My Man Sandy

by W. W. Jacobs

  XIX.

  SANDY REVENGED.

  I was tellin' ye aboot Sandy's caper oot the Sands, when Bandy an'Pottie Lawson made sic a fule o' him. We'd never seen hint nor hair o'them here sin' syne; an' I'm shure they're a gude reddance. But whashud turn up i' the washin'-hoose the ither nicht but Pottie! He'dgotten Dauvid Kenawee to speak to Sandy, an' gotten the thing sowderedup some wey or ither, an' there he was again, as brisk as a bee. ButSandy wasna that easy pacifeed. He didna say muckle, but I'll swag hegey Pottie a neg on Teysday nicht that he'll no forget in ahurry--nether will Mistress Mollison.

  Mind ye, I didna think Sandy was so deep. It was a gey trick. Sandywas determined to pey aff Pottie in his ain coin, an' he had gottenBandy Wobster to kollig wi' him to gie Lawson a richt fleg.

  There was a big meetin' i' the washin'-hoose nae farrer gane than lestnicht; an' efter a fell while's crackin', Bandy startit to speak abootmismirizin' an' phrenology, an' that kind o' thing. Bandy tell'd abootsome o' his exploits mismirizin' sailors, an' took on to show aff hispo'ers on Sandy. Sandy was quite open to lat him try his hand; soBandy says, "Has ony o' you lads a twa-shilliny bit?"

  There was a gude deal o' hostin' an' heid-clawin' at this question,ilka lad lookin' at his neeper as muckle as to say, "I've naething buthalf-soverins i' the noo."

  "I can gi'e ye fowerpence o' coppers, if that's ony use to ye," saidStumpie Mertin, shuvin' his airm up to the elba in his breeks pooch.

  There was a burst o' lauchin' at this, an' Sandy says, pointin' wi' histhoom ower his shuder, "Less noise, you lads, for fear her nabs hearsus." He little thocht that her nabs--that was me, of coorse--was atthe winda hearin' every wird. Thinks I, my carlie, her nabs 'ill latyou hear something the nicht that'll garr the lugs o' ye dirl.

  There wasna a twa-shilliny bit to be gotten, so Bandy had to tak' thelid o' a sweetie-bottle an' mak' the best o't.

  "Noo, Sandy," says he, "juist grip that gey firm atween your finger an'your thoom, an' stare at it as hard's ye can. Nae winkin' or lookin'aboot; an', you lads, be quiet. Noo, lat's see ye!"

  Sandy took the bottle lid, an' sat doon wi't in's hand, an' stared atit like's he was lookin' doon intil a draw-wall. A' the billies satroond starin' at Sandy, an' Bandy maleengered aboot, playin' capers wi'his airms, an' dancin' like some daft man. Ye cudda tied the lot o'them wi' a string, they were that taen up wi' Bandy's capers. He gaedforrit efter a while an' pettin' his thooms on Sandy's heid, he says,in a coalman's kind o' a voice, "Sleep, sleep."

  "He's awa' wi't," says Bandy, turnin' roond to the rest o' them. Theywere sittin' wi' their moos wide open, an' a great deal mair mismirizedthan Sandy, I thocht.

  Bandy grippit Sandy by the shuders an' heized him up on his feet; an'there he stuid, wi' his een shut' an' his airms an' legs hingin' like'she was dreepin' o' water. Bandy shot up his heid an opened his een wi'his fingers, an' there was Sandy juist like Dominy Sampson i' themuseum.

  "Noo," says Bandy, "we'll touch his lauchin' bump"; an' he gae Sandy astob aboot the heid wi' his finger, an' Sandy set to the lauchin', yenever heard the like.

  "Stop him, Bandy," says Stumpie Mertin, gey excited, "or he'll lauchhis henderend."

  "Peece, vile slave, or I'll dekappytate ye wi' my skittimir," saysSandy, glowerin' at Stumpie.

  "He thinks he's the Shaw o' Persha," says Bandy, fingerin' awa' amon'Sandy's hair.

  Here Sandy took to the greetin', an' grat something fearfu'.

  "Bliss me," says Dauvid Kenawee, "I never saw the like o' that. Is heac'ually sleepin'?"

  "As soond's a tap," says Bandy, an' he touched Sandy again an' stoppitthe greetin'. "Noo, we'll see what like a job he wud mak' o' a speechat a ward meetin'," continued Bandy; an' he gae Sandy a slap on theshuder an' says, "Noo, Mester Bowden, we're at a ward meetin', an'you're stanin' for the Cooncil. There's Pottie Lawson in the chair,an' it's your turn to speak noo. Lat's hear ye gie them a gude screedon the topiks of the day."

  Sandy gae a bit hauch, an' swallowed a spittal, an' stappin' forrit abittie, began--"Mester Chairman----" He gae Pottie a glower thatnearhand knokit him aff the box he was sittin' on. "Mester Chairman,"says he, "we are gaithered thegither to meet wan anither as fellaratepayers. If you want a tip-top cooncillor, I'm your man.Regairdin' this noo kirkyaird bisness, I think it's ridic'lous to spendthe toon's bawbees buyin' buryin' grund for fowk that's no' deid. Timeeneuch to look oot for buryin' grund when fowk's deid. An' lat fowkbury themsel's, juist as they like. Lat them look oot for their aingrund, an' no' bather the ratepeyers lookin' oot grund for them. We'llhae to get oor brakfast frae the Toon Cooncil by an' by, an' it'll a'go on the rates, that's juist as fac's ocht. A' thing's on' the ratesnooadays, frae births to burals. But I hear wan of my audience cry,'What aboot the Auld Kirk?' Weel, that's anither question. I thinkthat the shuner the Auld Kirk's aff the pairis the better. We'veplenty paupirs withoot it. If it canna do withoot parokial relief, latit into the puirhoose. That's what they wud do wi' you an' me if wewas needin' on the pairis. What d'ye think o' that? Then there's thetoon's wall an' the herbir. Weel, there's no muckle in ony o' them.There's hardly ony watter i' the teen, an' there's naething but watteri' the tither. But mibby if there was a noo licence or twa doon abootthe shore, there micht be mair traffik i' the herbir. The trustees wudmibby need to chairge shore dues on lads 'at was landit on the keenoo-an'-than. They cud be shedild as live stock, altho' they werehalf-deid wi' drink an' droonin' thegither. An' noo a wird or twaaboot----"

  Bandy touched Sandy here, an' he stoppit, an' a' the lads clappit theirhands.

  Then Bandy gae Sandy a touch here an' there, an' ye never saw the like.He ate a penny can'le, an' drank half a bottle o' ink, an' I cudna tellye a' what. The billies lookit as gin they were gettin' terrifeed atSandy, when I noticed him gie Bandy a bit wink on the sly; an' I sawsyne that Sandy was nae mair mismirized than I was.

  "There's neen o' ye here 'at Sandy has ony ill-will at," says Bandy;"we'll see what like his fechtin' bump wirks." Wi' that he gae him atouch ahent the lug, an' Sandy was layin' aboot him in a wink. "Dinnatouch him, or he'll mittal some o' ye," says Bandy; an' the billies a'cleared awa' to the ither end o' the washin'-hoose.

  A' o' a sudden Sandy grippit an' auld roosty hewk that was lyin' on theboiler, an' roarin', "Whaur's Pottie Lawson, an' I'll cut his wizandtill him," he made a flee at the door. You never saw sic a scramblin'an' fleein'. Stumpie Merlin dived in ablo the sofa, an' Dauvid Kenaweejumpit up on the boiler, an' aff wi' the lid for a shield. Pottie wasgaen bang oot at the door when Sandy grippit him by the cuff o' theneck. But Pottie sprang oot o' the coat--it wasna ill to get ooten,puir chield--an' doon the yaird a' he cud flee, wi' Sandy at his tail,whirlin' the hewk roond his heid, an' skreechin' like the verymischief. Bandy an' a' the rest cam' fleein' efter Sandy. Pottie tookthe yaird dyke at ae loup, an' landit richt on Mistress Mollison'sback, an' sent her bung into the middle o' a lot o' Jacob's ledder 'atshe has growin' in her yaird. She gaed clean oot o' sicht, an' juistlay an' roared till her man cam' oot an' helpit her into the hoose.

  "O, it's the deevil fleein' efter somebody," she said. "An' he has anauld hewk in his hand, an' I saw the sparks o' feyre fleein' frae histail. An' there's aboot sixteen hunder ither deevils at his heels."

  On floo Pottie yalpin' "Pileece," "Murder," "Help," wi' Sandy at histails, an' the ither half-dizzen followin' up, pechin' like cadgers'pownies. Pottie gaed clash into Stumpie Mertin's coal cellar, an'lockit the door i' the inside. Sandy kickit at the door, an' Pottieyalled like a wild cat. Sandy cam' awa' an' met the ither billies,an', stoppin' them, tell'd them he was nae mare mismirized than theywere. "I wantit to gie Pottie a fleg, an' I think he's gotten't," sayshe. "Him an' me's square noo."

  They gaed back to Stumpie's cellar, an' gin this time there were twentyladdies an' twa pileece roond the door.

  "It's Pottie Lawson gane daft," said the laddies to the pileece. "He'sfoamin' at the moo."

  Efter an awfu' wey o' doin' t
hey got Pottie haled oot o' the cellar an'hame; an' it's my opinion he'll never be seen in oor washin'-hooseagain; an' I'm shure I'll no' brak' my heart.

  But aboot the can'le an' the ink--you mibby winder hoo Sandy manishedto stamack them. I gaed in an' smelt the ink. It was sugarellywatter, an' the can'le had been cut oot o' a neep an' laid juist whaurit was handy.

  Ye never heard sic lauchin' as there's been sin' the story eekit oot.Sandy's heid pillydakus amon' them a' noo, an' they think he's peyedaff Pottie wi' compound interest. It's made Pottie fearder than ever;they tell me he's been looking efter a job at the Freek bleechin,', soas to get awa' oot o' the toon for a while.

  XX.

  SANDY'S APOLOGIA.

  "Are ye there, Sandy? Sandy, are ye there? Sandy! I winder whaurthat man'll be? He'll gae awa' an' leave the shop stanin' open to thestreet, as gin it were a byre, an' never think naething aboot it! Areye there, Sandy?" I heard Bawbie sayin' in her bed the ither mornin'.

  "Ay, I'm here," says I. "What are ye yalp-yalpin' at? What d'ye want?I had throo to the cellar to rin for tatties to Mistress Hasties. Whatwas ye wantin'?"

  "See, look! Ye micht pet the pot on the fire there, an' warm thatdrappie pottit-hoach brue; an' ye'll tak' it alang to Mary Emslie,"said Bawbie. "Puir cratur, she's gotten her death o' cauld some wey orither, an' I think she's smittit her bairnie; for when I was yontyesterday forenune, the puir little thingie was near closeda'thegither. Juist poor the brue into the flagon, Sandy, an' open thesecond lang drawer there, an' ye'll get some bits o' things rowedthegither, an' tak' them alang an' gie them to Mary. Turn thelookin'-gless roond this wey a bittie on the dresser there, an I'llnotice in't if onybody comes into the shop, an' tell them to hover ablink till ye rin yont to Mary's. Rin noo, Sandy, an' speer at Mary ifshe has coals an' sticks, an' tell her to keep on a gude fire. Puircratur!"

  "Mary's a fell lot better the day, she thinks, Bawbie," says I, when Icam' back; "an' she tell'd me the nurse had been in an' snoddit up herhoose till her, an' sortit the bairn. Puir cratur, she ac'ually gratwhen I gae her the bits o' things for the litlan; an' tell'd me tothank ye. She was terriple taen up when I said you wasna able to be upthe day, an' howps ye'll be better gin the morn."

  "I think I'm better, but I'm awfu' licht i' the heid yet," says Bawbie."Ye micht get the pen an' ink, Sandy, an' send a scart or twa to thaeprenter bodies. Juist say I've taen a kind o' a dwam, but that I'lllikely be a' richt again in a day or twa. An' see an' watch yourspellin'. Gin ony o' the wirds are like to beat ye, juist speer at me,an' I'll gie ye a hand wi' them."

  "A' richt than, Bawbie; I'll do that," says I. "Noo, juist try an' geta sleep for a whilie, an' I'll go ben to the shop dask an' write ascrift for you."

  So noo when I have the chance, I'll better juist mention that Bawbiegot terriple seek i' the forenicht yesterday, an' she hardly eversteekit an e'e a' lest nicht. An' nether did I, for that pairt o't,for she byochy-byochied awa' the feck o' the nicht, an' I cudna getfa'in' ower. But I didna say onything, for I doot I'm to blame,although I've never lutten dab that I jaloosed ony thing had happened.

  Bawbie was juist gaen awa' to hae her efternune cup yesterday, an' Iwas chappin' oot the dottle o' my pipe on the corner o' the chumla,when it flaw oot an' gaed oot o' sicht some wey. I socht heich an'laich for't, but na, na; it wasna to be gotten. I thocht syne it hadgane into the fire. But it's my opinion noo, it had fa'in' intoBawbie's teapot! She was sayin' ilky noo-an'-than, "That tea has adispert queer taste, Sandy. What can be the maitter wi't?" I nevertook thocht; but when Bawbie fell seek, an' groo as white's a pennylafe, thinks I to mysel', "That's your dottle, Sandy Bowden!" But Inever lut wink; for, keep me, if Bawbie had kent, I micht as weel ganeawa' an' sleepit on the Sands for the next twa-three nichts. She's agude-heartit budy; but, man, she gets intil an awfu' pavey whiles, an'she's nether to hand nor to bind when she gets raised. But, for onysake, dinna lat on I was sayin' onything.

  Bawbie's an awfu' cratur to tell fowk aboot me an' my ongaens. Weel,there's a lot o' truth in what she says, I maun admit; altho' she mak'sa heap o' din juist aboot twa-three kyowows, noo-an'-than. I dinna kenhoo it is ava', I canna help mysel' sometimes. Man, the daftest-likeideas tak' a haud o' me whiles--juist like a flesher grippin' a sheepby the horns--an', do what I like, I canna get oot o' their grips.

  For instance, I was gaen up the brae juist the ither nicht, an' thekirk offisher was stanin' at the kirk door.

  "Wud ye bide i' the kirk for ten meenits till I rin hame for a bissamshaft?" says he. "I've broken the ane I have."

  "Oo, ay," says I; "I'll do that."

  Weel, man, I wasna twa meenits into the kirk when I windered what likeit was for size aside Gayneld Park, an' I thocht I wud see if I cud rinfower times roond it in five meenits. I buttoned my coat, an' lookitthe time, an' aff I set up ae passage, ower the pletform, doon theither passage, throo the lobby, an' so on. I was juist abootfeenishin' when, gaen sweesh oot at ane o' the doors, I cam' clash upagain' the minister, an' sent him spinnin' into the middle o' thelobby, an' the collection plate in his oxter.

  "What in the name of common sense is the matter with you?" said he,gettin' up, an' shakin' the stoor aff his hat.

  "Man, ye shud keep aff the coorse," says I, forgettin' for the meenitwhaur I was. "I was tryin' to brak' the record."

  "Break the record!" he says, in a most terrible fizz. "If it wasna forthe laws of the country, I'd break your head."

  Man, the passion o' the sacket was raley veeshis. He ac'ually spat ootthe wirds; an', faigs, I steekit baith my nivs an' keepit my e'e onhim, for fear he micht lat dab at me.

  Juist at that meenit the kirk offisher cam' in, an' the ministerturned, an' gleyin' roond at me gey feared like, said something tillhim, an' I heard them crackin' aboot gettin' me hame in a cab. I sawin a wink what they were jaloosin'.

  "Ye needna bather your heids ahoot a cab," says I. "I'm wyser than thetwa o' ye puttin' thegither; so keep on your dickies. Gude-nicht,"says I; an' doon the front staps I gaed, three at a time, an' hame.

  The beathel cam' doon afore he gaed hame, an' speered what i' the worldhad happened.

  "I was juist comin' oot at the kirk door," says I, "when the ministercam' skelp up again' me." I didna mention 'at I was rinnin'. "Thecratur drappit i' the flure," says I, "like's he'd been shot; an' thento crack aboot me bein' daft! Did ye ever hear the like?"

  The kirk offisher gaed awa' hame, clawin' his heid, an' sayin' tillhimsel', "Weel, it raley snecks a' thing. There's some ane o' thethree o's no' very soond i' the tap, shurely; an' whuther it's me orno', I raley canna mak' oot."

  But what I want to lat you see is that I do thae daft-like thingssometimes, I dinna very weel ken hoo. I canna tell ye what wey itcomes aboot. Is ony o' ye lads ever affekit like that? Man, I've seenme gaen to the kirk wi' Bawbie sometimes, dressed in my sirtoo an' mylum, an' my gloves an' pocket-hankie, an' a'thing juist as snod's a noothripenny bit, an', a' o' a sudden, I wud hae to pet my tongue atweenmy teeth, an' grip my umberell like's I was wantin' to chock it, juistto keep mysel' frae tumblin' a fleepy or a catma i' the middle o' theroad amon' a' the kirk fowk, him hat, sirtoo, an' a'thegither. Whatcan ye mak' o' the like o that? It's my opinion sometimes that I wasnever meent to behave mysel'; an' yet I'm sensible o' doin' mostterriple stewpid things of'en. It's a mystery to me, an' a dreefu'dwang to Bawbie. But what can ye do? You canna get medisin for thatkind o' disease! As Bawbie says, I'll never behave till I'm killed;an' the fac' o' the maitter is, I'm no' very shure aboot mysel' evenefter that. I ken it's an awfu' job for Bawbie tholin' my ongaens;but, at the same time, if it wasna me, the neeper wives an her wudnahae onything to mak' a molligrant aboot ava. As the Bible says, we'refearfu' an' winderfu' made, an', I suppose, we maun juist mak' the besto't.

  THE END.

 
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