reply that I said +nothing of the conversation I had overheard; for indeed I knew nothing +of its significance. And so we went about our business.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>On our way home we were brought to a stand at the swing bridge, which +lay open to let through a ship. We were too late for the perilous lock; +for already the capstans were going, and the ship's fenders were +squeaking and groaning against the masonry. So we stood and waited till +fore, main, and mizzen had crawled by; and then I was surprised to +observe, foremost and most impatient among the passengers on the +opposite side, Mr. Cripps.</p> + +<p>The winches turned, and the bridge swung; and my surprise grew, when I +perceived that Mr. Cripps made no effort to avoid Grandfather Nat, but +hurried forward to meet him.</p> + +<p>"Well," said my grandfather gruffly, "house on fire?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir—no. But I thought——"</p> + +<p>"Sign done?"</p> + +<p>"No, Cap'en, not done exactly. But I just got curious noos, an' so I +come to meet you."</p> + +<p>"What's the news?"</p> + +<p>"Not p'raps exactly as you might say noos, sir, but +information—information that's been transpired to me this mornin'. More +or less unique information, so to say,—uncommon unique; much uniquer +than usual."</p> + +<p>With these repetitions Mr. Cripps looked hard in my grandfather's eyes, +as one does who wishes to break news, or lead up to a painful subject. +"What's it all about?" asked Grandfather Nat.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Juno</i>."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"She <i>was</i> scuttled wilful, Cap'en Kemp, scuttled wilful by Beecher. +It's more'n rumour or scandal: it's plain evidence."</p> + +<p>My grandfather looked fixedly at Mr. Cripps. "What's the plain +evidence?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"That chap that's been so much in the bar lately," Mr. Cripps answered, +his eyes wide with the importance of his discovery. "The chap that soaks +so heavy, an' shouts at any one you order out. He was aboard the <i>Juno</i> +on the voyage out, an' he deserted at Monte Video to a homeward bound +ship."</p> + +<p>"Then he doesn't know about the wreck." I thought my grandfather made +this objection almost eagerly.</p> + +<p>"No, Cap'en; but he deserted 'cos he said he preferred bein' on a ship +as was meant to come back, an' one as had some grub aboard—him an' +others. Beecher tried to pile 'em up time an' again; an' says the +chap—Conolly's his name—says he, anything as went wrong aboard the +<i>Juno</i> was Beecher's doin'; which was prophesied in the fo'c'sle a score +o' times 'fore she got to Monte Video. An'—an' Conolly said more." Mr. +Cripps stole another sidelong glance at Grandfather Nat. "Confidential +to me this mornin', Conolly said more."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"He said it was the first officer, your son, Cap'en, as prevented the +ship bein' piled up on the voyage out, an' all but knocked Beecher down +once. An' he said they was near fightin' half the time he was with 'em, +an' he said—surprisin' solemn too—solemn as a man could as was half +drunk—that after what he'd seen an' heard, anything as happened to the +first mate was no accident, or anything like it. That's what he said, +cap'en, confidential to me this mornin'."</p> + +<p>We were walking along together now; and Mr. Cripps seemed puzzled that +his information produced no more startling effect on my grandfather. The +old man's face was pale and hard, but there was no sign of surprise; +which was natural, seeing that this was no news, as Mr. Cripps supposed, +but merely confirmation.</p> + +<p>"He said there was never any skipper so partic'ler about the boats an' +davits bein' kep' in order as Beecher was that trip," Mr. Cripps +proceeded. "An' he kep' his own life-belt wonderful handy. As for the +crew, they kep' their kit-bags packed all the time; they could see +enough for that. An' he said there was some as could say more'n he +could."</p> + +<p>We came in view of the Hole in the Wall, and Mr. Cripps stopped short. +"He don't know I'm tellin' you this," he said. "He came in the skipper's +room with a drink, an' got talkin' confidential. He's very close about +it. You know what sailors are."</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat frowned, and nodded. Indeed nobody knew better the +common sailor-man's horror of complications and "land-shark" troubles +ashore: of anything that might lead to his being asked for responsible +evidence, even for his own protection. It gave impunity to +three-quarters of the iniquity practised on the high seas.</p> + +<p>"An' then o' course he's a deserter," Mr. Cripps proceeded. "So I don't +think you'd better say I told you, cap'en—not to him. You can give +information—or I can—an' then they'll make him talk, at the Old +Bailey; an' they'll bring others."</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat winced, and turned away. Then he stopped again and said +angrily: "Damn you, don't meddle! Keep your mouth shut, an' don't +meddle."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps's jaw dropped, and his very nose paled. "But—but——" he +stammered, "but, Cap'en, it's murder! Murder agin Beecher an' Viney too! +You'll do something, when it's your own son! Your own son. An' it's +murder, Cap'en!"</p> + +<p>My grandfather went two steps on his way, with a stifled groan. +"Murder!" he muttered, "murder it is, by the law of England!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps came at his heels, very blank in the face. Suddenly my +grandfather turned on him again, pale and fierce. "Shut your mouth, d'ye +hear? Stow your slack jaw, an' mind your own business, or I'll——"</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat lifted his hand; and I believe nothing but a paralysis +of terror kept Mr. Cripps from a bolt. Several people stopped to stare, +and the old man saw it. So he checked his wrath and walked on.</p> + +<p>"I'll see that man," he said presently, flinging the words at Mr. Cripps +over his shoulder. And so we reached the Hole in the Wall.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cripps sat speechless in the bar and trembled, while Grandfather Nat +remained for an hour in the skipper's parlour with Conolly the +half-drunken. What they said one to another I never learned, nor even if +my grandfather persuaded the man to tell him anything; though there can +be no doubt he did.</p> + +<p>For myself, I moved uneasily about the bar-parlour, and presently I +slipped out into the alley to gaze at the river from the stair-head. I +was troubled vaguely, as a child often is who strives to analyse the +behaviour of his elders. I stared some while at the barges and the tugs, +and at Bill Stagg's boat with its cage of fire, as it went in and about +among the shipping; I looked at the bills on the wall, where new tales +of men and women Found Drowned displaced those of a week ago; and I fell +again into the wonderment and conjecture they always prompted; and last +I turned up the alley, though whether to look out on the street or to +stop at the bar-parlour door, I had not determined.</p> + +<p>As I went, I grew aware of a tall, florid man with thick boots and very +large whiskers, who stood at the entry, and regarded me with a wide and +ingratiating smile. I had some cloudy remembrance of having seen him +before, walking in the street of Wapping Wall; and, as he seemed to be +coming to meet me, I went on past the bar-parlour door to meet him.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he said with a slight glance toward the door, "you're a smart +fellow, I can see." And he patted my head and stooped. "Now I've got +something to show you. See there!"</p> + +<p>He pulled a watch from his pocket and opened it. I was much interested +to see that the inward part swung clear out from the case, on a hinge, +exactly as I had seen happen with another watch on my first evening at +the Hole in the Wall. "That's a rum trick, ain't it?" observed the +stranger, smiling wider than ever.</p> + +<p>I assented, and thanked him for the demonstration.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he replied, "you're as clever a lad as ever I see; but I lay you +never see a watch like that before?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did," I answered heartily. "I saw one once."</p> + +<p>"No, no," said the florid man, still toying with the watch, "I don't +believe that—it's your gammon. Why, where did you see one?"</p> + +<p>He shot another stealthy glance toward the bar-parlour door as he said +it, and the glance was so unlike the smile that my sleeping caution was +alarmed. I remembered how my grandfather had come by the watch with the +M on the back; and I remember his repeated warnings that I must not +talk.</p> + +<p>"——Why, where did you see one?" asked the stranger.</p> + +<p>"In a man's hand," I said, with stolid truth.</p> + +<p>He looked at me so sharply through his grin that I had an uncomfortable +feeling that I had somehow let out the secret after all. But I resolved +to hold on tight.</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha!" he laughed, "in a man's hand, of course! I knew you was a +smart one. Mine hasn't got any letter on the back, you see."</p> + +<p>"No," I answered with elaborate indifference; "no letter." And as I +spoke I found more matter of surprise. For if I had eyes in my head—and +indeed I had sharp ones—there was Mrs. Grimes in a dark entry across +the street, watching this grinning questioner and me.</p> + +<p>"Some have letters on the back," said the questioner. "Mine ain't that +sort. What sort——"</p> + +<p>Here Joe the potman dropped, or knocked over, something in the +bar-parlour; and the stranger started.</p> + +<p>"I think I'm wanted indoors," I said, moving off, glad of the +interruption. "Good-bye!"</p> + +<p>The florid stranger rose and walked off at once, with a parting smile. +He turned at the corner, and went straight away, without so much as a +look toward the entry where Mrs. Grimes was. I fancied he walked rather +like a policeman.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>IN THE BAR-PARLOUR</h3> + + +<p>Dan Ogle, blinded and broken, but silent and saving his revenge: Musky +Mag, stricken and pitiable, but faithful even if to death: Henry Viney, +desperate but fearful, and urgently needy: these three skulked at bay in +dark holes by Blue Gate.</p> + +<p>Sullen and silent to doggedness, Ogle would give no word to the hospital +doctors of how his injury had befallen; and in three days he would brook +confinement no longer, but rose and broke away, defiant of persuasion, +to grope into the outer world by aid of Mag's arm. Blind George was +about still, but had scarcely been near the Highway except at night, +when, as he had been wont to boast, he was as good as most men with +sound eyes. It was thought that he spent his days over the water, as +would be the way of one feeling the need of temporary caution. It did +not matter: that could rest a bit. Blind George should be paid, and paid +bitter measure; but first the job in hand, first the scheme he had +interrupted; first the money.</p> + +<p>Here were doubt and difficulty. Dan Ogle's plan of murder and +comprehensive pillage was gone by the board; he was next to helpless. It +was plain that, whatever plan was followed, Viney must bear the active +part; Dan Ogle raved and cursed to find his partner so unpractised a +ruffian, so cautious and doubtful a confederate.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grimes made the matter harder, and it was plain that the thing must +be either brought to a head or wholly abandoned, if only on her account. +For she had her own idea, with her certain revenge on Captain Nat, and a +contingent reward; furthermore, she saw her brother useless. And things +were brought to a head when she would wait no more, but carried her +intrigue to the police.</p> + +<p>Nothing but a sudden move would do now, desperate as it might be; and +the fact screwed Viney to the sticking-place, and gave new vigour to +Ogle's shaken frame. After all, the delay had not been great—no more +than a few days. Captain Nat suspected nothing, and the chances lay that +the notes were still in hand, as they had been when Ogle's sister last +saw them; for he could afford to hold them, and dispose of them at a +later and safer time. The one danger was from this manœuvre of Mrs. +Grimes: if the police thought well enough of her tale to act without +preliminary inquiry, they might be at the Hole in the Wall with a +search-warrant at any moment. The thing must be done at once—that very +night.</p> + +<p>Musky Mag had never left Dan's side a moment since she had brought him +from the hospital; now she was thrust aside, and bidden to keep to +herself. Viney took to pen, ink and paper; and the two men waited +impatiently for midnight.</p> + +<p>It was then that Viney, with Ogle at his elbow, awaited the closing of +the Hole in the Wall, hidden in the dark entry, whence Mrs. Grimes had +watched the plain-clothes policeman fishing for information a few hours +earlier. The customers grew noisier as the hour neared; and Captain +Nat's voice was heard enjoining order once or twice, ere at last it was +raised to clear the bar. Then the company came out, straggling and +staggering, wrangling and singing, and melted away into the dark, this +way and that. Mr. Cripps went east, the pale pensioner west, each like a +man who has all night to get home in; and the potman, having fastened +the shutters, took his coat and hat, and went his way also.</p> + +<p>There was but one other tavern in sight, and that closed at the same +time as the Hole in the Wall; and since none nearer than Paddy's Goose +remained open till one, Wapping Wall was soon dark and empty. There were +diamond-shaped holes near the top of the shutters at the Hole in the +Wall, and light was visible through these: a sign that Captain Nat was +still engaged in the bar. Presently the light dulled, and then +disappeared: he had extinguished the lamps. Now was the time—while he +was in the bar-parlour. Viney came out from the entry, pulling Ogle by +the arm, and crossed the street. He brought him to the court entrance, +and placed his hand on the end post.</p> + +<p>"This is the first post in the court," Viney whispered. "Wait here while +I go. We both know what's to do."</p> + +<p>Viney tip-toed to the bar-parlour door, and tapped. There was a heavy +footstep within, and the door was flung open. There stood Captain Nat +with the table-lamp in his hand. "Who's that?" said Captain Nat. "Come +into the light."</p> + +<p>Viney took a deep breath. "Me," he answered. "I'll come in; I've got +something to say."</p> + +<p>He went in side-foremost, with his back against the door-post, and +Captain Nat turned slowly, each man watching the other. Then the +landlord put the lamp on the table, and shut the door. "Well," he said, +"I'll hear you say it."</p> + +<p>There was something odd about Captain Nat's eyes: something new, and +something that Viney did not like. Hard and quiet; not anger, it would +seem, but some-thing indefinable—and worse. Viney braced himself with +another inspiration of breath.</p> + +<p>"First," he said, "I'm alone here, but I've left word. There's a friend +o' mine not far off, waiting. He's waiting where he can hear the clock +strike on Shadwell Church, just as you can hear it here; an' if I'm not +back with him, safe an' sound, when it strikes one, he's going to the +police with some papers I've given him, in an envelope."</p> + +<p>"Ah! An' what papers?"</p> + +<p>"Papers I've written myself. Papers with a sort of private log in +them—not much like the one they showed 'em at Lloyd's—of the loss of +the <i>Florence</i> years enough ago, when a man named Dan Webb was killed. +Papers with the names of most of the men aboard, an' hints as to where +to find some of 'em: Bill Stagg, for instance, A. B. They may not want +to talk, but they can be made."</p> + +<p>Captain Nat's fixed look was oddly impassive. "Have you got it on the +papers," he said, in a curiously even voice, as though he recited a +lesson learned by rote; "have you got it on the papers that Dan Webb had +got at the rum, an' was lost through bein' drunk?"</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't; an' much good it 'ud do ye if I had. Drunk or sober he +died in that wreck, an' not a man aboard but knew all about that. I've +told you, before, what it is by law: Murder. Murder an' the Rope."</p> + +<p>"Ay," said Captain Nat in the same even voice, though the tones grew in +significance as he went on. "Ay, you have; an' you made me pay for the +information. Murder it is, an' the Rope, by the law of England."</p> + +<p>"Well, I want none of your money now; I want my own. I'll go back an' +burn those papers—or give 'em to you, if you like—an' you'll never see +me again, if you'll do one thing—not with your money."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Give me my partner's leather pocket-book and my eight hundred and ten +pounds that was in it. That's first an' last of my business here +to-night, an' all I've got to say."</p> + +<p>For a moment Captain Nat's impassibility was disturbed, and he looked +sharply at Viney. "Ha!" he said, "what's this? Partner's pocket-book? +Notes? What?"</p> + +<p>"I've said it plain, an' you understand me. Time's passing, Cap'en Kemp, +an' you'd better not waste it arguing; one o'clock'll strike before +long. The money I came an' spoke about when they found Marr in the +river; you had it all the time, an' you knew it. That's what I want: +nothing o' yours, but my own money. Give me my own money, an' save your +neck."</p> + +<p>Captain Nat compressed his lips, and folded his arms. "There was a woman +knew about this," he said slowly, after a pause, "a woman an' a man. +They each took a try at that money, in different ways. They must be +friends o' yours."</p> + +<p>"Time's going, Cap'en Kemp, time's going! Listen to reason, an' give me +what's my own. I want nothing o' yours; nothing but my own. To save you; +and—and that boy. You've got a boy to remember: think o' the boy!"</p> + +<p>Captain Nat stood for a little, silent and thoughtful, his eyes directed +absently on Viney, as though he saw him not; and as he stood so the +darkness cleared from his face. Not that moment's darkness only, but all +the hardness of years seemed to abate in the old skipper's features, so +that presently Captain Nat stood transfigured.</p> + +<p>"Ay," he said at last, "the boy—I'll think o' the boy, God bless him! +You shall have your money, Viney: though whether it ought to be yours I +don't know. Viney, when you came in I was ready to break you in pieces +with my bare hands—which I could do easy, as you know well enough." He +stretched forth the great knotted hands, and Viney shrank before them. +"I was ready to kill you with my hands, an' would ha' done it, for a +reason I'll tell you of, afterwards. But I've done evil enough, an' I'll +do no more. You shall have your money. Wait here, an' I'll fetch it."</p> + +<p>"Now, no—no tricks, you know!" said Viney, a little nervously, as the +old man turned toward the staircase door.</p> + +<p>"Tricks?" came the answer. "No. An end of all tricks." And Captain Nat +tramped heavily up the stair.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>My grandfather was uncommonly silent all that day, after his interview +with Conolly. He bade me good night when I went to bed, and kissed me; +but he said no more, though he sat by my bed till I fell asleep, while +Joe attended the bar.</p> + +<p>I had a way, now and again, of waking when the bar was closed—perhaps +because of the noise; and commonly at these times I lay awake till +Grandfather Nat came to bed, to bid him good night once more. It was so +this night, the night of nights. I woke at the shouting and the +stumbling into the street, and lay while the bar was cleared, and the +doors banged and fastened.</p> + +<p>My grandfather seemed to stay uncommonly long; and presently, as the +night grew stiller, I was aware of voices joined in conversation below. +I wondered greatly who could be talking with Grandfather Nat at this +hour, and I got out of bed to listen at the stair-head. It could not be +Bill Stagg, for the voices were in the bar-parlour, and not in the +store-place behind; and it was not Joe the potman, for I had heard him +go, and I knew his step well. I wondered if Grandfather Nat would mind +if I went down to see.</p> + +<p>I was doubtful, and I temporised; I began to put on some clothes, +listening from time to time at the stair-head, in hope that I might +recognise the other voice. But indeed both voices were indistinct, and I +could not distinguish one from the other. And then of a sudden the +stairfoot door opened, and my grandfather came upstairs, heavy and slow.</p> + +<p>I doubted what he might say when he saw my clothes on, but he seemed not +to notice it. He brought a candle in from the landing, and he looked +strangely grave—grave with a curious composure. He went to the little +wall-cupboard at his bed-head, and took out the cash-box, which had not +been downstairs since the pale man had ceased work. "Stevy, my boy," he +said, "have you said your prayers?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, grandfather."</p> + +<p>"An' didn't forget Gran'father Nat?"</p> + +<p>"No, grandfather, I never forget you."</p> + +<p>"Good boy, Stevy." He took the leather pocket-book from the box, and +knelt by my side, with his arm about me. "Stevy," he said, "here's this +money. It ain't ours, Stevy, neither yours nor mine, an' we've no right +to it. I kept it for you, but I did wrong; an' worse, I was leadin' you +wrong. Will you give it up, Stevy?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, grandfather." Truly that was an easy enough thing to say; and +in fact I was in some way pleased to know that my mother had been right, +after all.</p> + +<p>"Right, Stevy; be an honest boy always, and an honest man—better than +me. Since I was a boy like you, I've gone a long way wrong, an' I've +been a bad man, Stevy, a bad man some ways, at least. An' now, Stevy, +I'm goin' away—for a bit. Presently, when I'm gone, you can go to the +stairs an' call Bill Stagg—he'll come at once. Call Bill Stagg—he'll +stay with you to-night. You don't mind Bill Stagg, do you?"</p> + +<p>Bill Stagg was an excellent friend of mine, and I liked his company; but +I could not understand Grandfather Nat's going away. Where was he going, +and why, so late at night?</p> + +<p>"Never mind that just now, Stevy. I'm going away—for a bit; an' +whatever happens you'll always say prayers night an' mornin' for +Gran'father Nat, won't you? An' be a good boy."</p> + +<p>There was something piteous now in my grandfather's hard, grave face. +"Don't go, grandfather," I pleaded, with my arm at his neck, "don't go! +Grandfather Nat! You're not—not going to die, are you?"</p> + +<p>"That's as God wills, my boy. We must all die some day."</p> + +<p>I think he was near breaking down here; but at the moment a voice called +up the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Are you coming?" said the voice. "Time's nearly up!" And it frightened +me more than I can say to know this second voice at last for Viney's.</p> + +<p>But my grandfather was firm again at once. "Yes," he cried, "I'm +coming!... No more to do, Stevy—snivelling's no good." And then +Grandfather Nat put his hands clumsily together, and shut his eyes like +a little child. "God bless an' save this boy, whatever happens. Amen," +said Grandfather Nat.</p> + +<p>Then he rose and took from the cash-box the watch that the broken-nosed +man had sold. "There's that, too," he said musingly. "I dunno why I kep' +it so long." And with that he shut the cash-box, and strode across to +the landing. He looked back at me for a moment, but said nothing; and +then descended the stairs.</p> + +<p>Bewildered and miserably frightened, I followed him.</p> + +<p>I could neither reason nor cry out, and I had an agonised hope that I +was not really awake, and that this was just such a nightmare as had +afflicted me on the night of the murder at our door. I crouched on the +lower stairs, and listened....</p> + +<p>"Yes, I've got it," said my grandfather, answering an eager question. +"There it is. Look at that—count the notes."</p> + +<p>I heard a hasty scrabbling of paper.</p> + +<p>"Right?" asked my grandfather.</p> + +<p>"Quite right," Viney answered; and there was exultation in his voice.</p> + +<p>"Pack 'em up—put 'em safe in your pocket. Quite safe? There's the +watch, too; I paid for that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the watch? Well, all right, I don't mind having that too, since +you're pressing.... You might ha' saved a deal of trouble, yours an' +mine too, if you'd done all this before."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you're right; but I clear up all now. You've got the notes all +quite safe, have you?"</p> + +<p>"All safe." There was the sound of a slap on a breast-pocket.</p> + +<p>"And the watch?"</p> + +<p>"Ay; and the watch."</p> + +<p>"Good!..."</p> + +<p>I heard a bounce and a gasp of terror; and then my grandfather's voice +again. "Come! Come, Viney! We'll be quits to the end. We're bad men +both, an' we'll go to the police together. Bring your papers, Viney! +Tell 'em about the <i>Florence</i> an' Dan Webb, an' I'll tell 'em about the +<i>Juno</i> an' my boy! I've got my witnesses—an' I'll find more—a dozen to +your one! Come, Viney! I'll have justice done now, on both of us!"</p> + +<p>I could stay no longer. Viney was struggling desperately, reasoning, +entreating. I pushed open the staircase door, but neither seemed to note +me. My grandfather had Viney by arm and collar, and was shaking him, +face downward.</p> + +<p>"I'll go halves, Kemp—I'll go halves," Viney gasped hoarsely. "Divide +how you like—but don't, don't be a fool! Take five hundred! Think o' +the boy!"</p> + +<p>"I've thought of the boy, an' I've thought of his father! God'll mind +the boy you've made an orphan! Come!"</p> + +<p>My grandfather flung wide the door, and tumbled Viney up the steps into +the court. The little table with the lamp on it rocked from a kick, and +I saved it by sheer instinct, for I was sick with terror.</p> + +<p>I followed into the court, and saw my grandfather now nearly at the +street corner, hustling and dragging his prisoner. "Dan! Dan!" Viney was +crying, struggling wildly. "Dan! I've got it! Draw him off me, Dan! Go +for the kid an' draw him off! Go for the kid on the stairs!"</p> + +<p>And I could see a man come groping between the wall and the posts, a +hand feeling from one post to the next, and the stick in the other hand +scraping the wall. I ran out to the farther side of the alley.</p> + +<p>Viney's shout distracted my grandfather's attention, and I saw him +looking anxiously back. With that Viney took his chance, and flung +himself desperately round the end post. His collar went with a rip, and +he ran. For a moment my grandfather stood irresolute, and I ran toward +him. "I am safe here," I cried. "Come away, grandfather!"</p> + +<p>But when he saw me clear of the groping man, he turned and dashed after +Viney; while from the bar-parlour I heard a curse and a crash of broken +glass. I vaguely wondered if Viney's confederate were smashing windows +in the partition; and then I ran my hardest after Grandfather Nat.</p> + +<p>Viney had made up the street toward the bridge and Ratcliff Highway, and +Captain Nat pursued with shouts of "Stop him!" Breathless and unsteady, +I made slow progress with my smaller legs over the rough cobble-stones, +which twisted my feet all ways as I ran. But I was conscious of a +gathering of other cries ahead, and I struggled on, with throbbing head +and bursting heart. Plainly there were more shouts as I neared the +corner, and a running of more men than two. And when the corner was +turned, and the bridge and the lock before me, I saw that the chase was +over.</p> + +<p>Three bull's-eye lanterns were flashing to and fro, pointing their long +rays down on the black dock-water, and the policemen who directed them +were calling to dockmen on the dark quay, who cried back, and ran, and +called again.</p> + +<p>"Man in!" cried one and another, hurrying in from the Highway. "Fell off +the lock." "No, he cut his lucky, an' headered in!" "He didn't, I tell +ye!" "Yes, he did! Why, I see 'im!"</p> + +<p>I could not see my grandfather; and for a moment my thumping heart stood +still and sick with the fear that it was he who was drowning in the +dock. Then a policeman swung his lantern across to the opposite side, +and in the passing flash Grandfather Nat's figure stood hard and clear +for an instant and no more. He was standing midway on the lock, staring +and panting, and leaning on a stanchion.</p> + +<p>With a dozen risks of being knocked into the dock by excited onlookers, +I scrambled down to the lock and seized the first stanchion. It creaked +and tottered in my hand, but I went forward, gripping at the swaying +chain and keeping foothold on the slippery, uneven timbers I knew not +how. Sometimes the sagging chain would give till I felt myself pitching +headlong, only to be saved by the check of the stanchion against the +side of the socket; and once the chain hung so low, where it had slipped +through the next stanchion-eye, that I had no choice but to let go, and +plunged in the dark for the next upright—it might have been to plunge +into space. "Grandfather Nat! Grandfather Nat!"</p> + +<p>I reached him somehow at last, and caught tight at his wrist. He was +leaning on the stanchion still, and staring at the dark water. "Here I +am, grandfather," I said, "but I am frightened. Stay with me, please!"</p> + +<p>For a little while he still peered into the gloom. Then he turned and +said quietly: "I've lost him, Stevy. He went over—here."</p> + +<p>By the sweep of his hand I saw what had happened, though I could scarce +realise the whole matter then and there. As I presently learnt, however, +Viney was running full for the bridge, with Captain Nat shouting behind +him, when he saw the lanterns of the three policemen barring the bridge +as they came on their beat from the Highway. To avoid them he swung +aside and made for the lock, with his pursuer hard at his heels. Now a +lock of that sort joins in an angle or mitre at the middle, where the +two sides meet like a valve, pointing to resist the tide; so that the +hazardous path along the top turns off sharply midway. Flying headlong, +with thought of nothing but the avenger behind him, Viney overran the +angle, meeting the low chain full under his knees; and so was gone, with +a yell and a splash.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat took me by the collar, and turned me round. "We'll get +back, Stevy," he said. "Go on, I'll hold you tight."</p> + +<p>And so in the pitchy dark I went back along the way I had come, walking +before my grandfather as I had done when first I saw that lock. The +dockmen had flung random life-buoys, and now were groping with drags and +hooks. Some judged that the man must have gone under like a stone; +others thought it quite likely that a good swimmer might have got away +quietly. And everybody wished to know who the man was, and why he was +running.</p> + +<p>To all such questions my grandfather made the same answer. "It was a man +I wanted, wanted bad, for the police. You find him, dead or alive, an' +I'll identify him, an' say the rest in the proper place; that's all." +Only once he amplified this answer, and then he said: "You can judge he +was as much afraid o' the police as he was o' me, or more. Look where he +went, when he saw 'em on the bridge!" And again he repeated: "I'll say +the rest when he's found, not before; an' nobody can make me."</p> + +<p>He was calm and cool enough now, as I could feel as well as hear, for my +hand was buried in his, while he pushed his way stolidly through the +little crowd. As for myself, I could neither think, nor speak, nor +laugh, nor cry, though dizzily conscious of an impulse to do all four at +once. I had Grandfather Nat again, and now he would not go away; that I +could realise; and I clung with all my might to as much of his hand as I +could grip.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>But I was to have neither time to gather my wits nor quiet to assort my +emotions: for the full issue of that night was not yet. Even as we were +pushing through the little crowd, and even as my grandfather parried +question with answer, a new cry rose, and at the sound the crowd began +to melt: for it was the cry of "Fire."</p> + +<p>A single shout at first, and then another, and then a clamour of three +together, and a beat of running feet. Men about us started off, and as +we rounded the corner, one came running back on his tracks. "Cap'en +Kemp, it's your house!" he cried. "Your house, Cap'en Kemp! The Hole in +the Wall! The Hole in the Wall!"</p> + +<p>Then was dire confusion. I was caught in a whir of running men, and I +galloped and stumbled along as I might, dragging dependent from my +grandfather's hand. Somewhere ahead a wavering light danced before my +eyes, and there was a sudden outburst of loud cracks, as of a hundred +carters' whips; and then—screams; screams without a doubt. Confusedly +my mind went back to Viney's confederate, groping in at the bar-parlour +door. What had he done? Smashed glass? Glass? It must have been the +lamp: the lamp on the little table by the door, the lamp I had myself +saved but ten minutes earlier!</p> + +<p>Now we were opposite the Hole in the Wall, and the loud cracks were +joined with a roar of flame. Out it came gushing at the crevices of +doors and shutters, and the corners of doors and shutters shrivelled and +curled to let out more, as though that bulging old wooden house were a +bursting reservoir of long-pent fire that could be held in no more. And +still there were the screams, hoarser and hoarser, from what part within +was not to be guessed.</p> + +<p>My grandfather stood me in a doorway, up two steps, and ran toward the +court, but that was impassable. With such fearful swiftness had the fire +sprung up and over the dry old timber on this side, where it had made +its beginning, that already a painted board on the brick wall opposite +was black and smoking and glowering red at the edges; and where I stood, +across the road, the air was hot and painful to the eyes. Grandfather +Nat ran along the front of the house to the main door, but it was +blazing and bursting, and he turned and ran into the road, with his arm +across his eyes. Then, with a suddenly increased roar, flames burst +tenfold in volume and number from all the ground floor, and, where a +shutter fell, all within glowed a sheer red furnace. The spirit was +caught at last.</p> + +<p>And now I saw a sight that would come again in sleep months afterwards, +and set me screaming in my bed. The cries, which had lately died down, +sprang out anew amid the roar, nearer and clearer, with a keener agony; +and up in the club-room, the room of the inquests—there at a window +appeared the Groping Man, a dreadful figure. In no darkness now, but +ringed about with bright flame I saw him: the man whose empty, sightless +eye-pits I had seen scarce twelve hours before through a hole in a +canvas screen. The shade was gone from over the place of the eyes, and +down the seared face and among the rags of blistered skin rolled streams +of horrible great tears, forced from the raw lids by scorching smoke. +His clothes smoked about him as he stood—groping, groping still, he +knew not whither; and his mouth opened and closed with sounds scarce +human.</p> + +<p>Grandfather Nat roared distractedly for a ladder, called to the man to +jump, ran forward twice to the face of the house as though to catch him, +and twice came staggering back with his hands over his face, and flying +embers singeing his hair and his coat.</p> + +<p>The blind man's blackened hands came down on the blazing sill, and leapt +from the touch. Then came a great crash, with a single second's dulling +of the whole blaze. For an instant the screaming, sightless, weeping +face remained, and then was gone for ever. The floor had fallen.</p> + +<p>The flames went up with a redoubled roar, and now I could hold my place +no longer for the heat. People were flinging water over the shutters and +doors of the houses facing the fire, and from the houses adjoining +furniture was being dragged in hot haste. My grandfather came and +carried me a few doors farther along the street, and left me with a +chandler's wife, who was out in a shawl and a man's overcoat over a +huddle of flannel petticoats.</p> + +<p>Now the fire engines came, dashing through the narrow lanes with a +clamour of hoarse cries, and scattering the crowd this way and that. The +Hole in the Wall was past aid, and all the work was given to save its +neighbours. For some while I could distinguish my grandfather among the +firemen, heaving and hauling, and doing the work of three. The police +were grown in numbers now, and they had cleared the street to beyond +where I stood, so that I could see well enough; and in every break in +the flames, in every changing shadow, I saw again the face of the +Groping Man, even as I can see it now as I write.</p> + +<p>Floor went upon floor, till at last the poor old shell fell in a heap +amid a roar of shouts and a last leap of fire, leaving the brick wall of +the next house cracking and black and smoking, and tagged with specks of +dying flame. And then at last my grandfather, black and scorched, came +and sat by me on a step, and put the breast of his coat about me.</p> + +<p>And that was the end of the Hole in the Wall: the end of its landlord's +doubts and embarrassments and dangers, and the beginning of another +chapter in his history—his history and mine.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>STEPHEN'S TALE</h3> + + +<p>Little remains to say; for with the smoking sticks of the Hole in the +Wall the tale of my early days burns itself out.</p> + +<p>Viney's body was either never found or never identified. Whether it was +discovered by some person who flung it adrift after possessing himself +of the notes and watch: whether it was held unto dissolution by mud, or +chains, or waterside gear: or whether indeed, as was scarce possible, it +escaped with the life in it, to walk the world in some place that knew +it not, I, at any rate, cannot tell. The fate of his confederate, at +least, was no matter of doubt. He must have been driven to the bar by +the fire he had raised, and there, bewildered and helpless, and cut off +from the way he had come, even if he could find it, he must have +scrambled desperately till he found the one open exit—the club-room +stairs.</p> + +<p>But of these enough. Faint by contrast with the vivid scenes of the +night, divers disconnected impressions of the next morning remain with +me: all the fainter for the sleep that clutched at my eyelids, spite of +my anxious resolution to see all to the very end. Of a coarse, draggled +woman of streaming face and exceeding bitter cry, who sat inconsolable +while men raked the ruins for a thing unrecognisable when it was found. +Of the pale man, who came staring and choking, and paler than ever, +gasping piteously of his long and honest service, and sitting down on +the curb at last, to meditate on my grandfather's promise that he should +not want, if he would work. And of Mr. Cripps, at first blank and +speechless, and then mighty loquacious in the matter of insurance. For +works of art would be included, of course, up to twenty pounds apiece; +at which amount of proceeds—with a discount to Captain Kemp—he would +cheerfully undertake to replace the lot, and throw the signboard in.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grimes was heard of, though not seen; but this was later. She was +long understood to have some bitter grievance against the police, whom +she charged with plots and conspiracies to defeat the ends of justice; +and I think she ended with a savage assault on a plain-clothes +constable's very large whiskers, and twenty-one days' imprisonment.</p> + +<p>The Hole in the Wall was rebuilt in brick, with another name, as I think +you may see it still; or could, till lately. There was also another +landlord. For Captain Nat Kemp turned to enlarging and improving his +wharf, and he bought lighters, and Wapping saw him no more. As for me, I +went to school at last.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOLE IN THE WALL***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 34538-h.txt or 34538-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/5/3/34538">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/5/3/34538</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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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 Hole in the Wall + + +Author: Arthur Morrison + + + +Release Date: December 1, 2010 [eBook #34538] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOLE IN THE WALL*** + + +E-text prepared by Janet Kegg, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +THE HOLE IN THE WALL + +by + +ARTHUR MORRISON + + + + + + + +London +Eyre & Spottiswoode + +The Hole in the Wall was first published in 1902 +First published in The Century Library, 1947 + +The Century Library is printed in England by Billing and +Sons Ltd., Guildford and Esher, for Eyre & Spottiswoode +(Publishers) Ltd., 15 Bedford Street, London, W.C. 2, and +bound by James Burn and Company Ltd., Royal Mills, Esher + + + + _To_ + MRS. CHARLES EARDLEY-WILMOT + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. STEPHEN'S TALE + + II. IN BLUE GATE + + III. STEPHEN'S TALE + + IV. STEPHEN'S TALE + + V. IN THE HIGHWAY + + VI. STEPHEN'S TALE + + VII. STEPHEN'S TALE + + VIII. STEPHEN'S TALE + + IX. STEPHEN'S TALE + + X. STEPHEN'S TALE + + XI. STEPHEN'S TALE + + XII. IN THE CLUB-ROOM + + XIII. STEPHEN'S TALE + + XIV. STEPHEN'S TALE + + XV. STEPHEN'S TALE + + XVI. STEPHEN'S TALE + + XVII. IN BLUE GATE + + XVIII. ON THE COP + + XIX. ON THE COP + + XX. STEPHEN'S TALE + + XXI. IN THE BAR-PARLOUR + + XXII. ON THE COP + + XXIII. ON THE COP + + XXIV. ON THE COP + + XXV. STEPHEN'S TALE + + XXVI. STEPHEN'S TALE + + XXVII. IN THE BAR-PARLOUR + + XXVIII. STEPHEN'S TALE + + XXIX. STEPHEN'S TALE + + XXX. STEPHEN'S TALE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +My grandfather was a publican--and a sinner, as you will see. His +public-house was the Hole in the Wall, on the river's edge at Wapping; +and his sins--all of them that I know of--are recorded in these pages. +He was a widower of some small substance, and the Hole in the Wall was +not the sum of his resources, for he owned a little wharf on the river +Lea. I called him Grandfather Nat, not to distinguish him among a +multitude of grandfathers--for indeed I never knew another of my +own--but because of affectionate habit; a habit perhaps born of the fact +that Nathaniel Kemp was also my father's name. My own is Stephen. + +To remember Grandfather Nat is to bethink me of pear-drops. It is +possible that that particular sort of sweetstuff is now obsolete, and I +cannot remember how many years have passed since last I smelt it; for +the pear-drop was a thing that could be smelt farther than seen, and +oftener; so that its smell--a rather fulsome, vulgar smell I now +believe--is almost as distinct to my imagination while I write as it was +to my nose thirty years ago. For pear-drops were an unfailing part of +the large bagful of sticky old-fashioned lollipops that my grandfather +brought on his visits, stuffed into his overcoat pocket, and hard to get +out without a burst and a spill. His custom was invariable, so that I +think I must have come to regard the sweets as some natural production +of his coat pocket; insomuch that at my mother's funeral my muddled +brain scarce realised the full desolation of the circumstances till I +discovered that, for the first time in my experience, my grandfather's +pocket was void of pear-drops. But with this new bereavement the world +seemed empty indeed, and I cried afresh. + +Associated in my memory with my grandfather's bag of sweets, almost more +than with himself, was the gap in the right hand where the middle finger +had been; for it was commonly the maimed hand that hauled out the paper +bag, and the gap was plain and singular against the white paper. He had +lost the finger at sea, they told me; and as my notion of losing a thing +was derived from my Noah's ark, or dropping a marble through a grating, +I was long puzzled to guess how anything like that could have happened +to a finger. Withal the circumstance fascinated me, and added vastly to +the importance and the wonder of my grandfather in my childish eyes. + +He was perhaps a little over the middle height, but so broad and so deep +of chest and, especially, so long of arm, as to seem squat. He had some +grey hair, but it was all below the line of his hat-brim; above that it +was as the hair of a young man. So that I was led to reason that colour +must be washed out of hair by exposure to the weather; as perhaps in his +case it was. I think that his face was almost handsome, in a rough, +hard-bitten way, and he was as hairy a man as I ever saw. His short +beard was like curled wire; but I can remember that long after I had +grown to resent being kissed by women, being no longer a baby, I gladly +climbed his knee to kiss my grandfather, though his shaven upper-lip was +like a rasp. + +In these early days I lived with my mother in a little house of a short +row that stood on a quay, in a place that was not exactly a dock, nor a +wharf, nor a public thoroughfare; but where people from the dock trying +to find a wharf, people from a wharf looking for the dock, and people +from the public thoroughfare in anxious search of dock and wharves, used +to meet and ask each other questions. It was a detached piece of +Blackwall which had got adrift among locks and jetties, and was liable +to be cut off from the rest of the world at any moment by the arrival of +a ship and the consequent swinging of a bridge, worked by two men at a +winch. So that it was a commonplace of my early childhood (though the +sight never lost its interest) to observe from a window a ship, passing +as it were up the street, warped into dock by the capstans on the quay. +And the capstan-songs of the dockmen--_Shenandore_, _Mexico is covered +with Snow_, _Hurrah for the Black Ball Line_, and the like--were as much +my nursery rhymes as _Little Boy Blue_ and _Sing a Song o' Sixpence_. +These things are done differently nowadays; the cottages on the quay are +gone, and the neighbourhood is a smokier place, where the work is done +by engines, with no songs. + +My father was so much at sea that I remember little of him at all. He +was a ship's officer, and at the time I am to tell of he was mate of the +brig _Juno_, owned by Viney and Marr, one of the small shipowning firms +that were common enough thirty years ago, though rarer now; the sort of +firm that was made by a pushing skipper and an ambitious shipping clerk, +beginning with a cheap vessel bought with money raised mainly by pawning +the ship. Such concerns often did well, and sometimes grew into great +lines; perhaps most of them yielded the partners no more than a +comfortable subsistence; and a good few came to grief, or were kept +going by questionable practices which have since become +illegal--sometimes in truth by what the law called crime, even then. +Viney had been a ship's officer--had indeed served under Grandfather +Nat, who was an old skipper. Marr was the business man who had been a +clerk. And the firm owned two brigs, the _Juno_ and another; though how +much of their value was clear property and how much stood for borrowed +money was matter of doubt and disagreement in the conversation of mates +and skippers along Thames shore. What nobody disagreed about, however, +was that the business was run on skinflint principles, and that the +vessels were so badly found, so ill-kept, and so grievously +under-manned, that the firm ought to be making money. These things by +the way, though they are important to remember. As I was saying, I +remember little of my father, because of his long voyages and short +spells at home. But my mother is so clear and so kind in my recollection +that sometimes I dream of her still, though she died before I was eight. + +It was while my father was on a long voyage with the _Juno_ that there +came a time when she took me often upon her knee, asking if I should +like a little brother or sister to play with; a thing which I demanded +to have brought, instantly. There was a fat woman called Mrs. Dann, who +appeared in the household and became my enemy. She slept with my mother, +and my cot was thrust into another room, where I lay at night and +brooded--sometimes wept with jealousy thus to be supplanted; though I +drew what consolation I might from the prospect of the promised +playmate. Then I could not go near my mother at all, for she was ill, +and there was a doctor. And then ... I was told that mother and +baby-brother were gone to heaven together; a thing I would not hear of, +but fought savagely with Mrs. Dann on the landing, shouting to my mother +that she was not to die, for I was coming. And when, wearied with +kicking and screaming--for I fought with neighbours as well as with the +nurse and the undertaker, conceiving them to be all in league to deprive +me of my mother--when at last the woman from next door took me into the +bedroom, and I saw the drawn face that could not smile, and my tiny +brother that could not play, lying across the dead breast, I so behaved +that the good soul with me blubbered aloud; and I had an added grief in +the reflection that I had kicked her shins not half an hour before. I +have never seen that good woman since; and I am ashamed to write that I +cannot even remember her name. + +I have no more to say of my mother, and of her funeral only so much as +records the least part of my grief. Some of her relations came, whom I +cannot distinctly remember seeing at any other time: a group of elderly +and hard-featured women, who talked of me as "the child," very much as +they might have talked of some troublesome article of baggage; and who +turned up their noses at my grandfather: who, for his part, was uneasily +respectful, calling each of them "mum" very often. I was not attracted +by my mother's relations, and I kept as near my grandfather as possible, +feeling a vague fear that some of them might have a design of taking me +away. Though indeed none was in the least ambitious of that +responsibility. + +They were not all women, for there was one quiet little man in their +midst, who, when not eating cake or drinking wine, was sucking the bone +handle of a woman's umbrella, which he carried with him everywhere, +indoors and out. He was in the custody of the largest and grimmest of +ladies, whom the others called Aunt Martha. He was so completely in her +custody that after some consideration I judged he must be her son; +though indeed he seemed very old for that. I now believe him to have +been her husband; but I cannot remember to have heard his name, and I +cannot invent him a better one than Uncle Martha. + +Uncle Martha would have behaved quite well, I am convinced, if he had +been left alone, and would have acquitted himself with perfect propriety +in all the transactions of the day; but it seemed to be Aunt Martha's +immovable belief that he was wholly incapable of any action, even the +simplest and most obvious, unless impelled by shoves and jerks. +Consequently he was shoved into the mourning carriage--we had two--and +jerked into the corner opposite to the one he selected; shoved +out--almost on all fours--at the cemetery; and, perceiving him entering +the little chapel of his own motion, Aunt Martha overtook him and jerked +him in there. This example presently impressed the other ladies with the +expediency of shoving Uncle Martha at any convenient opportunity; so +that he arrived home with us at last in a severely jostled condition, +faithful to the bone-handled umbrella through everything. + +Grandfather Nat had been liberal in provision for the funeral party, and +the cake and port wine, the gin and water, the tea and the watercress, +occupied the visitors for some time; a period illuminated by many moral +reflections from a rather fat relation, who was no doubt, like most of +the others, an aunt. + +"Ah well," said the Fat Aunt, shaking her head, with a deep sigh that +suggested repletion; "ah well; it's what we must all come to!" + +There had been a deal of other conversation, but I remember this remark +because the Fat Aunt had already made it twice. + +"Ah, indeed," assented another aunt, a thin one; "so we must, sooner or +later." + +"Yes, yes; as I often say, we're all mortal." + +"Yes, indeed!" + +"We've all got to be born, an' we've all got to die." + +"That's true!" + +"Rich an' poor--just the same." + +"Ah!" + +"In the midst of life we're in the middle of it." + +"Ah yes!" + +Grandfather Nat, deeply impressed, made haste to refill the Fat Aunt's +glass, and to push the cake-dish nearer. Aunt Martha jerked Uncle +Martha's elbow toward his glass, which he was neglecting, with a sudden +nod and a frown of pointed significance--even command. + +"It's a great trial for all of the family, I'm sure," pursued the Fat +Aunt, after applications to glass and cake-dish; "but we must bear up. +Not that we ain't had trials enough, neither." + +"No, indeed," replied Aunt Martha with a snap at my grandfather, as +though he were the trial chiefly on her mind; which Grandfather Nat took +very humbly, and tried her with watercress. + +"Well, she's better off, poor thing," the Fat Aunt went on. + +Some began to say "Ah!" again, but Aunt Martha snapped it into "Well, +let's hope so!"--in the tone of one convinced that my mother couldn't be +much worse off than she had been. From which, and from sundry other +remarks among the aunts, I gathered that my mother was held to have hurt +the dignity of her family by alliance with Grandfather Nat's. I have +never wholly understood why; but I put the family pride down to the +traditional wedding of an undoubted auctioneer with Aunt Martha's +cousin. So Aunt Martha said "Let's hope so!" and, with another sudden +frown and nod, shoved Uncle Martha toward the cake. + +"What a blessing the child was took too!" was the Fat Aunt's next +observation. + +"Ah, that it is!" murmured the chorus. But I was puzzled and shocked to +hear such a thing said of my little brother. + +"And it's a good job there's only one left." + +The chorus agreed again. I began to feel that I had seriously disobliged +my mother's relations by not dying too. + +"And him a boy; boys can look after themselves." This was a thin aunt's +opinion. + +"Ah, and that's a blessing," sighed the Fat Aunt; "a great blessing." + +"Of course," said Aunt Martha. "And it's not to be expected that his +mother's relations can be burdened with him." + +"Why, no indeed!" said the Fat Aunt, very decisively. + +"I'm sure it wouldn't be poor Ellen's wish to cause more trouble to her +family than she has!" And Aunt Martha, with a frown at the watercress, +gave Uncle Martha another jolt. It seemed to me that he had really eaten +all he wanted, and would rather leave off; and I wondered if she always +fed him like that, or if it were only when they were visiting. + +"And besides, it 'ud be standing in the child's way," Aunt Martha +resumed, "with so many openings as there is in the docks here, quite +handy." + +Perhaps it was because I was rather dull in the head that day, from one +cause and another; at any rate I could think of no other openings in the +docks but those between the ships and the jetties, and at the +lock-sides, which people sometimes fell into, in the dark; and I +gathered a hazy notion that I was expected to make things comfortable by +going out and drowning myself. + +"Yes, of course it would," said the Fat Aunt. + +"It stands to reason," said a thin one. + +"Anybody can see _that_," said the others. + +"And many a boy's gone out to work no older." + +"Ah, and been members o' Parliament afterwards, too." + +The prospect of an entry into Parliament presented so stupefying a +contrast with that of an immersion in the dock that for some time the +ensuing conversation made little impression on me. On the part of my +mother's relations it was mainly a repetition of what had gone before, +very much in the same words; and as to my grandfather, he had little to +say at all, but expressed himself, so far as he might, by furtive pats +on my back; pats increasing in intensity as the talk of the ladies +pointed especially and unpleasingly to myself. Till at last the food and +drink were all gone. Whereupon the Fat Aunt sighed her last moral +sentiment, Uncle Martha was duly shoved out on the quay, and I was left +alone with Grandfather Nat. + +"Well Stevy, ol' mate," said my grandfather, drawing me on his knee; "us +two's left alone; left alone, ol' mate." + +I had not cried much that day--scarce at all in fact, since first +meeting my grandfather in the passage and discovering his empty +pocket--for, as I have said, I was a little dull in the head, and trying +hard to think of many things. But now I cried indeed, with my face +against my grandfather's shoulder, and there was something of solace in +the outburst; and when at last I looked up I saw two bright drops +hanging in the wiry tangle of my grandfather's beard, and another lodged +in the furrow under one eye. + +"'Nough done, Stevy," said my grandfather; "don't cry no more. You'll +come home along o' me now, won't ye? An' to-morrow we'll go in the +London Dock, where the sugar is." + +I looked round the room and considered, as well as my sodden little head +would permit. I had never been in the London Dock, which was a wonderful +place, as I had gathered from my grandfather's descriptions: a paradise +where sugar lay about the very ground in lumps, and where you might eat +it if you would, so long as you brought none away. But here was my home, +with nobody else to take care of it, and I felt some muddled sense of a +new responsibility. "I'm 'fraid I can't leave the place, Gran'fa' Nat," +I said, with a dismal shake of the head. "Father might come home, an' he +wouldn't know, an'----" + +"An' so--an' so you think you've got to stop an' keep house?" my +grandfather asked, bending his face down to mine. + +The prospect had been oppressing my muzzy faculties all day. If I +escaped being taken away, plainly I must keep house, and cook, and buy +things and scrub floors, at any rate till my father came home; though it +seemed a great deal to undertake alone. So I answered with a nod and a +forlorn sniff. + +"Good pluck! good pluck!" exclaimed my grandfather, exultantly, clapping +his hand twice on my head and rubbing it vigorously. "Stevy, ol' mate, +me an' you'll get on capital. I knowed you'd make a plucked 'un. But you +won't have to keep house alone jest yet. No. You an' me'll keep house +together, Stevy, at the Hole in the Wall. Your father won't be home a +while yet; an' I'll settle all about this here place. But Lord! what a +pluck for a shaver!" And he brightened wonderfully. + +In truth there had been little enough of courage in my poor little body, +and Grandfather Nat's words brought me a deal of relief. Beyond the +vague terrors of loneliness and responsibility, I had been troubled by +the reflection that housekeeping cost money, and I had none. For though +my mother's half-pay note had been sent in the regular way to Viney and +Marr a week before, there had been neither reply nor return of the +paper. The circumstance was unprecedented and unaccountable, though the +explanation came before very long. + +For the present, however, the difficulty was put aside. I put my hand in +my grandfather's, and, the door being locked behind us and the key in +his pocket, we went out together, on the quay, over the bridge and into +the life that was to be new for us both. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +IN BLUE GATE + + +While his mother's relations walked out of Stephen's tale, and left his +grandfather in it, the tales of all the world went on, each man hero in +his own. + +Viney and Marr were owners of the brig _Juno_, away in tropic seas, with +Stephen's father chief mate; and at this time the tale of Viney and Marr +had just divided into two, inasmuch as the partners were separated and +the firm was at a crisis--the crisis responsible for the withholding of +Mrs. Kemp's half-pay. No legal form had dissolved the firm, indeed, and +scarce half a mile of streets lay between the two men; but in truth Marr +had left his partner with uncommon secrecy and expedition, carrying with +him all the loose cash he could get together; and a man need travel a +very little way to hide in London. So it was that Mr. Viney, left alone +to bear the firm's burdens, was loafing, sometimes about his house in +Commercial Road, Stepney, sometimes in the back streets and small +public-houses hard by; pondering, no doubt, the matter contained in a +paper that had that afternoon stricken the colour from the face of one +Crooks, ship-chandler, of Shadwell, and had hardly less disquieted +others in related trades. While Marr, for the few days since his flight +no more dressed like the business partner in a shipowning concern, nor +even like a clerk, but in serge and anklejacks, like a foremast hand, +was playing up to his borrowed character by being drunk in Blue Gate. + +The Blue Gate is gone now--it went with many places of a history only +less black when Ratcliff Highway was put to rout. As you left High +Street, Shadwell, for the Highway--they made one thoroughfare--the Blue +Gate was on your right, almost opposite an evil lane that led downhill +to the New Dock. Blue Gate Fields, it was more fully called, though +there was as little of a field as of a gate, blue or other, about the +place, which was a street, narrow, foul and forbidding, leading up to +Back Lane. It was a bad and a dangerous place, the worst in all that +neighbourhood: worse than Frederick Street--worse than Tiger Bay. The +sailor once brought to anchor in Blue Gate was lucky to get out with +clothes to cover him--lucky if he saved no more than his life. Yet +sailors were there in plenty, hilarious, shouting, drunk and drugged. +Horrible draggled women pawed them over for whatever their pockets might +yield, and murderous ruffians were ready at hand whenever a knock on the +head could solve a difficulty. + +Front doors stood ever open in the Blue Gate, and some houses had no +front doors at all. At the top of one of the grimy flights of stairs +thus made accessible from the street, was a noisy and ill-smelling room; +noisy because of the company it held; ill-smelling partly because of +their tobacco, but chiefly because of the tobacco and the liquor of many +that had been there before, and because of the aged foulness of the +whole building. There were five in the room, four men and a woman. One +of the men was Marr, though for the present he was not using that name. +He was noticeable amid the group, being cleaner than the rest, +fair-haired, and dressed like a sailor ashore, though he lacked the +sunburn that was proper to the character. But sailor or none, there he +sat where many had sat before him, a piece of the familiar prey of Blue +Gate, babbling drunk and reasonless. The others were watchfully sober +enough, albeit with a great pretence of jollity; they had drunk level +with the babbler, but had been careful to water his drink with gin. As +for him, he swayed and lolled, sometimes on the table before him, +sometimes on the shoulder of the woman at his side. She was no beauty, +with her coarse features, dull eyes, and tousled hair, her thick voice +and her rusty finery; but indeed she was the least repulsive of that +foul company. + +On the victim's opposite side sat a large-framed bony fellow, with a +thin, unhealthy face that seemed to belong to some other body, and dress +that proclaimed him long-shore ruffian. The woman called him Dan, and +nods and winks passed between the two, over the drooping head between +them. Next Dan was an ugly rascal with a broken nose; singular in that +place, as bearing in his dress none of the marks of waterside habits, +crimpery and the Highway, but seeming rather the commonplace town rat of +Shoreditch or Whitechapel. And, last, a blind fiddler sat in a corner, +fiddling a flourish from time to time, roaring with foul jest, and +roiling his single white eye upward. + +"No, I won'av another," the fair-haired man said, staring about him with +uncertain eyes. "Got bishness 'tend to. I say, wha' pubsh this? 'Tain' +Brown Bear, ish't? Ish't Brown Bear?" + +"No, you silly," the woman answered playfully. "'Tain't the Brown Bear; +you've come 'ome along of us." + +"O! Come home--come home.... I shay--this won' do! Mus'n' go 'ome +yet--get collared y'know!" This with an owlish wink at the bottle before +him. + +Dan and the woman exchanged a quick look; plainly something had gone +before that gave the words significance. "No," Marr went on, "mus'n' go +'ome. I'm sailor man jus' 'shore from brig _Juno_ in from Barbadoes.... +No, not _Juno_, course not. Dunno _Juno_. 'Tain' _Juno_. D'year? 'Tain' +_Juno_, ye know, my ship. Never heard o' _Juno_. Mine's 'nother ship.... +I say, wha'sh name my ship?" + +"You're a rum sailor-man," said Dan, "not to know the name of your own +ship ten minutes together. Why, you've told us about four different +names a'ready." + +The sham seaman chuckled feebly. + +"Why, I don't believe you're a sailor at all, mate," the woman remarked, +still playfully. "You've just bin a-kiddin' of us fine!" + +The chuckle persisted, and turned to a stupid grin. "Ha, ha! Ha, ha! +Have it y'r own way." This with a clumsily stealthy grope at the breast +pocket--a movement that the others had seen before, and remembered. +"Have it y'r own way. But I say; I say, y'know"--suddenly +serious--"you're all right, ain't you? Eh? All right, you know, eh? I +s-say--I hope you're--orright?" + +"Awright, mate? Course we are!" And Dan clapped him cordially on the +shoulder. + +"Awright, mate?" shouted the blind man, his white eye rolling and +blinking horribly at the ceiling. "Right as ninepence! An' a 'a'penny +over, damme!" + +"_We're_ awright," growled the broken-nosed man, thickly. + +"_We_ don't tell no secrets," said the woman. + +"Thash all very well, but I was talkin' about the _Juno_, y'know. Was'n +I talkin' about _Juno_?" A look of sleepy alarm was on the fair man's +face as he turned his eyes from one to another. + +"Ay, that's so," answered the fellow at his side. "Brig _Juno_ in from +Barbadoes." + +"Ah! Thash where you're wrong; she _ain't_ in--see?" Marr wagged his +head, and leered the profoundest sagacity. "She _ain't_ in. What's more, +'ow d'you know she ever will come in, eh? 'Ow d'ye know that? Thash one +for ye, ole f'ler! Whar'll ye bet me she ever gets as far as--but I say, +I say; I say, y'know, you're all right, ain't you? Qui' sure you're +orrigh'?" + +There was a new and a longer chorus of reassurance, which Dan at last +ended with: "Go on; the _Juno_ ain't ever to come back; is that it?" + +Marr turned and stared fishily at him for some seconds. "Wha'rr you +mean?" he demanded, at length, with a drivelling assumption of dignity. +"Wha'rr you mean? N-never come back? Nishe remark make 'spectable +shipowner! Whassor' firm you take us for, eh?" + +The blind fiddler stopped midway in a flourish and pursed his lips +silently. Dan looked quickly at the fiddler, and as quickly back at the +drunken man. Marr's attitude and the turn of his head being favourable, +the woman quietly detached his watch. + +"Whassor' firm you take us for?" he repeated. "D'ye think 'cause +we're--'cause I come here--'cause I come 'ere an'----" he stopped +foolishly, and tailed off into nothing, smiling uneasily at one and +another. + +The woman held up the watch behind him--a silver hunter, engraved with +Marr's chief initial--a noticeably large letter M. Dan saw it, shook his +head and frowned, pointed and tapped his own breast pocket, all in a +moment. And presently the woman slipped the watch back into the pocket +it came from. + +"'Ere, 'ave another drink," said Dan hospitably. "'Ave another all round +for the last, 'fore the fiddler goes. 'Ere y'are, George, reach out." + +"Eh?" ejaculated the fiddler. "Eh? I ain't goin'! Didn't the genelman +ask me to come along? Come, I'll give y' a toon. I'll give y' a chant as +'ll make yer 'air curl!" + +"Take your drink, George," Dan insisted, "we don't want our 'air +curled." + +The fiddler groped for and took the drink, swallowed it, and twangled +the fiddle-strings. "Will y'ave _Black Jack_?" he asked. + +"No," Dan answered with a rising voice. "We won't 'ave Black Jack, an' +what's more we won't 'ave Blind George, see? You cut your lucky, soon as +ye like!" + +"Awright, awright, cap'en," the fiddler remonstrated, rising +reluctantly. "You're 'ard on a pore blind bloke, damme. Ain't I to get +nothin' out o' this 'ere? I ask ye fair, didn't the genelman tell me to +come along?" + +Marr, ducking and lolling over the table, here looked up and said, +"Whassup? Fiddler won' go? Gi'm twopence an' kick'm downstairs. 'Ere +y'are!" and he pulled out some small change between his fingers, and +spilt it on the table. + +Dan and the broken-nosed man gathered it up and thrust it into the blind +man's hand. "This ain't the straight game," he protested, in a hoarse +whisper, as they pushed him through the doorway. "I want my reg'lars out +o' that lot. D'ye 'ear? I want my reg'lars!" + +But they shut the door on him, whereupon he broke into a torrent of +curses on the landing; and presently, having descended several of the +stairs, reached back to let drive a thump at the door with his stick; +and so went off swearing into the street. + +Marr sniggered feebly. "Chucked out fiddler," he said. "Whash we do now? +I won'ave any more drink. I 'ad 'nough.... Think I'll be gett'n' +along.... Here, what you after, eh?" + +He clapped his hand again to his breast pocket, and turned suspiciously +on the woman. "You keep y'r hands off," he said. "Wha' wan' my pocket?" + +"Awright, mate," the woman answered placidly. "I ain't a touchin' yer +pockets. Why, look there--yer watchguard's 'angin'; you'll drop that +presently an' say it's me, I s'pose!" + +"You'd better get away from the genelman if you can't behave yourself +civil," interposed Dan, pushing the woman aside and getting between +them. "'Ere, mate, you got to 'ave another drink along o' me. I'll turn +her out arter the fiddler, if she ain't civil." + +"I won'ave another drink," said Marr, thickly, struggling unsteadily to +his feet and dropping back instantly to his chair. "I won'avanother." + +"We'll see about that," replied Dan. "'Ere, you get out," he went on, +addressing the woman as he hauled her up by the shoulders. "You get out; +we're goin' to be comf'table together, us two an' 'im. Out ye go!" He +thrust her toward the door and opened it. "I'm sick o' foolin' about," +he added in an angry undertone; "quick's the word." + +"O no, Dan--don't," the woman pleaded, whispering on the landing. "Not +that way! Not again! I'll get it from him easy in a minute! Don't do it, +Dan!" + +"Shut yer mouth! I ain't askin' you. You shove off a bit." + +"Don't, Dan!" + +But the door was shut. + +"I tell ye I won'avanother!" came Marr's voice from within. + +The woman went down the stairs, her gross face drawn as though she wept, +though her eyes were dry. At the door she looked back with something +like a shudder, and then turned her steps down the street. + + * * * * * + +The two partners in Viney and Marr were separated indeed; but now it was +by something more than half a mile of streets. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +I had never been home with Grandfather Nat before. I fancy that some +scruples of my mother's, in the matter of the neighbourhood and the +character of the company to be seen and heard at the Hole in the Wall, +had hitherto kept me from the house, and even from the sugary elysium of +the London Dock. Now I was going there at last, and something of eager +anticipation overcame the sorrow of the day. + +We went in an omnibus, which we left in Commercial Road. Here my +grandfather took order to repair my disappointment in the matter of +pear-drops; and we left the shop with such a bagful that it would not go +into the accustomed pocket at all. A little way from this shop, and on +the opposite side of the way, stood a house which my mother had more +than once pointed out to me already; and as we came abreast of it now, +Grandfather Nat pointed it out also. "Know who lives there, Stevy?" he +asked. + +"Yes," I said; "Mr. Viney, that father's ship belongs to." + +There was a man sitting on the stone baluster by the landing of the +front steps, having apparently just desisted from knocking at the door. +He was pale and agitated, and he slapped his leg distractedly with a +folded paper. + +"Why," said my grandfather, "that's Crooks, the ship-chandler. He looks +bad; wonder what's up?" + +With that the door opened, and a servant-girl, in bonnet and shawl, +emerged with her box, lifting and dragging it as best she might. The man +rose and spoke to her, and I supposed that he was about to help. But at +her answer he sank back on the balustrade, and she hauled the box to the +pavement by herself. The man looked worse than ever, now, and he moved +his head from side to side; so that it struck me that it might be that +his mother also was dead; perhaps to-day; and at the thought all the +flavour went from the pear-drop in my mouth. + +We turned up a narrow street which led us to a part where the river +plainly was nearer at every step; for well I knew the curious smell that +grew as we went, and that had in it something of tar, something of rope +and junk, something of ships' stores, and much of a blend of unknown +outlandish merchandise. We met sailors, some with parrots and +accordions, and many with undecided legs; and we saw more of the +hang-dog fellows who were not sailors, though they dressed in the same +way, and got an inactive living out of sailors, somehow. They leaned on +posts, they lurked in foul entries, they sat on sills, smoking; and +often one would accost and hang to a passing sailor, with a grinning, +trumped-up cordiality that offended and repelled me, child as I was. And +there were big, coarse women, with flaring clothes, and hair that shone +with grease; though for them I had but a certain wonder; as for why they +all seemed to live near the docks; why they all grew so stout; and why +they never wore bonnets. + +As we went where the street grew fouler and more crooked, and where dark +entries and many turnings gave evidence of the complication of courts +and alleys about us, we heard a hoarse voice crooning a stave of a +sea-song, with the low scrape of a fiddle striking in here and there, as +it were at random. And presently there turned a corner ahead and faced +toward us a blind man, with his fiddle held low against his chest, and +his face lifted upward, a little aside. He checked at the corner to hit +the wall a couple of taps with the stick that hung from his wrist, and +called aloud, with fouler words than I can remember or could print: "Now +then, damn ye! Ain't there ne'er a Christian sailor-man as wants a toon +o' George? Who'll 'ave a toon o' George? Ain't ye got no money, damn ye? +Not a brown for pore blind George? What a dirty mean lot it is! Who'll +'ave a 'ornpipe? Who'll 'ave a song o' pore George?... O damn y' all!" + +And so, with a mutter and another tap of the stick, he came creeping +along, six inches at a step, the stick dangling loose again, and the bow +scraping the strings to the song:-- + + Fire on the fore-top, fire on the bow, + Fire on the main-deck, fire down below! + Fire! fire! fire down below! + Fetch a bucket o' water; fire down below! + +The man's right eye was closed, but the left was horribly wide and white +and rolling, and it quite unpleasantly reminded me of a large china +marble that lay at that moment at the bottom of my breeches pocket, +under some uniform buttons, a key you could whistle on, a brass knob +from a fender, and a tangle of string. So much indeed was I possessed +with this uncomfortable resemblance in later weeks, when I had seen +Blind George often, and knew more of him, that at last I had no choice +but to fling the marble into the river; though indeed it was something +of a rarity in marbles, and worth four "alleys" as big as itself. + +My grandfather stopped his talk as we drew within earshot of the +fiddler; but blind men's ears are keen beyond the common. The bow +dropped from the fiddle, and Blind George sang out cheerily: "Why, 'ere +comes Cap'en Nat, 'ome from the funeral; and got 'is little grandson +what 'e's goin' to take care of an' bring up so moral in 'is celebrated +'ouse o' call!" All to my extreme amazement: for what should this +strange blind man know of me, or of my mother's funeral? + +Grandfather Nat seemed a little angry. "Well, well," he said, "your ears +are sharp, Blind George; they learn a lot as ain't your business. If +your eyes was as good as your ears you'd ha' had your head broke 'fore +this--a dozen times!" + +"If my eyes was as good as my ears, Cap'en Nat Kemp," the other +retorted, "there's many as wouldn't find it so easy to talk o' breakin' +my 'ed. Other people's business! Lord! I know enough to 'ang some of +'em, that's what I know! I could tell you some o' _your_ business if I +liked,--some as you don't know yourself. Look 'ere! You bin to a +funeral. Well, it ain't the last funeral as 'll be wanted in your +family; see? The kid's mother's gone; don't you be too sure 'is father's +safe! I bin along o' some one you know, an' _'e_ don't look like lastin' +for ever, 'e don't; 'e ain't in 'ealthy company." + +Grandfather Nat twitched my sleeve, and we walked on. + +"Awright!" the blind man called after us, in his tone of affable +ferocity. "Awright, go along! You'll see things, some day, near as well +as I can, what's blind!" + +"That's a bad fellow, Stevy," Grandfather Nat said, as we heard the +fiddle and the song begin again. "Don't you listen to neither his talk +nor his songs. Somehow it don't seem nat'ral to see a blind man such a +bad 'un. But a bad 'un he is, up an' down." + +I asked how he came to know about the funeral, and especially about my +coming to Wapping--a thing I had only learned of myself an hour before. +My grandfather said that he had probably learned of the funeral from +somebody who had been at the Hole in the Wall during the day, and had +asked the reason of the landlord's absence; and as to myself, he had +heard my step, and guessed its meaning instantly. "He's a keen sharp +rascal, Stevy, an' he makes out all of parties' business he can. He knew +your father was away, an' he jumped the whole thing at once. That's his +way. But I don't stand him; he don't corne into my house barrin' he +comes a customer, which I can't help." + +Of the meaning of the blind man's talk I understood little. But he +shocked me with a sense of insult, and more with one of surprise. For I +had entertained a belief, born of Sunday-school stories, that blindness +produced saintly piety--unless it were the piety that caused the +blindness--and that in any case a virtuous meekness was an essential +condition of the affliction. So I walked in doubt and cogitation. + +And so, after a dive down a narrower street than any we had yet +traversed (it could scarce be dirtier), and a twist through a steep and +serpentine alley, we came, as it grew dusk, to the Hole in the Wall. Of +odd-looking riverside inns I can remember plenty, but never, before or +since, have I beheld an odder than this of Grandfather Nat's. It was +wooden and clap-boarded, and, like others of its sort, it was everywhere +larger at top than at bottom. But the Hole in the Wall was not only +top-heavy, but also most alarmingly lopsided. By its side, and half +under it, lay a narrow passage, through which one saw a strip of the +river and its many craft, and the passage ended in Hole-in-the-Wall +Stairs. All of the house that was above the ground floor on this side +rested on a row of posts, which stood near the middle of the passage; +and the burden of these posts, twisted, wavy, bulging, and shapeless, +hung still more toward the opposite building; while the farther side, +bounded by a later brick house, was vertical, as though a great wedge, +point downward, had been cut away to permit the rise of the newer wall. +And the effect was as of a reeling and toppling of the whole +construction away from its neighbour, and an imminent downfall into the +passage. And when, later, I examined the side looking across the river, +supported on piles, and bulging and toppling over them also, I decided +that what kept the Hole in the Wall from crashing into the passage was +nothing but its countervailing inclination to tumble into the river. + +Painted large over the boards of the front, whose lapped edges gave the +letters ragged outlines, were the words THE HOLE IN THE WALL; and below, +a little smaller, NATHANIEL KEMP. I felt a certain pride, I think, in +the importance thus given the family name, and my esteem of my +grandfather increased proportionably with the size of the letters. + +There was a great noise within, and Grandfather Nat, with a quick look +toward the entrance, grunted angrily. But we passed up the passage and +entered by a private door under the posts. This door opened directly +into the bar parlour, the floor whereof was two steps below the level of +the outer paving; and the size whereof was about thrice that of a +sentry-box. + +The din of a quarrel and a scuffle came from the bar, and my +grandfather, thrusting me into a corner, and giving me his hat, ran out +with a roar like that of a wild beast. At the sound the quarrel hushed +in its height. "What's this?" my grandfather blared, with a thump on the +counter that made the pots jump. "What sort of a row's this in my house? +Damme, I'll break y' in halves, every mother's son of ye!" + +I peeped through the glass partition, and saw, first, the back of the +potman's head (for the bar-floor took another drop) and beyond that and +the row of beer-pulls, a group of rough, hulking men, one with blood on +his face, and all with an odd look of sulky guilt. + +"Out you go!" pursued Grandfather Nat, "every swab o' ye! Can't leave +the place not even to go to--not for nothin', without a row like this, +givin' the house a bad name! Go on, Jim Crute! Unless I'm to chuck ye!" + +The men had begun filing out awkwardly, with nothing but here and there: +"Awright, guv'nor"--"Awright, cap'en." "Goin', ain't I?" and the like. +But one big ruffian lagged behind, scowling and murmuring rebelliously. + +In a flash Grandfather Nat was through the counter-wicket. With a dart +of his long left arm he had gripped the fellow's ear and spun him round +with a wrench that I thought had torn the ear from the head; and in the +same moment had caught him by the opposite wrist, so as to stretch the +man's extended arm, elbow backward, across his own great chest; a +posture in which the backward pull against the elbow joint brought a +yell of agony from the victim. Only a man with extraordinarily long arms +could have done the thing exactly like that. The movement was so +savagely sudden that my grandfather had kicked open the door and flung +Jim Crute headlong into the street ere I quite understood it; when there +came a check in my throat and tears in my eyes to see the man so cruelly +handled. + +Grandfather Nat stood a moment at the door, but it seemed that his +customer was quelled effectually, for presently he turned inward again, +with such a grim scowl as I had never seen before. And at that a queer +head appeared just above the counter--I had supposed the bar to be +wholly cleared--and a very weak and rather womanish voice said, in tones +of over-inflected indignation: "Serve 'em right, Cap'en Kemp, I'm sure. +Lot o' impudent vagabones! Ought to be ashamed o' theirselves, that they +ought. Pity every 'ouse ain't kep' as strict as this one is, that's what +I say!" + +And the queer head looked round the vacant bar with an air of virtuous +defiance, as though anxious to meet the eye of any so bold as to +contradict. + +It was anything but a clean face on the head, and it was overshadowed by +a very greasy wideawake hat. Grubbiness and unhealthy redness contended +for mastery in the features, of which the nose was the most surprising, +wide and bulbous and knobbed all over; so that ever afterward, in any +attempt to look Mr. Cripps in the face, I found myself wholly +disregarding his eyes, and fixing a fascinated gaze on his nose; and I +could never recall his face to memory as I recalled another, but always +as a Nose, garnished with a fringe of inferior features. The face had +been shaved--apparently about a week before; and by the sides hung long +hair, dirtier to look at than the rest of the apparition. + +My grandfather gave no more than a glance in the direction of this +little man, passed the counter and re-joined me, pulling off his coat as +he came. Something of my tingling eyes and screwed mouth was visible, I +suppose, for he stooped as he rolled up his shirt-sleeves and said: +"Why, Stevy boy, what's amiss?" + +"You--you--hurt the man's ear," I said, with a choke and a sniff; for +till then Grandfather Nat had seemed to me the kindest man in the world. + +Grandfather Nat looked mightily astonished. He left his shirt-sleeve +where it was, and thrust his fingers up in his hair behind, through the +grey and out at the brown on top. "What?" he said. "Hurt 'im? Hurt 'im? +Why, s'pose I did? He ain't a friend o' yours, is he, young 'un?" + +I shook my head and blinked. There was a gleam of amusement in my +grandfather's grim face as he sat in a chair and took me between his +knees. "Hurt 'im?" he repeated. "Why, Lord love ye, _I'd_ get hurt if I +didn't hurt some of 'em, now an' then. They're a rough lot--a bitter bad +lot round here, an' it's hurt or be hurt with them, Stevy. I got to +frighten 'em, my boy--an' I do it, too." + +I was passing my fingers to and fro in the matted hair on my +grandfather's arm, and thinking. He seemed a very terrible man now, and +perhaps something of a hero; for, young as I was, I was a boy. So +presently I said, "Did you ever kill a man, Gran'fa' Nat?" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +Many small matters of my first few hours at the Hole in the Wall were +impressed on me by later events. In particular I remember the innocent +curiosity with which I asked: "Did you ever kill a man, Gran'fa' Nat?" + +There was a twitch and a frown on my grandfather's face, and he sat back +as one at a moment's disadvantage. I thought that perhaps he was trying +to remember. But he only said, gruffly, and with a quick sound like a +snort: "Very nigh killed myself once or twice, Stevy, in my time," and +rose hastily from his chair to reach a picture of a ship that was +standing on a shelf. "There," he said, "that's a new 'un, just done; +pretty picter, ain't it? An' that there," pointing to another hanging on +the wall, "that's the _Juno_, what your father's on now." + +I had noticed that the walls, both of the bar and of the bar-parlour, +were plentifully hung with paintings of ships; ships becalmed, ships in +full sail, ships under bare spars; all with painful blue skies over +them, and very even-waved seas beneath; and ships in storms, with torn +sails, pursued by rumbustious piles of sooty cloud, and pelted with +lengths of scarlet lightning. I fear I should not have recognised my +father's ship without help, but that was probably because I had only +seen it, months before, lying in dock, battered and dingy, with a +confusion of casks and bales about the deck, and naked yards dangling +above; whereas in the picture (which was a mile too small for the brig) +it was booming along under a flatulent mountain of clean white sail, and +bulwarks and deck-fittings were gay with lively and diversified colour. + +I said something about its being a fine ship, or a fine picture, and +that there were a lot of them. + +"Ah," he said, "they do mount up, one arter another. It's one gentleman +as did 'em all--him out in the bar now, with the long hair. Sometimes I +think I'd rather a-had money; but it's a talent, that's what it is!" + +The artist beyond the outer bar had been talking to the potman. Now he +coughed and said: "Ha--um! Cap'en Kemp, sir! Cap'en Kemp! No doubt as +you've 'eard the noos to-day?" + +"No," said Grandfather Nat, finishing the rolling of his shirt-sleeves +as he stepped down into the bar; "not as I know on. What is it?" + +"Not about Viney and Marr?" + +"No. What about 'em?" + +Mr. Cripps rose on his toes with the importance of his information, and +his eyes widened to a moment's rivalry with his nose. "Gone wrong," he +said, in a shrill whisper that was as loud as his natural voice. "Gone +wrong. Unsolvent. Cracked up. Broke. Busted, in a common way o' +speakin'." And he gave a violent nod with each synonym. + +"No," said Grandfather Nat; "surely not Viney and Marr?" + +"Fact, Cap'en; I can assure you, on 'igh a'thority. It's what I might +call the universal topic in neighbourin' circles, an' a gen'ral subjick +o' local discussion. You'd 'a 'eard it 'fore this if you'd bin at 'ome." + +My grandfather whistled, and rested a hand on a beer-pull. + +"Not a stiver for nobody, they say," Mr. Cripps pursued, "not till they +can sell the wessels. What there was loose Marr's bolted with; or, as +you might put it, absconded; absconded with the proceeds. An' gone +abroad, it's said." + +"I see the servant gal bringin' out her box from Viney's just now," said +Grandfather Nat. "An' Crooks the ship-chandler was on the steps, very +white in the gills, with a paper. Well, well! An' you say Marr's +bolted?" + +"Absconded, Cap'en Kemp; absconded with the proceeds; 'opped the twig. +Viney says 'e's robbed 'im as well as the creditors, but I 'ear some o' +the creditors' observation is 'gammon.' An' they say the wessels is +pawned up to their r'yals. Up to their r'yals!" + +"Well," commented my grandfather, "I wouldn't ha' thought it. The _Juno_ +was that badly found, an' they did everything that cheap, I thought they +made money hand over fist." + +"Flyin' too 'igh, Cap'en Kemp, flyin' too 'igh. You knowed Viney long +'fore 'e elevated hisself into a owner, didn't you? What was he then? +Why, 'e was your mate one voy'ge, wasn't he?" + +"Ay, an' more." + +"So I've 'eard tell. Well, arter that surely 'e was flyin' too 'igh! An' +now Marr's absconded with the proceeds!" + +The talk in the bar went on, being almost entirely the talk of Mr. +Cripps; who valued himself on the unwonted importance his news gave him, +and aimed at increasing it by saying the same thing a great many times; +by saying it, too, when he could, in terms and phrases that had a strong +flavour of the Sunday paper. But as for me, I soon ceased to hear, for I +discovered something of greater interest on the shelf that skirted the +bar-parlour. It was a little model of a ship in a glass case, and it was +a great marvel to me, with all its standing and running rigging +complete, and a most ingenious and tumultuous sea about it, made of +stiff calico cockled up into lumps and ridges, and painted the proper +colour. Much better than either of the two we had at home, for these +latter were only half-models, each nothing but one-half of a little ship +split from stem to stern, and stuck against a board, on which were +painted sky, clouds, seagulls, and (in one case) a lighthouse; an +exasperating make-believe that had been my continual disappointment. + +But this was altogether so charming and delightful and real, and the +little hatches and cuddy-houses so thrilled my fancy, that I resolved to +beg of my grandfather to let me call the model my own, and sometimes +have the glass case off. So I was absorbed while the conversation in the +bar ranged from the ships and their owners to my father, and from him to +me; as was plain when my grandfather called me. + +"Here he is," said my grandfather, with a deal of pride in his voice, +putting his foot on a stool and lifting me on his knee. "Here he is, an' +a plucked 'un; ain't ye, Stevy?" He rubbed his hand over my head, as he +was fond of doing. "Plucked? Ah! Why, he was agoin' to keep house all by +hisself, with all the pluck in life, till his father come home! Warn't +ye, Stevy boy? But he's come along o' me instead, an' him an' me's goin' +to keep the Hole in the Wall together, ain't we? Pardners: eh, Stevy?" + +I think I never afterwards saw my grandfather talking so familiarly with +his customers. I perceived now that there was another in the bar in +addition to Mr. Cripps; a pale, quiet, and rather ragged man who sat in +an obscure corner with an untouched glass of liquor by him. + +"Come," said my grandfather, "have one with me, Mr. Cripps, an' drink +the new pardner's health. What is it? An' you--you drink up too, an' +have another." This last order Grandfather Nat flung at the man in the +corner, just in the tones in which I had heard a skipper on a ship tell +a man to "get forrard lively" with a rope fender, opposite our quay at +Blackwall. + +"I'm sure 'ere's wishin' the young master every 'ealth an' 'appiness," +said Mr. Cripps, beaming on me with a grin that rather frightened than +pleased me, it twisted the nose so. "Every 'ealth and 'appiness, I'm +sure!" + +The pale man in the corner only looked up quickly, as if fearful of +obtruding himself, gulped the drink that had been standing by him, and +receiving another, put it down untasted where the first had stood. + +"That ain't drinkin' a health," said my grandfather, angrily. +"There--that's it!" and he pointed to the new drink with the hand that +held his own. + +The pale man lifted it hurriedly, stood up, looked at me and said +something indistinct, gulped the liquor and returned the glass to the +counter; whereupon the potman, without orders, instantly refilled it, +and the man carried it back to his corner and put it down beside him, as +before. + +I began to wonder if the pale man suffered from some complaint that made +it dangerous to leave him without a drink close at hand, ready to be +swallowed at a moment's notice. But Mr. Cripps blinked, first at his own +glass and then at the pale man's; and I fancy he thought himself +unfairly treated. + +Howbeit his affability was unconquerable. He grinned and snapped his +fingers playfully at me, provoking my secret indignation; since that was +what people did to please babies. + +"An' a pretty young gent 'e is too," said Mr. Cripps, "of considerable +personal attractions. Goin' to bring 'im up to the trade, I s'pose, +Cap'en Kemp?" + +"Why, no," said Grandfather Nat, with some dignity. "No. Something +better than that, I'm hopin'. Pardners is all very well for a bit, but +Stevy's goin' to be a cut above his poor old gran'father, if I can do +it. Eh, boy?" He rubbed my head again, and I was too shy, sitting there +in the bar, to answer. "Eh, boy? Boardin' school an' a gentleman's job +for this one, if the old man has his way." + +Mr. Cripps shook his head sagaciously, and could plainly see that I was +cut out for a statesman. He also lifted his empty glass, looked at it +abstractedly, and put it down again. Nothing coming of this, he +complimented my personal appearance once more, and thought that my +portrait should certainly be painted, as a memorial in my future days of +greatness. + +This notion seemed to strike my grandfather rather favourably, and he +forthwith consulted a slate which dangled by a string; during his +contemplation of which, with its long rows of strokes, Mr. Cripps +betrayed a certain anxious discomfort. "Well," said Grandfather Nat at +length, "you are pretty deep in, you know, an' it might as well be that +as anything else. But what about that sign? Ain't I ever goin' to get +that?" + +Mr. Cripps knitted his brows and his nose, turned up his eyes and shook +his head. "It ain't come to me yet, Cap'en Kemp," he said; "not yet. I'm +still waiting for what you might call an inspiration. But when it comes, +Cap'en Kemp--when it comes! Ah! you'll 'ave a sign then! Sich a sign! +You'll 'ave sich a sign as'll attract the 'ole artistic feelin' of +Wapping an' surroundin' districks of the metropolis, I assure you. An' +the signs on the other 'ouses--phoo!" Mr. Cripps made a sweep of the +hand, which I took to indicate generally that all other publicans, +overwhelmed with humiliation, would have no choice but straightway to +tear down their own signs and bury them. + +"Umph! but meanwhile I haven't got one at all," objected Grandfather +Nat; "an' they have." + +"Ah, yes, sir--some sort o' signs. But done by mere jobbers, and poor +enough too. My hart, Cap'en Kemp--I respect my hart, an' I don't rush at +a job like that. It wants conception, sir, a job like that--conception. +The common sort o' sign's easy enough. You go at it, an' you do it or +hexicute it, an' when it's done or hexicuted--why there it is. A ship, +maybe, or a crown, or a Turk's 'ed or three cats an' a fryin' pan. +Simple enough--no plannin', no composition, no invention. But a 'ole in +a wall, Cap'en Kemp--it takes a hartist to make a picter o' that; an' it +takes study, an' meditation, an' invention!" + +"Simplest thing o' the lot," said Captain Nat. "A wall, an' a hole in +it. Simplest thing o' the lot!" + +"As you observe, Cap'en Kemp, it may seem simple enough; that's because +you're thinkin' o' subjick, instead o' treatment. A common jobber, if +you'll excuse my sayin' it, 'ud look at it just in that light--a wall +with a 'ole in it, an' 'e'd give it you, an' p'rhaps you'd be satisfied +with it. But I soar 'igher, sir, 'igher. What I shall give you'll be a +'ole in the wall to charm the heye and delight the intelleck, sir. A +dramatic 'ole in the wall, sir, a hepic 'ole in the wall; a 'ole in the +wall as will elevate the mind and stimilate the noblest instinks of the +be'older. Cap'en Kemp, I don't 'esitate to say that my 'ole in the wall, +when you get it, will be--ah! it'll be the moral palladium of Wapping!" + +"_When_ I get it," my grandfather replied with a chuckle, "anything +might happen without surprisin' me. I think p'rhaps I might be so +startled as to forget the bit you've had on account, an' pay full cash." + +Mr. Cripps's eyes brightened at the hint. "You're always very 'andsome +in matters o' business, Cap'en Kemp," he said, "an' I always say so. +Which reminds me, speakin' of 'andsome things. This morning goin' to see +my friend as keeps the mortuary, I see as 'andsome a bit o' panel for to +paint a sign as ever I come across. A lovely bit o' stuff to be +sure--enough to stimulate anybody's artistic invention to look at it, +that it was. Not dear neither--particular moderate in fact. I'm afraid +it may be gone now; but if I'd 'a 'ad the money----" + +A noise of trampling and singing without neared the door, and with a +bang and a stagger a party of fresh customers burst in and swept Mr. +Cripps out of his exposition. Two were sun-browned sailors, shouting and +jovial, but the rest, men and women, sober and villainous in their mock +jollity, were land-sharks plain to see. The foremost sailor drove +against Mr. Cripps, and having almost knocked him down, took him by the +shoulders and involved him in his flounderings; apologising, meanwhile, +at the top of his voice, and demanding to know what Mr. Cripps would +drink. Whereupon Grandfather Nat sent me back to the bar-parlour and the +little ship, and addressed himself to business and the order of the bar. + +And so he was occupied for the most of the evening. Sometimes he sat +with me and taught me the spars and rigging of the model, sometimes I +peeped through the glass at the business of the house. The bar remained +pretty full throughout the evening, in its main part, and my grandfather +ruled its frequenters with a strong voice and an iron hand. + +But there was one little space partitioned off, as it might be for the +better company: which space was nearly always empty. Into this quieter +compartment I saw a man come, rather late in the evening, furtive and a +little flustered. He was an ugly ruffian with a broken nose; and he was +noticeable as being the one man I had seen in my grandfather's house who +had no marks of seafaring or riverside life about him, but seemed merely +an ordinary London blackguard from some unmaritime neighbourhood. He +beckoned silently to Grandfather Nat, who walked across and conferred +with him. Presently my grandfather left the counter and came into the +bar-parlour. He had something in his closed hand, which he carried to +the lamp to examine, so that I could see it was a silver watch; while +the furtive man waited expectantly in the little compartment. The watch +interested me, for the inward part swung clean out from the case, and +hung by a single hinge, in a way I had never seen before. I noticed, +also, that a large capital letter M was engraved on the back. + +Grandfather Nat shut the watch and strode into the bar. + +"Here you are," he said aloud, handing it to the broken-nosed man. "Here +you are. It seems all right--good enough watch, I should say." + +The man was plainly disconcerted--frightened, indeed--by this public +observation; and answered with an eager whisper. + +"What?" my grandfather replied, louder than ever; "want me to buy it? +Not me. This ain't a pawnshop. I don't want a watch; an' if I did, how +do I know where you got it?" + +Much discomposed by this rebuff, the fellow hurried off. Whereupon I was +surprised to see the pale man rise from the corner of the bar, put his +drink, still untasted, in a safe place on the counter, beyond the edge +of the partition, and hurry out also. Cogitating this matter in my +grandfather's arm-chair, presently I fell asleep. + +What woke me at length was the loud voice of Grandfather Nat, and I +found that it was late, and he was clearing the bar before shutting up. +I rubbed my eyes and looked out, and was interested to see that the pale +man had come back, and was now swallowing his drink at last before going +out after the rest. Whereat I turned again, drowsily enough, to the +model ship. + +But a little later, when Grandfather Nat and I were at supper in the +bar-parlour, and I was dropping to sleep again, I was amazed to see my +grandfather pull the broken-nosed man's watch out of his pocket and put +it in a tin cash-box. At that I rubbed my eyes, and opened them so wide +on the cash-box, that Grandfather Nat said, "Hullo, Stevy! Woke up with +a jump? Time you was in bed." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +IN THE HIGHWAY + + +The Hole in the Wall being closed, its customers went their several +ways; the sailors, shouting and singing, drifting off with their retinue +along Wapping Wall toward Ratcliff; Mr. Cripps, fuller than usual of +free drinks--for the sailors had come a long voyage and were +proportionally liberal--scuffling off, steadily enough, on the way that +led to Limehouse; for Mr. Cripps had drunk too much and too long ever to +be noticeably drunk. And last of all, when the most undecided of the +stragglers from Captain Nat Kemp's bar had vanished one way or another, +the pale, quiet man moved out from the shadow and went in the wake of +the noisy sailors. + +The night was dark, and the streets. The lamps were few and feeble, and +angles, alleys and entries were shapes of blackness that seemed more +solid than the walls about them. But instead of the silence that +consorts with gloom, the air was racked with human sounds; sounds of +quarrels, scuffles, and brawls, far and near, breaking out fitfully amid +the general buzz and whoop of discordant singing that came from all +Wapping and Ratcliff where revellers rolled into the open. + +A stone's throw on the pale man's way was a swing bridge with a lock by +its side, spanning the channel that joined two dock-basins. The pale +man, passing along in the shadow of the footpath, stopped in an angle. +Three policemen were coming over the bridge in company--they went in +threes in these parts--and the pale man, who never made closer +acquaintance with the police than he could help, slunk down by the +bridge-foot, as though designing to make the crossing by way of the +narrow lock; no safe passage in the dark. But he thought better of it, +and went by the bridge, as soon as the policemen had passed. + +A little farther and he was in Ratcliff Highway, where it joined with +Shadwell High Street, and just before him stood Paddy's Goose. The house +was known by that name far beyond the neighbourhood, among people who +were unaware that the actual painted sign was the White Swan. Paddy's +Goose was still open, for its doors never closed till one; though there +were a few houses later even than this, where, though the bars were +cleared and closed at one, in accordance with Act of Parliament, the +doors swung wide again ten minutes later. There was still dancing within +at Paddy's Goose, and the squeak of fiddles and the thump of feet were +plain to hear. The pale man passed on into the dark beyond its lights, +and soon the black mouth of Blue Gate stood on his right. + +Blue Gate gave its part to the night's noises, and more; for a sudden +burst of loud screams--a woman's--rent the air from its innermost deeps; +screams which affected the pale man not at all, nor any other passenger; +for it might be murder or it might be drink, or sudden rage or fear, or +a quarrel; and whatever it might be was common enough in Blue Gate. + +Paddy's Goose had no monopoly of music, and the common plenty of street +fiddlers was the greater as the early houses closed. Scarce eighty yards +from Blue Gate stood Blind George, fiddling his hardest for a party +dancing in the roadway. Many were looking on, drunk or sober, with +approving shouts; and every face was ghastly phosphorescent in the glare +of a ship's blue-light that a noisy negro flourished among the dancers. +Close by, a woman and a man were quarrelling in the middle of a group; +but the matter had no attention till of a sudden it sprang into a fight, +and the man and another were punching and wrestling in a heap, bare to +the waist. At this the crowd turned from the dancers, and the negro ran +yelping to shed his deathly light on the new scene. + +The crowd howled and scrambled, and a drunken sailor fell in the mud. +Quick at the chance, a ruffian took him under the armpits and dragged +him from among the trampling feet to a near entry, out of the glare. +There he propped his prey, with many friendly words, and dived among his +pockets. The sailor was dazed, and made no difficulty; till the thief +got to the end of the search in a trouser pocket, and thence pulled a +handful of silver. With that the victim awoke to some sense of affairs, +and made a move to rise; but the other sprang up and laid him over with +a kick on the head, just as the pale man came along. The thief made off, +leaving a few shillings and sixpences on the ground, which the pale man +instantly gathered up. He looked from the money to the man, who lay +insensible, with blood about his ear; and then from the man to the +money. Then he stuffed some few of the shillings into the sailor's +nearest pocket and went off with the rest. + +The fight rose and fell, the crowd grew, and the blue light burned down. +In twenty seconds the pale man was back again. He bent over the bleeding +sailor, thrust the rest of the silver into the pocket, and finally +vanished into the night. For, indeed, though the pale man was poor, and +though he got a living now in a way scarce reputable: yet he had once +kept a chandler's shop. He had kept it till neither sand in the sugar +nor holes under the weights would any longer induce it to keep him; and +then he had fallen wholly from respectability. But he had drawn a +line--he had always drawn a line. He had never been a thief; and, with a +little struggle, he remembered it now. + +Back in Blue Gate the screams had ceased. For on a black stair a large +bony man shook a woman by the throat, so that she could scream no more. +He cursed in whispers, and threatened her with an end of all noise if +she opened her mouth again. "Ye stop out of it all this time," he said, +"an' when ye come ye squall enough to bring the slops from Arbour +Square!" + +"O! O!" the woman gasped. "I fell on it, Dan! I fell on it! I fell on it +in the dark!..." + + * * * * * + +There was nothing commoner in the black streets about the Highway than +the sight of two or three men linked by the arms, staggering, singing +and bawling. Many such parties went along the Highway that night, many +turned up its foul tributaries; some went toward and over the bridge by +the lock that was on the way to the Hole in the Wall. But they were +become fewer, and the night noises of the Highway were somewhat abated, +when a party of three emerged from the mouth of Blue Gate. Of them that +had gone before the songs were broken and the voices unmelodious enough; +yet no other song sung that night in the Highway was so wild as the song +of these men--or rather of two of them, who sang the louder because of +the silence of the man between them; and no other voices were so +ill-governed as theirs. The man on the right was large, bony and +powerful; he on the left was shorter and less to be noticed, except that +under some rare and feeble lamp it might have been perceived that his +face was an ugly one, with a broken nose. But what reveller so drunk, +what drunkard so insensible, what clod so silent as the man they dragged +between them? His feet trailed in the mire, and his head, hidden by a +ragged hat, hung forward on his chest. So they went, reeling ever where +the shadows were thickest, toward the bridge; but in all their reelings +there was a stealthy hasting forward, and an anxious outlook that went +ill with their song. The song itself, void alike of tune and jollity, +fell off altogether as they neared the bridge, and here they went the +quicker. They turned down by the bridge foot, though not for the reason +the pale man had, two hours before, for now no policeman was in sight; +and soon were gone into the black shadow about the lock-head.... + +It was the deep of the night, and as near quiet as the Highway ever +knew; with no more than a cry here or there, a distant fiddle, and the +faint hum of the wind in the rigging of ships. Off in Blue Gate the +woman sat on the black stair, with her face in her hands, waiting for +company before returning to the room where she had fallen over something +in the dark. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +High under the tiles of the Hole in the Wall, I had at first a night of +disturbed sleep. I was in my old familiar cot, which had been brought +during the evening, on a truck. But things were strange, and, in +particular, my grandfather, who slept on the opposite side of the room, +snored so amazingly, and with a sound so unlike anything I had ever +heard before, that I feared he must be choking to death, and climbed out +of bed, once, to see. There were noises from without too, sometimes of +discordant singing, sometimes of quarrels; and once, from a distance, a +succession of dreadful screams. Then the old house made curious sounds +of its own; twice I was convinced of stealthy steps on the stair, and +all night the very walls creaked aloud. So for long, sleepy as I was, I +dozed and started and rolled and lay awake, wondering about the little +ship in the bar-parlour, and Mr. Cripps, and the pale man, and the watch +with the M on it. Also I considered again the matter of my prayers, +which I had already discussed with Grandfather Nat, to his obvious +perplexity, by candle-light. For I was urgent to know if I must now +leave my mother out, and if I might not put my little dead brother in; +being very anxious to include them both. My grandfather's first opinion +was, that it was not the usual thing; which opinion he expressed with +hesitation, and a curious look of the eyes that I wondered at. But I +argued that God could bless them just as well in heaven as here; and +Grandfather Nat admitted that no doubt there was something in that. +Whereupon I desired to know if they would hear if I said in my prayers +that I was quite safe with him, at the Hole in the Wall; or if I should +rather ask God to tell them. And at that my grandfather stood up and +turned away, with a rub and a pat on my head, toward his own bed; +telling me to say whatever I pleased, and not to forget Grandfather Nat. + +So that now, having said what I pleased, and having well remembered +Grandfather Nat, and slept and woke and dozed and woke again, I took +solace from his authority and whispered many things to my little dead +brother, whom I could never play with: of the little ship in the glass +case, and the pictures, and of how I was going to the London Dock +to-morrow; and so at last fell asleep soundly till morning. + +Grandfather Nat was astir early, and soon I was looking from the window +by his bed at the ships that lay so thick in the Pool, tier on tier. +Below me I could see the water that washed between the slimy piles on +which the house rested, and to the left were the narrow stairs that +terminated the passage at the side. Several boats were moored about +these stairs, and a waterman was already looking out for a fare. Out in +the Pool certain other boats caught the eye as they dodged about among +the colliers, because each carried a bright fire amidships, in a +brazier, beside a man, two small barrels of beer, and a very large +handbell. The men were purlmen, Grandfather Nat told me, selling +liquor--hot beer chiefly, in the cold mornings--to the men on the +colliers, or on any other craft thereabout. It struck me that the one +thing lacking for perfect bliss in most rowing boats was just such a +brazier of cosy fire as the purl-boat carried; so that after very little +consideration I resolved that when I grew up I would not be a sailor, +nor an engine-driver, nor any one of a dozen other things I had thought +of, but a purlman. + +The staircase would have landed one direct into the bar-parlour but for +an enclosing door, which strangers commonly mistook for that of a +cupboard. A step as light as mine was possibly a rarity on this +staircase; for, coming down before my grandfather, I startled a lady in +the bar-parlour who had been doing something with a bottle which +involved the removal of the cork; which cork she snatched hastily from a +shelf and replaced, with no very favourable regard to myself; and +straightway dropped on her knees and went to work with a brush and a +dustpan. She was scarce an attractive woman, I thought, being rusty and +bony, slack-faced and very red-nosed. She swept the carpet and dusted +the shelves with an air of angry contempt for everything she touched, +and I got into the bar out of her way as soon as I could. The potman was +flinging sawdust about the floor, and there, in the same corner, sat the +same pale, ragged man that was there last night, with the same full +glass of liquor--or one like it--by his side: like a trade fixture that +had been there all night. + +When Grandfather Nat appeared, I learned the slack-faced woman's name. +"This here's my little gran'son, Mrs. Grimes," he said, "as is goin' to +live here a bit, 'cordin' as I mentioned yesterday." + +"Hindeed?" said Mrs. Grimes, with a glance that made me feel more +contemptible than the humblest article she had dusted that morning. +"Hindeed? Then it'll be more work more pay, Cap'en Kemp." + +"Very well, mum," my grandfather replied. "If you reckon it out more +work----" + +"Ho!" interjected Mrs. Grimes, who could fill a misplaced aspirate with +subtle offence; "reckon or not, I s'pose there's another bed to be made? +An' buttons to be sewed? An' plates for to be washed? An' dirt an' +litter for to be cleared up everywhere? To say nothink o' crumbs--which +the biscuit-crumbs in the bar-parlour this mornin' was thick an' +shameful!" + +_I_ had had biscuits, and I felt a reprobate. "Very well, mum," +Grandfather Nat said, peaceably; "we'll make out extry damages, mum. A +few days'll give us an idea. Shall we leave it a week an' see how things +go?" + +"Ham I to consider that a week's notice, Captain Kemp?" Mrs. Grimes +demanded, with a distinct rise of voice. "Ham I or ham I not?" + +"Notice!" My grandfather was puzzled, and began to look a trifle angry. +"Why, damme, who said notice? What----" + +"Because notice is as easy give as took, Cap'en Kemp, as I'd 'ave you +remember. An' slave I may be though better brought up than slave-drivers +any day, but swore at vulgar I won't be, nor trampled like dirt an' +litter beneath the feet, an' will not endure it neither!" And with a +great toss of the head Mrs. Grimes flounced through the staircase door, +and sniffed and bridled her way to the upper rooms. + +Her exit relieved my mind; first, because I had a wretched consciousness +that I was causing all the trouble, and a dire fear that Grandfather Nat +might dislike me for it; and second, because when he looked angry I had +a fearful foreboding vision of Mrs. Grimes being presently whirled round +by the ear and flung into the street, as Jim Crute had been. But it was +not long ere I learned that Mrs. Grimes was one of those persons who +grumble and clamour and bully at everything and everybody on principle, +finding that, with a concession here and another there, it pays very +well on the whole; and so nag along very comfortably through life. As +for herself, as I had seen, Mrs. Grimes did not lack the cunning to +carry away any fit of virtuous indignation that seemed like to push her +employer out of his patience. + +My grandfather looked at the bottle that Mrs. Grimes had recorked. + +"That rum shrub," he said, "ain't properly mixed. It works in the bottle +when it's left standing, an' mounts to the cork. I notice it almost +every morning." + + * * * * * + +The day was bright, and I resigned myself with some impatience to wait +for an hour or two till we could set out for the docks. It was a matter +of business, my grandfather explained, that he must not leave the bar +till a fixed hour--ten o'clock; and soon I began to make a dim guess at +the nature of the business, though I guessed in all innocence, and +suspected not at all. + +Contrary to my evening observation, at this early hour the larger bar +was mostly empty, while the obscure compartment at the side was in far +greater use than it had been last night. Four or five visitors must have +come there, one after another: perhaps half a dozen. And they all had +things to sell. Two had watches--one of them was a woman; one had a +locket and a boatswain's silver call; and I think another had some +silver spoons. Grandfather Nat brought each article into the +bar-parlour, to examine, and then returned it to its owner; which +behaviour seemed to surprise none of them as it had surprised the man +last night; so that doubtless he was a stranger. To those with watches +my grandfather said nothing but "Yes, that seems all right," or "Yes, +it's a good enough watch, no doubt." But to the man with the locket and +the silver call he said, "Well, if ever you want to sell 'em you might +get eight bob; no more"; and much the same to him with the spoons, +except that he thought the spoons might fetch fifteen shillings. + +Each of the visitors went out with no more ado; and as each went, the +pale man in the larger bar rose, put his drink safely on the counter, +just beyond the partition, and went out too; and presently he came back, +with no more than a glance at Grandfather Nat, took his drink, and sat +down again. + +At ten o'clock my grandfather looked out of the bar and said to the pale +man: "All right--drink up." + +Whereupon the pale man--who would have been paler if his face had been +washed--swallowed his drink at last, flat as it must have been, and went +out; and Grandfather Nat went out also, by the door into the passage. He +was gone scarce two minutes, and when he returned he unlocked a drawer +below the shelf on which the little ship stood, and took from it the +cash box I had seen last night. His back was turned toward me, and +himself was interposed between my eyes and the box, which he rested on +the shelf; but I heard a jingling that suggested spoons. + +So I said, "Did the man go to buy the spoons for you, Gran'fa' Nat?" + +My grandfather looked round sharply, with something as near a frown as +he ever directed on me. Then he locked the box away hastily, with a +gruff laugh. "You won't starve, Stevy," he said, "as long as wits finds +victuals. But see here," he went on, becoming grave as he sat and drew +me to his knee; "see here, Stevy. What you see here's my business, +private business; understand? You ain't a tell-tale, are you? Not a +sneak?" + +I repudiated the suggestion with pain and scorn; for I was at least old +enough a boy to see in sneakery the blackest of crimes. + +"No, no, that you ain't, I know," Grandfather Nat went on, with a pinch +of my chin, though he still regarded me earnestly. "A plucked 'un's +never a sneak. But there's one thing for you to remember, Stevy, afore +all your readin' an' writin' an' lessons an' what not. You must never +tell of anything you see here, not to a soul--that is, not about me +buyin' things. I'm very careful, but things don't always go right, an' I +might get in trouble. I'm a straight man, an' I pay for all I have in +any line o' trade; I never stole nor cheated not so much as a farden all +my life, nor ever bought anything as I _knew_ was stole. See?" + +I nodded gravely. I was trying hard to understand the reason for all +this seriousness and secrecy, but at any rate I was resolved to be no +tale-bearer; especially against Grandfather Nat. + +"Why," he went on, justifying himself, I fancy, more for his own +satisfaction than for my information; "why, even when it's on'y just +suspicious I won't buy--except o' course through another party. That's +how I guard myself, Stevy, an' every man has a right to buy a thing +reasonable an' sell at a profit if he can; that's on'y plain trade. An' +yet nobody can't say truthful as he ever sold me anything over that +there counter, or anywhere else, barrin' what I have reg'lar of the +brewer an' what not. I may look at a thing or pass an opinion, but +what's that? Nothin' at all. But we've got to keep our mouths shut, +Stevy, for fear o' danger; see? You wouldn't like poor old Grandfather +Nat to be put in gaol, would ye?" + +The prospect was terrible, and I put my hands about my grandfather's +neck and vowed I would never whisper a word. + +"That's right, Stevy," the old man answered, "I know you won't if you +don't forget yourself--so don't do that. Don't take no notice, not even +to me." + +There was a knock at the back door, which opened, and disclosed one of +the purlmen, who had left his boat in sight at the stairs, and wanted a +quart of gin in the large tin can he brought with him. He was a short, +red-faced, tough-looking fellow, and he needed the gin, as I soon +learned, to mix with his hot beer to make the purl. He had a short +conversation with my grandfather when the gin was brought, of which I +heard no more than the words "high water at twelve." But as he went down +the passage he turned, and sang out: "You got the news, Cap'en, o' +course?" + +"What? Viney and Marr?" + +The man nodded, with a click and a twitch of the mouth. Then he snapped +his fingers, and jerked them expressively upward. After which he +ejaculated the single word "Marr," and jerked his thumb over his +shoulder. By which I understood him to repeat, with no waste of +language, the story that it was all up with the firm, and the junior +partner had bolted. + +"That," said Grandfather Nat, when the man was gone--"that's Bill Stagg, +an' he's the on'y purlman as don't come ashore to sleep. Sleeps in his +boat, winter an' summer, does Bill Stagg. How'd you like that, Stevy?" + +I thought I should catch cold, and perhaps tumble overboard, if I had a +bad dream; and I said so. + +"Ah well, Bill Stagg don't mind. He was A.B. aboard o' me when Mr. Viney +was my mate many years ago, an' a good A.B. too. Bill Stagg, he makes +fast somewhere quiet at night, an' curls up snug as a weevil. Mostly +under the piles o' this here house, when the wind ain't east. Saves him +rent, ye see; so he does pretty well." + +And with that my grandfather put on his coat and reached the pilot cap +that was his everyday wear. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +We walked first to the head of the stairs, where opened a wide picture +of the Thames and all its traffic, and where the walls were plastered +with a dozen little bills, each headed "Found Drowned," and each with +the tale of some nameless corpse under the heading. + +"That's my boat, Stevy," said my grandfather, pointing to a little +dinghy with a pair of sculls in her; "our boat, if you like, seeing as +we're pardners. Now you shall do which you like; walk along to the dock, +where the sugar is, or come out in our boat." + +It was a hard choice to make. The glory and delight of the part +ownership of a real boat dazzled me like another sun in the sky; but I +had promised myself the docks and the sugar for such a long time. So we +compromised; the docks to-day and the boat to-morrow. + +Out in the street everybody seemed to know Grandfather Nat. Those who +spoke with him commonly called him Captain Kemp, except a few old +acquaintances to whom he was Captain Nat. Loafers and crimps gazed after +him and nodded together; and small ship-chandlers gave him good morning +from their shop-doors. + +A hundred yards from the Hole in the Wall, at a turn, there was a swing +bridge and a lock, such as we had by the old house in Blackwall. At the +moment we came in hail the men were at the winch, and the bridge began +to part in the middle; for a ship was about to change berth to the inner +dock. "Come, Stevy," said my grandfather, "we'll take the lock 'fore +they open that. Not afraid if I'm with you, are you?" + +No, I was not afraid with Grandfather Nat, and would not even be +carried. Though the top of the lock was not two feet wide, and was +knotted, broken and treacherous in surface and wholly unguarded on one +side, where one looked plump down into the foul dock-water; and though +on the other side there was but a slack chain strung through loose iron +stanchions that staggered in their sockets. Grandfather Nat gripped me +by the collar and walked me before him; but relief tempered my triumph +when I was safe across; my feet never seemed to have twisted and slipped +and stumbled so much before in so short a distance--perhaps because in +that same distance I had never before recollected so many tales of men +drowned in the docks by falling off just such locks, in fog, or by +accidental slips. + +A little farther along, and we came upon Ratcliff Highway. I saw the +street then for the first time, and in truth it was very wonderful. I +think there could never have been another street in this country at once +so foul and so picturesque as Ratcliff Highway at the time I speak of. +Much that I saw I could not understand, child as I was; and by so much +the more was I pleased with it all, when perhaps I should have been +shocked. From end to end of the Highway and beyond, and through all its +tributaries and purlieus everything and everybody was for, by, and of, +the sailor ashore; every house and shop was devoted to his convenience +and inconvenience; in the Highway it seemed to me that every other house +was a tavern, and in several places two stood together. There were shops +full of slops, sou'westers, pilot-coats, sea-boots, tin pannikins, and +canvas kit-bags like giants' bolsters; and rows of big knives and +daggers, often engraved with suggestive maxims. A flash of memory +recalls the favourite: "Never draw me without cause, never sheathe me +without honour." I have since seen the words "cause" and "honour" put to +uses less respectable. + +The pawn-shops had nothing in them that had not come straight from a +ship--sextants and boatswain's pipes being the choice of the stock. And +pawn-shops, slop-shops, tobacco-shops--every shop almost--had somewhere +in its window a selection of those curiosities that sailors make abroad +and bring home: little ship-models mysteriously erected inside bottles, +shells, albatross heads, saw-fish snouts, and bottles full of sand of +different colours, ingeniously packed so as to present a figure or a +picture when viewed from without. + +Men of a dozen nations were coming or going in every score of yards. The +best dressed, and the worst, were the negroes; for the black cook who +was flush went in for adornments that no other sailor-man would have +dreamed of: a white shirt, a flaming tie, a black coat with satin +facings--even a white waistcoat and a top hat. While the cleaned-out and +shipless nigger was a sad spectacle indeed. Then there were Spaniards, +swart, long-haired, bloodshot-looking fellows, whose entire shore outfit +consisted commonly of a red shirt, blue trousers, anklejacks with the +brown feet visible over them, a belt, a big knife, and a pair of large +gold ear-rings. Big, yellow-haired, blue-eyed Swedes, who were full pink +with sea and sun, and not brown or mahogany-coloured, like the rest; +slight, wicked-looking Malays; lean, spitting Yankees, with stripes, and +felt hats, and sing-song oaths; sometimes a Chinaman, petticoated, +dignified, jeered at; a Lascar, a Greek, a Russian; and everywhere the +English Jack, rolling of gait--sometimes from habit alone, sometimes for +mixed reasons--hard, red-necked, waistcoatless, with his knife at his +belt, like the rest: but more commonly a clasp-knife than one in a +sheath. To me all these strangely bedight men were matter of delight and +wonder; and I guessed my hardest whence each had come last, what he had +brought in his ship, and what strange and desperate adventures he had +encountered on the way. And wherever I saw bare, hairy skin, whether an +arm, or the chest under an open shirt, there were blue devices of ships, +of flags, of women, of letters and names. Grandfather Nat was tattooed +like that, as I had discovered in the morning, when he washed. He had +been a fool to have it done, he said, as he flung the soapy water out of +window into the river, and he warned me that I must be careful never to +make such a mistake myself; which made me sorry, because it seemed so +gallant an embellishment. But my grandfather explained that you could be +identified by tattoo-marks, at any length of time, which might cause +trouble. I remembered that my own father was tattooed with an anchor and +my mother's name; and I hoped he would never be identified, if it were +as bad as that. + +In the street oyster-stalls stood, and baked-potato cans; one or two +sailors were buying, and one or two fiddlers, but mostly the customers +were the gaudy women, who seemed to make a late breakfast in this way. +Some had not stayed to perform a greater toilet than to fling clothes on +themselves unhooked and awry, and to make a straggling knot of their +hair; but the most were brilliant enough in violet or scarlet or blue, +with hair oiled and crimped and hung in thick nets, and with bright +handkerchiefs over their shoulders--belcher yellows and kingsmen and +blue billies. And presently we came on one who was dancing with a sailor +on the pavement, to the music of one of the many fiddlers who picked up +a living hereabouts; and she wore the regular dancing rig of the +Highway--short skirts and high red morocco boots with brass heels. She +covered the buckle and grape-vined with great precision, too, a contrast +with her partner, whose hornpipe was unsteady and vague in the figures, +for indeed he seemed to have "begun early"--perhaps had not left off all +night. Two more pairs of these red morocco boots we saw at a place next +a public house, where a shop front had been cleared out to make a +dancing room, with a sort of buttery-hatch communicating with the +tavern; and where a flushed sailor now stood with a pot in each hand, +roaring for a fiddler. + +But if the life and the picturesqueness of the Highway in some sort +disguised its squalor, they made the more hideously apparent the +abomination of the by-streets: which opened, filthy and menacing, at +every fifty yards as we went. The light seemed greyer, the very air +thicker and fouler in these passages; though indeed they formed the +residential part whereof the Highway was the market-place. The children +who ran and tumbled in these places, the boy of nine equally with the +infant crawling from doorstep to gutter, were half naked, shoeless, and +disguised in crusted foulness; so that I remember them with a certain +sickening, even in these latter days; when I see no such pitiably +neglected little wretches, though I know the dark parts of London well +enough. + +At the mouth of one of these narrow streets, almost at the beginning of +the Highway, Grandfather Nat stopped and pointed. + +It was a forbidding lane, with forbidding men and women hanging about +the entrance; and far up toward the end there appeared to be a crowd and +a fight; in the midst whereof a half-naked man seemed to be rushing from +side to side of the street. + +"That's the Blue Gate," said my grandfather, and resumed his walk. "It's +dangerous," he went on, "the worst place hereabout--perhaps anywhere. +Wuss'n Tiger Bay, a mile. You must never go near Blue Gate. People get +murdered there, Stevy--murdered--many's a man; sailor-men mostly; an' +nobody never knows. Pitch them in the Dock sometimes, sometimes in the +river, so's they're washed away. I've known 'em taken to +Hole-in-the-Wall Stairs at night." + +I gripped my grandfather's hand tighter, and asked, in all innocence, if +we should see any, if we kept watch out of window that night. He +laughed, thought the chance scarce worth a sleepless night, and went on +to tell me of something else. But I overheard later in a bar +conversation a ghastly tale of years before; of a murdered man's body +that had been dragged dripping through the streets at night by two men +who supported its arms, staggering and shouting and singing, as though +the three were merely drunk; and how it was dropped in panic ere it was +brought to the waterside, because of a collision with three live sailors +who really were drunk. + +One or two crimps' carts came through from the docks as we walked, drawn +by sorry animals, and piled high with shouting sailors and their +belongings--chief among these the giant bolster-bags. The victims went +to their fate gloriously enough, hailing and chaffing the populace on +the way, and singing, each man as he list. Also we saw a shop with a +window full of parrots and monkeys; and a very sick kangaroo in a wooden +cage being carried in from a van. + +And so we came to the London Dock at last. And there, in the +sugar-sheds, stood more sugar than ever I had dreamed of in my wildest +visions--thousands of barrels, mountains of sacks. And so many of the +bags were rat-bitten, or had got a slit by accidentally running up +against a jack-knife; and so many of the barrels were defective, or had +stove themselves by perverse complications with a crowbar; that the +heavy, brown, moist stuff was lying in heaps and lumps everywhere; and I +supposed that it must be called "foot-sugar" because you couldn't help +treading on it. + +It was while I was absorbed in this delectable spectacle, that I heard a +strained little voice behind me, and turned to behold Mr. Cripps +greeting my grandfather. + +"Good mornin', Cap'en Kemp, sir," said Mr. Cripps. "I been a-lookin' at +the noo Blue Crosser--the _Emily Riggs_. She ought to be done, ye know, +an' a han'some picter she'd make; but the skipper seems busy. Why, an' +there's young master Stephen, I do declare; 'ow are ye, sir?" + +As he bent and the nose neared, I was seized with a horrid fear that he +was going to kiss me. But he only shook hands, after all--though it was +not at all a clean hand that he gave. + +"Why, Cap'en Kemp," he went on, "this is what I say a phenomenal +coincidence; rather unique, in fact. Why, you'll 'ardly believe as I was +a thinkin' o' you not 'arf an hour ago, scarcely! Now you wouldn't 'a' +thought that, would ye?" + +There was a twinkle in Grandfather Nat's eye. "All depends," he said. + +"Comin' along from the mortuary, I see somethink----" + +"Ah, something in the mortuary, no doubt," my grandfather interrupted, +quizzically. "Well, what was in the mortuary? I bet there was a corpse +in the mortuary." + +"Quite correct, Cap'en Kemp, so there was; three of 'em, an' a very sad +sight; decimated, Cap'en Kemp, by the watery element. But it wasn't them +I was----" + +"What! It wasn't a corpse as reminded you of me? That's rum. Then I +expect somebody told you some more about Viney and Marr. Come, what's +the latest about Viney an' Marr? Tell us about that." + +Grandfather Nat was humorously bent on driving Mr. Cripps from his mark, +and Mr. Cripps deferred. "Well, it's certainly a topic," he said, "a +universal topic. Crooks the ship-chandler's done for, they +say--unsolvent. The _Minerva's_ reported off Prawle Point in to-day's +list, an' they say as she'll be sold up as soon as she's moored. But +there--she's hypotenused, Cap'en Kemp; pawned, as you might say; up the +flue. It's a matter o' gen'ral information that she's pawned up to 'er +r'yals--up to 'er main r'yals, sir. Which reminds me, speakin' o' +r'yals, there's a timber-shop just along by the mortuary----" + +"Ah, no doubt," Grandfather Nat interrupted, "they must put 'em +somewhere. Any news o' the _Juno_?" + +"No, sir, she ain't reported; not doo Barbadoes yet, or mail not in, +any'ow. They'll sell 'er too, but the creditors won't get none of it. +She's hypotenused as deep as the other--up to her r'yals; an' there's +nothin' else to sell. So it's the gen'ral opinion there won't be much to +divide, Marr 'avin' absconded with the proceeds. An' as regards what I +was agoin' to----" + +"Yes, you was goin' to tell me some more about Marr, I expect," my +grandfather persisted. "Heard where he's gone?" + +Mr. Cripps shook his head. "They don't seem likely to ketch 'im, Cap'en +Nat. Some says 'e's absconded out o' the country, others says 'e's +'idin' in it. Nobody knows 'im much, consequence o' Viney doin' all the +outdoor business--I on'y see 'im once myself. Viney, 'e thinks 'e's gone +abroad, they say; an' 'e swears Marr's the party as 'as caused the +unsolvency, 'avin' bin a-doin' of 'im all along; 'im bein' in charge o' +the books. An' it's a fact, Cap'en Kemp, as you never know what them +chaps may get up to with the proceeds as 'as charge o' books. The +paper's full of 'em every week--always absconding with somebody's +proceeds! An' by the way, speakin' o' proceeds----" + +This time Captain Nat made no interruption, but listened with an amused +resignation. + +"Speakin' o' proceeds," said Mr. Cripps, "it was bein' temp'ry out o' +proceeds as made me think o' you as I come along from the mortuary. For +I see as 'andsome a bit o' panel for to paint a sign on as ever I come +across. It was----" + +"Yes, I know. Enough to stimilate you to paint it fine, only to look at +it, wasn't it?" + +"Well, yes, Cap'n Kemp, so it was." + +"Not dear, neither?" + +"No--not to say dear, seein' 'ow prices is up. If I'd 'ad----" + +"Well, well, p'raps prices'll be down a bit soon," said Grandfather Nat, +grinning and pulling out a sixpence. "I ain't good for no more than that +now, anyhow!" And having passed over the coin he took my hand and turned +away, laughing and shaking his head. + +Seeing that my grandfather wanted his sign, it seemed to me that he was +losing an opportunity, and I said so. + +"What!" he said, "let him buy the board? Why, he's had half a dozen +boards for that sign a'ready!" + +"Half a dozen?" I said. "Six boards? What did he do with them?" + +"Ate 'em!" said Grandfather Nat, and laughed the louder when I stared. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +I found it quite true that one might eat the loose sugar wherever he +judged it clean enough--as most of it was. And nothing but Grandfather +Nat's restraining hand postponed my first bilious attack. + +Thus it was that I made acquaintance with the Highway, and with the +London Docks, in their more picturesque days, and saw and delighted in a +thousand things more than I can write. Port was drunk then, and hundreds +of great pipes lay in rows on a wide quay where men walked with wooden +clubs, whacking each pipe till the "shive" or wooden bung sprang into +the air, to be caught with a dexterity that pleased me like a conjuring +trick. And many a thirsty dock-labourer, watching his opportunity, would +cut a strip of bread from his humble dinner as he strolled near a pipe, +and, absorbed in the contemplation of the indefinite empyrean, absently +dip his sippet into the shive-hole as he passed; recovering it in a +state so wet and discoloured that its instant consumption was +imperative. + +And so at last we came away from the docks by the thoroughfare then +called Tanglefoot Lane; not that that name, or anything like it, was +painted at the corner; but because it was the road commonly taken by +visitors departing from the wine-vaults after bringing tasting-orders. + +As we passed Blue Gate on our way home, I saw, among those standing at +the corner, a coarse-faced, untidy woman, talking to a big, bony-looking +man with a face so thin and mean that it seemed misplaced on such +shoulders. The woman was so much like a score of others then in sight, +that I should scarce have noted her, were it not that she and the man +stopped their talk as we passed, with a quick look, first at my +grandfather, and then one at the other; and then the man turned his back +and walked away. Presently the woman came after us, walking quickly, +glancing doubtfully at Grandfather Nat as she passed; and at last, after +twice looking back, she turned and waited for us to come up. + +"Beg pardon, Cap'en Kemp," she said in a low, but a very thick voice, +"but might I speak to you a moment, sir?" + +My grandfather looked at her sharply. "Well," he said, "what is it?" + +"In regards to a man as sold you a watch las' night----" + +"No," Grandfather Nat interrupted with angry decision, "he didn't." + +"Beg pardon, sir, jesso sir--'course not; which I mean to say 'e sold it +to a man near to your 'ouse. Is it brought true as that party--not +meanin' you, sir, 'course not, but the party in the street near your +'ouse--is it brought true as that party'll buy somethink more--somethink +as I needn't tell now, sir, p'raps, but somethink spoke of between that +party an' the other party--I mean the party as sold it, an' don't mean +you, sir, 'course not?" + +It was plain that the woman, who had begun in trepidation, was confused +and abashed the more by the hard frown with which Captain Nat regarded +her. The frown persisted for some moments; and then my grandfather said: +"Don't know what you mean. If somebody bought anything of a friend o' +yours, an' your friend wants to sell him something else, I suppose he +can take it to him, can't he? And if it's any value, there's no reason +he shouldn't buy it, so far as I know." And Grandfather Nat strode on. + +The woman murmured some sort of acknowledgment, and fell back, and in a +moment I had forgotten her; though I remembered her afterward, for good +reason enough. + +In fact, it was no later than that evening. I was sitting in the +bar-parlour with Grandfather Nat, who had left the bar to the care of +the potman. My grandfather was smoking his pipe, while I spelled and +sought down the narrow columns of _Lloyd's List_ for news of my father's +ship. It was my grandfather's way to excuse himself from reading, when +he could, on the plea of unsuitable eyes; though I suspect that, apart +from his sight, he found reading a greater trouble than he was pleased +to own. + +"There's nothing here about the _Juno_, Grandfather Nat," I said. +"Nothing anywhere." + +"Ah," said my grandfather, "La Guaira was the last port, an' we must +keep eyes on the list for Barbadoes. Maybe the mail's late." Most of +Lloyd's messages came by mail at that time. "Let's see," he went on; +"Belize, La Guaira, Barbadoes"; and straightway began to figure out +distances and chances of wind. + +Grandfather Nat had been considering whether or not we should write to +my father to tell him that my mother was dead, and he judged that there +was little chance of any letter reaching the _Juno_ on her homeward +passage. + +"Belize, La Guaira, Barbadoes," said Grandfather Nat, musingly. "It's +the rough reason thereabout, an' it's odds she may be blown out of her +course. But the mail----" + +He stopped and turned his head. There was a sudden stamp of feet outside +the door behind us, a low and quick voice, a heavy thud against the +door, and then a cry--a dreadful cry, that began like a stifled scream +and ended with a gurgle. + +Grandfather Nat reached the door at a bound, and as he flung it wide a +man came with it and sank heavily at his feet, head and one shoulder +over the threshold, and an arm flung out stiffly, so that the old man +stumbled across it as he dashed at a dark shadow without. + +I was hard at my grandfather's heels, and in a flash of time I saw that +another man was rising from over the one on the doorsill. But for the +stumble Grandfather Nat would have had him. In that moment's check the +fellow spun round and dashed off, striking one of the great posts with +his shoulder, and nearly going down with the shock. + +All was dark without, and what I saw was merely confused by the light +from the bar-parlour. My grandfather raised a shout and rushed in the +wake of the fugitive, toward the stairs, and I, too startled and too +excited to be frightened yet, skipped over the stiff arm to follow him. +At the first step I trod on some object which I took to be my +grandfather's tobacco-pouch, snatched it up, and stuffed it in my jacket +pocket as I ran. Several men from the bar were running in the passage, +and down the stairs I could hear Captain Nat hallooing across the river. + +"Ahoy!" came a voice in reply. "What's up?" And I could see the fire of +a purl-boat coming in. + +"Stop him, Bill!" my grandfather shouted. "Stop him! Stabbed a man! He's +got my boat, and there's no sculls in this damned thing! Gone round them +barges!" + +And now I could distinguish my grandfather in a boat, paddling +desperately with a stretcher, his face and his shirt-sleeves touched +with the light from the purl-man's fire. + +The purl-boat swung round and shot off, and presently other boats came +pulling by, with shouts and questions. Then I saw Grandfather Nat, a +black form merely, climbing on a barge and running and skipping along +the tier, from one barge to another, calling and directing, till I could +see him no more. There were many men on the stairs by this time, and +others came running and jostling; so I made my way back to the +bar-parlour door. + +It was no easy thing to get in here, for a crowd was gathering. But a +man from the bar who recognised me made a way, and as soon as I had +pushed through the crowd of men's legs I saw that the injured man was +lying on the floor, tended by the potman; while Mr. Cripps, his face +pallid under the dirt, and his nose a deadly lavender, stood by, with +his mouth open and his hands dangling aimlessly. + + * * * * * + +The stabbed man lay with his head on a rolled-up coat of my +grandfather's, and he was bad for a child to look at. His face had gone +tallowy; his eyes, which turned (and frightened me) as I came in, were +now directed steadily upward; he breathed low and quick, and though Joe +the potman pressed cloths to the wound in his chest, there was blood +about his lips and chin, and blood bubbled dreadfully in his mouth. But +what startled me most, and what fixed my regard on his face despite my +tremors, so that I could scarce take my eyes from it, was the fact that, +paleness and blood and drawn cheeks notwithstanding, I saw in him the +ugly, broken-nosed fellow who had been in the private compartment last +night, with a watch to sell; the watch, with an initial on the back, +that now lay in Grandfather Nat's cash-box. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +Somebody had gone for a doctor, it was said, but a doctor was not always +easy to find in Wapping. Mrs. Grimes, who was at some late work +upstairs, was not disturbed at first by the noise, since excitement was +not uncommon in the neighbourhood. But now she came to the stairfoot +door, and peeped and hurried back. For myself, I squeezed into a far +corner and stared, a little sick; for there was a deal of blood, and Joe +the potman was all dabbled, like a slaughterman. + +My grandfather returned almost on the doctor's heels, and with my +grandfather were some river police, in glazed hats and pilot coats. The +doctor puffed and shook his head, called for cold water, and cloths, and +turpentine, and milk. Cold water and cloths were ready enough, and +turpentine was easy to get, but ere the milk came it was useless. The +doctor shook his head and puffed more than ever, wiped his hands and +pulled his cuffs down gingerly. I could not see the man on the floor, +now, for the doctor was in the way; but I heard him, just before the +doctor stood up. The noise sent my neck cold at the back; though indeed +it was scarce more than the noise made in emptying a large bottle by +up-ending it. + +The doctor stood up and shook his head. "Gone," he said. "And I couldn't +have done more than keep him alive a few minutes, at best. It was the +lung, and bad--two places. Have they got the man?" + +"No," said Grandfather Nat, "nor ain't very likely, I'd say. Never saw +him again, once he got behind a tier o' lighters. Waterside chap, +certain; knows the river well enough, an' these stairs. I couldn't ha' +got that boat o' mine off quicker, not myself." + +"Ah," said one of the river policemen, "he's a waterside chap, that's +plain enough. Any other 'ud a-bolted up the street. Never said nothing, +did he--this one?" He was bending over the dead man; while the others +cleared the people back from the door, and squeezed Mr. Cripps out among +them. + +"No, not a word," answered Joe the potman. "Couldn't. Tried to nod once +when I spoke to 'im, but it seemed to make 'im bleed faster." + +"Know him, Cap'en Nat?" asked the sergeant. + +"No," answered my grandfather, "I don't know him. Might ha' seen him +hanging about p'raps. But then I see a lot doin' that." + +I wondered if Grandfather Nat had already forgotten about the silver +watch with the M on it, or if he had merely failed to recognise the man. +But I remembered what he had said in the morning, after he had bought +the spoons, and I reflected that I had best hold my tongue. + +And now voices without made it known that the shore police were here, +with a stretcher; and presently, with a crowding and squeezing in the +little bar-parlour that drove me deeper into my corner and farther under +the shelf, the uncomely figure was got from the floor to the stretcher, +and so out of the house. + +It was plain that my grandfather was held in good regard by the police; +and I think that his hint that a drop of brandy was at the service of +anybody who felt the job unpleasant might have been acted on, if there +had not been quite as many present at once. When at last they were gone, +and the room clear, he kicked into a heap the strip of carpet that the +dead man had lain on; and as he did it, he perceived me in my corner. + +"What--you here all the time, Stevy?" he said. "I thought you'd gone +upstairs. Here--it ain't right for boys in general, but you've got a +turn; drink up this." + +I believe I must have been pale, and indeed I felt a little sick now +that the excitement was over. The thing had been very near, and the +blood tainted the very air. So that I gulped the weak brandy and water +without much difficulty, and felt better. Out in the bar Mr. Cripps's +thin voice was raised in thrilling description. + +Feeling better, as I have said, and no longer faced with the melancholy +alternatives of crying or being ill, I bethought me of my grandfather's +tobacco-pouch. "You dropped your pouch, Gran'father Nat," I said, "and I +picked it up when I ran out." + +And with that I pulled out of my jacket pocket--not the pouch at all; +but a stout buckled pocket-book of about the same size. + +"That ain't a pouch, Stevy," said Grandfather Nat; "an' mine's here in +my pocket. Show me." + +He opened the flap, and stood for a moment staring. Then he looked up +hastily, turned his back to the bar, and sat down. "Whew! Stevy!" he +said, with amazement in his eyes and the pocket-book open in his hand; +"you're in luck; luck, my boy. See!" + +Once more he glanced quickly over his shoulder, toward the bar; and then +took in his fingers a folded bunch of paper, and opened it. "Notes!" he +said, in a low voice, drawing me to his side. "Bank of England notes, +every one of 'em! Fifties, an' twenties, an' tens, an' fives! Where was +it?" + +I told him how I had run out at his heels, had trodden on the thing in +the dark, and had slipped it into my pocket, supposing it to be his old +leather tobacco-pouch, from which he had but just refilled his pipe; and +how I had forgotten about it, in my excitement, till the people were +gone, and the brandy had quelled my faintness. + +"Well, well," commented Grandfather Nat, "it's a wonderful bit o' luck, +anyhow. This is what the chap was pulling away from him when I opened +the door, you can lay to that; an' he lost it when he hit the post, I'll +wager; unless the other pitched it away. But that's neither here nor +there.... What's that?" He turned his head quickly. "That stairfoot door +ain't latched again, Stevy. Made me jump: fancied it was the other." + +There was nothing else in the pocket-book, it would seem, except an old +photograph. It was a faded, yellowish thing, and it represented a rather +stout woman, seated, with a boy of about fourteen at her side; both very +respectably dressed in the fashion of twenty years earlier. Grandfather +Nat put it back, and slipped the pocket-book into the same cash-box that +had held the watch with the M engraved on its back. + +The stairfoot door clicked again, and my grandfather sent me to shut it. +As I did so I almost fancied I could hear soft footsteps ascending. But +then I concluded I was mistaken; for in a few moments Mrs. Grimes was +plainly heard coming downstairs, with an uncommonly full tread; and +presently she presented herself. + +"Good law, Cap'en Kemp," exclaimed Mrs. Grimes, with a hand clutching at +her chest, and her breath a tumultuous sigh; "Good law! I am that bad! +What with extry work, an' keepin' on late, an' murders under my very +nose, I cannot a-bear it--no!" And she sank into a chair by the +stairfoot door, letting go her brush and dustpan with a clatter. + +Grandfather Nat turned to get the brandy-bottle again. Mrs. Grimes's +head drooped faintly, and her eyelids nearly closed. Nevertheless I +observed that the eyes under the lids were very sharp indeed, following +my grandfather's back, and traversing the shelf where he had left the +photograph; yet when he brought the brandy, he had to rouse her by a +shake. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +I went to bed early that night--as soon as Mrs. Grimes was gone, in +fact. My grandfather had resolved that such a late upsitting as last +night's must be no more than an indulgence once in a way. He came up +with me, bringing the cash-box to put away in the little wall-cupboard +against his bed-head where it always lay, at night, with a pistol by its +side. Grandfather Nat peeped to see the pocket-book safe once more, and +chuckled as he locked it away. This done, he sat by my side, and talked +till I began to fall asleep. + +The talk was of the pocket-book, and what should be done with the money. +Eight hundred pounds was the sum, and two five-pound notes over, and I +wondered why a man with so much money should come, the evening before, +to sell his watch. + +"Looks as though the money wasn't his, don't it?" commented Grandfather +Nat. "Though anyhow it's no good to him now. You found it, an' it's +yours, Stevy." + +I remembered certain lessons of my mother's as to one's proper behaviour +toward lost property, and I mentioned them. But Grandfather Nat clearly +resolved me that this was no case in point. "It can't be his, because +he's dead," Captain Nat argued; "an' if it's the other chap's--well, let +him come an' ask for it. That's fair enough, you know, Stevy. An' if he +don't come--it ain't likely he will, is it?--then it's yours; and I'll +keep it to help start you in life when you grow up. I won't pay it into +the bank--not for a bit, anyhow. There's numbers on bank notes: an' they +lead to trouble, often. But they're as good one time as another, an' +easy sent abroad later on, or what not. So there you are, my boy! Eight +hundred odd to start you like a gentleman, with as much more as +Grandfather Nat can put to it. Eh?" + +He kissed me and rubbed his hands in my curls, and I took the occasion +to communicate my decision as to being a purlman. Grandfather Nat +laughed, and patted my head down on the pillow; and for a little I +remembered no more. + +I awoke in an agony of nightmare. The dead man, with blood streaming +from mouth and eyes, was dragging my grandfather down into the river, +and my mother with my little dead brother in her arms called me to throw +out the pocket-book, and save him; and throw I could not, for the thing +seemed glued to my fingers. So I awoke with a choke and a cry, and sat +up in bed. + +All was quiet about me, and below were the common evening noises of the +tavern; laughs, argumentation, and the gurgle of drawn beer; though +there was less noise now than when I had come up, and I judged it not +far from closing time. Out in the street a woman was singing a ballad; +and I got out of bed and went to the front room window to see and to +hear; for indeed I was out of sorts and nervous, and wished to look at +people. + +At the corner of the passage there was a small group who pointed and +talked together--plainly discussing the murder; and as one or two +drifted away, so one or two more came up to join those remaining. No +doubt the singing woman had taken this pitch as one suitable to her +ware--for she sang and fluttered at length in her hand one of the +versified last dying confessions that even so late as this were hawked +about Ratcliff and Wapping. What murderer's "confession" the woman was +singing I have clean forgotten; but they were all the same, all set to a +doleful tune which, with modifications, still does duty, I believe, as +an evening hymn; and the burden ran thus, for every murderer and any +murder:-- + + Take warning by my dreadful fate, + The truth I can't deny; + This dreadful crime that I are done + I are condemned to die. + +The singular grammar of the last two lines I never quite understood, not +having noticed its like elsewhere; but I put it down as a distinguishing +characteristic of the speech of murderers. + +I waited till the woman had taken her ballads away, and I had grown +uncommonly cold in the legs, and then crept back to bed. But now I had +fully awakened myself, and sleep was impossible. Presently I got up +again, and looked out over the river. Very black and mysterious it lay, +the blacker, it seemed, for the thousand lights that spotted it, craft +and shore. No purlmen's fires were to be seen, for work on the colliers +was done long ago, but once a shout and now a hail came over the water, +faint or loud, far or near; and up the wooden wall I leaned on came the +steady sound of the lapping against the piles below. I wondered where +Grandfather Nat's boat--our boat--lay now; if the murderer were still +rowing in it, and would row and row right away to sea, where my father +was, in his ship; or if he would be caught, and make a dying confession +with all the "haves" and "ams" replaced by "ares"; or if, indeed, he had +already met providential retribution by drowning. In which case I +doubted for the safety of the boat, and Grandfather would buy another. +And my legs growing cold again, I retreated once more. + +I heard the customers being turned into the street, and the shutters +going up; and then I got under the bed-clothes, for I recalled the +nightmare, and it was not pleasant. It grew rather worse, indeed, for my +waking fancy enlarged and embellished it, and I longed to hear the tread +of Grandfather Nat ascending the stair. But he was late to-night. I +heard Joe the potman, who slept off the premises, shut the door and go +off up the street. For a few minutes Grandfather Nat was moving about +the bar and the bar-parlour; and then there was silence, save for the +noises--the clicks and the creaks--that the old house made of itself. + +I waited and waited, sometimes with my head out of the clothes, +sometimes with no more than a contrived hole next my ear, listening. +Till at last I could wait no longer, for the house seemed alive with +stealthy movement, and I shook with the indefinite terror that comes, +some night or another, to the most unimaginative child. I thought, at +first, of calling to my grandfather, but that would seem babyish; so I +said my prayers over again, held my breath, and faced the terrors of the +staircase. The boards sang and creaked under my bare feet, and the black +about me was full of dim coloured faces. But I pushed the door and drew +breath in the honest lamplight of the bar-parlour at last. + +Nobody was there, and nobody was in the bar. Could he have gone out? Was +I alone in the house, there, where the blood was still on the carpet? +But there was a slight noise from behind the stairs, and I turned to +look farther. + +Behind the bar-parlour and the staircase were two rooms, that projected +immediately over the river, with their frames resting on the piles. One +was sometimes used as a parlour for the reception of mates and skippers, +though such customers were rare; the other held cases, bottles and +barrels. To this latter I turned, and mounting the three steps behind +the staircase, pushed open the door; and was mightily astonished at what +I saw. + +There was my grandfather, kneeling, and there was one half of Bill Stagg +the purlman, standing waist-deep in the floor. For a moment it was +beyond me to guess what he was standing on, seeing that there was +nothing below but water; but presently I reasoned that the tide was +high, and he must be standing in his boat. He was handing my grandfather +some small packages, and he saw me at once and pointed. Grandfather Nat +turned sharply, and stared, and for a moment I feared he was angry. Then +he grinned, shook his finger at me, and brought it back to his lips with +a tap. + +"All right--my pardner," he whispered, and Bill Stagg grinned too. The +business was short enough, and in a few seconds Bill Stagg, with another +grin at me, and something like a wink, ducked below. My grandfather, +with noiseless care, put back in place a trap-door--not a square, +noticeable thing, but a clump of boards of divers lengths that fell into +place with as innocent an aspect as the rest of the floor. This done, he +rolled a barrel over the place, and dropped the contents of the packages +into a row of buckets that stood near. + +"What's that, Grandfather Nat?" I ventured to ask, when all was safely +accomplished. + +My grandfather grinned once more, and shook his head. "Go on," he said, +"I'll tell you in the bar-parlour. May as well now as let ye find out." +He blew out the light of his candle and followed me. + +"Well," he said, wrapping my cold feet in my nightgown as I sat on his +knee. "What brought ye down, Stevy? Did we make a noise?" + +I shook my head. "I--I felt lonely," I said. + +"Lonely? Well, never mind. An' so ye came to look for me, eh? Well, now, +this is another one o' the things as you mustn't talk about, Stevy--a +little secret between ourselves, bein' pardners." + +"The stuff in the pail, Gran'fa' Nat?" + +"The stuff in the pail, an' the hole in the floor. You're sure you won't +get talkin', an' get your poor old gran'father in trouble?" + +Yes, I was quite sure; though I could not see as yet what there was to +cause trouble. + +"The stuff Bill Stagg brought, Stevy, is 'bacca. 'Bacca smashed down so +hard that a pound ain't bigger than that matchbox. An' I pitch it in the +water to swell it out again; see?" + +I still failed to understand the method of its arrival. "Did Bill Stagg +steal it, gran'father?" I asked. + +Grandfather Nat laughed. "No, my boy," he said; "he bought it, an' I buy +it. It comes off the Dutch boats. But it comes a deal cheaper takin' it +in that way at night-time. There's a big place I'll show you one day, +Stevy--big white house just this side o' London Bridge. There's a lot o' +gentlemen there as wants to see all the 'bacca that comes in from +aboard, an' they take a lot o' trouble over it, and charge too, fearful. +So they're very angry if parties--same as you an' me--takes any in +without lettin' 'em know, an' payin' 'em the money. An' they can get you +locked up." + +This seemed a very unjust world that I had come into, in which +Grandfather Nat was in danger of such terrible penalties for such +innocent transactions--buying a watch, or getting his tobacco cheap. So +I said: "I think people are very wicked in this place." + +"Ah!" said my grandfather, "I s'pose none of us ain't over good. But +there--I've told you about it now, an' that's better than lettin' you +wonder, an' p'raps go asking other people questions. So now you know, +Stevy. We've got our little secrets between us, an' you've got to keep +'em between us, else--well, you know. Nothing about anything I buy, nor +about what I take in _there_,"--with a jerk of the thumb--"nor about +'bacca in buckets o' water." + +"Nor about the pocket-book, Gran'fa' Nat?" + +"Lord no. 'Specially not about that. You see, Stevy, pardners is +pardners, an' they must stick together, eh? We'll stick together, won't +we?" + +I nodded hard and reached for my grandfather's neck. + +"Ah, that we will. What others like to think they can; they can't prove +nothing, nor it wouldn't be their game. But we're pardners, an' I've +told you what--well, what you might ha' found out in a more awkward way. +An' it ain't so bad a thing to have a pardner to talk to, neither. I +never had one till now--not since your gran'mother died, that you never +saw, Stevy; an' that was twenty years ago. I been alone most o' my +life--not even a boy, same as it might be you. 'Cause why? When your +father was your age, an' older, I was always at sea, an' never saw him, +scarcely; same as him an' you now." + +And indeed Grandfather Nat and I knew each other better than my father +knew either of us. And so we sat for a few minutes talking of ourselves, +and once more of the notes in the pocket-book upstairs; till the tramp +of the three policemen on the beat stayed in the street without, and we +heard one of the three coming down the passage. + +He knocked sharply at the bar-parlour door, and Grandfather Nat put me +down and opened it. + +"Good evenin', Cap'en Kemp," said the policeman. "We knew you was up, +seein' a bit o' light." Then he leaned farther in, and in a lower voice, +said: "He ain't been exactly identified yet, but it's thought some of +our chaps knows 'im. Know if anything's been picked up?" + +My heart gave a jump, as probably did my grandfather's. "Picked up?" he +repeated. "Why, what? What d'ye mean?" + +"Well, there was nothing partic'lar on the body, an' our chaps didn't +see the knife. We thought if anybody about 'ad picked up anything, knife +or what not, you might 'ear. So there ain't nothing?" + +"No," Grandfather Nat answered blankly. "I've seen no knife, nor heard +of none." + +"All right, Cap'en Kemp--if you do hear of anything, give us the tip. +Good night!" + +Grandfather Nat looked oddly at me, and I at him. I think we had a +feeling that our partnership was sealed. And so with no more words we +went to bed. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +I had never seen either of the partners in the firm of Viney and Marr: +as I may have said already. On the day after the man was stabbed at our +side door I saw them both. + +That morning the tide was low, and Hole-in-the-Wall Stairs ended in a +causeway in the midst of a little flat of gravel and mud. So, since the +mud was nowhere dangerous, and there was no deep water to fall into, I +was allowed to go down the steps alone and play on the foreshore while +Grandfather Nat was busy with his morning's affairs; the two or three +watermen lying by the causeway undertaking to keep an eye on me. And +there I took my pleasure as I would, now raking in the wet pebbles, and +heaving over big stones that often pulled me on to all-fours, now +climbing the stairs to peep along the alley, and once or twice running +as far as the bar-parlour door to report myself to Grandfather Nat, and +inform him of my discoveries. + +The little patch of foreshore soon rendered up all its secrets, and its +area grew less by reason of the rising tide; so that I turned to other +matters of interest. Out in mid-stream a cluster of lighters lay moored, +waiting for the turn of the tide. Presently a little tug came puffing +and fussing from somewhere alongshore, and after much shoving and +hauling and shouting, scuffled off, trailing three of the lighters +behind it; from which I conjectured that their loads were needed in a +hurry. But the disturbance among the rest of the lighters was not done +with when the tug had cleared the three from their midst; for a hawser +had got foul of a rudder, and two or three men were at work with poles +and hooks, recrimination and forcible words, to get things clear. Though +the thing seemed no easy job; and it took my attention for some time. + +But presently I tired of it, and climbed the steps to read the bills +describing the people who had been found drowned. There were eleven of +the bills altogether, fresh and clean; and fragments of innumerable +others, older and dirtier, were round about them. Ten men and one woman +had been picked up, it would seem, and all within a week or two, as I +learned when I had spelled out the dates. I pored at these bills till I +had read them through, being horribly fascinated by the personal marks +and peculiarities so baldly set forth; the scars, the tattoo marks, the +colour of the dead eyes; the clothes and boots and the contents of the +pockets--though indeed most of the pockets would seem to have been +empty. The woman--they guessed her age at twenty-two--wore one earring; +and I entangled myself in conjectures as to what had become of the +other. + +I was disturbed by a shout from the causeway. I looked and saw Bill +Stagg in his boat. "Is your gran'father there?" shouted Bill Stagg. +"Tell him they've found his boat." + +This was joyful news, and I rushed to carry it. "They've found our boat, +Grandfather Nat," I cried. "Bill Stagg says so!" + +Grandfather Nat was busy in the bar, and he received the information +with calmness. "Ah," he said, "I knew it 'ud turn up somewhere. Bill +Stagg there?" And he came out leisurely in his shirt sleeves, and stood +at the head of the stairs. + +"P'lice galley found your boat, cap'en," Bill Stagg reported. "You'll +have to go up to the float for it." + +"Right. Know where it was?" + +"Up agin Elephant stairs"--Bill Stagg pointed across the river--"turned +adrift and jammed among the lighters." + +Grandfather Nat nodded serenely. Bill Stagg nodded in reply, shoved off +from the causeway and went about his business. + +The hawser was still foul among the lighters out in the stream, and a +man had pulled over in a boat to help. I had told grandfather of the +difficulty, and how long it had baffled the lightermen, and was asking +the third of a string of questions about it all, when there was a step +behind, and a voice: "Good mornin', Cap'en Nat." + +My grandfather turned quickly. "Mr. Viney!" he said. "Well.... Good +mornin'." + +I turned also, and I was not prepossessed by Mr. Viney. His face--a face +no doubt originally pale and pasty, but too long sun-burned to revert to +anything but yellow in these later years of shore-life--his yellow face +was ever stretched in an uneasy grin, a grin that might mean either +propitiation or malice, and remained the same for both. He had the +watery eyes and the goatee beard that were not uncommon among seamen, +and in total I thought he much resembled one of those same hang-dog +fellows that stood at corners and leaned on posts in the neighbourhood, +making a mysterious living out of sailors; one of them, that is to say, +in a superior suit of clothes that seemed too good for him. I suppose he +may have been an inch taller than Grandfather Nat; but in the contrast +between them he seemed very small and mean. + +He offered his hand with a stealthy gesture, rather as though he were +trying to pick my grandfather's waistcoat pocket; so that the old man +stared at the hand for a moment, as if to see what he would be at, +before he shook it. + +"Down in the world again, Cap'en Nat," said Viney, with a shrug. + +"Ay, I heard," answered Captain Nat. "I'm very sorry; but there--perhaps +you'll be up again soon...." + + * * * * * + +"I come to ask you about something," Viney proceeded, as they walked +away toward the bar-parlour door. "Something you'll tell me, bein' an +old shipmate, if you can find out, I'm sure. Can we go into your place? +No, there's a woman there." + +"Only one as does washin' up an' such. I'll send her upstairs if you +like." + +"No, out here's best; we'll walk up and down; people get hangin' round +doors an' keyholes in a place like that. Here we can see who's near us." + +"What, secrets?" + +"Ay." Viney gave an ugly twist to his grin. "I know some o' yours--one +big un' at any rate, Cap'en Nat, don't I? So I can afford to let you +into a little 'un o' mine, seein' I can't help it. Now I'd like to know +if you've seen anything of Marr." + +"No,--haven't seen him for months. Bolted, they tell me, an'--well you +know better'n me, I expect." + +"I don't know," Viney replied with emphasis. "I ought to know, but I +don't. See here now. Less than a week ago he cleared out, an' then I +filed my petition. He might ha' been gone anywhere--bolted. Might be +abroad, as would seem most likely. In plain fact he was only coming down +in these parts to lie low. See? Round about here a man can lie low an' +snug, an' safer than abroad, if he likes. And he had money with him--all +we could get together. See?" And Viney frowned and winked, and glanced +stealthily over his shoulder. + +"Ah," remarked Captain Nat, drily, "I see. An' the creditors----" + +"Damn the creditors! See here, Cap'en Nat Kemp. Remember a man called +Dan Webb?" + +Captain Nat paled a little, and tightened his lips. + +"Remember a man called Dan Webb?" Viney repeated, stopping in his walk +and facing the other with the uneasy grin unchanged. "A man called Dan +Webb, aboard o' the _Florence_ along o' you an' me? 'Cause I do, anyhow. +That's on'y my little hint--we're good friends altogether, o' course, +Cap'en Nat; but you know what it means. Well, Marr had money with him, +as I said. He was to come to a quiet anchorage hereabout, got up like a +seaman, an' let me know at once." + +Captain Nat, his mouth still set tight, nodded, with a grunt. + +"Well, he didn't let me know. I heard nothing at all from him, an' it +struck me rather of a heap to think that p'raps he'd put the double on +me, an' cleared out in good earnest. But yesterday I got news. A blind +fiddler chap gave me some sort o' news." + +Captain Nat remembered the meeting at the street corner in the evening +after the funeral. "Blind George?" he queried. + +"Yes, that was all the name he gave me; a regular thick 'un, that blind +chap, an' a flow o' language as would curl the sheathing off a ship's +bottom. He came the evening before, it seems, but found the place shut +up--servant gal took her hook. Well now, he'd done all but see Marr down +here at the Blue Gate--he'd seen him as clear as a blind man could, he +said, with his ears: an' he came to me to give me the tip an' earn +anything I'd give him for it. It amounted to this. It was plain enough +Marr had come along here all right, an' pitched on some sort o' +quarters; but it was clear he wasn't fit to be trusted alone in such a +place at all. For the blind chap found him drunk, an' in tow with as +precious a pair o' bully-boys as Blue Gate could show. Not only drunk, +neither, but drunk with a slack jaw--drunk an' gabbling, drunk an' +talkin' business--_my_ business--an' lettin' out all there was to +let,--this an' that an' t'other an' Lord knows what! It was only because +of his drunken jabber that the blind man found out who he was." + +"And this was the day before yesterday?" asked Captain Nat. + +"Yes." + +Captain Nat shook his head. "If he was like that the day before +yesterday," he said, "in tow with such chaps as you say,--well, whatever +he had on him ain't on him now. An' it 'ud puzzle a cleverer man than me +to find it. You may lay to that." + +Viney swore, and stamped a foot, and swore again. "But see," he said, +"ain't there a chance? It was in notes, all of it. Them chaps'll be +afraid to pass notes. Couldn't most of it be got back on an arrangement +to cash the rest? You can find 'em if you try, with all your chances. +Come--I'll pay fair for what I get, to you an' all." + +"See how you've left it," remarked Captain Nat; and Viney swore again. +"This was all done the day before yesterday. Well, you don't hear of it +yourself till yesterday, an' now you don't come to me till to-day." + +Viney swore once more, and grinned twice as wide in his rage. "Yes," he +said, "that was Blind George's doing. I sent him back to see what _he_ +could do, an' ain't seen him since. Like as not he's standing in with +the others." + +"Ay, that's likely," the old man answered, "very likely. Blind George is +as tough a lot as any in Blue Gate, for all he's blind. You'd never ha' +heard of it at all if they'd ha' greased him a bit at first. I expect +they shut him out, to keep the plant to themselves; an' so he came to +you for anything he could pick up. An' now----" + +Viney cursed them all, and Blind George and himself together; but most +he cursed Marr; and so talking, the two men walked to and fro in the +passage. + + * * * * * + +I could see that Viney was angry, and growing angrier still. But I gave +all my attention to the work at the fouled hawser. The man in the boat, +working patiently with a boat-hook, succeeded suddenly and without +warning, so that he almost pitched headlong into the river. The rope +came up from its entanglement with a spring and a splash, flinging some +amazing great object up with it, half out of water; and the men gave a +cry as this thing lapsed heavily to the surface. + +The man in the boat snatched his hook again and reached for the thing as +it floated. Somebody threw him a length of line, and with this he made +it fast to his boat, and began pulling toward the stairs, towing it. I +was puzzled to guess what the object might be. It was no part of the +lighter's rudder, for it lay in, rather than on, the water, and it +rolled and wallowed, and seemed to tug heavily, so that the boatman had +to pull his best. I wondered if he had caught some curious +water-creature--a porpoise perhaps, or a seal, such as had been flung +ashore in a winter storm at Blackwall a year before. + +Viney and Grandfather Nat had turned their steps toward the stairs, and +as they neared, my grandfather, lifting his eyes, saw the boatman and +his prize, and saw the watermen leaving their boats for the foreshore. +With a quick word to Viney he hastened down the stairs; and Viney +himself, less interested, followed half way down, and waited. + +The boatman brought up alongside the foreshore, and he and another +hauled at the tow-rope. The thing in the water came in, rolling and +bobbing, growing more hideously distinct as it came; it checked at the +mud and stones, turned over, and with another pull lay ashore, staring +and grey and streaming: a dead man. + +The lips were pulled tight over the teeth, and, the hair being fair, it +was the plainer to see that one side of the head and forehead was black +and open with a great wound. The limbs lay limp and tumbled, all; but +one leg fell aside with so loose a twist that plainly it was broken, and +I heard, afterwards, that it was the leg that had caused the difficulty +with the hawser. + +Grandfather Nat, down at the waterside, had no sooner caught sight of +the dead face than with wide eyes he turned to Viney, and shouted the +one word "Look!" Then he went and took another view, longer and closer; +and straightway came back in six strides to the stairs, whereon Viney +was no longer standing, but sitting, his face tallowy and his grin +faded. + +"See him?" cried Grandfather Nat in a hushed voice. "See him! It's Marr +himself, if I know him at all! Come--come and see!" + +Viney pulled his arm from the old man's grasp, turned, and crawled up a +stair or two. "No," he said faintly, "I--I won't, now--I--they'd know me +p'raps, some of them." His breath was short, and he gulped. "Good God," +he said presently, "it's him--it's him sure enough. And the clothes he +had on.... But ... Cap'en--Cap'en Nat; go an' try his pockets.--Go on. +There's a pocket-book--leather pocket-book.... Go on!" + +"What's the good?" asked Captain Nat, with a lift of the eyebrows, and +the same low voice. "What's the good? I can't fetch it away, with all +them witnesses. Go yourself, an' say you're his pardner; you'd have a +chance then." + +"No--no. I--it ain't good enough. You know 'em; I don't. I'll stand in +with you--give you a hundred if it's all there! Square 'em--you know +'em!" + +"If they're to be squared you can do it as well as me. There'll be an +inquest on this, an' evidence. I ain't going to be asked what I did with +the man's pocket-book. No. I don't meddle in this, Mr. Viney. If it +ain't good enough for you to get it for yourself, it ain't good enough +for me to get it for you." + +"Kemp, I'll go you halves--there! Get it, an' there's four hundred for +you. Eight hundred an' odd quid, in a pocket-book. Come, that's worth +it, ain't it? Eight hundred an' odd quid--in a leather pocket-book! An' +I'll go you halves." + +Captain Nat started at the words, and stood for a moment, staring. +"Eight hundred!" he repeated under his breath. "Eight hundred an' odd +quid. In a leather pocket-book. Ah!" And the stare persisted, and grew +thoughtful. + +"Yes," replied Viney, now a little more himself. "Now you know; and it's +worth it, ain't it? Don't waste time--they're turning him over +themselves. You can manage all these chaps. Go on!" + +"I'll see if anything's there," answered Captain Nat. "More I can't; an' +if there's nothing that's an end of it." + +He went down to where the men were bending over the body, to disengage +the tow-line. He looked again at the drawn face under the gaping +forehead, and said something to the men; then he bent and patted the +soddened clothes, now here, now there; and at last felt in the +breast-pocket. + +Meantime Viney stood feverishly on the stairs, watching; fidgeting +nervously down a step, and then down another, and then down two more. +And so till Captain Nat returned. + +The old man shook his head. "Cleaned out," he reported. "Cleaned out, o' +course. Hit on the head an' cleaned out, like many a score better men +before him, down these parts. Not a thing in the pockets anywhere. +Flimped clean." + +Viney's eyes were wild. "Nothing at all left?" he said. "Nothing of his +own? Not a watch, nor anything?" + +"No, not a watch, nor anything." + +Viney stood staring at space for some moments, murmuring many oaths. +Then he asked suddenly, "Where's this blind chap? Where can I find Blind +George?" + +Grandfather Nat shook his head. "He's all over the neighbourhood," he +answered. "Try the Highway; I can't give you nearer than that." + +And with no more counsel to help him, Mr. Viney was fain to depart. He +went grinning and cursing up the passage and so toward the bridge, +without another word or look. And when I turned to my grandfather I saw +him staring fixedly at me, lost in thought, and rubbing his hand up in +his hair behind, through the grey and out at the brown on top. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +IN THE CLUB-ROOM + + +By the side of the bills stuck at the corner of Hole-in-the-Wall +Stairs--the bills that had so fascinated Stephen--a new one appeared, +with the heading "Body Found." It particularised the personal marks and +description of the unhappy Marr; his "fresh complexion," his brown hair, +his serge suit and his anklejacks. The bill might have stood on every +wall in London till it rotted, and never have given a soul who knew him +a hint to guess the body his: except Viney, who knew the fact already. +And the body might have been buried unidentified ere Viney would have +shown himself in the business, were it not for the interference of Mr. +Cripps. For industry of an unprofitable kind was a piece of Mr. Cripps's +nature; and, moreover, he was so regular a visitor at the mortuary as to +have grown an old friend of the keeper. His persistent prying among the +ghastly liers-in-state, at first on plea of identifying a friend--a +contingency likely enough, since his long-shore acquaintance was +wide--and later under the name of friendly calls, was an indulgence that +had helped him to consideration as a news-monger, and twice had raised +him to the elevation of witness at an inquest; a distinction very +gratifying to his simple vanity. He entertained high hopes of being +called witness in the case of the man stabbed at the side door of the +Hole in the Wall; and was scarce seen at Captain Nat's all the next day, +preferring to frequent the mortuary. So it happened that he saw the +other corpse that was carried thence from Hole-in-the-Wall Stairs. + +"There y'are," said the mortuary-keeper. "There's a fresh 'un, just in +from the river, unknown. _You_ dunno 'im either, I expect." + +But Mr. Cripps was quite sure that he did. Curious and eager, he walked +up between the two dead men, his grimy little body being all that +divided them in this their grisly reunion. "I _do_ know 'im," he +insisted, thoughtfully. "Leastways I've seen 'im somewheres, I'm sure." +The little man gazed at the dreadful head, and then at the rafters: then +shut his eyes with a squeeze that drove his nose into amazing lumps and +wrinkles; then looked at the head again, and squeezed his eyelids +together once more; and at last started back, his eyes rivalling his +very nose itself for prominence. "Why!" he gasped, "it is! It is, s'elp +me!... It's Mr. Marr, as is pardners with Mr. Viney! I on'y see 'im once +in my life, but I'll swear it's 'im!... Lord, what a phenomenal go!" + +And with that Mr. Cripps rushed off incontinent to spread the news +wherever anybody would listen. He told the police, he told the loafers, +he told Captain Nat and everybody in his bar; he told the watermen at +the stairs, he shouted it to the purlmen in their boats, and he wriggled +into conversation with perfect strangers to tell them too. So that it +came to pass that Viney, being called upon by the coroner's officer, was +fain to swallow his reluctance and come forward at the inquest. + +That was held at the Hole in the Wall twenty-four hours after the body +had been hauled ashore. The two inquests were held together, in fact, +Marr's and that of the broken-nosed man, stabbed in the passage. Two +inquests, or even three, in a day, made no uncommon event in those +parts, where perhaps a dozen might be held in a week, mostly ending with +the same doubtful verdict--Found Drowned. But here one of the inquiries +related to an open and witnessed murder, and that fact gave some touch +of added interest to the proceedings. + +Accordingly a drifting group hung about the doors of the Hole in the +Wall at the appointed time,--just such an idle, changing group as had +hung there all the evening after the man had been stabbed; and in the +midst stood Blind George with his fiddle, his vacant white eye rolling +upward, his mouth full of noisy ribaldry, and his fiddle playing +punctuation and chorus to all he said or sang. He turned his ear at the +sound of many footsteps leaving the door near him. + +"There they go!" he sang out; "there they go, twelve on 'em!" And indeed +it was the jury going off to view the bodies. "There they go, twelve +good men an' true, an' bloomin' proud they are to fancy it! Got a copper +for Blind George, gentlemen? Not a brown for pore George?... Not them; +not a brass farden among the 'ole dam good an' lawful lot.... Ahoy! +ain't Gubbins there,--the good an' lawful pork-butcher as 'ad to pay +forty bob for shovin' a lump o' fat under the scales? Tell the crowner +to mind 'is pockets!" + +The idlers laughed, and one flung a copper, which Blind George snatched +almost before it had fallen. "Ha! ha!" he cried, "there's a toff +somewhere near, I can tell by the sound of his money! Here goes for a +stave!" And straightway be broke into:-- + + O they call me Hanging Johnny, + With my hang, boys, hang! + +The mortuary stood at no great distance and soon the jury were back in +the club-room over the bar, and at work on the first case. The police +had had some difficulty as to identification of the stabbed man. The +difficulty arose not only because there were no relations in the +neighbourhood to feel the loss, but as much because the persons able to +make the identification kept the most distant possible terms with the +police, and withheld information from them as a matter of principle. +Albeit a reluctant ruffian was laid hold of who was induced sulkily to +admit that he had known the deceased to speak to, and lodged near him in +Blue Gate; that the deceased was called Bob Kipps; that he was quite +lately come into the neighbourhood; and that he had no particular +occupation, as far as witness knew. It needed some pressure to extract +the information that Kipps, during the short time he was in Blue Gate, +chiefly consorted with one Dan Ogle, and that witness had seen nothing +of Ogle that day, nor the day before. + +There was also a woman called to identify--a woman more reluctant than +the man; a woman of coarse features, dull eyes, tousled hair, and thick +voice, sluttish with rusty finery. Name, Margaret Flynn; though at the +back of the little crowd that had squeezed into the court she was called +Musky Mag. It was said there, too, that Mag, in no degree one of the +fainting sort, had nevertheless swooned when taken into the +mortuary--gone clean off with a flop; true, she explained it, afterward, +by saying that she had only expected to see one body, but found herself +brought face to face with two; and of course there was the other +there--Marr's. But it was held no such odds between one corpse and two +that an outer-and-outer like Mag should go on the faint over it. This +was reasonable enough, for the crowd. But not for a woman who had sat to +drink with three men, and in a short hour or so had fallen over the +battered corpse of one of them, in the dark of her room; who had been +forced, now, to view the rent body of a second, and in doing it to meet +once again the other, resurrected, bruised, sodden and horrible; and who +knew that all was the work of the last of the three, and that man in +peril of the rope: the man, too, of all the world, in her eye.... + +Her evidence, given with plain anxiety and a nervous unsteadiness of the +mouth, added nothing to the tale. The man was Bob Kipps; he was a +stranger till lately--came, she had heard tell, from Shoreditch or +Hoxton; saw him last a day or two ago: knew nothing of his death beyond +what she had heard; did not know where Dan Ogle was (this very +vehemently, with much shaking of the head); had not seen him with +deceased--but here the police inspector handed the coroner a scribbled +note, and the coroner having read it and passed it back, said no more. +Musky Mag stood aside; while the inspector tore the note into small +pieces and put the pieces in his pocket. + +Nathaniel Kemp, landlord of the house, told the story of the murder as +he saw it, and of his chase of the murderer. Did not know deceased, and +should be unable to identify the murderer if he met him again, having +seen no more than his figure in the dark. + +All this time Mr. Cripps had been standing, in eager trepidation, +foremost among the little crowd, nodding and lifting his hand anxiously, +strenuous to catch the coroner's officer's attention at the dismissal of +each witness, and fearful lest his offer of evidence, made a dozen times +before the coroner came, should be forgotten. Now at last the coroner's +officer condescended to notice him, and being beckoned, Mr. Cripps +swaggered forward, his greasy widewake crushed under his arm, and his +face radiant with delighted importance. He bowed to the coroner, kissed +the book with a flourish, and glanced round the court to judge how much +of the due impression was yet visible. + +The coroner signified that he was ready to hear whatever Mr. Cripps knew +of this matter. + +Mr. Cripps "threw a chest," stuck an arm akimbo, and raised the other +with an oratorical sweep so large that his small voice, when it came, +seemed all the smaller. "Hi was in the bar, sir," he piped, "the bar, +sir, of this 'ouse, bein' long acquainted with an' much respectin' +Cap'en Kemp, an' in the 'abit of visitin' 'ere in the intervals of the +pursoot of my hart. Hem! Hi was in the bar, sir, when my attention was +attracted by a sudden noise be'hind, or as I may say, in the rear of, +the bar-parlour. Hi was able to distinguish, gentlemen of the jury, what +might be called, in a common way o' speakin', a bump or a bang, sich as +would be occasioned by an unknown murderer criminally shoving his +un'appy victim's 'ed agin the back-door of a public-'ouse. Hi was able +to distinguish it, sir, from a 'uman cry which follered: a 'uman cry, or +as it might be, a holler, sich as would be occasioned by the un'appy +victim 'avin' 'is 'ed shoved agin the back-door aforesaid. Genelmen, I +'esitated not a moment. I rushed forward." + +Mr. Cripps paused so long to give the statement effect that the coroner +lost patience. "Yes," he said, "you rushed forward. Do you mean you +jumped over the bar?" + +For a moment Mr. Cripps's countenance fell; truly it would have been +more imposing to have jumped over the bar. But he was on his oath, and +he must do his best with the facts. "No, sir," he explained, a little +tamely, "not over the bar, but reether the opposite way, so to speak, +towards the door. I rushed forward, genelmen, in a sort of rearwards +direction, through the door, an' round into the alley. Immediate as I +turned the corner, genelmen, I be'eld with my own eyes the unknown +murderer; I see 'im a-risin' from over 'is un'appy victim, an' I see as +the criminal tragedy had transpired. I--I rushed forward." + +The sensation he looked for being slow in coming, another rush seemed +expedient; but it fell flat as the first, and Mr. Cripps struggled on, +desperately conscious that he had nothing else to say. + +"I rushed forward, sir; seein' which the miscreant absconded--absconded, +no doubt with--with the proceeds; an' seein' Cap'en Kemp abscondin' +after him, I turned an' be'eld the un'appy victim--the corpse now in +custody, sir--a-layin' in the bar-parlour, 'elpless an'--an' +decimated.... I--rushed forward." + +It was sad to see how little the coroner was impressed; there was even +something in his face not unlike a smile; and Mr. Cripps was at the end +of his resources. But if he could have seen the face of Musky Mag, in +the little crowd behind him, he might have been consoled. She alone, of +all who heard, had followed his rhetoric with an agony of attention, +word by word: even as she had followed the earlier evidence. Now her +strained face was the easier merely by contrast with itself when Mr. +Cripps was in full cry; and a moment later it was tenser than ever. + +"Yes, yes, Mr. Cripps," the coroner said; "no doubt you were very +active, but we don't seem to have increased the evidence. You say you +saw the man who stabbed the deceased in the passage. Did you know him at +all? Ever see him before?" + +Here, mayhap, was some chance of an effect after all. Mr. Cripps could +scarce have distinguished the murderer from one of the posts in the +alley; but he said, with all the significance he could give the words: +"Well, sir, I won't go so far as to swear to 'is name, sir; no, sir, not +to 'is _name_, certainly not." And therewith he made his sensation at +last, bringing upon himself the twenty-four eyes of the jury all +together. + +The coroner looked up sharply. "Oh," he said, "you know him by sight +then? Does he belong to the neighbourhood?" + +Now it was not Mr. Cripps who had said he knew the murderer by sight, +but the coroner. Far be it from him, thought the aspirant for fame, to +contradict the coroner, and so baulk himself of the credit thus thrust +upon him. So he answered with the same cautious significance and a +succession of portentous nods. "Your judgment, sir, is correct; quite +correct." + +"Come then, this is important. You would be able to recognise him again, +of course?" + +There was no retreat--Mr. Cripps was in for it. It was an unforeseen +consequence of the quibble, but since plunge he must he plunged neck and +crop. "I'd know 'im anywhere," he said triumphantly. + +There was an odd sound in the crowd behind, and a fall. Captain Nat +strode across, and the crowd wondered; for Musky Mag had fainted again. + +The landlord lifted her, and carried her to the stairs. When the door +had closed behind them, and the coroner's officer had shouted the little +crowd into silence, the inquest took a short course to its end. + +Mr. Cripps, in the height of his consequence, began to feel serious +misgivings as to the issue of his stumble beyond the verities; and the +coroner's next words were a relief. + +"I think that will be enough, Mr. Cripps," the coroner said; "no doubt +the police will be glad of your assistance." And with that he gave the +jury the little summing up that the case needed. There was the medical +evidence, and the evidence of the stabbing, and that evidence pointed to +an unmistakable conclusion. Nobody was in custody, nor had the murderer +been positively identified, and such evidence as there was in this +respect was for the consideration of the police. He thought the jury +would have no difficulty in arriving at a verdict. The jury had none; +and the verdict was Murder by some Person or Persons unknown. + +The other inquest gave even less trouble. Mr. Henry Viney, shipowner, +had seen the body, and identified it as that of his partner Lewis Marr. +Marr had suddenly disappeared a week ago, and an examination of his +accounts showed serious defalcations, in consequence of which witness +had filed his petition in bankruptcy. Whether or not Marr had taken +money with him witness could not say, as deceased had entire charge of +the accounts; but it seemed more likely that embezzlement had been going +on for some time past, and Marr had fled when detection could no longer +be averted. This might account for his dressing, and presumably seeking +work, as a sailor. + +The divisional surgeon of police had examined the body, and found a +large wound on the head, fully sufficient to have caused death, +inflicted either by some heavy, blunt instrument, or by a fall from a +height on a hard substance. One thigh was fractured, and there were +other wounds and contusions, but these, as well as the broken thigh, +were clearly caused after death. The blow on the head might have been +caused by an accident on the riverside, or it might have been inflicted +wilfully by an assailant. + +Then there was the evidence of the man who had found the body foul of a +rudder and a hawser, and of the police who had found nothing on the +body. And there was no more evidence at all. The coroner having +sympathised deeply with Mr. Viney, gave the jury the proper lead, and +the jury with perfect propriety returned the open verdict that the +doctor's evidence and the coroner's lead suggested. The case, except for +the circumstances of Marr's flight, was like a hundred others inquired +upon thereabout in the course of a few weeks, and in an hour it was in a +fair way to be forgotten, even by the little crowd that clumped +downstairs to try both cases all over again in the bar of the Hole in +the Wall. + +To the coroner, the jury, and the little crowd, these were two inquests +with nothing to connect them but the accident of time and the +convenience of the Hole in the Wall club-room. But Blind George, +standing in the street with his fiddle, and getting the news from the +club-room in scraps between song and patter, knew more and guessed +better. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +I found it a busy morning at the Hole in the Wall, that of the two +inquests. I perceived that, by some occult understanding, business in +one department was suspended; the pale man idled without, and nobody +came into the little compartment to exhibit valuables. Grandfather Nat +had a deal to do in making ready the club-room over the bar, and then in +attending the inquests. And it turned out that Mrs. Grimes had settled +on this day in particular to perform a vast number of extra feats of +housewifery in the upper floors. Notwithstanding the disturbance of this +additional work, Mrs. Grimes was most amazingly amiable, even to me; but +she was so persistent in requiring, first the key of one place, then of +another, next of a chest of drawers, and again of a cupboard, that at +last my grandfather distractedly gave her the whole bunch, and told her +not to bother him any more. The bunch held all she could require--indeed +I think it comprised every key my grandfather had, except that of his +cash-box--and she went away with it amiable still, notwithstanding the +hastiness of his expressions; so that I was amazed to find Mrs. Grimes +so meek, and wondered vaguely and childishly if it were because she felt +ill, and expected to die shortly. + +Mr. Cripps was in the bar as soon as the doors were open, in a wonderful +state of effervescence. He was to make a great figure at the inquest, it +appeared, and the pride and glory of it kept him nervously on the strut, +till the coroner came, and Mr. Cripps mounted to the club-room with the +jury. He was got up for his part as completely as circumstances would +allow; grease was in his hair, his hat stood at an angle, and his face +exhibited an unfamiliar polish, occasioned by a towel. + +For my own part, I sat in the bar-parlour and amused myself as I might. +Blind George was singing in the street, and now and again I could hear +the guffaw that signalised some sally that had touched his audience. +Above, things were quiet enough for some while, and then my grandfather +came heavily downstairs carrying a woman who had fainted. I had not +noticed the woman among the people who went up, but now Grandfather Nat +brought her through the bar, and into the parlour; and as she lay on the +floor just as the stabbed man had lain, I recognised her face also; for +she was the coarse-faced woman who had stopped my grandfather near Blue +Gate with vague and timid questions, when we were on our way from the +London Dock. + +Grandfather Nat roared up the little staircase for Mrs. Grimes, and +presently she descended, amiable still; till she saw the coarse woman, +and was asked to help her. She looked on the woman with something of +surprise and something of confusion; but carried it off at once with a +toss of the head, a high phrase or so--"likes of 'er--respectable +woman"--and a quick retreat upstairs. + +I believe my grandfather would have brought her down again by main +force, but the woman on the floor stirred, and began scrambling up, even +before she knew where she was. She held the shelf, and looked dully +about her, with a hoarse "Beg pardon, sir, beg pardon." Then she went +across toward the door, which stood ajar, stared stupidly, with a look +of some dawning alarm, and said again, "Beg pardon, sir--I bin queer"; +and with that was gone into the passage. + +It was not long after her departure ere the business above was over, and +the people came tramping and talking down into the bar, filling it +close, and giving Joe the potman all the work he could do. The coroner +came down by our private stairs into the bar-parlour, ushered with great +respect by my grandfather; and at his heels, taking occasion by a +desperately extemporised conversation with Grandfather Nat, came Mr. +Cripps. + +There had never been an inquest at the Hole in the Wall before, and my +grandfather had been at some exercise of mind as to the proper +entertainment of the coroner. He had decided, after consideration, that +the gentleman could scarce be offended at the offer of a little lunch, +and to that end he had made ready with a cold fowl and a bottle of +claret, which Mrs. Grimes would presently be putting on the table. The +coroner was not offended, but he would take no lunch; he was very +pleasantly obliged by the invitation, but his lunch had been already +ordered at some distance; and so he shook hands with Grandfather Nat and +went his way. A circumstance that had no small effect on my history. + +For it seemed to Mr. Cripps, who saw the coroner go, that by dexterous +management the vacant place at our dinner-table (for what the coroner +would call lunch we called dinner) might fall to himself. It had +happened once or twice before, on special occasions, that he had been +allowed to share a meal with Captain Nat, and now that he was brushed +and oiled for company, and had publicly distinguished himself at an +inquest, he was persuaded that the occasion was special beyond +precedent, and he set about to improve it with an assiduity and an +innocent cunning that were very transparent indeed. So he was +affectionately admiring with me, deferentially loquacious with my +grandfather, and very friendly with Joe the potman and Mrs. Grimes. It +was a busy morning, he observed, and he would be glad to do anything to +help. + +At that time the houses on Wapping Wall were not encumbered with +dust-bins, since the river was found a more convenient receptacle for +rubbish. Slops were flung out of a back window, and kitchen refuse went +the same way, or was taken to the river stairs and turned out, either +into the water or on the foreshore, as the tide might chance. Mrs. +Grimes carried about with her in her dustings and sweepings an old +coal-scuttle, which held hearth-bushes, shovels, ashes, cinders, +potato-peelings, and the like; and at the end of her work, when the +brushes and shovels had been put away, she carried the coal-scuttle, +sometimes to the nearest window, but more often to the river stairs, and +flung what remained into the Thames. + +Just as Mr. Cripps was at his busiest and politest, Mrs. Grimes appeared +with the old coal-scuttle, piled uncommonly high with ashes and dust and +half-burned pipe-lights. She set it down by the door, gave my +grandfather his keys, and turned to prepare the table. Instantly Mr. +Cripps, watchful in service, pounced on the scuttle. + +"I'll pitch this 'ere away for you, mum," he said, "while you're seein' +to Cap'en Kemp's dinner"; and straightway started for the stairs. + +Mrs. Grimes's back was turned at the moment, and this gave Mr. Cripps +the start of a yard or two; but she flung round and after him like a +maniac; so that both Grandfather Nat and I stared in amazement. + +"Give me that scuttle!" she cried, snatching at the hinder handle. "Mind +your own business, an' leave my things alone!" + +Mr. Cripps was amazed also, and he stuttered, "I--I--I--on'y--on'y----" + +"Drop it, you fool!" the woman hissed, so suddenly savage that Mr. +Cripps did drop it, with a start that sent him backward against a post; +and the consequence was appalling. + +Mr. Cripps was carrying the coal-scuttle by its top handle, and Mrs. +Grimes, reaching after it, had seized that at the back; so that when Mr. +Cripps let go, everything in the scuttle shot out on the paving-stones; +first, of course, the ashes and the pipe-lights; then on the top of +them, crowning the heap--Grandfather Nat's cash-box! + +I suppose my grandfather must have recovered from his astonishment +first, for the next thing I remember is that he had Mrs. Grimes back in +the bar-parlour, held fast by the arm, while he carried his cash-box in +the disengaged hand. Mr. Cripps followed, bewildered but curious; and my +grandfather, pushing his prisoner into a far corner, turned and locked +the door. + +Mrs. Grimes, who had been crimson, was now white; but more, it seemed to +me, with fury than with fear. My grandfather took the key from his +watchguard and opened the box, holding it where the contents were +visible to none but himself. He gave no more than a quick glance within, +and re-locked it; from which I judged--and judged aright--that the +pocket-book was safe. + +"There's witnesses enough here," said my grandfather,--for Joe the +potman was now staring in from the bar--"to give you a good dose o' +gaol, mum. 'Stead o' which I pay your full week's money and send you +packin'!" He pulled out some silver from his pocket. "Grateful or not to +me don't matter, but I hope you'll be honest where you go next, for your +own sake." + +"Grateful! Honest!" Mrs. Grimes gasped, shaking with passion. "'Ear 'im +talk! Honest! Take me to the station now, and bring that box an' show +'em inside it! Go on!" + +I felt more than a little alarmed at this challenge, having regard to +the history of the pocket-book; and I remembered the night when we first +examined it, the creaking door, and the soft sounds on the stairs. But +Grandfather Nat was wholly undisturbed; he counted over the money +calmly, and pushed it across the little table. + +"There it is, mum," he said, "an' there's your bonnet an' shawl in the +corner. There's nothing else o' yours in the place, I believe, so +there's no need for you to go out o' my sight till you go out of it +altogether. That you'd better do quick. I'll lay the dinner myself." + +Mrs. Grimes swept up the money and began fixing her bonnet on her head +and tying the strings under her chin, with savage jerks and a great play +of elbow; her lips screwing nervously, and her eyes blazing with spite. + +"Ho yus!" she broke out--though her rage was choking her--as she +snatched her shawl. "Ho yus! A nice pusson, Cap'en Nat Kemp, to talk +about honesty an' gratefulness--a nice pusson! A nice teacher for young +master 'opeful, I must say, an' 'opin' 'e'll do ye credit! It ain't the +last you'll see o' me, Captain Nat Kemp!... Get out o' my way, you old +lickspittle!" + +Mr. Cripps got out of it with something like a bound, and Mrs. Grimes +was gone with a flounce and a slam of the door. + +Scold as she was, and furious as she was, I was conscious that something +in my grandfather's scowl had kept her speech within bounds, and +shortened her clamour; for few cared to face Captain Nat's anger. But +with the slam of the door the scowl broke, and he laughed. + +"Come," he said, "that's well over, an' I owe you a turn, Mr. Cripps, +though you weren't intending it. Stop an' have a bit of dinner. And if +you'd like something on account to buy the board for the sign--or say +two boards if you like--we'll see about it after dinner." + +It will be perceived that Grandfather Nat had no reason to regret the +keeping of his cash-box key on his watchguard. For had it been with the +rest, in Mrs. Grimes's hands, she need never have troubled to smuggle +out the box among the ashes, since the pocket-book was no such awkward +article, and would have gone in her pocket. Mrs. Grimes had taken her +best chance and failed. The disorders caused by the inquests had left +her unobserved, the keys were in her hands, and the cash-box was left in +the cupboard upstairs; but the sedulous Mr. Cripps had been her +destruction. + +As for that artist, he attained his dinner, and a few shillings under +the name of advance; and so was well pleased with his morning's work. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +A policeman brought my grandfather a bill, which was stuck against the +bar window with gelatines; and just such another bill was posted on the +wall at the head of Hole-in-the-Wall Stairs, above the smaller bills +that advertised the found bodies. This new bill was six times the size +of those below; it was headed "Murder" in grim black capitals, and it +set forth an offer of fifty pounds reward for information which should +lead to the apprehension of the murderer of Robert Kipps. + +The offer gave Grandfather Nat occasion for much solemn banter of Mr. +Cripps; banter which seemed to cause Mr. Cripps a curious uneasiness, +and time and again stopped his eloquence in full flood. He had been at +the pains to cut from newspapers such reports of the inquest as were +printed; and though they sadly disappointed him by their brevity, and +all but two personally affronted him by disregarding his evidence and +himself altogether, still he made great play with the exceptional two, +in the bar. But he was quick to drop the subject when Captain Nat urged +him in pursuit of the reward. + +"Come," my grandfather would say, "you're neglecting your fortune, you +know. There's fifty pound waitin' for you to pick up, if you'd only go +an' collar that murderer. An' you'd know him anywhere." Whereupon Mr. + +Cripps would look a little frightened, and subside. + +I did not learn till later how the little painter's vanity had pushed +him over bounds at the inquest, so far that he committed himself to an +absolute recognition of the murderer. The fact alarmed him not a little, +on his return to calmness, and my grandfather, who understood his +indiscretion as well as himself, and enjoyed its consequences, in his +own grim way, amused himself at one vacant moment and another by setting +Mr. Cripps's alarm astir again. + +"You're throwing away your luck," he would say, perhaps, "seein' you +know him so well by sight. If you're too well-off to bother about fifty +pound, give some of us poor 'uns a run for it, an' put us on to him. I +wish I'd been able to see him so clear." For in truth Grandfather Nat +well knew that nobody had had so near a chance of seeing the murderer's +face as himself; and that Mr. Cripps, at the top of the passage--perhaps +even round the corner--had no chance at all. + +It was because of Mr. Cripps's indiscretion, in fact--this I learned +later still--that the police were put off the track of the real +criminal. For after due reflection on the direful complications +whereinto his lapse promised to fling him, that distinguished witness, +as I have already hinted, fell into a sad funk. So, though he needs must +hold to the tale that he knew the man by sight, and could recognise him +again, he resolved that come what might, he would identify nobody, and +so keep clear of further entanglements. Now the police suspicions fell +shrewdly on Dan Ogle, a notorious ruffian of the neighbourhood. He had +been much in company of the murdered man of late, and now was suddenly +gone from his accustomed haunts. Moreover, there was the plain agitation +of the woman he consorted with, Musky Mag, at the inquest: she had +fainted, indeed, when Mr. Cripps had been so positive about identifying +the murderer. These things were nothing of evidence, it was true; for +that they must depend on the witness who saw the fellow's face, knew him +by sight, and could identify him. But when they came to this witness +with their inquiries and suggestions the thing went overboard at a +breath. Was the assassin a tall man? Not at all--rather short, in fact. +Was he a heavy-framed, bony fellow? On the contrary, he was fat rather +than bony. Did Mr. Cripps ever happen to have seen a man called Dan +Ogle, and was this man at all like him? Mr. Cripps had been familiar +with Dan Ogle's appearance from his youth up (this was true, for the +painter's acquaintance was wide and diverse) but the man who killed Bob +Kipps was as unlike him as it was possible for any creature on two legs +to be. Then, would Mr. Cripps, if the thing came to trial, swear that +the man he saw was not Dan Ogle? Mr. Cripps was most fervently and +desperately ready and anxious to swear that it was not, and could not by +any possibility be Dan Ogle, or anybody like him. + +This brought the police inquiries to a fault; even had their suspicions +been stronger and better supported, it would have been useless to arrest +Dan Ogle, supposing they could find him; for this, the sole possible +witness to identity, would swear him innocent. So they turned their +inquiries to fresh quarters, looking among the waterside population +across the river--since it was plain that the murderer had rowed +over--for recent immigrants from Wapping. For a little while Mr. Cripps +was vexed and disquieted with invitations to go with a plain-clothes +policeman and "take a quiet look" at some doubtful characters; but of +course with no result, beyond the welcome one of an occasional free +drink ordered as an excuse for waiting at bars and tavern-corners; and +in time these attentions ceased, for the police were reduced to waiting +for evidence to turn up; and Mr. Cripps breathed freely once more. While +Dan Ogle remained undisturbed, and justice was balked for a while; for +it turned out in the end that when the police suspected Dan Ogle they +were right, and when they went to other conjectures they were wrong. + +All this was ahead of my knowledge at the moment, however, as, indeed, +it is somewhat ahead of my story; and for the while I did no more than +wonder to see Mr. Cripps abashed at an encouragement to earn fifty +pounds; for he seemed not a penny richer than before, and still +impetrated odd coppers on account of the signboard of promise. + +Once or twice we saw Mr. Viney, and on each occasion he borrowed money +off Grandfather Nat. The police were about the house a good deal at this +time, because of the murder, or I think he might have come oftener. The +first time he came I heard him telling my grandfather that he had got +hold of Blind George, that Blind George had told him a good deal about +the missing money, and that with his help he hoped for a chance of +saving some of it. He added, mysteriously, that it had been "nearer +hereabouts than you might think, at one time"; a piece of news that my +grandfather received with a proper appearance of surprise. But was it +safe to confide in Blind George? Viney swore for answer, and said that +the rascal had stipulated for such a handsome share that it would pay +him to play square. + +On the last of these visits I again overheard some scraps of their talk, +and this time it was angrier. I judged that Viney wanted more money than +my grandfather was disposed to give him. They were together in the back +room where the boxes and bottles were--the room into which I had seen +Bill Stagg's head and shoulders thrust by way of the trap-door. My +grandfather's voice was low, and from time to time he seemed to be +begging Viney to lower his; so that I wondered to find Grandfather Nat +so mild, since in the bar he never twice told a man to lower his voice, +but if once were not enough, flung him into the street. And withal Viney +paid no heed, but talked as he would, so that I could catch his phrases +again and again. + +"Let them hush as is afraid--I ain't," he said. And again: "O, am I? Not +me.... It's little enough for me, if it does; not the rope, anyway." And +later, "Yes, the rope, Cap'en Kemp, as you know well enough; the rope at +Newgate Gaol.... Dan Webb, aboard o' the _Florence_.... The _Florence_ +that was piled up on the Little Dingoes in broad day.... As you was +ordered o' course, but that don't matter.... That's what I want now, an' +no less. Think it lucky I offer to pay back when I get--... Well, be +sensible--... I'm friendly enough.... Very well." + +Presently my grandfather, blacker than common about brow and eyes, but a +shade paler in the cheek, came into the bar-parlour and opened the trade +cash-box--not the one that Mrs. Grimes had hidden among the cinders, but +a smaller one used for gold and silver. He counted out a number of +sovereigns--twenty, I believe--put the box away, and returned to the +back room. And in a few minutes, with little more talk, Mr. Viney was +gone. + +Grandfather Nat came into the bar-parlour again, and his face cleared +when he saw me, as it always would, no matter how he had been ruffled. +He stood looking in my face for a little, but with the expression of one +whose mind is engaged elsewhere. Then he rubbed his hand on my head, and +said abstractedly, and rather to himself, I fancied, than to me: "Never +mind, Stevy; we got it back beforehand, forty times over." A remark that +I thought over afterward, in bed, with the reflection that forty times +twenty was eight hundred. + +But Mr. Viney's talk in the back room brought most oddly into my mind, +in a way hard to account for, the first question I put to my grandfather +after my arrival at the Hole in the Wall: "Did you ever kill a man, +Grandfather Nat?" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +The repeated multiplication of twenty by forty sent me to sleep that +night, and I woke with that arithmetical exercise still running in my +head. A candle was alight in the room--ours was one of several houses in +Wapping Wall without gas--and I peeped sleepily over the bed-clothes. +Grandfather Nat was sitting with the cash-box on his knees, and the +pocket-book open in his hand. He may just have been counting the notes +over again, or not; but now he was staring moodily at the photograph +that lay with them. Once or twice he turned his eyes aside, and then +back again to the picture, as though searching his memory for some old +face; then I thought he would toss it away as something valueless; but +when his glance fell on the fireless grate he returned the card to its +place and locked the box. + +When the cash-box was put away in the little cupboard at his bed-head, +he came across and looked down at me. At first I shut my eyes, but +peeped. I found him looking on me with a troubled and thoughtful face; +so that presently I sat up with a jump and asked him what he was +thinking about. + +"Fox's sleep, Stevy?" he said, with his hand under my chin. "Well, boy, +I was thinking about you. I was thinking it's a good job your father's +coming home soon, Stevy; though I don't like parting with you." + +Parting with me? I did not understand. Wouldn't father be going away +again soon? + +"Well, I dunno, Stevy, I dunno. I've been thinking a lot just lately, +that's a fact. This place is good enough for me, but it ain't a good +place to bring up a boy like you in; not to make him the man I want you +to be, Stevy. Somehow it didn't strike me that way at first, though it +ought to ha' done. It ought to ha' done, seein' it struck strangers--an' +not particular moral strangers at that." + +He was thinking of Blind George and Mrs. Grimes. Though at the moment I +wondered if his talk with Mr. Viney had set him doubting. + +"No, Stevy," he resumed, "it ain't giving you a proper chance, keeping +you here. You can't get lavender water out o' the bilge, an' this part's +the bilge of all London. I want you to be a better man than me, Stevy." + +I could not imagine anybody being a better man than Grandfather Nat, and +the prospect of leaving him oppressed me dismally. And where was I to +go? I remembered the terrible group of aunts at my mother's funeral, and +a shadowy fear that I might be transferred to one of those virtuous +females--perhaps to Aunt Martha--put a weight on my heart. "Don't send +me away, Gran'fa Nat!" I pleaded, with something pulling at the corners +of my mouth; "I haven't been a bad boy yet, have I?" + +He caught me up and sat me on his fore-arm, so that my face almost +touched his, and I could see my little white reflection in his eyes. +"You're the best boy in England, Stevy," he said, and kissed me +affectionately. "The best boy in the world. An' I wouldn't let go o' you +for a minute but for your own good. But see now, Stevy, see; as to goin' +away, now. You'll have to go to school, my boy, won't you? An' the best +school we can manage--a gentleman's school; boardin' school, you know. +Well, that'll mean goin' away, won't it? An' then it wouldn't do for you +to go to a school like that, not from here, you know--which you'll +understand when you get there, among the others. My boy--my boy an' your +father's--has got to be as good a gentleman as any of 'em, an' not +looked down on because o' comin' from a Wapping public like this, an' +sent by a rough old chap like me. See?" + +I thought very hard over this view of things, which was difficult to +understand. Who should look down on me because of Grandfather Nat, of +whom I was so fond and so proud? Grandfather Nat, who had sailed ships +all over the world, had seen storms and icebergs and wrecks, and who was +treated with so much deference by everybody who came to the Hole in the +Wall? Then I thought again of the aunts at the funeral, and remembered +how they had tilted their chins at him; and I wondered, with +forebodings, if people at a boarding school were like those aunts. + +"So I've been thinking, Stevy, I've been thinking," my grandfather went +on, after a pause. "Now, there's the wharf on the Cop. The work's +gettin' more, and Grimes is gettin' older. But you don't know about the +wharf. Grimes is the man that manages there for me; he's Mrs. Grimes's +brother-in-law, an' when his brother died he recommended the widder to +me, an' that's how she came: an' now she's gone; but that's neither here +nor there. Years ago Grimes himself an' a boy was enough for all the +work there was; now there's three men reg'lar, an' work for more. Most +o' the lime comes off the barges there for the new gas-works, an' more +every week. Now there's business there, an' a respectable business--too +much for Grimes. An' if your father'll take on a shore job--an' it's a +hard life, the sea--here it is. He can have a share--have the lot if he +likes--for your sake, Stevy; an' it'll build up into a good thing. +Grimes'll be all right--we can always find a job for him. An' you can go +an' live with your father somewhere respectable an' convenient; not such +a place as Wapping, an' not such people. An' you can go to school from +there, like any other young gentleman. We'll see about it when your +father comes home." + +"But shan't I ever see you, Gran'fa' Nat?" + +"See me, my boy? Ay, that you will--if you don't grow too proud--that +you will, an' great times we'll have, you an' your father an' me, all +ashore together, in the holidays, won't we? An' I'll take care of your +own little fortune--the notes--till you're old enough to have it. I've +been thinking about that, too." Here he stood me on my bed and playfully +pushed me back and forward by the shoulders. "I've been thinking about +that, an' if it was lyin' loose in the street I'd be puzzled clean to +say who'd really lost it, what with one thing an' another. But it +_ain't_ in the street, an' it's yours, with no puzzle about it. But +there--lie down, Stevy, an' go to sleep. Your old grandfather's holdin' +forth worse'n a parson, eh? Comes o' bein' a lonely man an' havin' +nobody to talk to, except myself, till you come. Lie down an' don't +bother yourself. We must wait till your father comes home. We'll keep +watch for the _Juno_ in the List,--she ought to ha' been reported at +Barbadoes before this. An' we must run down to Blackwall, too, an' see +if there's any letters from him. So go to sleep now, Stevy--we'll settle +it all--we'll settle it all when your father comes home!" + +So I lay and dozed, with words to send me to sleep instead of figures: +till they made a tune and seemed to dance to it. "When father comes +home: when father comes home: we'll settle it all, when father comes +home!" And presently, in some unaccountable way, Mr. Cripps came into +the dance with his "Up to their r'yals, up to their r'yals: the wessels +is deep in, up to their r'yals!" and so I fell asleep wholly. + + * * * * * + +In the morning I was astir early, and watching the boats and the +shipping from the bedroom window ere my grandfather had ceased his +alarming snore. It was half an hour later, and Grandfather Nat was busy +with his razor on the upper lip that my cheeks so well remembered, when +we heard Joe the potman at the street door. Whereat I took the keys and +ran down to let him in; a feat which I accomplished by aid of a pair of +steps, much tugging at heavy bolts, and a supreme wrench at the big key. + +Joe brought _Lloyd's List_ in with him every morning from the early +newsagent's in Cable Street. I took the familiar journal at once, and +dived into the midst of its quaint narrow columns, crowded with italics, +in hope of news from Barbadoes. For I wished to find for myself, and run +upstairs, with a child's importance, to tell Grandfather Nat. But there +was no news from Barbadoes--that is, there was no news of my father's +ship. The name Barbadoes stood boldly enough, with reports below it, of +arrivals and sailings, and one of an empty boat washed ashore; but that +was all. So I sat where I was, content to wait, and to tell Grandfather +Nat presently, offhand from over my paper, like a politician in the bar, +that there was no news. Thus, cutting the leaves with a table-knife, my +mind on my father's voyage, it occurred to me that I could not spell La +Guaira, the name of the port his ship was last reported from; and I +turned the paper to look for it. The name was there, with only one +message attached, and while I was slowly conning the letters over for +the third time, I was suddenly aware of a familiar word beneath--the +name of the _Juno_ herself. And this was the notice that I read: + + LA GUAIRA, Sep. 1. + + The _Juno_ (brig) of London, Beecher, from this for Barbadoes, + foundered N of Margarita. Total loss. All crew saved except + first mate. Master and crew landed Margarita. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +I cannot remember how I reached Grandfather Nat. I must have climbed the +stairs, and I fancy I ran into him on the landing; but I only remember +his grim face, oddly grey under the eyes, as he sat on his bed and took +the paper in his hand. I do not know even what I said, and I doubt if I +knew then; the only words present to my mind were "all crew saved except +first mate"; and very likely that was what I said. + +My grandfather drew me between his knees, and I stood with his arm about +me and his bowed head against my cheek. I noticed bemusedly that with +his hair fresh-brushed the line between the grey and the brown at the +back was more distinct than common; and when there was a sudden clatter +in the bar below I wondered if Joe had smashed something, or if it were +only a tumble of the pewters. So we were for a little; and then +Grandfather Nat stood up with a sound between a sigh and a gulp, looking +strangely askant at me, as though it surprised him to find I was not +crying. For my part I was dimly perplexed to see that neither was he; +though the grey was still under his eyes, and his face seemed pinched +and older. "Come, Stevy," he said, and his voice was like a groan; +"we'll have the house shut again." + +I cannot remember that he spoke to me any more for an hour, except to +ask if I would eat any breakfast, which I did with no great loss of +appetite; though indeed I was trying very hard to think, hindered by an +odd vacancy of mind that made a little machine of me. + +Breakfast done, my grandfather sent Joe for a cab to take us to +Blackwall. I was a little surprised at the unaccustomed conveyance, and +rather pleased. When we were ready to go, we found Mr. Cripps and two +other regular frequenters of the bar waiting outside. I think Mr. Cripps +meant to have come forward with some prepared condolence; but he stopped +short when he saw my grandfather's face, and stood back with the others. +The four-wheeler was a wretched vehicle, reeking of strong tobacco and +stale drink; for half the employment of such cabs as the neighbourhood +possessed was to carry drunken sailors, flush of money, who took bottles +and pipes with them everywhere. + +Whether it was the jolting of the cab--Wapping streets were paved with +cobbles--that shook my faculties into place; whether it was the +association of the cab and the journey to Blackwall that reminded me of +my mother's funeral; or whether it was the mere lapse of a little time, +I cannot tell. But as we went, the meaning of the morning's news grew on +me, and I realised that my father was actually dead, drowned in the sea, +and that I was wholly an orphan; and it struck me with a sense of +self-reproach that the fact afflicted me no more than it did. When my +mother and my little brother had died I had cried myself sodden and +faint; but now, heavy of heart as I was, I felt curiously ashamed that +Grandfather Nat should see me tearless. True, I had seen very little of +my father, but when he was at home he was always as kind to me as +Grandfather Nat himself, and led me about with him everywhere; and last +voyage he had brought me a little boomerang, and only laughed when I +hove it through a window that cost him three shillings. Thus I pondered +blinkingly in the cab; and I set down my calmness to the reflection that +my mother would have him always with her now, and be all the happier in +heaven for it; for she always cried when he went to sea. + +So at last we came in sight of the old quay, and had to wait till the +bridge should swing behind a sea-beaten ship, with her bulwarks patched +with white plank, and the salt crust thick on her spars. I could see +across the lock the three little front windows of our house, shut close +and dumb; and I could hear the quick chanty from the quay, where the +capstan turned:-- + + O, I served my time on the Black Ball Line, + Hurrah for the Black Ball Line! + From the South Sea north to the sixty-nine, + Hurrah for the Black Ball Line! + +And somehow with that I cried at last. + +The ship passed in, the bridge shut, and the foul old cab rattled till +it stopped before the well-remembered door. The house had been closed +since my mother was buried, Grandfather Nat paying the rent and keeping +the key on my father's behalf; and now the door opened with a protesting +creak and a shudder, and the air within was close and musty. + +There were two letters on the mat, where they had fallen from the +letter-flap, and both were from my father, as was plain from the +writing. We carried them into the little parlour, where last we had sat +with the funeral party, and my grandfather lifted the blind and flung +open the window. Then he sat and put one letter on each knee. + +"Stevy," he said, and again his voice was like a groan; "look at them +postmarks. Ain't one Belize?" + +Yes, one was Belize, the other La Guaira; and both for my mother. + +"Ah, one's been lyin' here; the other must ha' come yesterday, by the +same mail as brought the news." He took the two letters again, turned +them over and over, and shook his head. Then he replaced them on his +knees and rested his fists on his thighs, just above where they lay. + +"I don't know as we ought to open 'em, Stevy," he said wearily. "I +dunno, Stevy, I dunno." + +He turned each over once more, and shut his fists again. "I dunno, I +dunno.... Man an' wife, between 'emselves.... Wouldn't do it, living.... +Stevy boy, we'll take 'em home an' burn 'em." + +But to me the suggestion seemed incomprehensible--even shocking. I could +see no reason for burning my father's last message home. "Perhaps +there's a little letter for me, Gran'father Nat," I said. "He used to +put one in sometimes. Can't we look? And mother used to read me her +letters too." + +My grandfather sat back and rubbed his hand up through his hair behind, +as he would often do when in perplexity. At last he said, "Well, well, +it's hard to tell. We should never know what we'd burnt, if we did.... +We'll look, Stevy.... An' I'll read no further than I need. Come, the +Belize letter's first.... Send I ain't doin' wrong, that's all." + +He tore open the cover and pulled out the sheets of flimsy foreign +note-paper, holding them to the light almost at arm's length, as +long-sighted men do. And as he read, slowly as always, with a leathery +forefinger following the line, the grey under the old man's eyes grew +wet at last, and wetter. What the letter said is no matter here. There +was talk of me in it, and talk of my little brother--or sister, as it +might have been for all my father could know. And again there was the +same talk in the second letter--the one from La Guaira. But in this +latter another letter was enclosed, larger than that for my mother, +which was in fact uncommonly short. And here, where the dead spoke to +the dead no more, but to the living, was matter that disturbed my +grandfather more than all the rest. + +The enclosure was not for me, as I had hoped, but for Grandfather Nat +himself; and it was not a simple loose sheet folded in with the rest, +but a letter in its own smaller envelope, close shut down, with the +words "Capn. Kemp" on the face. My grandfather read the first few lines +with increasing agitation, and then called me to the window. + +"See here, Stevy," he said, "it's wrote small, to get it in, an' I'm +slow with it. Read it out quick as you can." + +And so I read the letter, which I keep still, worn at the folds and +corners by the old man's pocket, where he carried it afterward. + + DEAR FATHER,--Just a few lines private hoping they find you + well. This is my hardest trip yet, and the queerest, and I + write in case anything happens and I don't see you again. This + is for yourself, you understand, and I have made it all + cheerful to the Mrs., specially as she is still off her health, + no doubt. Father, the _Juno_ was not meant to come home this + trip, and if ever she rounds Blackwall Point again it will be + in spite of the skipper. He had his first try long enough back, + on the voyage out, and it was then she was meant to go; for she + was worse found than ever I saw a ship--even a ship of Viney's; + and not provisioned for more than half the run out, proper + rations. And I say it plain, and will say it as plain to + anybody, that the vessel would have been piled up or dropped + under and the insurance paid months before you get this if I + had not pretty nigh mutinied more than once. He said he would + have me in irons, but he shan't have the chance if I can help + it. You know Beecher. Four times I reckon he has tried to pile + her up, every time in the best weather and near a safe + port--_foreign_. The men would have backed me right + through--some of them did--but they deserted one after another + all round the coast, Monte Video, Rio and Bahia, and small + blame to them, and we filled up with half-breeds and such. The + last of the ten and the boy went at Bahia, so that now I have + no witness but the second mate, and he is either in it or a + fool--I think a fool: but perhaps both. Not a man to back me. + Else I might have tried to report or something, at Belize, + though that is a thing best avoided of course. No doubt he has + got his orders, so I am not to blame him, perhaps. But I have + got no orders--not to lose the ship, I mean--and so I am doing + my duty. Twice I have come up and took the helm from him, but + that was with the English crew aboard. He has been quiet + lately, and perhaps he has given the job up; at any rate I + expect he won't try to pile her up again--more likely a quiet + turn below with a big auger. He is still mighty particular + about the long-boat being all right, and the falls clear, etc. + If he does it I have a notion it may be some time when I have + turned in; I can't keep awake all watches. And he knows I am + about the only man aboard who won't sign whatever he likes + before a consul. You know what I mean; and you know Beecher + too. Don't tell the Mrs. of course. Say this letter is about a + new berth or what not. No doubt it is all right, but it came in + my head to drop you a line, on the off chance, and a precious + long line I have made of it. So no more at present from--Your + Affectionate Son, + + NATHANIEL. + + P.S. I am in half a mind to go ashore at Barbadoes, and report. + But perhaps best not. That sort of thing don't do. + +While I read, my grandfather had been sitting with his head between his +hands, and his eyes directed to the floor, so that I could not see his +face. So he remained for a little while after I had finished, while I +stood in troubled wonder. Then he looked up, his face stern and hard +beyond the common: and his was a stern face at best. + +"Stevy," he said, "do you know what that means, that you've been +a-readin'?" + +I looked from his face to the letter, and back again. "It +means--means ... I think the skipper sank the ship on purpose." + +"It means Murder, my boy, that's what it means. Murder, by the law of +England! 'Feloniously castin' away an' destroyin';' that's what they +call the one thing, though I'm no lawyer-man. An' it means prison; +though why, when a man follows orders faithful, I can't say; but well I +know it. An' if any man loses his life thereby it's Murder, whether +accidental or not; Murder an' the Rope, by the law of England, an' +bitter well I know that too! O bitter well I know it!" + +He passed his palm over his forehead and eyes, and for a moment was +silent. Then he struck the palm on his knee and broke forth afresh. + +"Murder, by the law of England, even if no more than accident in God's +truth. How much the more then this here, when the one man as won't stand +and see it done goes down in his berth? O, I've known that afore, too, +with a gimlet through the door-frame; an' I know Beecher. But orders is +orders, an' it's them as gives them as is to reckon with. I've took +orders myself.... Lord! Lord! an' I've none but a child to talk to! A +little child!... But you're no fool, Stevy. See here now, an' remember. +You know what's come to your father? He's killed, wilful; murdered, like +what they hang people for, at Newgate, Stevy, by the law. An' do you +know who's done it?" + +I was distressed and bewildered, as well as alarmed by the old man's +vehemence. "The captain," I said, whimpering again. + +"Viney!" my grandfather shouted. "Henry Viney, as I might ha' served the +same way, an' I wish I had! Viney and Marr's done it; an' Marr's paid +for it already. Lord, Lord!" he went on, with his face down in his hands +and his elbows on his knees. "Lord! I see a lot of it now! It was what +they made out o' the insurance that was to save the firm; an' when my +boy put in an' stopped it all the voyage out, an' more, they could hold +on no longer, but plotted to get out with what they could lay hold of. +Lord! it's plain as print, plain as print! Stevy!" He lowered his hands +and looked up. "Stevy! that money's more yours now than ever. If I ever +had a doubt--if it don't belong to the orphan they've made--but there, +it's sent you, boy, sent you, an' any one 'ud believe in Providence +after that." + +In a moment more he was back at his earlier excitement. "But it's +Viney's done it," he said, with his fist extended before him. "Remember, +Stevy, when you grow up, it's Viney's done it, an' it's Murder, by the +law of England. Viney has killed your father, an' if it was brought +against him it 'ud be Murder!" + +"Then," I said, "we'll go to the police station and they will catch +him." + +My grandfather's hand dropped. "Ah, Stevy, Stevy," he groaned, "you +don't know, you don't know. It ain't enough for that, an' if it was--if +it was, I can't; I can't--not with you to look after. I might do it, an' +risk all, if it wasn't for that.... My God, it's a judgment on me--a +cruel judgment! My own son--an' just the same way--just the same way!... +I can't, Stevy, not with you to take care of. Stevy, I must keep myself +safe for your sake, an' I can't raise a hand to punish Viney. I can't, +Stevy, I can't; for I'm a guilty man myself, by the law of England--an' +Viney knows it! Viney knows it! Though it wasn't wilful, as God's my +judge!" + +Grandfather Nat ended with a groan, and sat still, with his head bowed +in his hands. Again I remembered, and now with something of awe, my +innocent question: "Did you ever kill a man, Grandfather Nat?" + +Still he sat motionless and silent, till I could endure it no longer: +for in some way I felt frightened. So I went timidly and put my arm +about his neck. I fancied, though I was not sure, that I could feel a +tremble from his shoulders; but he was silent still. Nevertheless I was +oddly comforted by the contact, and presently, like a dog anxious for +notice, ventured to stroke the grey hair. + +Soon then he dropped his hands and spoke. "I shouldn't ha' said it, +Stevy; but I'm all shook an' worried, an' I talked wild. It was no need +to say it, but there ain't a soul alive to speak to else, an' somehow I +talk as it might be half to myself. But you know what about things I +say--private things--don't you? Remember?" He sat erect again, and +raised a forefinger warningly, even sternly. "Remember, Stevy!... But +come--there's things to do. Give me the letter. We'll get together any +little things to be kep', papers an' what not, an' take 'em home. An' +I'll have to think about the rest, what's best to be done; sell 'em, or +what. But I dunno, I dunno!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +IN BLUE GATE + + +In her den at the black stair-top in Blue Gate, Musky Mag lurked, +furtive and trembling, after the inquests at the Hole in the Wall. Where +Dan Ogle might be hiding she could not guess, and she was torn between a +hundred fears and perplexities. Dan had been seen, and could be +identified; of that she was convinced, and more than convinced, since +she had heard Mr. Cripps's testimony. Moreover she well remembered at +what point in her own evidence the police-inspector had handed the note +to the coroner, and she was not too stupid to guess the meaning of that. +How could she warn Dan, how help or screen him, how put to act that +simple fidelity that was the sole virtue remaining in her, all the +greater for the loss of the rest? She had no money; on the other hand +she was confident that Dan must have with him the whole pocket-book full +of notes which had cost two lives already, and now seemed like to cost +the life she would so gladly buy with her own; for they had not been +found on Kipps's body, nor in any way spoken of at the inquest. But then +he might fear to change them. He could scarcely carry a single one to +the receivers who knew him, for his haunts would be watched; more, a +reward was offered, and no receiver would be above making an extra fifty +pounds on the transaction. For to her tortured mind it seemed every +moment more certain that the cry was up, and not the police alone, but +everybody else was on the watch to give the gallows its due. She was +uneasy at having no message. Doubtless he needed her help, as he had +needed it so often before; doubtless he would come for it if he could, +but that would be to put his head in the noose. How could she reach him, +and give it? Even if she had known where he lay, to go to him would be +to lead the police after her, for she had no doubt that her own +movements would be watched. She knew that the boat wherein he had +escaped had been found on the opposite side of the river, and she, like +others, judged from that that he might be lurking in some of the +waterside rookeries of the south bank; the more as it was the commonest +device of those "wanted" in Ratcliff or Wapping to "go for a change" to +Rotherhithe or Bankside, and for those in a like predicament on the +southern shores to come north in the same way. But again, to go in +search of him were but to share with the police whatever luck might +attend the quest. So that Musky Mag feared alike to stay at home and to +go abroad; longed to find Dan, and feared it as much; wished to aid him, +yet equally dreaded that he should come to her or that she should go to +him. And there was nothing to do, therefore, but to wait and listen +anxiously; to listen for voices, or footsteps, even for creaks on the +stairs; for a whistle without that might be a signal; for an uproar or a +sudden hush that might announce the coming of the police into Blue Gate; +even for a whisper or a scratching at door or window wherewith the +fugitive might approach, fearful lest the police were there before him. +But at evening, when the place grew dark, and the thickest of the gloom +drew together, to make a monstrous shadow on the floor, where once she +had fallen over something in the dark--then she went and sat on the +stair-head, watching and dozing and waking in terror. + +So went a day and a night, and another day. The corners of the room grew +dusk again, and with the afternoon's late light the table flung its +shadow on that same place on the floor; so that she went and moved it +toward the wall. + +As she set it down she started and crouched, for now at last there was a +step on the stair--an unfamiliar step. A woman's, it would seem, and +stealthy. Musky Mag held by the table, and waited. + +The steps ceased at the landing, and there was a pause. Then, with no +warning knock, the door was pushed open, and a head was thrust in, +covered by an old plaid shawl; a glance about the room, and the rest of +the figure followed, closing the door behind it; and, the shawl being +flung back from over the bonnet, there stood Mrs. Grimes, rusty and +bony, slack-faced and sour. + +Mrs. Grimes screwed her red nose at the woman before her, jerked up her +crushed bonnet, and plucked her rusty skirt across her knees with the +proper virtuous twitch. Then said Mrs. Grimes: "Where's my brother Dan?" + +For a moment Musky Mag disbelieved eyes and ears together. The visit +itself, even more than the question, amazed and bewildered her. She had +been prepared for any visitor but this. For Mrs. Grimes's relationship +to Dan Ogle was a thing that exemplary lady made as close a secret as +she could, as in truth was very natural. She valued herself on her +respectability; she was the widow of a decent lighterman, of a decent +lightering and wharf-working family, and she called herself +"house-keeper" (though she might be scarce more than charwoman) at the +Hole in the Wall. She had never acknowledged her lawless brother when +she could in any way avoid it, and she had, indeed, bargained that he +should not come near her place of employment, lest he compromise her; +and so far from seeking him out in his lodgings, she even had a way of +failing to see him in the street. What should she want in Blue Gate at +such a time as this, asking thus urgently for her brother Dan? What but +the reward? For an instant Mag's fears revived with a jump, though even +as it came she put away the fancy that such might be the design of any +sister, however respectable. + +"Where's my brother Dan?" repeated Mrs. Grimes, abruptly. + +"I--I don't know, mum," faltered Mag, husky and dull. "I ain't seen 'im +for--for--some time." + +"O, nonsense. I want 'im particular. I got somethink to tell 'im +important. If you won't say where 'e is, go an' find 'im." + +"I wish I could, mum, truly. But I can't." + +"Do you mean 'e's left you?" Mrs. Grimes bridled high, and helped it +with a haughty sniff. + +"No, mum, not quite, in your way of speakin', I think, mum. But +'e's--'e's just gone away for a bit." + +"Ho. In trouble again, you mean, eh?" + +"O, no, mum, not there," Mag answered readily; for, with her, "trouble" +was merely a genteel name for gaol. "Not there--not for a long while." + +"Where then?" + +"That's what I dunno, mum; not at all." + +Mrs. Grimes tightened her lips and glared; plainly she believed none of +these denials. "P'raps 'e's wanted," she snapped, "an' keepin' out o' +the way just now. Is that it?" + +This was what no torture would have made Mag acknowledge; but, with all +her vehemence of denial, her discomposure was plain to see. "No, mum, +not that," she declared, pleadingly. "Reely 'e ain't, mum--reely 'e +ain't; not that!" + +"Pooh!" exclaimed Mrs. Grimes, seating herself with a flop. "That's a +lie, plain enough. 'E's layin' up somewhere, an' you know it. What harm +d'ye suppose I'm goin' to do 'im? 'E ain't robbed me--leastways not +lately. I got a job for 'im, I tell you--money in 'is pocket. If you +won't tell me, go an' tell 'im; go on. An' I'll wait." + +"It's Gawd's truth, mum, I don't know where 'e is," Mag protested +earnestly. "'Ark! there's someone on the stairs! They'll 'ear. Go away, +mum, do. I'll try an' find 'im an' tell 'im--s'elp me I will! Go +away--they're comin'!" + +In truth the footsteps had reached the stair-top, and now, with a thump, +the door was thrust open, and Blind George appeared, his fiddle under +his arm, his stick sweeping before him, and his white eye rolling at the +ceiling. + +"Hullo!" he sung out. "Lady visitors! Or is it on'y one? 'Tain't polite +to tell the lady to go away, Mag! Good afternoon, mum, good afternoon!" +He nodded and grinned at upper vacancy, as one might at a descending +angel; Mrs. Grimes, meanwhile, close at his elbow, preparing to get away +as soon as he was clear past her. For Blind George's keenness of hearing +was well known, and she had no mind he should guess her identity. + +"Good afternoon, mum!" the blind man repeated. "Havin' tea?" He advanced +another step, and extended his stick. "What!" he added, suddenly +turning. "What! Table gone? What's this? Doin' a guy? Clearin' out?" + +"No, George," Mag answered. "I only moved the table over to the wall. +'Ere it is--come an' feel it." She made a quick gesture over his +shoulder, and Mrs. Grimes hurried out on tip-toe. + +But at the first movement Blind George turned sharply. "There she goes," +he said, making for the door. "She don't like me. Timid little darlin'! +Hullo, my dear!" he roared down the stairs. "Hullo! you never give me a +kiss! I know you! Won't you say good-bye?" + +He waited a moment, listening intently; but Mrs. Grimes scuttled into +the passage below without a word, and instantly Blind George +supplemented his endearments with a burst of foul abuse, and listened +again. This expedient succeeded no better than the first, and Mrs. +Grimes was gone without a sound that might betray her identity. + +Blind George shut the door. "Who was that?" he asked. + +"Oh, nobody partic'lar," Mag answered with an assumption of +indifference. "On'y a woman I know--name o' Jane. What d'you want?" + +"Ah, now you're come to it." Blind George put his fiddle and bow on the +table and groped for a chair. "Fust," he went on, "is there anybody else +as can 'ear? Eh? Cracks or crannies or peepholes, eh? 'Cause I come as a +pal, to talk private business, I do." + +"It's all right, George; nobody can hear. What is it?" + +"Why," said the blind man, catching her tight by the arm, and leaning +forward to whisper; "it's Dan, that's what it is. It's Dan!" + +She was conscious of a catching of the breath and a thump of the heart; +and Blind George knew it too, for he felt it through the arm. + +"It's Dan," he repeated. "So now you know if it's what you'd like +listened to." + +"Go on," she said. + +"Ah. Well, fust thing, all bein' snug, 'ere's five bob; catch 'old." He +slid his right hand down to her wrist, and with his left pressed the +money into hers. "All right, don't be frightened of it, it won't 'urt +ye! Lord, I bet Dan 'ud do the same for me if I wanted it, though 'e is +a bit rough sometimes. I ain't rich, but I got a few bob by me; an' if a +pal ain't to 'ave 'em, who is? Eh? Who is?" + +He grinned under the white eye so ghastly a counterfeit of friendly +good-will that the woman shrank, and pulled at the wrist he held. + +"Lord love ye," he went on, holding tight to the wrist, "I ain't the +bloke to round on a pal as is under a cloud. See what I might 'a' done, +if I'd 'a' wanted. I might 'a' gone an' let out all sorts o' things, as +you know very well yerself, at the inquest--both the inquests. But did +I? Not me. Not a bit of it. _That_ ain't my way. No; I lay low, an' said +nothing. What arter that? Why, there's fifty quid reward offered, fifty +quid--a fortune to a pore bloke like me. An' all I got to do is to go +and say 'Dan Ogle' to earn it--them two words an' no more. Ain't that +the truth? D'y' hear, ain't that the truth?" + +He tugged at her wrist to extort an answer, and the woman's face was +drawn with fear. But she made a shift to say, with elaborate +carelessness, "Reward? What reward, George? I dunno nothin' about it." + +"Gr-r-r!" he growled, pushing the wrist back, but gripping it still. +"That ain't 'andsome, not to a pal it ain't; not to a faithful pal as +comes to do y' a good turn. You know all about it well enough; an' you +needn't think as I don't know too. Blind, ain't I? Blind from a kid, but +not a fool! You ought to know that by this time--not a fool. Look +'ere!"--with another jerk at the woman's arm--"look 'ere. The last time +I was in this 'ere room there was me an' you an' Dan an' two men as is +dead now, an' post-mortalled, an' inquested an' buried, wasn't there? +Well, Dan chucked me out. I ain't bearin' no malice for that, mind +ye--ain't I just give ye five bob, an' ain't I come to do ye a turn? I +was chucked out, but ye don't s'pose I dunno what 'appened arter I was +gone, do ye? Eh?" + +The room was grown darker, and though the table was moved, the shadow on +the floor took its old place, and took its old shape, and grew; but it +was no more abhorrent than the shadowy face with its sightless white eye +close before hers, and the hand that held her wrist, and by it seemed to +feel the pulse of her very mind. She struggled to her feet. + +"Let go my wrist," she said. "I'll light a candle. You can go on." + +"Don't light no candle on my account," he said, chuckling, as he let her +hand drop. "It's a thing I never treat myself to. There's parties as is +afraid o' the dark, they tell me--I'm used to it." + +She lit the candle, and set it where it lighted best the place of the +shadow. Then she returned and stood by the chair she had been sitting +in. "Go on," she said again. "What's this good turn you want to do me?" + +"Ah," he replied, "that's the pint!" He caught her wrist again with a +sudden snatch, and drew her forward. "Sit down, my gal, sit down, an' +I'll tell ye comfortable. What was I a-sayin'? Oh, what 'appened arter I +was gone; yes. Well, that there visitor was flimped clean, clean as a +whistle; but fust--eh?--fust!" Blind George snapped his jaws, and made a +quick blow in the air with his stick. "Eh? Eh? Ah, well, never mind! But +now I'll tell you what the job fetched. Eight 'undred an' odd quid in a +leather pocket-book, an' a silver watch! Eh? I thought that 'ud make ye +jump. Blind, ain't I? Blind from a kid,--but not a fool!" + +"Well now," he proceeded, "so far all right. If I can tell ye that, I +can pretty well tell ye all the rest, can't I? All about Bob Kipps goin' +off to sell the notes, an' Dan watchin' 'im, bein' suspicious, an' +catchin' 'im makin' a bolt for the river, an'--eh?" He raised the stick +in his left hand again, but now point forward, with a little stab toward +her breast. "Eh? Eh? Like that, eh? All right--don't be frightened. I'm +a pal, I am. It served that cove right, I say, playin' a trick on a pal. +I don't play a trick on a pal. I come 'ere to do 'im a good turn, I do. +Don't I?--Well, Dan got away, an' good luck to 'im. 'E got away, clear +over the river, with the eight 'undred quid in the leather pocket-book. +An' now 'e's a-layin' low an' snug, an' more good luck to 'im, says I, +bein' a pal. Ain't that right?" + +Mag shuffled uneasily. "Go on," she said, "if you think you know such a +lot. You ain't come to that good turn yet that you talk so much about." + +"Right! Now I'll come to it. Now you know I know as much as +anybody--more'n anybody 'cept Dan, p'rhaps a bit more'n what you know +yourself; an' I kep' it quiet when I might 'a' made my fortune out of +it; kep' it quiet, bein' a faithful pal. An' bein' a faithful pal an' +all I come 'ere with five bob for ye, bein' all I can afford, 'cos I +know you're a bit short, though Dan's got plenty--got a fortune. Why +should you be short, an' Dan got a fortune? On'y 'cos you want a pal as +you can trust, like me! That's all. 'E can't come to you 'cos o' showin' +'isself. _You_ can't go to 'im 'cos of being watched an' follered. So I +come to do ye both a good turn goin' between, one to another. Where is +'e?" + +Mag was in some way reassured. She feared and distrusted Blind George, +and she was confounded to learn how much he knew: but at least he was +still ignorant of the essential thing. So she said, "Knowin' so much +more'n me, I wonder you dunno that too. Any'ow _I_ don't." + +"What? _You_ dunno. Dunno where 'e is?" + +"No, I don't; no more'n you." + +"O, that's all right--all right for anybody else; but not for a pal like +me--not for a pal as is doin' y' a good turn. Besides, it ain't you +on'y; it's 'im. 'Ow'll 'e get on with the stuff? 'E won't be able to +change it, an' 'e'll be as short as you, an' p'rhaps get smugged with it +on 'im. That 'ud never do; an' I can get it changed. What part o' +Rotherhithe is it, eh? I can easy find 'im. Is it Dockhead?" + +"There or anywhere, for all I know. I tell ye, George, I dunno no more'n +you. Let go my arm, go on." + +But he gave it another pull--an angry one. "What? What?" he cried. "If +Dan knowed as you was keepin' 'is ol' pal George from doin' 'im a good +turn, what 'ud 'e do, eh? 'E'd give it you, my beauty, wouldn't 'e? Eh? +Eh?" He twisted the arm, ground his teeth, and raised his stick +menacingly. + +But this was a little too much. He was a man, and stronger, but at any +rate he was blind. She rose and struggled to twist her arm from his +grasp. "If you don't put down that stick, George," she said, "if you +don't put it down an' let go my arm, I'll give it you same as Bob Kipps +got it--s'elp me I will! I'll give you the chive--I will! Don't you make +me desprit!" + +He let go the wrist and laughed. "Whoa, beauty!" he cried; "don't make a +rumpus with a faithful pal! If you won't tell me I s'pose you won't, +bein' a woman; whether it's bad for Dan or not, eh?" + +"I tell you I can't, George; I swear solemn I dunno no more'n +you--p'rhaps not so much. 'E ain't bin near nor sent nor nothing, +since--since then. That's gospel truth. If I do 'ear from 'im I'll--well +then I'll see." + +"Will ye tell 'im, then? 'Ere, tell 'im this. Tell 'im he mustn't go +tryin' to sell them notes, or 'e'll be smugged. Tell 'im I can put 'im +in the way o' gettin' money for 'em--'ard quids, an' plenty on 'em. Tell +'im that, will ye? Tell 'im I'm a faithful pal, an' nobody can do it but +me. I know things you don't know about, nor 'im neither. Tell 'im +to-night. Will ye tell 'im to-night?" + +"'Ow can I tell 'im to-night? I'll tell 'im right enough when I see 'im. +I s'pose you want to make your bit out of it, pal or not." + +"There y'are!" he answered quickly. "There y'are! If you won't believe +in a pal, look at that! If I make a fair deal, man to man, with them +notes, an' get money for 'em instead o' smuggin'--quids instead o' +quod--I'll 'ave my proper reg'lars, won't I? An' proper reg'lars on all +that, paid square, 'ud be more'n I could make playin' the snitch, if +Dan'll be open to reason. See? You won't forget, eh?" He took her arm +again eagerly, above the elbow. "Know what to say, don't ye? Best for +all of us. 'E mustn't show them notes to a soul, till 'e sees me. _I'm_ +a pal. _I_ got the little tip 'ow to do it proper--see? Now you know. +Gimme my fiddle. 'Ere we are. Where's the door? All right--don't +forget!" + +Blind George clumped down the black stair, and so reached the street of +Blue Gate. At the door he paused, listening till he was satisfied of +Musky Mag's movements above; then he walked a few yards along the dark +street, and stopped. + +From a black archway across the street a man came skulking out, and over +the roadway to Blind George's side. It was Viney. "Well?" he asked +eagerly. "What's your luck?" + +Blind George swore vehemently, but quietly. "Precious little," he +answered. "She dunno where 'e is. I thought at first it was kid, but it +ain't. She ain't 'eard, an' she dunno. I couldn't catch hold o' the +other woman, an' she got away an' never spoke. You see 'er again when +she came out, didn't ye? Know 'er?" + +"Not me--she kept her shawl tighter about her head than ever. An' if she +hadn't it ain't likely I'd know her. What now? Stand watch again? I'm +sick of it." + +"So am I, but it's for good pay, if it comes off. Five minutes might do +it. You get back, an' wait in case I tip the whistle." + +Viney crept growling back to his arch, and Blind George went and +listened at Mag's front door for a few moments more. Then he turned into +the one next it, and there waited, invisible, listening still. + +Five minutes went, and did not do it, and ten minutes went, and five +times ten. Blue Gate lay darkling in evening, and foul shadows moved +about it. From one den and another came a drawl and a yaup of drunken +singing; a fog from the river dulled the lights at the Highway end, and +slowly crept up the narrow way. It was near an hour since Viney and +Blind George had parted, when there grew visible, coming through the +mist from the Highway, the uncertain figure of a stranger: drifting +dubiously from door to door, staring in at one after another, and +wandering out toward the gutter to peer ahead in the gloom. + +Blind George could hear, as well as another could see, that here was a +stranger in doubt, seeking somebody or some house. Soon the man, +middle-sized, elderly, a trifle bent, and all dusty with lime, came in +turn to the door where he stood; and at once Blind George stepped full +against him with an exclamation and many excuses. + +"Beg pardon, guv'nor! Pore blind chap! 'Ope I didn't 'urt ye! Was ye +wantin' anybody in this 'ouse?" + +The limy man looked ahead, and reckoned the few remaining doors to the +end of Blue Gate. "Well," he said, "I fancy it's 'ere or next door. D'ye +know a woman o' the name o' Mag--Mag Flynn?" + +"I'm your bloke, guv'nor. Know 'er? Rather. Up 'ere--I'll show ye. Lord +love ye, she's an old friend o' mine. Come on.... I should say you'd be +in the lime trade, guv'nor, wouldn't you? I smelt it pretty strong, an' +I'll never forget the smell o' lime. Why, says you? Why, 'cos o' losin' +my blessed sight with lime, when I was a innocent kid. Fell on a +slakin'--bed, guv'nor, an' blinded me blessed self; so I won't forget +the smell o' lime easy. Ain't you in the trade, now? Ain't I right?" He +stopped midway on the stairs to repeat the question. "Ain't I right? Is +it yer own business or a firm?" + +"Ah well, I do 'ave to do with lime a good bit," said the stranger, +evasively. "But go on, or else let me come past." + +Blind George turned, and reaching the landing, thumped his stick on the +door and pushed it open. "'Ere y'are," he sang out. "'Ere's a genelman +come to see ye, as I found an' showed the way to. Lord love ye, 'e'd +never 'a' found ye if it wasn't for me. But I'm a old pal, ain't I? A +faithful old pal!" + +He swung his stick till he found a chair, and straightway sat in it, +like an invited guest. "Lord love ye, yes," he continued, rolling his +eye and putting his fiddle across his knees; "one o' the oldest pals +she's got, or 'im either." + +The newcomer looked in a puzzled way from Blind George to the woman, and +back again. "It's private business I come about," he said, shortly. + +"All right, guv'nor," shouted Blind George, heartily, "Out with it! +We're all pals 'ere! Old pals!" + +"You ain't my old pal, anyhow," the limy man observed. "An' if the +room's yours, we'll go an' talk somewheres else." + +"Get out, George, go along," said Mag, with some asperity, but more +anxiety. "You clear out, go on." + +"O, all right, if you're goin' to be unsociable," said the fiddler, +rising. "Damme, _I_ don't want to stay--not me. I was on'y doin' the +friendly, that's all; bein' a old pal. But I'm off all right--I'm off. +So long!" + +He hugged his fiddle once more, and clumped down into the street. He +tapped with his stick till he struck the curb, and then crossed the +muddy roadway; while Viney emerged again from the dark arch to meet him. + +"All right," said Blind George, whispering huskily. "It's business now, +I think--business. You come on now. You'll 'ave to foller 'em if they +come out together. If they don't--well, you must look arter the one as +does." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +ON THE COP + + +When the limy man left Blue Gate he went, first, to the Hole in the +Wall, there to make to Captain Kemp some small report on the wharf by +the Lea. This did not keep him long, and soon he was on his journey home +to the wharf itself, by way of the crooked lanes and the Commercial +Road. + +He had left Blue Gate an hour and more when Musky Mag emerged from her +black stairway, peering fearfully about the street ere she ventured her +foot over the step. So she stood for a few seconds, and then, as one +chancing a great risk, stepped boldly on the pavement, and, turning her +back to the Highway, walked toward Back Lane. This was the nearer end of +Blue Gate, and, the corner turned, she stopped short, and peeped back. +Satisfied that she had no follower, she crossed Back Lane, and taking +every corner, as she came to it, with a like precaution, threaded the +maze of small, ill-lighted streets that lay in the angle between the +great Rope Walk and Commercial Road. This wide road she crossed, and +then entered the dark streets beyond, in rear of the George Tavern; and +so, keeping to obscure parallel ways, sometimes emerging into the glare +of the main road, more commonly slinking in its darker purlieus, but +never out of touch with it, she travelled east; following in the main +the later course of the limy man, who had left Blue Gate by its opposite +end. + +The fog, that had dulled the lights in Ratcliff Highway, met her again +near Limehouse Basin; but, ere she reached the church, she was clear of +it once more. Beyond, the shops grew few, and the lights fewer. For a +little while decent houses lined the way: the houses of those last +merchants who had no shame to live near the docks and the works that +brought their money. At last, amid a cluster of taverns and shops that +were all for the sea and them that lived on it, the East India Dock +gates stood dim and tall, flanked by vast raking walls, so that one +might suppose a Chinese city to seethe within. And away to the left, the +dark road that the wall overshadowed was lined on the other side by +hedge and ditch, with meadows and fields beyond, that were now no more +than a vast murky gulf; so that no stranger peering over the hedge could +have guessed aright if he looked on land or on water, or on mere black +vacancy. + +Here the woman made a last twist: turning down a side street, and coming +to a moment's stand in an archway. This done, she passed through the +arch into a path before a row of ill-kept cottages; and so gained the +marshy field behind the Accident Hospital, the beginning of the waste +called The Cop. + +Here the great blackness was before her and about her, and she stumbled +and laboured on the invisible ground, groping for pits and ditches, and +standing breathless again and again to listen. The way was so hard as to +seem longer than it was, and in the darkness she must needs surmount +obstacles that in daylight she would have turned. Often a ditch barred +her way; and when, after long search, a means of crossing was found, it +was commonly a plank to be traversed on hands and knees. There were +stagnant pools, too, into which she walked more than once; and twice she +suffered a greater shock of terror: first at a scurry of rats, and later +at quick footsteps following in the sodden turf--the footsteps, after +all, of nothing more terrible than a horse of inquiring disposition, out +at grass. + +So she went for what seemed miles: though there was little more than +half a mile in a line from where she had left the lights to where at +last she came upon a rough road, seamed with deep ruts, and made visible +by many whitish blotches where lime had fallen, and had there been +ground into the surface. To the left this road stretched away toward the +lights of Bromley and Bow Common, and to the right it rose by an easy +slope over the river wall skirting the Lea, and there ended at Kemp's +Wharf. + +Not a creature was on the road, and no sound came from the black space +behind her. With a breath of relief she set foot on the firmer ground, +and hurried up the slope. From the top of the bank she could see Kemp's +Wharf just below, with two dusty lighters moored in the dull river; and +beyond the river the measureless, dim Abbey Marsh. Nearer, among the +sheds, a dog barked angrily at the sound of strange feet. + +A bright light came from the window of the little house that made office +and dwelling for the wharf-keeper, and something less of the same light +from the open door; for there the limy man stood waiting, leaning on the +door-post, and smoking his pipe. + +He grunted a greeting as Mag came down the bank. "Bit late," he said. +"But it ain't easy over the Cop for a stranger." + +"Where?" the woman whispered eagerly. "Where is he?" + +The limy man took three silent pulls at his pipe. Then he took it from +his mouth with some deliberation, and said: "Remember what I said? I +don't want 'im 'ere. I dunno what 'e's done, an' don't want; but if 'e +likes to come 'idin' about, I ain't goin' to play the informer. I dunno +why I should promise as much as that, just 'cos my brother married 'is +sister. _She_ ain't done me no credit, from what I 'ear now. Though she +'ad a good master, as I can swear; 'cos 'e's mine too." + +"Where is he?" was all Mag's answer, again in an anxious whisper. + +"Unnerstand?" the limy man went on. "I'm about done with the pair on 'em +now, but I ain't goin' to inform. 'E come 'ere a day or two back an' +claimed shelter; an' seein' as I was goin' up to Wappin' to-night, 'e +wanted me to tell you where 'e was. Well, I've done that, an' I ain't +goin' to do no more; see? 'E ain't none o' mine, an' I won't 'ave part +nor parcel with 'im, nor any of ye. I keep myself decent, I do. I shan't +say 'e's 'ere an' I shan't say 'e ain't; an' the sooner 'e goes the +better 'e'll please me. See?" + +"Yes, Mr. Grimes, sir; but tell me where he is!" + +The limy man took his pipe from his mouth, and pointed with a +comprehensive sweep of the stem at the sheds round about. "You can go +an' look in any o' them places as ain't locked," he said off-handedly. +"The dog's chained up. Try the end one fust." + +Grimes the wharfinger resumed his pipe, and Mag scuffled off to where +the light from the window fell on the white angle of a small wooden +shelter. The place was dark within, dusted about with lime, and its door +stood inward. She stopped and peered. + +"All right," growled Dan Ogle from the midst of the dark. "Can't ye see +me now y' 'ave come?" And he thrust his thin face and big shoulders out +through the opening. + +"O Dan!" the woman cried, putting out her hands as though she would take +him by the neck, but feared repulse. "O Dan! Thank Gawd you're safe, +Dan! I bin dyin' o' fear for you, Dan!" + +"G-r-r-r!" he snorted. "Stow that! What I want's money. Got any?" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +ON THE COP + + +It was at a bend of the river-wall by the Lea, in sight of Kemp's Wharf, +that Dan Ogle and his sister met at last. Dan had about as much regard +for her as she had for him, and the total made something a long way +short of affection. But common interests brought them together. Mrs. +Grimes had told Mag that she knew of something that would put money in +Dan's pocket; and, as money was just what Dan wanted in his pocket, he +was ready to hear what his sister had to tell: more especially as it +seemed plain that she was unaware--exactly--of the difficulty that had +sent him into hiding. + +So, instructed by Mag, she came to the Cop on a windy morning, where, +from the top of the river-wall, one might look east over the Abbey +Marsh, and see an unresting and unceasing press of grey and mottled +cloud hurrying up from the flat horizon to pass overhead, and vanish in +the smoke of London to the West. Mrs. Grimes avoided the wharf; for she +saw no reason why her brother-in-law, her late employer's faithful +servant, should witness her errand. She climbed the river-wall at a +place where it neared the road at its Bromley end, and thence she walked +along the bank-top. + +Arrived where it made a sharp bend, she descended a little way on the +side next the river, and there waited. Dan, on the look-out from his +shed, spied her be-ribboned bonnet from afar, and went quietly and +hastily under shelter of the river-wall toward where she stood. Coming +below her on the tow-path, he climbed the bank, and brother and sister +stood face to face; unashamed ruffianism looking shabby respectability +in the eyes. + +"Umph," growled Dan. "So 'ere y'are, my lady." + +"Yes," the woman answered, "'ere I am; an' there you are--a nice +respectable sort of party for a brother!" + +"Ah, ain't I? If I was as respectable as my sister I might get a job up +at the Hole in the Wall, mightn't I? 'Specially as I 'ear as there's a +vacancy through somebody gettin' the sack over a cash-box!" + +Mrs. Grimes glared and snapped. "I s'pose you got that from 'im," she +said, jerking her head in the direction of the wharf. "Well, I ain't +come 'ere to call names--I come about that same cash-box; at any rate I +come about what's in it.... Dan, there's a pile o' bank notes in that +box, that don't belong to Cap'en Nat Kemp no more'n they belong to you +or me! Nor as much, p'raps, if you'll put up a good way o' gettin' at +'em!" + +"You put up a way as wasn't a good un, seemin'ly," said Dan. "'Ow d'ye +mean they don't belong to Kemp?" + +"There was a murder at the Hole in the Wall; a week ago." + +"Eh?" Dan's jaw shut with a snap, and his eye was full of sharp inquiry. + +"A man was stabbed against the bar-parlour door, an' the one as did it +got away over the river. One o' the two dropped a leather pocket-book +full o' notes, an' the kid--Kemp's grandson--picked it up in the rush +when nobody see it. I see it, though, afterward, when the row was over. +I peeped from the stairs, an' I see Kemp open it an' take out +notes--bunches of 'em--dozens!" + +"Ah, you did, did ye?" Dan observed, staring hard at his sister. +"Bunches o' bank notes--dozens. See a photo, too? Likeness of a woman +an' a boy? 'Cos it was there." + +Mrs. Grimes stared now. "Why, yes," she said. "But--but 'ow do you come +to know? Eh?... Dan!... Was you--was you----" + +"Never mind whether I was nor where I was. If it 'adn't been for you I'd +a had them notes now, safe an' snug, 'stead o' Cap'en Nat. You lost me +them!" + +"I did?" + +"Yes, you. Wouldn't 'ave me come to the Hole in the Wall in case Cap'en +Nat might guess I was yer brother--bein' so much like ye! Like you! +G-r-r-r! 'Ope I ain't got a face like that!" + +"Ho yes! You're a beauty, Dan Ogle, ain't ye? But what's all that to do +with the notes?" Mrs. Grimes's face was blank with wonder and doubt, but +in her eyes there was a growing and hardening suspicion. "What's all +that to do with the notes?" + +"It's all to do with 'em. 'Cos o' that I let another chap bring a watch +to sell, 'stead o' takin' it myself. An' 'e come back with a fine tale +about Cap'en Nat offerin' to pay 'igh for them notes; an' so I was fool +enough to let 'im take them too, 'stead o' goin' myself. But I watched +'im, though--watched 'im close. 'E tried to make a bolt--an'--an' so +Cap'en Nat got the notes after all, it seems, then?" + +"Dan," said Mrs. Grimes retreating a step; "Dan, it was you! It was you, +an' you're hiding for it!" + +The man stood awkward and sulky, like a loutish schoolboy, detected and +defiant. + +"Well," he said at length, "s'pose it was? _You_ ain't got no proof of +it; an' if you 'ad----What 'a' ye come 'ere for, eh?" + +She regarded him now with a gaze of odd curiosity, which lasted through +the rest of their talk; much as though she were convinced of some +extraordinary change in his appearance, which nevertheless eluded her +observation. + +"I told you what I come for," she answered, after a pause. "About +gettin' them notes away from Kemp--the old wretch!" + +"Umph! Old wretch. 'Cos 'e wanted to keep 'is cash-box, eh? Well, what's +the game?" + +Mrs. Grimes in no way abated her intent gaze, but she came a little +closer, with a sidling step, as if turning her back to a possible +listener. "There was two inquests at the Hole in the Wall," she said; +"two on the same day. There was Kipps, as lost the notes when Cap'en +Kemp got 'em. An' there was Marr the shipowner--an' it was 'im as lost +'em first!" + +She took a pace back as she said this, looking for its effect. But Dan +made no answer. Albeit his frown grew deeper and his eye sharper, and he +stood alert, ready to treat his sister as friend or enemy according as +she might approve herself. + +"Marr lost 'em first," she repeated, "an' I can very well guess how, +though when I came here I didn't know you was in it. How did I know, +thinks you, that Marr lost 'em first? I got eyes, an' I got ears, an' I +got common sense; an' I see the photo you spoke of--Marr an' 'is mother, +most likely; anyhow the boy was Marr, plain, whoever the woman was. It +on'y wanted a bit o' thinkin' to judge what them notes had gone through. +But I didn't dream you was so deep in it! Lor, no wonder Mag was +frightened when I see 'er!" + +Still Dan said nothing, but his eyes seemed brighter and +smaller--perhaps dangerous. + +So the woman proceeded quickly: "It's all right! You needn't be +frightened of my knowin' things! All the more reason for your gettin' +the notes now, if you lost 'em before. But it's halves for me, mind ye. +Ain't it halves for me?" + +Dan was silent for a moment. Then he growled, "We ain't got 'em yet." + +"No, but it's halves when we do get 'em; or else I won't say another +word. Ain't it halves?" + +Dan Ogle could afford any number of promises, if they would win him +information. "All right," he said. "Halves it is, then, when we get 'em. +An' how are we goin' to do it?" + +Mrs. Grimes sidled closer again. "Marr the shipowner lost 'em first," +she said, "an' he was pulled out o' the river, dead an' murdered, just +at the back o' the Hole in the Wall. See?" + +"Well?" + +"Don't see it? Kemp's got the pocket-book." + +"Yes." + +"Don't see it yet? Well; there's more. There's a room at the back o' the +Hole in the Wall, where it stands on piles, with a trap-door over the +water. The police don't know there's a trap-door there. I do." + +Dan Ogle was puzzled and suspicious. "What's the good o' that?" he +asked. + +"I didn't think you such a fool, Dan Ogle. There's a man murdered with +notes on him, an' a photo, an' a watch--you said there was a watch. He's +found in the river just behind the Hole in the Wall. There's a +trap-door--secret--at the Hole in the Wall, over the water; just the +place he might 'a' been dropped down after he was killed. An' Kemp the +landlord's got the notes an' the pocket-book an' the photo all complete; +an' most likely the watch too, since you tell me he bought it; an' Viney +could swear to 'em. Ain't all that enough to hang Cap'en Nat Kemp, if +the police was to drop in sudden on the whole thing?" + +Dan's mouth opened, and his face cleared a little. "I s'pose," he said, +"you mean you might put it on to the police as it was Cap'en Nat did it; +an' when they searched they'd find all the stuff, an' the pocket-book, +an' the watch, an' the likeness, an' the trap-door; an' that 'ud be +evidence enough to put 'im on the string?" + +"Of course I mean it," replied Mrs. Grimes, with hungry spite in her +eyes. "Of course I mean it! An' dearly I'd love to see it done, too! +Cap'en Nat Kemp, with 'is money an' 'is gran'son 'e's goin' to make a +gentleman of, an' all! ''Ope you'll be honest where you go next,' says +Cap'en Kemp, 'whether you're grateful to me or not!' Honest an' +grateful! I'll give 'im honest an' grateful!" + +Dan Ogle grinned silently. "No," he said, "you won't forgive 'im, I bet, +if it was only 'cos you began by makin' such a pitch to marry 'im!" A +chuckle broke from behind the grin. "You'd rather hang him than get his +cash-box now, I'll swear!" + +Mrs. Grimes was red with anger. "I would that!" she cried. "You're +nearer truth than you think, Dan Ogle! An' if you say too much you'll +lose the money you're after, for I'll go an' do it! So now!" + +Dan clicked his tongue derisively. "Thought you'd come to tell me how to +get the stuff," he said. "'Stead o' that you tell me how to hang Cap'en +Nat, very clever, an' lose it. I don't see that helps us." + +"Go an' threaten him." + +"Threaten Cap'en Nat?" exclaimed Dan, glaring contempt, and spitting it. +"Oh yes, I see myself! Cap'en Nat ain't that sort o' mug. I'm as 'ard as +most, but I ain't 'ard enough for a job like that: or soft enough, for +that's what I'd be to try it on. Lor' lumme! Go an' ask any man up the +Highway to face Cap'en Nat, an' threaten him! Ask the biggest an' +toughest of 'em. Ask Jim Crute, with his ear like a blue-bag, that he +chucked out o' the bar like a kitten, last week! 'Cap'en Nat,' says I, +'if you don't gimme eight hundred quid, I'll hit you a crack!' Mighty +fine plan that! That 'ud get it, wouldn't it? Ah, it 'ud get something!" + +"I didn't say that sort of threat, you fool! You've got no sense for +anything but bashing. There's the evidence that 'ud hang him; go an' +tell him that, and say he _shall_ swing for it, if he doesn't hand +over!" + +Dan stared long and thoughtfully. Then his lip curled again. "Pooh!" he +said. "I'm a fool, am I? O! Anyhow, whether I am or not, I'm a fool's +brother. Threaten Cap'en Nat with the evidence, says you! What evidence? +The evidence what he's got in his own hands! S'pose I go, like a mug, +an' do it. Fust thing he does, after he's kicked me out, is to chuck the +pocket-book an' the likeness on the fire, an' the watch in the river. +Then he changes the notes, or sells 'em abroad, an' how do we stand +then? Why, you're a bigger fool than I thought you was!... What's that?" + +It was nothing but a gun on the marsh, where a cockney sportsman was out +after anything he could hit. But Dan Ogle's nerves were alert, and +throughout the conversation he had not relaxed his watch toward London; +so that the shot behind disturbed him enough to break the talk. + +"We've been here long enough," he said. "You hook it. I'll see about +Cap'en Nat. Your way's no good. I'll try another, an' if that don't come +off--well, then you can hang him if you like, an' welcome. But now hook +it, an' shut your mouth till I've had my go. 'Nough said. Don't go back +the way you come." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +My father's death wrought in Grandfather Nat a change that awed me. He +looked older and paler--even smaller. He talked less to me, but began, I +fancied, to talk to himself. Withal, his manner was kinder than before, +if that were possible; though it was with a sad kindness that distressed +and troubled me. More than once I woke at night with candle-light on my +face, and found him gazing down at me with a grave doubt in his eyes; +whereupon he would say nothing, but pat my cheek, and turn away. + +Early one evening as I sat in the bar-parlour, and my grandfather stood +moodily at the door between that and the bar, a man came into the +private compartment whom I had seen there frequently before. He was, in +fact, the man who had brought the silver spoons on the morning when I +first saw Ratcliff Highway, and he was perhaps the most regular visitor +to the secluded corner of the bar. This time he slipped quietly and +silently in at the door, and, remaining just within it, out of sight +from the main bar, beckoned; his manner suggesting business above the +common. + +But my grandfather only frowned grimly, and stirred not as much as a +finger. The man beckoned again, impatiently; but there was no favour in +Grandfather Nat's eye, and he answered with a growl. At that the man +grew more vehement, patted his breast pocket, jerked his thumb, and made +dumb words with a great play of mouth. + +"You get out!" said Grandfather Nat. + +A shade of surprise crossed the man's face, and left plain alarm behind +it. His eyes turned quickly toward the partition which hid the main bar +from him, and he backed instantly to the door and vanished. + +A little later the swing doors of the main bar were agitated, and an eye +was visible between them, peeping. They parted, and disclosed the face +of that same stealthy visitor but lately sent away from the other door. +Reassured, as it seemed, by what he saw of the company present, he came +boldly in, and called for a drink with an elaborate air of unconcern. +But, as he took the glass from the potman, I could perceive a sidelong +glance at my grandfather, and presently another. Captain Nat, however, +disregarded him wholly; while the pale man, aware of he knew not what +between them, looked alertly from one to the other, ready to abandon his +long-established drink, or to remain by it, according to circumstances. + +The man of the silver spoons looked indifferently from one occupant of +the bar to the next, as he took his cold rum. There was the pale man, +and Mr. Cripps, and a sailor, who had been pretty regular in the bar of +late, and who, though noisy and apt to break into disjointed song, was +not so much positively drunk as never wholly sober. And there were two +others, regular frequenters both. Having well satisfied himself of +these, the man of the silver spoons finished his rum and walked out. +Scarce had the door ceased to swing behind him, when he was once more in +the private compartment, now with a knowing and secure smile, a cough +and a nod. For plainly he supposed there must have been a suspicious +customer in the house, who was now gone. + +Grandfather Nat let fall the arm that rested against the door frame. +"Out you go!" he roared. "If you want another drink the other bar's good +enough for you. If you don't I don't want you here. So out you go!" + +The man was dumbfounded. He opened his mouth as though to say something, +but closed it again, and slunk backward. + +"Out you go!" shouted the unsober sailor in the large bar. "Out you go! +You 'bey orders, see? Lord, you'd better 'bey orders when it's Cap'en +Kemp! Ah, I know, I do!" And he shook his head, stupidly sententious. + +But the fellow was gone for good, and the pale man was all eyes, +scratching his cheek feebly, and gazing on Grandfather Nat. + +"Out he goes!" the noisy sailor went on. "That's cap'en's orders. +Cap'en's orders or mate's orders, all's one. Like father, like son. Ah, +I know!'" + +"Ah," piped Mr. Cripps, "a marvellous fine orficer Cap'en Kemp must ha' +been aboard ship, I'm sure. Might you ever ha' sailed under 'im?" + +"Me?" cried the sailor with a dull stare. "Me? Under _him_?... Well no, +not under _him_. But cap'en's orders or mate's orders, all's one." + +"P'raps," pursued Mr. Cripps in a lower voice, with a glance over the +bar, "p'raps you've been with young Mr. Kemp--the late?" + +"Him?" This with another and a duller stare. "Him? Um! Ah, well--never +mind. Never you mind, see? You mind your own business, my fine feller!" + +Mr. Cripps retired within himself with no delay, and fixed an abstracted +gaze in his half-empty glass. I think he was having a disappointing +evening; people were disagreeable, and nobody had stood him a drink. +More, Captain Nat had been quite impracticable of late, and for days all +approaches to the subject of the sign, or the board to paint it on, had +broken down hopelessly at the start. As to the man just sent away, Mr. +Cripps seemed, and no doubt was, wholly indifferent. Captain Nat was +merely exercising his authority in his own bar, as he did every day, and +that was all. + +But the pale man was clearly uneasy, and that with reason. For, as +afterwards grew plain, the event was something greater than it seemed. +Indeed, it was nothing less than the end of the indirect traffic in +watches and silver spoons. From that moment every visitor to the private +compartment was sent away with the same peremptory incivility; every +one, save perhaps some rare stranger of the better sort, who came for +nothing but a drink. So that, in course of a day or two, the private +compartment went almost out of use; and the pale man's face grew paler +and longer as the hours went. He came punctually every morning, as +usual, and sat his time out with the stagnant drink before him, till he +received my grandfather's customary order to "drink up"; and then +vanished till the time appointed for his next attendance. But he made no +more excursions into the side court after sellers of miscellaneous +valuables. From what I know of my grandfather's character, I believe +that the pale man must have been paid regular wages; for Grandfather Nat +was not a man to cast off a faithful servant, though plainly the man +feared it. At any rate there he remained with his perpetual drink; and +so remained until many things came to an end together. + +There was a certain relief, and, I think, an odd touch of triumph in +Grandfather Nat's face and manner that night as he kissed me, and bade +me good-night. As for myself, I did not realise the change, but I had a +vague idea that my grandfather had sent away his customer on my account; +and for long I lay awake, and wondered why. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +IN THE BAR-PARLOUR + + +Stephen was sound asleep, and the Hole in the Wall had closed its eyes +for the night. The pale man had shuffled off, with his doubts and +apprehensions, toward the Highway, and Mr. Cripps was already home in +Limehouse. Only the half-drunken sailor was within hail, groping toward +some later tavern, and Captain Nat, as he extinguished the lamps in the +bar, could hear his song in the distance-- + + The grub was bad an' the pay was low, + Leave her, Johnny, leave her! + So hump your duds an' ashore you go + For it's time for us to leave her! + +Captain Nat blew out the last light in the bar and went into the +bar-parlour. He took out the cash-box, and stood staring thoughtfully at +the lid for some seconds. He was turning at last to extinguish the lamp +at his elbow, when there was a soft step without, and a cautious tap at +the door. + +Captain Nat's eyes widened, and the cash-box went back under the shelf. +The tap was repeated ere the old man could reach the door and shoot back +the bolts. This done, he took the lamp in his left hand, and opened the +door. + +In the black of the passage a man stood, tall and rough. Just such a +figure Captain Nat had seen there before, less distinctly, and in a +briefer glimpse; for indeed it was Dan Ogle. + +"Well?" said Captain Nat. + +"Good evenin', cap'en," Dan answered, with an uncouth mixture of respect +and familiarity. "I jist want five minutes with you." + +"O, you do, do you?" replied the landlord, reaching behind himself to +set the lamp on the table. "What is it? I've a notion I've seen you +before." + +"Very like, cap'en. It's all right; on'y business." + +"Then what's the business?" + +Dan Ogle glanced to left and right in the gloom of the alley, and edged +a step nearer. "Best spoke of indoors," he said, hoarsely. "Best for you +an' me too. Nothin' to be afraid of--on'y business." + +"Afraid of? Phoo! Come in, then." + +Dan complied, with an awkward assumption of jaunty confidence, and +Captain Nat closed the door behind him. + +"Nobody to listen, I suppose?" asked Ogle. + +"No, nobody. Out with it!" + +"Well, cap'en, just now you thought you'd seen me before. Quite right; +so you have. You see me in the same place--just outside that there door. +An' I borrowed your boat." + +"Umph!" Captain Nat's eyes were keen and hard. "Is your name Dan Ogle?" + +"That's it, cap'en." The voice was confident, but the eye was shifty. +"Now you know. A chap tried to do me, an' I put his light out. You went +for me, an' chased me, but you stuck your hooks in the quids right +enough." Dan Ogle tried a grin and a wink, but Captain Nat's frown never +changed. + +"Well, well," Dan went on, after a pause, "it's all right, anyhow. I +outed the chap, an' you took care o' the ha'pence; so we helped each +other, an' done it atween us. I just come along to-night to cut it up." + +"Cut up what?" + +"Why, the stuff. Eight hundred an' ten quid in notes, in a leather +pocket-book. Though I ain't particular about the pocket-book." Dan tried +another grin. "Four hundred an' five quid'll be good enough for me: +though it ought to be more, seein' I got it first, an' the risk an' +all." + +Captain Nat, with a foot on a chair and a hand on the raised knee, +relaxed not a shade of his fierce gaze. "Who told you," he asked +presently, "that I had eight hundred an' ten pound in a leather +pocket-book?" + +"O, a little bird--just a pretty little bird, cap'en." + +"Tell me the name o' that pretty little bird." + +"Lord lumme, cap'en, don't be bad pals! It ain't a little bird what'll +do any harm! It's all safe an' snug enough between us, an' I'm doin' it +on the square, ain't I? I knowed about you, an' you didn't know about +me; but I comes fair an' open, an' says it was me as done it, an' I on'y +want a fair share up between pals in a job together. That's all right, +ain't it?" + +"Was it a pretty little bird in a bonnet an' a plaid shawl? A scraggy +sort of a little bird with a red beak? The sort of little bird as likes +to feather its nest with a cash-box--one as don't belong to it? Is that +your pattern o' pretty little bird?" + +"Well, well, s'pose it is, cap'en? Lord, don't be bad pals! I ain't, am +I? Make things straight, an' I'll take care _she_ don't go a +pretty-birdin' about with the tale. I'll guarantee that, honourable. You +ain't no need be afraid o' that." + +"D'ye think I look afraid?" + +"Love ye, cap'en, why, I didn't mean that! There ain't many what 'ud try +to frighten you. That ain't my tack. You're too hard a nut for _that_, +anybody knows." Dan Ogle fidgeted uneasily with a hand about his +neck-cloth; while the other arm hung straight by his side. "But look +here, now, cap'en," he went on; "you're a straight man, an' you don't +round on a chap as trusts you. That's right ain't it?" + +"Well?" Truly Captain Nat's piercing stare, his unwavering frown, were +disconcerting. Dan Ogle had come confidently prepared to claim a share +of the plunder, just as he would have done from any rascal in Blue Gate. +But, in presence of the man he knew for his master, he had had to begin +with no more assurance than he could force on himself; and now, though +he had met not a word of refusal, he was reduced well-nigh to pleading. +But he saw the best opening, as by a flash of inspiration; and beyond +that he had another resource, if he could but find courage to use it. + +"Well?" said Captain Nat. + +"You're the sort as plays the square game with a man as trusts you, +cap'en. Very well. _I've_ trusted you. I come an' put myself in your +way, an' told you free what I done, an' I ask, as man to man, for my +fair whack o' the stuff. Bein' the straight man you are, you'll do the +fair thing." + +Captain Nat brought his foot down from the chair, and the knee from +under his hand; and he clenched the hand on the table. But neither +movement disturbed his steady gaze. So he stood for three seconds. Then, +with an instant dart, he had Dan Ogle by the hanging arm, just above the +wrist. + +Dan sprang and struggled, but his wrist might have been chained to a +post. Twice he made offer to strike at Captain Nat's face with the free +hand, but twice the blow fainted ere it had well begun. Tall and +powerful as he was, he knew himself no match for the old skipper. Pallid +and staring, he whispered hoarsely: "No, cap'en--no! Drop it! Don't put +me away! Don't crab the deal! D' y' 'ear----" + +Captain Nat, grim and silent, slowly drew the imprisoned fore-arm +forward, and plucked a bare knife from within the sleeve. There was +blood on it, for his grip had squeezed arm and blade together. + +"Umph!" growled Captain Nat; "I saw that in time, my lad"; and he stuck +the knife in the shelf behind him. + +"S'elp me, cap'en, I wasn't meanin' anythink--s'elp me I wasn't," the +ruffian pleaded, cowering but vehement, with his neckerchief to his cut +arm. "That's on'y where I carry it, s'elp me--on'y where I keep it!" + +"Ah, I've seen it done before; but it's an awkward place if you get a +squeeze," the skipper remarked drily. "Now you listen to me. You say +you've come an' put yourself in my power, an' trusted me. So you +have--with a knife up your sleeve. But never mind that--I doubt if you'd +ha' had pluck to use it. You killed a man at my door, because of eight +hundred pounds you'd got between you; but to get that money you had to +kill another man first." + +"No, cap'en, no----" + +"Don't try to deny it, man! Why it's what's saving you! I know where +that money come from--an' it's murder that got it. Marr was the man's +name, an' he was a murderer himself; him an' another between 'em ha' +murdered my boy; murdered him on the high seas as much as if it was +pistol or poison. He was doin' his duty, an' it's murder, I tell +you--murder, by the law of England! That man ought to ha' been hung, but +he wasn't, an' he never would ha' been. He'd ha' gone free, except for +you, an' made money of it. But you killed that man, Dan Ogle, an' you +shall go free for it yourself; for that an' because I won't sell what +you trusted me with about this other." + +Captain Nat turned and took the knife from the shelf. "Now see," he went +on. "You've done justice on a murderer, little as you meant it; but +don't you come tryin' to take away the orphan's compensation--not as +much as a penny of it! Don't you touch the compensation, or I'll give +you up! I will that! Just you remember when you're safe. The man lied as +spoke to seein' you that night by the door; an' now he's gone back on +it, an' so you've nothing to fear from him, an' nothing to fear from the +police. Nothing to fear from anybody but me; so you take care, Dan +Ogle!... Come, enough said!" + +Captain Nat flung wide the door and pitched the knife into the outer +darkness. "There's your knife; go after it!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +ON THE COP + + +When Viney followed the limy man from Musky Mag's door he kept him well +in view as far as the Hole in the Wall, and there waited. But when +Grimes emerged, and Viney took up the chase, he had scarce made +three-quarters of the way through the crooked lanes toward the +Commercial Road, when, in the confusion and the darkness of the +turnings, or in some stray rack of fog, the man of lime went wholly +amissing. Viney hurried forward, doubled, and scoured the turnings about +him. Drawing them blank, he hastened for the main road, and there +consumed well nigh an hour in profitless questing to and fro; and was +fain at last to seek out Blind George, and confess himself beaten. + +But Blind George made a better guess. After Viney's departure in the +wake of Grimes, he had stood patiently on guard in the black archway, +and had got his reward. For he heard Musky Mag's feet descend her +stairs; noted her timid pause at the door; and ear-watched her progress +to the street corner. There she paused again, as he judged, to see that +nobody followed; and then hurried out of earshot. He was no such fool as +to attempt to dog a woman with eyes, but contented himself with the +plain inference that she was on her way to see Dan Ogle, and that the +man whom Viney was following had brought news of Dan's whereabouts; and +with that he turned to the Highway and his fiddling. So that when he +learned that the limy man had called at the Hole in the Wall, and had +gone out of Viney's sight on his way east, Blind George was quick to +think of Kemp's Wharf, and to resolve that his next walk abroad should +lead him to the Lea bank. + +The upshot of this was that, after some trouble, Dan Ogle and Blind +George met on the Cop, and that Dan consented to a business interview +with Viney. He was confident enough in any dealings with either of them +so long as he cockered in them the belief that he still had the notes. +So he said very little, except that Viney might come and make any +proposal he pleased; hoping for some chance-come expedient whereby he +might screw out a little on account. + +And so it followed that on the morning after his unsuccessful +negotiation with Captain Nat, Dan Ogle found himself face to face with +Henry Viney at that self-same spot on the bank-side where he had talked +with Blind George. + +Dan was surly; first because it was policy to say little, and to seem +intractable, and again because, after the night's adventure, it came +natural. "So you're Viney, are you?" he said. "Well, I ain't afraid o' +you. I know about you. Blind George told me _your_ game." + +"Who said anything about afraid?" Viney protested, the eternal grin +twitching nervously in his yellow cheeks. "We needn't talk about being +afraid. It seems to me we can work together." + +"O, does it? How?" + +"Well, you know, you can't change 'em." + +"What?" + +"O, damn it, you know what I mean. The money--the notes." + +"O, that's what you mean, is it? Well, s'pose I can't?" + +"Well--of course--if you can't--eh? If you can't, they might be so much +rags, eh?" + +"P'raps they might--_if_ I can't." + +"But you know you can't," retorted the other, with a spasm of +apprehension. "Else you'd have done it and--and got farther off." + +"Well, p'raps I might. But that ain't all you come to say. Go on." + +Viney thoughtfully scratched his lank cheek, peering sharply into Dan's +face. "Things bein' what they are," he said, reflectively, "they're no +more good to you than rags; not so much." + +"All right. S'pose they ain't; you don't think I'm a-goin' to make you a +present of 'em, do you?" + +"Why no, I didn't think that. I'll pay--reasonable. But you must +remember that they're no good to you at all--not worth rag price; so +whatever you got 'ud be clear profit." + +"Then how much clear profit will you give me?" + +Viney's forefinger paused on his cheek, and his gaze, which had sunk to +Dan Ogle's waistcoat, shot sharply again at his eyes. "Ten pounds," said +Viney. + +Dan chuckled, partly at the absurdity of the offer, partly because this +bargaining for the unproducible began to amuse him. "Ten pound clear +profit for me," he said, "an' eight hundred pound clear profit for you. +That's your idea of a fair bit o' trade!" + +"But it was mine first, and--and it's no good to you--you say so +yourself!" + +"No; nor no good to you neither--'cause why? You ain't got it!" Dan's +chuckle became a grin. "If you'd ha' said a hundred, now----" + +"What?" + +"Why, then I'd ha' said four hundred. That's what I'd ha' said!" + +"Four hundred? Why, you're mad! Besides I haven't got it--I've got +nothing till I can change the notes; only the ten." + +Dan saw the chance he had hoped for. "I'll make it dirt cheap," he said, +"first an' last, no less an' no more. Will you give me fifty down for +'em when you've got 'em changed?" + +"Yes, I will." Viney's voice was almost too eager. + +"Straight? No tricks, eh?" + +Viney was indignant at the suggestion. He scorned a trick. + +"No hoppin' the twig with the whole lot, an' leavin' me in the cart?" + +Viney was deeply hurt. He had never dreamed of such a thing. + +"Very well, I'll trust you. Give us the tenner on account." Dan Ogle +stuck out his hand carelessly; but it remained empty. + +"I said I'd give fifty when they're changed," grinned Viney, knowingly. + +"What? Well, I know that; an' not play no tricks. An' now when I ask you +to pay first the ten you've got, you don't want to do it! That don't +look like a chap that means to part straight and square, does it?" + +Viney put his hand in his pocket. "All right," he said, "that's fair +enough. Ten now an' forty when the paper's changed. Where's the paper?" + +"O, I ain't got that about me just now," Dan replied airily. "Be here +to-morrow, same time. But you can give me the ten now." + +Viney's teeth showed unamiably through his grin. "Ah," he said; "I'll be +here to-morrow with that, same time!" + +"What?" It was Dan's honour that smarted now. "What? Won't trust me with +ten, when I offer, free an' open, to trust you with forty? O, it's off +then. I'm done. It's enough to make a man sick." And he turned loftily +away. + +Viney's grin waxed and waned, and he followed Dan with his eyes, +thinking hard. Dan stole a look behind, and stopped. + +"Look here," Viney said at last. "Look here. Let's cut it short. We +can't sharp each other, and we're wasting time. You haven't got those +notes." + +Dan half-turned, and answered in a tone between question and retort. "O, +haven't I?" he said. + +"No; you haven't. See here; I'll give you five pounds if you'll show 'em +to me. Only show 'em." + +Dan was posed. "I said I hadn't got 'em about me," he said, rather +feebly. + +"No; nor can't get 'em. Can you? Cut it short." + +Dan looked up and down, and rubbed his cap about his head. "I know where +they are," he sulkily concluded. + +"You know where they are, but you can't get 'em," Viney retorted with +decision. "Can I get 'em?" + +Dan glanced at him superciliously. "You?" he answered. "Lord, no." + +"Can we get 'em together?" + +Dan took to rubbing his cap about his head again, and staring very +thoughtfully at the ground. Then he came a step nearer, and looked up. +"Two might," he said, "if you'd see it through. With nerve." + +Viney took him by the upper arm, and drew close. "We're the two," he +said. "You know where the stuff is, and you say we can get it. We'll +haggle no more. We're partners and we'll divide all we get. How's that?" + +"How about Blind George?" + +"Never mind Blind George--unless you want to make him a present. _I_ +don't. Blind George can fish for himself. He's shoved out. We'll do it, +and we'll keep what we get. Now where are the notes? Who's got them?" + +Dan Ogle stood silent a moment, considering. He looked over the bank +toward the London streets, down on the grass at his feet, and then up at +an adventurous lark, that sang nearer and still nearer the town smoke. +Last he looked at Viney, and make up his mind. "Who's got 'em?" he +repeated; "Cap'en Nat Kemp's got 'em." + +"What? Cap'en----" + +"Cap'en Nat Kemp's got 'em." + +Viney took a step backward, turned his foot on the slope, and sat back +on the bank, staring at Dan Ogle. "Cap'en Nat Kemp?" he said. "Cap'en +Nat Kemp?" + +"Ay; Cap'en Nat Kemp. The notes, an' the leather pocket-book; an' the +photo; an' the whole kit. Marr's photo, ain't it, with his mother?" + +"Yes," Viney answered. "When he was a boy. He wasn't a particular +dutiful son, but he always carried it: for luck, or something. +But--Cap'en Kemp! Where did _he_ get them?" + +Dan Ogle sat on the bank beside Viney, facing the river, and there told +him the tale he had heard from Mrs. Grimes. Also he told him, with many +suppressions, just as much of his own last night's adventure at the Hole +in the Wall as made it plain that Captain Nat meant to stick to what he +had got. + +Viney heard it all in silence, and sat for a while with his head between +his hands, thinking, and occasionally swearing. At last he looked up, +and dropped one hand to his knee. "I'd have it out of him by myself," he +said, "if it wasn't that I want to lie low a bit." + +Dan grunted and nodded. "I know," he replied, "The _Juno_. I know about +that." + +Viney started. "What do you know about that?" he asked. + +"Pretty well all you could tell me. I hear things, though I am lyin' up; +but I heard before, too. Marr chattered like a poll-parrot." + +Viney swore, and dropped his other hand. "Ay; so Blind George said. +Well, there's nothing for me out of the insurance, and I'm going to let +the creditors scramble for it themselves. There'd be awkward questions +for me, with the books in the receiver's hands, and what not. So I'm not +showing for a bit. Though," he added, thoughtfully, "I don't know that I +mightn't try it, even now." + +Dan's eyes grew sharp. "We're doin' this together, Mr. Viney," he said. +"You'd better not go tryin' things without me; I mightn't like it. I +ain't a nice man to try games on with; one's tried a game over this +a'ready, mind." + +"I'm trying no games," Viney protested. "Tell us your way, if you don't +want to hear about mine." + +Dan Ogle was sitting with his chin on his doubled fists, gazing +thoughtfully at the muddy river. "My way's rough," he replied, "but it's +thorough. An' it wipes off scores. I owe Cap'en Nat one." + +Viney looked curiously at his companion. "Well?" he said. + +"An' there'd be more in it than eight hundred an' ten. P'raps a lump +more." + +"How?" Viney's eyes widened. + +"Umph." Dan was silent a moment. Then he turned and looked Viney in the +eyes. "Are you game?" he asked. "You ain't a faintin' sort, are you? You +oughtn't to be, seein' you was a ship's officer." + +Viney's mouth closed tight. "No," he said; "I don't think I am. What is +it?" + +Dan Ogle looked intently in his face for a few seconds, and then said: +"Only him an' the kid sleeps in the house." + +Viney started. "You don't mean breaking in?" he exclaimed. "I won't do +that; it's too--too----" + +"Ah, too risky, of course," Dan replied, with a curl of the lip. "But I +don't mean breakin' in. Nothing like it. But tell me first; s'pose +breakin' in _wasn't_ risky; s'pose you knew you'd get away safe, with +the stuff. Would you do it then?" And he peered keenly at Viney's face. + +Viney frowned. "That don't matter," he said, "if it ain't the plan. +S'pose I would?" + +"Ha-ha! that'll do! I know your sort. Not that I blame you about the +busting--it 'ud take two pretty tough 'uns to face Cap'en Nat, I can +tell you. But now see here. Will you come with me, an' knock at his side +door to-night, after the place is shut?" + +"Knock? And what then?" + +"I'll tell you. You know the alley down to the stairs?" + +"Yes." + +"Black as pitch at night, with a row o' posts holding up the house. Now +when everybody's gone an' he's putting out the lights, you go an' tap at +the door." + +"Well?" + +"You tap at the door, an' he'll come. You're alone--see? I stand back in +the dark, behind a post. He never sees me. 'Good evenin',' says you. 'I +just want a word with you, if you'll step out.' And so he does." + +"And what then?" + +"Nothing else--not for you; that's all your job. Easy enough, ain't it?" + +Viney turned where he sat, and stared fixedly at his confederate's face. +"And then--then--what----" + +"Then I come on. He don't know I'm there--behind him." + +Viney's mouth opened a little, but with no grin; and for a minute the +two sat, each looking in the other's face. Then said Viney, with a +certain shrinking: "No, no; not that. It's hanging, you know; it's +hanging--for both." + +Dan laughed--an ugly laugh, and short. "It ain't hanging for _that_," he +said; "it's hanging for gettin' caught. An' where's the chance o' that? +We take our own time, and the best place you ever see for a job like +that, river handy at the end an' all; an' everything settled beforehand. +Safe a job as ever I see. Look at me. I ain't hung yet, am I? But I've +took my chances, an' took 'em when it wasn't safe, like as this is." + +Viney stared at vacancy, like a man in a brown study; and his dry tongue +passed slowly along his drier lips. + +"As for bein' safe," Dan went on, "what little risk there is, is for +_me_. You're all right. We don't know each other. Not likely. How should +you know I was hidin' there in the dark when you went to speak to Cap'en +Nat Kemp? Come to that, it might ha' been _you_ outed instead o' your +friend what you was talkin' so sociable with. An' there's more there +than what's in the pocket-book. Remember that. There's a lump more than +that." + +Viney rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. "How do you know?" he +asked, huskily. + +"How do I know? How did I know about the pocket-book an' the notes? I +ain't been the best o' pals with my sister, but she couldn't ha' been +there all this time without my hearing a thing or two about Cap'en Nat; +to say nothing of what everybody knows as knows anything about him. +Money? O' course there's money in the place; no telling how much; an' +watches, an' things, as he buys. P'raps twice that eight hundred, an' +more." + +Viney's eyes were growing sharper--growing eager. "It sounds all right," +he remarked, a little less huskily. "Especially if there's more in it +than the eight hundred. But--but--are you--you know--sure about it?" + +"You leave that to me. I'll see after my department, an' yours is easy +enough. Come, it's a go, ain't it?" + +"But perhaps he'll make a row--call out, or something." + +"He ain't the sort o' chap to squeal; an' if he was he wouldn't--not the +way I'm goin' to do it. You'll see." + +"An' there's the boy--what about him?" + +"O, the kid? Upstairs. He's no account, after we've outed Cap'en Nat. No +more'n a tame rabbit. An' we'll have all night to turn the place over, +if we want it--though we shan't. We'll be split out before the potman +comes: fifty mile apart, with full pockets, an' nobody a ha'porth the +wiser." + +Viney bit at his fingers, and his eyes lifted and sank, quick and keen, +from the ground to Ogle's face, and back again. But it was enough, and +he asked for no more persuasion. Willing murderers both, they set to +planning details: what Viney should say, if it were necessary to carry +the talk with Captain Nat beyond the first sentence or so; where they +must meet; and the like. And here, on Viney's motion, a change was made +as regarded time. Not this immediate night, but the night following, was +resolved on for the stroke that should beggar the Hole in the Wall of +money and of life. For to Viney it seemed desirable, first, to get his +belongings away from his present lodgings, for plain reasons; so as to +throw off Blind George, and so as to avoid flight from a place where he +was known, on the very night of the crime. This it were well to do at +once; yet, all unprepared as he was, he could not guess what delays +might intervene; and so for all reasons Captain Nat and the child were +reprieved for twenty-four hours. + +Thus in full terms the treaty was made. Dan Ogle, shrink as he might +from Captain Nat face to face (as any ruffian in Blue Gate would), was +as ready to stab him in the back for vengeance as for gain. For he was +conscious that never in all his years of bullying and scoundrelism had +he cut quite so poor a figure in face of any man as last night in face +of Captain Nat. As to the gain, it promised to be large, and easy in the +getting; and for his sister, now that she could help no more,--she could +as readily be flung out of the business as Blind George. The opportunity +was undeniable. A better place for the purpose than the alley leading to +the head of Hole-in-the-Wall Stairs could never have been planned. Once +the house was shut, and the potman gone, no more was needed than to see +the next police patrol go by, and the thing was done. Here was the +proper accomplice too: a man known to Captain Nat, and one with whom he +would readily speak; and, in Ogle's eyes, the business was no more than +a common stroke of his trade, with an uncommon prospect of profit. As +for Viney, money was what he wanted, and here it could be made, as it +seemed, with no great risk. It was surer, far, than going direct to +Captain Nat and demanding the money under the old threat. That was a +little outworn, and, indeed, was not so substantial a bogey as it might +seem in the eyes of Captain Nat, for years remorseful, and now +apprehensive for his grandchild's sake; for the matter was old, and +evidence scarce, except Viney's own, which it would worse than +inconvenience him to give. So that a large demand might break down; +while here, as he was persuaded, was the certainty of a greater gain, +which was the main thing. And if any shadow of scruple against direct +and simple murder remained, it vanished in the reflection that not he, +but Ogle, would be the perpetrator, as well as the contriver. For +himself, he would but be opening an innocent conversation with Kemp. So +Viney told himself; and so desire and conscience are made to run +coupled, all the world over, and all time through. + +All being appointed, the two men separated. They stood up, they looked +about them, over the Lea and over the ragged field; and they shook +hands. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +ON THE COP + + +It was morning still, as Viney went away over the Cop; and, when he had +vanished beyond the distant group of little houses, Dan Ogle turned and +crept lazily into his shelter: there to make what dinner he might from +the remnant of the food that Mag had brought him the evening before; and +to doze away the time on his bed of dusty sacks, till she should bring +more in the evening to come. He would have given much for a drink, for +since his retreat to Kemp's Wharf the lime had penetrated clothes and +skin and had invaded his very vitals. More particularly it had invaded +his throat; and the pint or so of beer that Mag brought in a bottle was +not enough to do more than aggravate the trouble. But no drink was +there, and no money to buy one; else he might well have ventured out to +a public-house, now that the police sought him no more. As for Grimes of +the wharf (who had been growing daily more impatient of Dan's stay), he +offered no better relief than a surly reference to the pump. So there +was nothing for it but to sit and swear; with the consolation that this +night should be his last at Kemp's Wharf. + +Sunlight came with the afternoon, and speckled the sluggish Lea; then +the shadow of the river wall fell on the water and it was dull again; +and the sun itself grew duller, and lower, and larger, in the haze of +the town. If Dan Ogle had climbed the bank, and had looked across the +Cop now, he would have seen Blind George, stick in hand, feeling his way +painfully among hummocks and ditches in the distance. Dan, however, was +expecting nobody, and he no longer kept watch on all comers, so that +Blind George neared unnoted. He gained the lime-strewn road at last, and +walked with more confidence. Up and over the bank, and down on the side +next the river, he went so boldly that one at a distance would never +have guessed him blind; for on any plain road he had once traversed he +was never at fault; and he turned with such readiness at the proper +spot, and so easily picked his way to the shed, that Dan had scarce more +warning than could bring him as far as the door, where they met. + +"Dan!" the blind man said; "Dan, old pal! It's you I can hear, I'll bet, +ain't it? Where are ye?" And he groped for a friendly grip. + +Dan Ogle was taken by surprise, and a little puzzled. Still, he could do +no harm by hearing what Blind George had to say; so he answered: "All +right. What is it?" + +Guided by the sound, Blind George straightway seized Dan's arm; for this +was his way of feeling a speaker's thoughts while he heard his words. +"He's gone," he said, "gone clean. Do you know where?" + +Dan glared into the sightless eye and shook his captured arm roughly. +"Who?" he asked. + +"Viney. Did you let him have the stuff?" + +"What stuff? When?" + +"What stuff? That's a rum thing to ask. Unless--O!" George dropped his +voice and put his face closer. "Anybody to hear?" he whispered. + +"No." + +"Then why ask what stuff? You didn't let him have it this morning, did +you?" + +"Dunno what you mean. Never seen him this morning." + +Blind George retracted his head with a jerk, and a strange look grew on +his face: a look of anger and suspicion; strange because the great +colourless eye had no part in it. "Dan," he said, slowly, "them ain't +the words of a pal--not of a faithful pal, they ain't. It's a damn lie!" + +"Lie yourself!" retorted Dan, thrusting him away. "Let go my arm, go +on!" + +"I knew he was coming," Blind George went on, "an' I follered up, an' +waited behind them houses other side the Cop. I want my whack, I do. I +heared him coming away, an' I called to him, but he scuttled off. I know +his step as well as what another man 'ud know his face. I'm a poor blind +bloke, but I ain't a fool. What's your game, telling me a lie like that?" + +He was standing off from the door now, angry and nervously alert. Dan +growled, and then said: "You clear out of it. You come to me first from +Viney, didn't you? Very well, you're his pal in this. Go and talk to him +about it." + +"I've been--that's where I've come from. I've been to his lodgings in +Chapman Street, an' he's gone. Said he'd got a berth aboard ship--a lie. +Took his bag an' cleared, soon as ever he could get back from here. He's +on for doing me out o' my whack, arter I put it all straight for +him--that's about it. You won't put me in the cart, Dan, arter all I +done! Where's he gone?" + +"I dunno nothing about him, I tell you," Dan answered angrily. "You +sling your hook, or I'll make ye!" + +"Dan," said the blind man, in a voice between appeal and threat; "Dan, I +didn't put you away, when I found you was here!" + +"Put me away? You? You can go an' try it now, if you like. I ain't +wanted; they won't have me. An' if they would--how long 'ud you last, +next time you went into Blue Gate? Or even if you didn't go, eh? How +long would a man last, that had both his eyes to see with, eh?" And +indeed Blind George knew, as well as Dan himself, that London was +unhealthy for any traitor to the state and liberty of Blue Gate. "How +long would he last? You try it." + +"Who wants to try it? I on'y want to know----" + +"Shut your mouth, Blind George, an' get out o' this place!" Ogle cried, +fast losing patience, and making a quick step forward. "Go, or you'll be +lame as well as blind, if I get hold o' ye!" + +Blind George backed involuntarily, but his blank face darkened and +twisted devilishly, and he gripped his stick like a cudgel. "Ah, I'm +blind, ain't I? Mighty bold with a blind man, ain't ye? If my eyes was +like yours, or you was blind as me, you'd----" + +"Go!" roared Dan furiously, with two quick steps. "Go!" + +The blind man backed as quickly, fiercely brandishing his stick. "I'll +go--just as far as suits me, Dan Ogle!" he cried. "I ain't goin' to be +done out o' what's mine! One of ye's got away, but I'll stick to the +other! Keep off! I'll stick to ye till--keep off!" + +As Dan advanced, the stick, flourished at random, fell on his wrist with +a crack, and in a burst of rage he rushed at the blind man, and smote +him down with blow on blow. Blind George, beaten to a heap, but cowed +not at all, howled like a wild beast, and struck madly with his stick. +The stick reached its mark more than once, and goaded Ogle to a greater +fury. He punched and kicked at the plunging wretch at his feet: who, +desperate and unflinching, with his mouth spluttering blood and curses, +never ceased to strike back as best he might. + +At the noise Grimes came hurrying from his office. For a moment he stood +astonished, and then he ran and caught Dan by the arm. "I won't have +it!" he cried. "If you want to fight you go somewhere else. +You--why--why, damme, the man's blind!" + +Favoured by the interruption, Blind George crawled a little off, +smearing his hand through the blood on his face, breathless and +battered, but facing his enemy still, with unabashed malevolence. For a +moment Ogle turned angrily on Grimes, but checked himself, and let fall +his hands. "Blind?" he snarled. "He'll be dead too, if he don't keep +that stick to hisself; that's what he'll be!" + +The blind man got on his feet, and backed away, smearing the grisly face +as he went. "Ah! hold him back!" he cried, with a double mouthful of +oaths. "Hold him hack for his own sake! I ain't done with you, Dan Ogle, +not yet! Fight? Ah, I'll fight you--an' fight you level! I mean it! I +do! I'll fight you level afore I've done with you! Dead I'll be, will I? +Not afore you, an' not afore I've paid you!" So he passed over the bank, +threatening fiercely. + +"Look here," said Grimes to Ogle, "this ends this business. I've had +enough o' you. You find some other lodgings." + +"All right," Ogle growled. "I'm going: after to-night." + +"I dunno why I was fool enough to let you come," Grimes pursued. "An' +when I did, I never said your pals was to come too. I remember that +blind chap now; I see him in Blue Gate, an' I don't think much of him. +An' there was another chap this morning. Up to no good, none of ye; an' +like as not to lose me my job. So I'll find another use for that shed, +see?" + +"All right," the other sulkily repeated. "I tell ye I'm going: after +to-night." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +ON THE COP + + +Once he had cut clear from his lodgings without delay and trouble, Viney +fell into an insupportable nervous impatience, which grew with every +minute. His reasons for the day's postponement now seemed wholly +insufficient: it must have been, he debated with himself, that the first +shock of the suggestion had driven him to the nearest excuse to put the +job off, as it were a dose of bitter physic. But now that the thing was +resolved upon, and nothing remained to do in preparation, the suspense +of inactivity became intolerable, and grew to torment. It was no matter +of scruple or compunction; of that he never dreamed. But the enterprise +was dangerous and novel, and, as the vacant hours passed, he imagined +new perils and dreamed a dozen hangings. Till at last, as night came on, +he began to fear that his courage could not hold out the time; and, +since there was now no reason for delay, he ended with a resolve to get +the thing over and the money in his pockets that same night, if it were +possible. And with that view he set out for the Cop.... + + * * * * * + +Meantime no nervousness troubled his confederate; for him it was but a +good stroke of trade, with a turn of revenge in it; and the penniless +interval mattered nothing--could be slept off, in fact, more or less, +since there was nothing else to do. + +The sun sank below London, and night came slow and black over the +marshes and the Cop. Grimes, rising from the doorstep of his office, +knocked the last ashes from his pipe and passed indoors. Dan Ogle, +sitting under the lee of his shed, found no comfort in his own empty +pipe, and no tobacco in his empty pocket. He rose, stretched his arms, +and looked across the Lea and the Cop. He could see little or nothing, +for the dark was closing on him fast. "Blind man's holiday," muttered +Dan Ogle; and he turned in for a nap on his bed of sacks. + +A sulky red grew up into the darkening western sky, as though the +extinguished sun were singeing all the world's edge. So one saw London's +nimbus from this point every night, and saw below it the scattered +spangle of lights that were the suburban sentries of the myriads beyond. +The Cop and the marshes lay pitch-black, and nothing but the faint lap +of water hinted that a river divided them. + +Here, where an hour's habit blotted the great hum of London from the +consciousness, sounds were few. The perseverance of the lapping water +forced a groan now and again from the moorings of an invisible barge +lying by the wharf; and as often a ghostly rustle rose on the wind from +an old willow on the farther bank. And presently, more distinct than +either, came a steady snore from the shed where Dan Ogle lay.... + +A rustle, that was not of any tree, began when the snore was at its +steadiest; a gentle rustle indeed, where something, some moving shadow +in the black about it, crept over the river wall. Clearer against a +faint patch, which had been white with lime in daylight, the figure grew +to that of a man; a man moving in that murky darkness with an amazing +facility, address, and quietness. Down toward the riverside he went, and +there stooping, dipped into the water some small coarse bag of cloth, +that hung in his hand. Then he rose, and, after a listening pause, +turned toward the shed whence came the snore. + +With three steps and a pause, and three steps more, he neared the door: +the stick he carried silently skimming the ground before him, his face +turned upward, his single eye rolling blankly at the sky that was the +same for him at night or noon; and the dripping cloth he carried +diffused a pungent smell, as of wetted quick-lime. So, creeping and +listening, he reached the door. Within, the snore was regular and deep. + +Nothing held the door but a latch, such as is lifted by a finger thrust +through a hole. He listened for a moment with his ear at this hole, and +then, with infinite precaution, inserted his finger, and lifted the +latch.... + + * * * * * + +Up by the George Tavern, beyond Stepney, Henry Viney was hastening along +the Commercial Road to call Dan Ogle to immediate business. Ahead of him +by a good distance, Musky Mag hurried in the same direction, bearing +food in a saucer and handkerchief, and beer in a bottle. But hurry as +they might, here was a visitor well ahead of both.... + + * * * * * + +The door opened with something of a jar, and with that there was a +little choke in the snore, and a moment's silence. Then the snore began +again, deep as before. Down on his knees went Dan Ogle's visitor, and so +crawled into the deep of the shed. + +He had been gone no more than a few seconds, when the snore stopped. It +stopped with a thump and a gasp, and a sudden buffeting of legs and +arms; and in the midst arose a cry: a cry of so hideous an agony that +Grimes the wharf-keeper, snug in his first sleep fifty yards away, +sprang erect and staring in bed, and so sat motionless for half a minute +ere he remembered his legs, and thrust them out to carry him to the +window. And the dog on the wharf leapt the length of its chain, +answering the cry with a torrent of wild barks. + +Floundering and tumbling against the frail boards of the shed, the two +men came out at the door in a struggling knot: Ogle wrestling and +striking at random, while the other, cunning with a life's blindness, +kept his own head safe, and hung as a dog hangs to a bull. His hands +gripped his victim by ear and hair, while the thumbs still drove at the +eyes the mess of smoking lime that clung and dripped about Ogle's head. +It trickled burning through his hair, and it blistered lips and tongue, +as he yelled and yelled again in the extremity of his anguish. Over they +rolled before the doorway; and Ogle, snatching now at last instead of +striking, tore away the hands from his face. + +"Fight you level, Dan Ogle, fight you level now!" Blind George gasped +between quick breaths. "Hit me now you're blind as me! Hit me! Knock me +down! Eh?" + +Quickly he climbed to his feet, and aimed a parting blow with the stick +that hung from his wrist. "Dead?" he whispered hoarsely. "Not afore I've +paid you! No!" + +He might have stayed to strike again, but his own hands were blistered +in the struggle, and he hastened off toward the bank, there to wash them +clear of the slaking lime. Away on the wharf the dog was yelping and +choking on its chain like a mad thing. + +Screaming still, with a growing hoarseness, and writhing where he lay, +the blinded wretch scratched helplessly at the reeking lime that +scorched his skin and seared his eyes almost to the brain. Grimes came +running in shirt and trousers, and, as soon as he could find how matters +stood, turned and ran again for oil. "Good God!" he said. "Lime in his +eyes! Slaking lime! Why--why--it must be the blind chap! It must! Fight +him level, he said--an' he's blinded him!..." + + * * * * * + +There was a group of people staring at the patients' door of the +Accident Hospital when Viney reached the spot. He was busy enough with +his own thoughts, but he stopped, and stared also, involuntarily. The +door was an uninteresting object, however, after all, and he turned: to +find himself face to face with one he well remembered. It was the limy +man he had followed from Blue Gate to the Hole in the Wall, and then +lost sight of. + +Grimes recognised Viney at once as Ogle's visitor of the morning. +"That's a pal o' yourn just gone in there," he said. + +Viney was taken aback. "A pal?" he asked. "What pal?" + +"Ogle--Dan Ogle. He's got lime in his eyes, an' blinded." + +"Lime? Blinded? How?" + +"I ain't goin' to say nothing about how--I dunno, an' 'tain't my +business. He's got it, anyhow. There's a woman in there along of +him--his wife, I b'lieve, or something. You can talk to her about it, if +you like, when she comes out. I've got nothing to do with it." + +Grimes had all the reluctance of his class to be "mixed up" in any +matter likely to involve trouble at a police-court; and what was more, +he saw himself possibly compromised in the matter of Ogle's stay at the +Wharf. But Viney was so visibly concerned by the news that soon the +wharf-keeper relented a little--thinking him maybe no such bad fellow +after all, since he was so anxious about his friend. "I've heard said," +he added presently in a lower tone, "I've heard said it was a blind chap +done it out o' spite; but of course I dunno; not to say myself; on'y +what I heard, you see. I don't think they'll let you in; but you might +see the woman. They won't let her stop long, 'specially takin' on as she +was." + +Indeed it was not long ere Musky Mag emerged, reluctant and pallid, +trembling at the mouth, staring but seeing nothing. Grimes took her by +the arm and led her aside, with Viney. "Here's a friend o' Dan's," +Grimes said, not unkindly, giving the woman a shake of the arm. "He +wants to know how he's gettin' on." + +"What's 'nucleate?" she asked hoarsely, with a dull look in Viney's +face. "What's 'nucleate? I heard a doctor say to let 'im rest to-night +an' 'nucleate in the mornin'. What's 'nucleate?" + +"Some sort o' operation," Grimes hazarded. "Did they say anything else?" + +"Blinded," the woman answered weakly. "Blinded. But the pain's eased +with the oil." + +"What did he say?" interposed Viney, fullest of his own concerns. "Did +he say someone did it?" + +"He told me about it--whispered. But I shan't say nothing; nor him, not +till he comes out." + +"I say--he mustn't get talkin' about it," Viney said, anxiously. +"It--it'll upset things. Tell him when you see him. Here, listen." He +took her aside out of Grimes's hearing. "It wouldn't do," he said, "it +wouldn't do to have anybody charged or anything just now. We've got +something big to pull off. I say--I ought to see him, you know. Can't I +see him? But there--someone might know me. No. But you must tell him. He +mustn't go informing, or anything like that, not yet. Tell him, won't +you?" + +"Chargin'? Infornin'?" Mag answered, with contempt in her shaking voice. +"'Course 'e wouldn't go informin', not Dan. Dan ain't that sort--'e +looks arter hisself, 'e does; 'e don't go chargin' people. Not if 'e was +dyin'." + +Indeed Viney did not sufficiently understand the morals of Blue Gate: +where to call in the aid of the common enemy, the police, was a foul +trick to which none would stoop. In Blue Gate a man inflicted his own +punishments, and to ask aid of the police was worse than mean and +scandalous: it was weak; and that in a place where the weak "did not +last," as the phrase went. It was the one restraint, the sole virtue of +the place, enduring to death; and like some other virtues, in some other +places, it had its admixture of necessity; for everybody was "wanted" in +turn, and to call for the help of a policeman who might, as likely as +not, begin by seizing oneself by the collar, would even have been poor +policy: bad equally for the individual and for the community. So that to +resort to the law's help in any form was classed with "narking" as the +unpardonable sin. + +"You're sure o' that, are you?" asked Viney, apprehensively. + +"Sure? 'Course I'm sure. Dunno what sort o' chap you take 'im for. +_'E's_ no nark. An' besides--'e can't. There's other things, an'----" + +She turned away with a sigh that was near a sob, and her momentary +indignation lapsed once more into anxious grief. + +Viney went off with his head confused and his plans in the melting-pot. +Ogle's scheme was gone by the board, and alone he could scarce trust +himself in any enterprise so desperate. What should he do now? Make what +terms he might with Captain Nat? Need was pressing; but he must think. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +I have said something of the change in my grandfather's habits after the +news of the loss of the _Juno_ and my father's death; something but not +all. Not only was he abstracted in manner and aged in look, but he grew +listless in matters of daily life, and even doubtful and infirm of +purpose: an amazing thing in him, whose decision of character had made +his a corner of the world in which his will was instant law. And with +it, and through it all, I could feel that I was the cause. "It ain't the +place for you, Stevy, never the place for you," he would say, wistful +and moody; wholly disregarding my protests, which I doubt he even heard. +"I've put one thing right," he said once, thinking aloud, as I sat on +his knee; "but it ain't enough; it ain't enough." And I was sure that he +was thinking of the watches and spoons. + +As to that matter, people with valuables had wholly ceased from coming +to the private compartment. But the pale man still sat in his corner, +and Joe the potman still supplied the drink he neglected. His uneasiness +grew less apparent in a day or so; but he remained puzzled and curious, +though no doubt well enough content with this, the most patent example +of Grandfather Nat's irresolution. + +As for Mr. Cripps, that deliberate artist's whole practice of life was +disorganised by Captain Nat's indifference, and he was driven to depend +for the barest necessaries on the casual generosity of the bar. In +particular he became the client of the unsober sailor I have spoken of +already: the disciplinarian, who had roared confirmation of my +grandfather's orders when the man of the silver spoons got his +dismissal. This sailor was old in the ways of Wapping, as in the +practice of soaking, it would seem, and he gave himself over to no +crimp. Being ashore, with money to spend, he preferred to come alone to +the bar of The Hole in the Wall, and spend it on himself, getting full +measure for every penny. Beyond his talent of ceaselessly absorbing +liquor without becoming wholly drunk, and a shrewd eye for his correct +change, he exhibited the single personal characteristic of a very +demonstrative respect for Captain Nat Kemp. He would confirm my +grandfather's slightest order with shouts and threats, which as often as +not were only to be quelled by a shout or a threat from my grandfather +himself, a thing of instant effect, however. "Ay, ay, sir!" the man +would answer, and humbly return to his pot. "Cap'en's orders" he would +sometimes add, with a wink and a hoarse whisper to a chance neighbour. +"Always 'bey cap'en's orders. Knowed 'em both, father _an'_ son." + +So that Mr. Cripps's ready acquiescence in whatever was said loudly, and +in particular his own habit of blandiloquence, led to a sort of +agreement between the two, and an occasional drink at the sailor's +expense. + +But, meantime, his chief patron was grown so abstracted from +considerations of the necessities of genius, so impervious to hints, so +deaf to all suggestion of grant-in-aid, that Mr. Cripps was driven to a +desperate and dramatic stroke. One morning he appeared in the bar +carrying the board for the sign; no tale of a board, no description or +account of a board, no estimate or admeasurement of a board; but the +actual, solid, material board itself. + +By what expedient he had acquired it did not fully appear, and, indeed, +with him, cash and credit were about equally scarce. But upon one thing +he most vehemently insisted: that he dared not return home without the +money to pay for it. The ravening creditor would be lying in wait at the +corner of his street. + +Mr. Cripps's device for breaking through Captain Nat's abstraction +succeeded beyond all calculation. For my grandfather laid hands on Mr. +Cripps and the board together, and hauled both straightway into the +skippers' parlour at the back. + +"There's the board," he said with decision, "an' there's you. Where's +the paints an' brushes?" + +Mr. Cripps's stock of paints was low, it seemed, or exhausted. His +brushes were at home and--his creditor was at the corner of the street. + +"If I could take the proceeds"--Mr. Cripps began; but Grandfather Nat +interrupted. "Here's you, an' here's the board, an' we'll soon get the +tools: I'll send for 'em or buy new. Here, Joe! Joe'll get 'em. You say +what you want, an' he'll fetch 'em. Here you are, an' here you stick, +an' do my signboard!" + +Mr. Cripps dared not struggle for his liberty, and indeed a promise of +his meals at the proper hours reconciled him to my grandfather's +defiance of Magna Charta. So the skipper's parlour became his studio; +and there he was left in company with his materials, a pot of beer, and +a screw of tobacco. I much desired to see the painting, but it was ruled +that Mr. Cripps must not be disturbed. I think I must have restrained my +curiosity for an hour at least, ere I ventured on tip-toe to peep +through a little window used for the passing in and out of drinks and +empty glasses. Here my view was somewhat obstructed by Mr. Cripps's pot, +which, being empty, he had placed upside down in the opening, as a +polite intimation to whomsoever it might concern; but I could see that +Mr. Cripps's labours having proceeded so far as the selection of a +convenient chair, he was now taking relaxation in profound slumber. So I +went away and said nothing. + +When at last he was disturbed by the arrival of his dinner, Mr. Cripps +regained consciousness with a sudden bounce that almost deposited him on +the floor. + +"Conception," he gasped, rubbing his eyes, "conception, an' meditation, +an' invention, is what you want in a job like this!" + +"Ah," replied my grandfather grimly, "that's all, is it? Then common +things like dinner don't matter. Perhaps Joe'd better take it away?" + +But it seemed that Mr. Cripps wanted his dinner too. He had it; but +Grandfather Nat made it clear that he should consider meditation wholly +inconsistent with tea. So that, in course of the afternoon, Mr. Cripps +was fain to paint the board white, and so earn a liberal interval of +rest, while it dried. And at night he went away home without the price +of the board, but, instead, a note to the effect that the amount was +payable on application to Captain Kemp at the Hole in the Wall, Wapping. +This note was the production, after three successive failures, of my own +pen, and to me a matter of great pride and delight; so that I was sadly +disappointed to observe that Mr. Cripps received it with emotions of a +wholly different character. + +Next morning Mr. Cripps returned to durance with another pot and another +screw of tobacco. Grandfather Nat had business in the Minories in the +matter of a distiller's account; and for this reason divers injunctions, +stipulations, and warnings were entered into and laid upon Mr. Cripps +before his departure. As for instance:-- + +It was agreed that Mr. Cripps should remain in the skipper's parlour. + +Also (after some trouble) that no exception should be made to the +foregoing stipulation, even in the event of Mr. Cripps feeling it +necessary to go out somewhere to study a brick wall (or the hole in it) +from nature. + +Nor even if he felt overcome by the smell of paint. + +Agreed, however: that an exception be granted in the event of the house +being on fire. + +Further: this with more trouble: that one pot of beer before dinner is +enough for any man seriously bent on the pursuit of art. + +Moreover: that the board must not be painted white again. + +Lastly: that the period of invention and meditation be considered at an +end; and that sleep on Mr. Cripps's part be regarded as an +acknowledgment that meals are over for the day. + +These articles being at length agreed and confirmed, and Mr. Cripps +having been duly witnessed to make certain marks with charcoal on the +white board, as a guarantee of good faith, Grandfather Nat and I set out +for the Minories. + +His moodiness notwithstanding, it was part of his new habit to keep me +near him as much as possible, day and night, with a sort of wistful +jealousy. So we walked hand in hand over the swing bridge, past Paddy's +Goose, into the Highway, and on through that same pageant of romance and +squalor. The tradesmen at their doors saluted Grandfather Nat with a +subdued regard, as I had observed most people to do since the news of +_Juno's_ wreck. Indeed that disaster was very freely spoken of, all +along the waterside, as a deliberate scuttling, and it was felt that +Captain Nat could lay his bereavement to something worse than the fair +chance of the seas. Such things were a part of the daily talk by the +Docks, and here all the familiar features were present; while it was +especially noted that nothing had been seen of Viney since the news +came. He meant to lie safe, said the gossips; since, as a bankrupt, he +stood to gain nothing by the insurance. + +One tradesman alone, a publican just beyond Blue Gate, greeted my +grandfather noisily, but he was thoughtless with the pride of commercial +achievement. For he was enlarging his bar, a large one already, by the +demolition of the adjoining shop, and he was anxious to exhibit and +explain his designs. + +"Why, good mornin', Cap'en," cried the publican, from amid scaffold +poles and brick-dust. "You're a stranger lately. See what I'm doin'? +Here: come in here an' look. How's this, eh? Another pair o' doors just +over there, an' the bar brought round like so, an' that for Bottle an' +Jug, and throw the rest into Public Bar. Eh?" + +The party wall had already been removed, and the structure above rested +on baulks and beams. The bar was screened off now from the place of its +enlargement by nothing but canvas and tarpaulin, and my grandfather and +his acquaintance stood with their backs to this, to survey the work of +the builders. + +Waiting by my grandfather's side while he talked, I was soon aware that +business was brisk in the bar beyond the canvas; and I listened idly to +the hum of custom and debate. Suddenly I grew aware of a voice I +knew--an acrid voice just within the canvas. + +"Then if you're useless, I ain't," said the voice, "an' I shan't let it +drop." And indeed it was Mrs. Grimes who spoke. + +I looked up quickly at Grandfather Nat, but he was interested in his +discussion, and plainly had not heard. Mrs. Grimes's declaration drew a +growling answer in a man's voice, wholly indistinct; and I found a patch +in the canvas, with a loose corner, which afforded a peep-hole. + +Mrs. Grimes was nearest, with her back to the canvas, so that her skirts +threatened to close my view. Opposite her were two persons, in the +nearest of whom I was surprised to recognise the coarse-faced woman I +had seen twice before: once when she came asking confused questions to +Grandfather Nat about the man who sold a watch, and once when she +fainted at the inquest, and Mrs. Grimes was too respectable to stay near +her. The woman looked sorrowful and drawn about the eyes and cheeks, and +she held to the arm of a tall, raw-boned man. His face was seamed with +ragged and blistered skin, and he wore a shade over the hollows where +now, peeping upward, I could see no eyes, but shut and sunken lids; so +that at first it was hard to recognise the fellow who had been talking +to this same coarse-faced woman by Blue Gate, when she left him to ask +those questions of my grandfather; and indeed I should never have +remembered him but that the woman brought him to my mind. + +It was this man whose growling answer I had heard. Now Mrs. Grimes spoke +again. "All my fault from the beginning?" she said. "O yes, I like that: +because I wanted to keep myself respectable! My fault or not, I shan't +wait any longer for you. If I ain't to have it, you shan't. An' if I +can't get the money I can get something else." + +The man growled again and swore, and beat his stick impotently on the +floor. "You're a fool," he said. "Can't you wait till I'm a bit +straight? You an' your revenge! Pah! When there's money to be had!" + +"Not much to be had your way, it seems, the mess you've made of it; an' +precious likely to do any better now, ain't you? An' as to money--well +there's rewards given----" + +Grandfather Nat's hand fell on my cap, and startled me. He had +congratulated his friend, approved his plans, made a few suggestions, +and now was ready to resume the walk. He talked still as he took my +hand, and stood thus for a few minutes by the door, exchanging views +with the publican on the weather, the last ships in, and the state of +trade. I heard one more growl, louder and angrier than the others, from +beyond the screen, and a sharper answer, and then there was a movement +and the slam of a door; and I got over the step, and stretched my +grandfather's arm and my own to see Mrs. Grimes go walking up the +street. + +When we were free of the publican, I told Grandfather Nat that I had +seen Mrs. Grimes in the bar. He made so indifferent a reply that I said +nothing of the conversation I had overheard; for indeed I knew nothing +of its significance. And so we went about our business. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +On our way home we were brought to a stand at the swing bridge, which +lay open to let through a ship. We were too late for the perilous lock; +for already the capstans were going, and the ship's fenders were +squeaking and groaning against the masonry. So we stood and waited till +fore, main, and mizzen had crawled by; and then I was surprised to +observe, foremost and most impatient among the passengers on the +opposite side, Mr. Cripps. + +The winches turned, and the bridge swung; and my surprise grew, when I +perceived that Mr. Cripps made no effort to avoid Grandfather Nat, but +hurried forward to meet him. + +"Well," said my grandfather gruffly, "house on fire?" + +"No, sir--no. But I thought----" + +"Sign done?" + +"No, Cap'en, not done exactly. But I just got curious noos, an' so I +come to meet you." + +"What's the news?" + +"Not p'raps exactly as you might say noos, sir, but +information--information that's been transpired to me this mornin'. More +or less unique information, so to say,--uncommon unique; much uniquer +than usual." + +With these repetitions Mr. Cripps looked hard in my grandfather's eyes, +as one does who wishes to break news, or lead up to a painful subject. +"What's it all about?" asked Grandfather Nat. + +"The _Juno_." + +"Well?" + +"She _was_ scuttled wilful, Cap'en Kemp, scuttled wilful by Beecher. +It's more'n rumour or scandal: it's plain evidence." + +My grandfather looked fixedly at Mr. Cripps. "What's the plain +evidence?" he asked. + +"That chap that's been so much in the bar lately," Mr. Cripps answered, +his eyes wide with the importance of his discovery. "The chap that soaks +so heavy, an' shouts at any one you order out. He was aboard the _Juno_ +on the voyage out, an' he deserted at Monte Video to a homeward bound +ship." + +"Then he doesn't know about the wreck." I thought my grandfather made +this objection almost eagerly. + +"No, Cap'en; but he deserted 'cos he said he preferred bein' on a ship +as was meant to come back, an' one as had some grub aboard--him an' +others. Beecher tried to pile 'em up time an' again; an' says the +chap--Conolly's his name--says he, anything as went wrong aboard the +_Juno_ was Beecher's doin'; which was prophesied in the fo'c'sle a score +o' times 'fore she got to Monte Video. An'--an' Conolly said more." Mr. +Cripps stole another sidelong glance at Grandfather Nat. "Confidential +to me this mornin', Conolly said more." + +"What?" + +"He said it was the first officer, your son, Cap'en, as prevented the +ship bein' piled up on the voyage out, an' all but knocked Beecher down +once. An' he said they was near fightin' half the time he was with 'em, +an' he said--surprisin' solemn too--solemn as a man could as was half +drunk--that after what he'd seen an' heard, anything as happened to the +first mate was no accident, or anything like it. That's what he said, +cap'en, confidential to me this mornin'." + +We were walking along together now; and Mr. Cripps seemed puzzled that +his information produced no more startling effect on my grandfather. The +old man's face was pale and hard, but there was no sign of surprise; +which was natural, seeing that this was no news, as Mr. Cripps supposed, +but merely confirmation. + +"He said there was never any skipper so partic'ler about the boats an' +davits bein' kep' in order as Beecher was that trip," Mr. Cripps +proceeded. "An' he kep' his own life-belt wonderful handy. As for the +crew, they kep' their kit-bags packed all the time; they could see +enough for that. An' he said there was some as could say more'n he +could." + +We came in view of the Hole in the Wall, and Mr. Cripps stopped short. +"He don't know I'm tellin' you this," he said. "He came in the skipper's +room with a drink, an' got talkin' confidential. He's very close about +it. You know what sailors are." + +Grandfather Nat frowned, and nodded. Indeed nobody knew better the +common sailor-man's horror of complications and "land-shark" troubles +ashore: of anything that might lead to his being asked for responsible +evidence, even for his own protection. It gave impunity to +three-quarters of the iniquity practised on the high seas. + +"An' then o' course he's a deserter," Mr. Cripps proceeded. "So I don't +think you'd better say I told you, cap'en--not to him. You can give +information--or I can--an' then they'll make him talk, at the Old +Bailey; an' they'll bring others." + +Grandfather Nat winced, and turned away. Then he stopped again and said +angrily: "Damn you, don't meddle! Keep your mouth shut, an' don't +meddle." + +Mr. Cripps's jaw dropped, and his very nose paled. "But--but----" he +stammered, "but, Cap'en, it's murder! Murder agin Beecher an' Viney too! +You'll do something, when it's your own son! Your own son. An' it's +murder, Cap'en!" + +My grandfather went two steps on his way, with a stifled groan. +"Murder!" he muttered, "murder it is, by the law of England!" + +Mr. Cripps came at his heels, very blank in the face. Suddenly my +grandfather turned on him again, pale and fierce. "Shut your mouth, d'ye +hear? Stow your slack jaw, an' mind your own business, or I'll----" + +Grandfather Nat lifted his hand; and I believe nothing but a paralysis +of terror kept Mr. Cripps from a bolt. Several people stopped to stare, +and the old man saw it. So he checked his wrath and walked on. + +"I'll see that man," he said presently, flinging the words at Mr. Cripps +over his shoulder. And so we reached the Hole in the Wall. + +Mr. Cripps sat speechless in the bar and trembled, while Grandfather Nat +remained for an hour in the skipper's parlour with Conolly the +half-drunken. What they said one to another I never learned, nor even if +my grandfather persuaded the man to tell him anything; though there can +be no doubt he did. + +For myself, I moved uneasily about the bar-parlour, and presently I +slipped out into the alley to gaze at the river from the stair-head. I +was troubled vaguely, as a child often is who strives to analyse the +behaviour of his elders. I stared some while at the barges and the tugs, +and at Bill Stagg's boat with its cage of fire, as it went in and about +among the shipping; I looked at the bills on the wall, where new tales +of men and women Found Drowned displaced those of a week ago; and I fell +again into the wonderment and conjecture they always prompted; and last +I turned up the alley, though whether to look out on the street or to +stop at the bar-parlour door, I had not determined. + +As I went, I grew aware of a tall, florid man with thick boots and very +large whiskers, who stood at the entry, and regarded me with a wide and +ingratiating smile. I had some cloudy remembrance of having seen him +before, walking in the street of Wapping Wall; and, as he seemed to be +coming to meet me, I went on past the bar-parlour door to meet him. + +"Ah!" he said with a slight glance toward the door, "you're a smart +fellow, I can see." And he patted my head and stooped. "Now I've got +something to show you. See there!" + +He pulled a watch from his pocket and opened it. I was much interested +to see that the inward part swung clear out from the case, on a hinge, +exactly as I had seen happen with another watch on my first evening at +the Hole in the Wall. "That's a rum trick, ain't it?" observed the +stranger, smiling wider than ever. + +I assented, and thanked him for the demonstration. + +"Ah," he replied, "you're as clever a lad as ever I see; but I lay you +never see a watch like that before?" + +"Yes, I did," I answered heartily. "I saw one once." + +"No, no," said the florid man, still toying with the watch, "I don't +believe that--it's your gammon. Why, where did you see one?" + +He shot another stealthy glance toward the bar-parlour door as he said +it, and the glance was so unlike the smile that my sleeping caution was +alarmed. I remembered how my grandfather had come by the watch with the +M on the back; and I remember his repeated warnings that I must not +talk. + +"----Why, where did you see one?" asked the stranger. + +"In a man's hand," I said, with stolid truth. + +He looked at me so sharply through his grin that I had an uncomfortable +feeling that I had somehow let out the secret after all. But I resolved +to hold on tight. + +"Ha! ha!" he laughed, "in a man's hand, of course! I knew you was a +smart one. Mine hasn't got any letter on the back, you see." + +"No," I answered with elaborate indifference; "no letter." And as I +spoke I found more matter of surprise. For if I had eyes in my head--and +indeed I had sharp ones--there was Mrs. Grimes in a dark entry across +the street, watching this grinning questioner and me. + +"Some have letters on the back," said the questioner. "Mine ain't that +sort. What sort----" + +Here Joe the potman dropped, or knocked over, something in the +bar-parlour; and the stranger started. + +"I think I'm wanted indoors," I said, moving off, glad of the +interruption. "Good-bye!" + +The florid stranger rose and walked off at once, with a parting smile. +He turned at the corner, and went straight away, without so much as a +look toward the entry where Mrs. Grimes was. I fancied he walked rather +like a policeman. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +IN THE BAR-PARLOUR + + +Dan Ogle, blinded and broken, but silent and saving his revenge: Musky +Mag, stricken and pitiable, but faithful even if to death: Henry Viney, +desperate but fearful, and urgently needy: these three skulked at bay in +dark holes by Blue Gate. + +Sullen and silent to doggedness, Ogle would give no word to the hospital +doctors of how his injury had befallen; and in three days he would brook +confinement no longer, but rose and broke away, defiant of persuasion, +to grope into the outer world by aid of Mag's arm. Blind George was +about still, but had scarcely been near the Highway except at night, +when, as he had been wont to boast, he was as good as most men with +sound eyes. It was thought that he spent his days over the water, as +would be the way of one feeling the need of temporary caution. It did +not matter: that could rest a bit. Blind George should be paid, and paid +bitter measure; but first the job in hand, first the scheme he had +interrupted; first the money. + +Here were doubt and difficulty. Dan Ogle's plan of murder and +comprehensive pillage was gone by the board; he was next to helpless. It +was plain that, whatever plan was followed, Viney must bear the active +part; Dan Ogle raved and cursed to find his partner so unpractised a +ruffian, so cautious and doubtful a confederate. + +Mrs. Grimes made the matter harder, and it was plain that the thing must +be either brought to a head or wholly abandoned, if only on her account. +For she had her own idea, with her certain revenge on Captain Nat, and a +contingent reward; furthermore, she saw her brother useless. And things +were brought to a head when she would wait no more, but carried her +intrigue to the police. + +Nothing but a sudden move would do now, desperate as it might be; and +the fact screwed Viney to the sticking-place, and gave new vigour to +Ogle's shaken frame. After all, the delay had not been great--no more +than a few days. Captain Nat suspected nothing, and the chances lay that +the notes were still in hand, as they had been when Ogle's sister last +saw them; for he could afford to hold them, and dispose of them at a +later and safer time. The one danger was from this manoeuvre of Mrs. +Grimes: if the police thought well enough of her tale to act without +preliminary inquiry, they might be at the Hole in the Wall with a +search-warrant at any moment. The thing must be done at once--that very +night. + +Musky Mag had never left Dan's side a moment since she had brought him +from the hospital; now she was thrust aside, and bidden to keep to +herself. Viney took to pen, ink and paper; and the two men waited +impatiently for midnight. + +It was then that Viney, with Ogle at his elbow, awaited the closing of +the Hole in the Wall, hidden in the dark entry, whence Mrs. Grimes had +watched the plain-clothes policeman fishing for information a few hours +earlier. The customers grew noisier as the hour neared; and Captain +Nat's voice was heard enjoining order once or twice, ere at last it was +raised to clear the bar. Then the company came out, straggling and +staggering, wrangling and singing, and melted away into the dark, this +way and that. Mr. Cripps went east, the pale pensioner west, each like a +man who has all night to get home in; and the potman, having fastened +the shutters, took his coat and hat, and went his way also. + +There was but one other tavern in sight, and that closed at the same +time as the Hole in the Wall; and since none nearer than Paddy's Goose +remained open till one, Wapping Wall was soon dark and empty. There were +diamond-shaped holes near the top of the shutters at the Hole in the +Wall, and light was visible through these: a sign that Captain Nat was +still engaged in the bar. Presently the light dulled, and then +disappeared: he had extinguished the lamps. Now was the time--while he +was in the bar-parlour. Viney came out from the entry, pulling Ogle by +the arm, and crossed the street. He brought him to the court entrance, +and placed his hand on the end post. + +"This is the first post in the court," Viney whispered. "Wait here while +I go. We both know what's to do." + +Viney tip-toed to the bar-parlour door, and tapped. There was a heavy +footstep within, and the door was flung open. There stood Captain Nat +with the table-lamp in his hand. "Who's that?" said Captain Nat. "Come +into the light." + +Viney took a deep breath. "Me," he answered. "I'll come in; I've got +something to say." + +He went in side-foremost, with his back against the door-post, and +Captain Nat turned slowly, each man watching the other. Then the +landlord put the lamp on the table, and shut the door. "Well," he said, +"I'll hear you say it." + +There was something odd about Captain Nat's eyes: something new, and +something that Viney did not like. Hard and quiet; not anger, it would +seem, but some-thing indefinable--and worse. Viney braced himself with +another inspiration of breath. + +"First," he said, "I'm alone here, but I've left word. There's a friend +o' mine not far off, waiting. He's waiting where he can hear the clock +strike on Shadwell Church, just as you can hear it here; an' if I'm not +back with him, safe an' sound, when it strikes one, he's going to the +police with some papers I've given him, in an envelope." + +"Ah! An' what papers?" + +"Papers I've written myself. Papers with a sort of private log in +them--not much like the one they showed 'em at Lloyd's--of the loss of +the _Florence_ years enough ago, when a man named Dan Webb was killed. +Papers with the names of most of the men aboard, an' hints as to where +to find some of 'em: Bill Stagg, for instance, A. B. They may not want +to talk, but they can be made." + +Captain Nat's fixed look was oddly impassive. "Have you got it on the +papers," he said, in a curiously even voice, as though he recited a +lesson learned by rote; "have you got it on the papers that Dan Webb had +got at the rum, an' was lost through bein' drunk?" + +"No, I haven't; an' much good it 'ud do ye if I had. Drunk or sober he +died in that wreck, an' not a man aboard but knew all about that. I've +told you, before, what it is by law: Murder. Murder an' the Rope." + +"Ay," said Captain Nat in the same even voice, though the tones grew in +significance as he went on. "Ay, you have; an' you made me pay for the +information. Murder it is, an' the Rope, by the law of England." + +"Well, I want none of your money now; I want my own. I'll go back an' +burn those papers--or give 'em to you, if you like--an' you'll never see +me again, if you'll do one thing--not with your money." + +"What?" + +"Give me my partner's leather pocket-book and my eight hundred and ten +pounds that was in it. That's first an' last of my business here +to-night, an' all I've got to say." + +For a moment Captain Nat's impassibility was disturbed, and he looked +sharply at Viney. "Ha!" he said, "what's this? Partner's pocket-book? +Notes? What?" + +"I've said it plain, an' you understand me. Time's passing, Cap'en Kemp, +an' you'd better not waste it arguing; one o'clock'll strike before +long. The money I came an' spoke about when they found Marr in the +river; you had it all the time, an' you knew it. That's what I want: +nothing o' yours, but my own money. Give me my own money, an' save your +neck." + +Captain Nat compressed his lips, and folded his arms. "There was a woman +knew about this," he said slowly, after a pause, "a woman an' a man. +They each took a try at that money, in different ways. They must be +friends o' yours." + +"Time's going, Cap'en Kemp, time's going! Listen to reason, an' give me +what's my own. I want nothing o' yours; nothing but my own. To save you; +and--and that boy. You've got a boy to remember: think o' the boy!" + +Captain Nat stood for a little, silent and thoughtful, his eyes directed +absently on Viney, as though he saw him not; and as he stood so the +darkness cleared from his face. Not that moment's darkness only, but all +the hardness of years seemed to abate in the old skipper's features, so +that presently Captain Nat stood transfigured. + +"Ay," he said at last, "the boy--I'll think o' the boy, God bless him! +You shall have your money, Viney: though whether it ought to be yours I +don't know. Viney, when you came in I was ready to break you in pieces +with my bare hands--which I could do easy, as you know well enough." He +stretched forth the great knotted hands, and Viney shrank before them. +"I was ready to kill you with my hands, an' would ha' done it, for a +reason I'll tell you of, afterwards. But I've done evil enough, an' I'll +do no more. You shall have your money. Wait here, an' I'll fetch it." + +"Now, no--no tricks, you know!" said Viney, a little nervously, as the +old man turned toward the staircase door. + +"Tricks?" came the answer. "No. An end of all tricks." And Captain Nat +tramped heavily up the stair. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +My grandfather was uncommonly silent all that day, after his interview +with Conolly. He bade me good night when I went to bed, and kissed me; +but he said no more, though he sat by my bed till I fell asleep, while +Joe attended the bar. + +I had a way, now and again, of waking when the bar was closed--perhaps +because of the noise; and commonly at these times I lay awake till +Grandfather Nat came to bed, to bid him good night once more. It was so +this night, the night of nights. I woke at the shouting and the +stumbling into the street, and lay while the bar was cleared, and the +doors banged and fastened. + +My grandfather seemed to stay uncommonly long; and presently, as the +night grew stiller, I was aware of voices joined in conversation below. +I wondered greatly who could be talking with Grandfather Nat at this +hour, and I got out of bed to listen at the stair-head. It could not be +Bill Stagg, for the voices were in the bar-parlour, and not in the +store-place behind; and it was not Joe the potman, for I had heard him +go, and I knew his step well. I wondered if Grandfather Nat would mind +if I went down to see. + +I was doubtful, and I temporised; I began to put on some clothes, +listening from time to time at the stair-head, in hope that I might +recognise the other voice. But indeed both voices were indistinct, and I +could not distinguish one from the other. And then of a sudden the +stairfoot door opened, and my grandfather came upstairs, heavy and slow. + +I doubted what he might say when he saw my clothes on, but he seemed not +to notice it. He brought a candle in from the landing, and he looked +strangely grave--grave with a curious composure. He went to the little +wall-cupboard at his bed-head, and took out the cash-box, which had not +been downstairs since the pale man had ceased work. "Stevy, my boy," he +said, "have you said your prayers?" + +"Yes, grandfather." + +"An' didn't forget Gran'father Nat?" + +"No, grandfather, I never forget you." + +"Good boy, Stevy." He took the leather pocket-book from the box, and +knelt by my side, with his arm about me. "Stevy," he said, "here's this +money. It ain't ours, Stevy, neither yours nor mine, an' we've no right +to it. I kept it for you, but I did wrong; an' worse, I was leadin' you +wrong. Will you give it up, Stevy?" + +"Why, yes, grandfather." Truly that was an easy enough thing to say; and +in fact I was in some way pleased to know that my mother had been right, +after all. + +"Right, Stevy; be an honest boy always, and an honest man--better than +me. Since I was a boy like you, I've gone a long way wrong, an' I've +been a bad man, Stevy, a bad man some ways, at least. An' now, Stevy, +I'm goin' away--for a bit. Presently, when I'm gone, you can go to the +stairs an' call Bill Stagg--he'll come at once. Call Bill Stagg--he'll +stay with you to-night. You don't mind Bill Stagg, do you?" + +Bill Stagg was an excellent friend of mine, and I liked his company; but +I could not understand Grandfather Nat's going away. Where was he going, +and why, so late at night? + +"Never mind that just now, Stevy. I'm going away--for a bit; an' +whatever happens you'll always say prayers night an' mornin' for +Gran'father Nat, won't you? An' be a good boy." + +There was something piteous now in my grandfather's hard, grave face. +"Don't go, grandfather," I pleaded, with my arm at his neck, "don't go! +Grandfather Nat! You're not--not going to die, are you?" + +"That's as God wills, my boy. We must all die some day." + +I think he was near breaking down here; but at the moment a voice called +up the stairs. + +"Are you coming?" said the voice. "Time's nearly up!" And it frightened +me more than I can say to know this second voice at last for Viney's. + +But my grandfather was firm again at once. "Yes," he cried, "I'm +coming!... No more to do, Stevy--snivelling's no good." And then +Grandfather Nat put his hands clumsily together, and shut his eyes like +a little child. "God bless an' save this boy, whatever happens. Amen," +said Grandfather Nat. + +Then he rose and took from the cash-box the watch that the broken-nosed +man had sold. "There's that, too," he said musingly. "I dunno why I kep' +it so long." And with that he shut the cash-box, and strode across to +the landing. He looked back at me for a moment, but said nothing; and +then descended the stairs. + +Bewildered and miserably frightened, I followed him. + +I could neither reason nor cry out, and I had an agonised hope that I +was not really awake, and that this was just such a nightmare as had +afflicted me on the night of the murder at our door. I crouched on the +lower stairs, and listened.... + +"Yes, I've got it," said my grandfather, answering an eager question. +"There it is. Look at that--count the notes." + +I heard a hasty scrabbling of paper. + +"Right?" asked my grandfather. + +"Quite right," Viney answered; and there was exultation in his voice. + +"Pack 'em up--put 'em safe in your pocket. Quite safe? There's the +watch, too; I paid for that." + +"Oh, the watch? Well, all right, I don't mind having that too, since +you're pressing.... You might ha' saved a deal of trouble, yours an' +mine too, if you'd done all this before." + +"Yes, you're right; but I clear up all now. You've got the notes all +quite safe, have you?" + +"All safe." There was the sound of a slap on a breast-pocket. + +"And the watch?" + +"Ay; and the watch." + +"Good!..." + +I heard a bounce and a gasp of terror; and then my grandfather's voice +again. "Come! Come, Viney! We'll be quits to the end. We're bad men +both, an' we'll go to the police together. Bring your papers, Viney! +Tell 'em about the _Florence_ an' Dan Webb, an' I'll tell 'em about the +_Juno_ an' my boy! I've got my witnesses--an' I'll find more--a dozen to +your one! Come, Viney! I'll have justice done now, on both of us!" + +I could stay no longer. Viney was struggling desperately, reasoning, +entreating. I pushed open the staircase door, but neither seemed to note +me. My grandfather had Viney by arm and collar, and was shaking him, +face downward. + +"I'll go halves, Kemp--I'll go halves," Viney gasped hoarsely. "Divide +how you like--but don't, don't be a fool! Take five hundred! Think o' +the boy!" + +"I've thought of the boy, an' I've thought of his father! God'll mind +the boy you've made an orphan! Come!" + +My grandfather flung wide the door, and tumbled Viney up the steps into +the court. The little table with the lamp on it rocked from a kick, and +I saved it by sheer instinct, for I was sick with terror. + +I followed into the court, and saw my grandfather now nearly at the +street corner, hustling and dragging his prisoner. "Dan! Dan!" Viney was +crying, struggling wildly. "Dan! I've got it! Draw him off me, Dan! Go +for the kid an' draw him off! Go for the kid on the stairs!" + +And I could see a man come groping between the wall and the posts, a +hand feeling from one post to the next, and the stick in the other hand +scraping the wall. I ran out to the farther side of the alley. + +Viney's shout distracted my grandfather's attention, and I saw him +looking anxiously back. With that Viney took his chance, and flung +himself desperately round the end post. His collar went with a rip, and +he ran. For a moment my grandfather stood irresolute, and I ran toward +him. "I am safe here," I cried. "Come away, grandfather!" + +But when he saw me clear of the groping man, he turned and dashed after +Viney; while from the bar-parlour I heard a curse and a crash of broken +glass. I vaguely wondered if Viney's confederate were smashing windows +in the partition; and then I ran my hardest after Grandfather Nat. + +Viney had made up the street toward the bridge and Ratcliff Highway, and +Captain Nat pursued with shouts of "Stop him!" Breathless and unsteady, +I made slow progress with my smaller legs over the rough cobble-stones, +which twisted my feet all ways as I ran. But I was conscious of a +gathering of other cries ahead, and I struggled on, with throbbing head +and bursting heart. Plainly there were more shouts as I neared the +corner, and a running of more men than two. And when the corner was +turned, and the bridge and the lock before me, I saw that the chase was +over. + +Three bull's-eye lanterns were flashing to and fro, pointing their long +rays down on the black dock-water, and the policemen who directed them +were calling to dockmen on the dark quay, who cried back, and ran, and +called again. + +"Man in!" cried one and another, hurrying in from the Highway. "Fell off +the lock." "No, he cut his lucky, an' headered in!" "He didn't, I tell +ye!" "Yes, he did! Why, I see 'im!" + +I could not see my grandfather; and for a moment my thumping heart stood +still and sick with the fear that it was he who was drowning in the +dock. Then a policeman swung his lantern across to the opposite side, +and in the passing flash Grandfather Nat's figure stood hard and clear +for an instant and no more. He was standing midway on the lock, staring +and panting, and leaning on a stanchion. + +With a dozen risks of being knocked into the dock by excited onlookers, +I scrambled down to the lock and seized the first stanchion. It creaked +and tottered in my hand, but I went forward, gripping at the swaying +chain and keeping foothold on the slippery, uneven timbers I knew not +how. Sometimes the sagging chain would give till I felt myself pitching +headlong, only to be saved by the check of the stanchion against the +side of the socket; and once the chain hung so low, where it had slipped +through the next stanchion-eye, that I had no choice but to let go, and +plunged in the dark for the next upright--it might have been to plunge +into space. "Grandfather Nat! Grandfather Nat!" + +I reached him somehow at last, and caught tight at his wrist. He was +leaning on the stanchion still, and staring at the dark water. "Here I +am, grandfather," I said, "but I am frightened. Stay with me, please!" + +For a little while he still peered into the gloom. Then he turned and +said quietly: "I've lost him, Stevy. He went over--here." + +By the sweep of his hand I saw what had happened, though I could scarce +realise the whole matter then and there. As I presently learnt, however, +Viney was running full for the bridge, with Captain Nat shouting behind +him, when he saw the lanterns of the three policemen barring the bridge +as they came on their beat from the Highway. To avoid them he swung +aside and made for the lock, with his pursuer hard at his heels. Now a +lock of that sort joins in an angle or mitre at the middle, where the +two sides meet like a valve, pointing to resist the tide; so that the +hazardous path along the top turns off sharply midway. Flying headlong, +with thought of nothing but the avenger behind him, Viney overran the +angle, meeting the low chain full under his knees; and so was gone, with +a yell and a splash. + +Grandfather Nat took me by the collar, and turned me round. "We'll get +back, Stevy," he said. "Go on, I'll hold you tight." + +And so in the pitchy dark I went back along the way I had come, walking +before my grandfather as I had done when first I saw that lock. The +dockmen had flung random life-buoys, and now were groping with drags and +hooks. Some judged that the man must have gone under like a stone; +others thought it quite likely that a good swimmer might have got away +quietly. And everybody wished to know who the man was, and why he was +running. + +To all such questions my grandfather made the same answer. "It was a man +I wanted, wanted bad, for the police. You find him, dead or alive, an' +I'll identify him, an' say the rest in the proper place; that's all." +Only once he amplified this answer, and then he said: "You can judge he +was as much afraid o' the police as he was o' me, or more. Look where he +went, when he saw 'em on the bridge!" And again he repeated: "I'll say +the rest when he's found, not before; an' nobody can make me." + +He was calm and cool enough now, as I could feel as well as hear, for my +hand was buried in his, while he pushed his way stolidly through the +little crowd. As for myself, I could neither think, nor speak, nor +laugh, nor cry, though dizzily conscious of an impulse to do all four at +once. I had Grandfather Nat again, and now he would not go away; that I +could realise; and I clung with all my might to as much of his hand as I +could grip. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +But I was to have neither time to gather my wits nor quiet to assort my +emotions: for the full issue of that night was not yet. Even as we were +pushing through the little crowd, and even as my grandfather parried +question with answer, a new cry rose, and at the sound the crowd began +to melt: for it was the cry of "Fire." + +A single shout at first, and then another, and then a clamour of three +together, and a beat of running feet. Men about us started off, and as +we rounded the corner, one came running back on his tracks. "Cap'en +Kemp, it's your house!" he cried. "Your house, Cap'en Kemp! The Hole in +the Wall! The Hole in the Wall!" + +Then was dire confusion. I was caught in a whir of running men, and I +galloped and stumbled along as I might, dragging dependent from my +grandfather's hand. Somewhere ahead a wavering light danced before my +eyes, and there was a sudden outburst of loud cracks, as of a hundred +carters' whips; and then--screams; screams without a doubt. Confusedly +my mind went back to Viney's confederate, groping in at the bar-parlour +door. What had he done? Smashed glass? Glass? It must have been the +lamp: the lamp on the little table by the door, the lamp I had myself +saved but ten minutes earlier! + +Now we were opposite the Hole in the Wall, and the loud cracks were +joined with a roar of flame. Out it came gushing at the crevices of +doors and shutters, and the corners of doors and shutters shrivelled and +curled to let out more, as though that bulging old wooden house were a +bursting reservoir of long-pent fire that could be held in no more. And +still there were the screams, hoarser and hoarser, from what part within +was not to be guessed. + +My grandfather stood me in a doorway, up two steps, and ran toward the +court, but that was impassable. With such fearful swiftness had the fire +sprung up and over the dry old timber on this side, where it had made +its beginning, that already a painted board on the brick wall opposite +was black and smoking and glowering red at the edges; and where I stood, +across the road, the air was hot and painful to the eyes. Grandfather +Nat ran along the front of the house to the main door, but it was +blazing and bursting, and he turned and ran into the road, with his arm +across his eyes. Then, with a suddenly increased roar, flames burst +tenfold in volume and number from all the ground floor, and, where a +shutter fell, all within glowed a sheer red furnace. The spirit was +caught at last. + +And now I saw a sight that would come again in sleep months afterwards, +and set me screaming in my bed. The cries, which had lately died down, +sprang out anew amid the roar, nearer and clearer, with a keener agony; +and up in the club-room, the room of the inquests--there at a window +appeared the Groping Man, a dreadful figure. In no darkness now, but +ringed about with bright flame I saw him: the man whose empty, sightless +eye-pits I had seen scarce twelve hours before through a hole in a +canvas screen. The shade was gone from over the place of the eyes, and +down the seared face and among the rags of blistered skin rolled streams +of horrible great tears, forced from the raw lids by scorching smoke. +His clothes smoked about him as he stood--groping, groping still, he +knew not whither; and his mouth opened and closed with sounds scarce +human. + +Grandfather Nat roared distractedly for a ladder, called to the man to +jump, ran forward twice to the face of the house as though to catch him, +and twice came staggering back with his hands over his face, and flying +embers singeing his hair and his coat. + +The blind man's blackened hands came down on the blazing sill, and leapt +from the touch. Then came a great crash, with a single second's dulling +of the whole blaze. For an instant the screaming, sightless, weeping +face remained, and then was gone for ever. The floor had fallen. + +The flames went up with a redoubled roar, and now I could hold my place +no longer for the heat. People were flinging water over the shutters and +doors of the houses facing the fire, and from the houses adjoining +furniture was being dragged in hot haste. My grandfather came and +carried me a few doors farther along the street, and left me with a +chandler's wife, who was out in a shawl and a man's overcoat over a +huddle of flannel petticoats. + +Now the fire engines came, dashing through the narrow lanes with a +clamour of hoarse cries, and scattering the crowd this way and that. The +Hole in the Wall was past aid, and all the work was given to save its +neighbours. For some while I could distinguish my grandfather among the +firemen, heaving and hauling, and doing the work of three. The police +were grown in numbers now, and they had cleared the street to beyond +where I stood, so that I could see well enough; and in every break in +the flames, in every changing shadow, I saw again the face of the +Groping Man, even as I can see it now as I write. + +Floor went upon floor, till at last the poor old shell fell in a heap +amid a roar of shouts and a last leap of fire, leaving the brick wall of +the next house cracking and black and smoking, and tagged with specks of +dying flame. And then at last my grandfather, black and scorched, came +and sat by me on a step, and put the breast of his coat about me. + +And that was the end of the Hole in the Wall: the end of its landlord's +doubts and embarrassments and dangers, and the beginning of another +chapter in his history--his history and mine. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +STEPHEN'S TALE + + +Little remains to say; for with the smoking sticks of the Hole in the +Wall the tale of my early days burns itself out. + +Viney's body was either never found or never identified. Whether it was +discovered by some person who flung it adrift after possessing himself +of the notes and watch: whether it was held unto dissolution by mud, or +chains, or waterside gear: or whether indeed, as was scarce possible, it +escaped with the life in it, to walk the world in some place that knew +it not, I, at any rate, cannot tell. The fate of his confederate, at +least, was no matter of doubt. He must have been driven to the bar by +the fire he had raised, and there, bewildered and helpless, and cut off +from the way he had come, even if he could find it, he must have +scrambled desperately till he found the one open exit--the club-room +stairs. + +But of these enough. Faint by contrast with the vivid scenes of the +night, divers disconnected impressions of the next morning remain with +me: all the fainter for the sleep that clutched at my eyelids, spite of +my anxious resolution to see all to the very end. Of a coarse, draggled +woman of streaming face and exceeding bitter cry, who sat inconsolable +while men raked the ruins for a thing unrecognisable when it was found. +Of the pale man, who came staring and choking, and paler than ever, +gasping piteously of his long and honest service, and sitting down on +the curb at last, to meditate on my grandfather's promise that he should +not want, if he would work. And of Mr. Cripps, at first blank and +speechless, and then mighty loquacious in the matter of insurance. For +works of art would be included, of course, up to twenty pounds apiece; +at which amount of proceeds--with a discount to Captain Kemp--he would +cheerfully undertake to replace the lot, and throw the signboard in. + +Mrs. Grimes was heard of, though not seen; but this was later. She was +long understood to have some bitter grievance against the police, whom +she charged with plots and conspiracies to defeat the ends of justice; +and I think she ended with a savage assault on a plain-clothes +constable's very large whiskers, and twenty-one days' imprisonment. + +The Hole in the Wall was rebuilt in brick, with another name, as I think +you may see it still; or could, till lately. There was also another +landlord. For Captain Nat Kemp turned to enlarging and improving his +wharf, and he bought lighters, and Wapping saw him no more. As for me, I +went to school at last. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOLE IN THE WALL*** + + +******* This file should be named 34538.txt or 34538.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/5/3/34538 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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