by W. W. Jacobs
whisper.
"I'm in no hurry," ses the skipper. "Here! Halloa, wot's up?"
It was like opening the door at a theatre, and the fust one through wasthat woman, shoved behind by the potman. Arter 'im came a car-man, twobig 'ulking brewers' draymen, a little scrap of a woman with 'er bonnetcocked over one eye, and a couple of dirty little boys.
"Wot is it?" ses the skipper, shutting the wicket behind 'em. "Abeanfeast?"
"This lady wants her 'usband," ses the pot-man, pointing at me. "He runaway from her nine years ago, and now he says he 'as never seen 'erbefore. He ought to be 'ung."
"Bill," ses the skipper, shaking his silly 'ead at me. "I can 'ardlybelieve it."
"It's all a pack o' silly lies," I ses, firing up. "She's made amistake."
"She made a mistake when she married you," ses the thin little woman."If I was in 'er shoes I'd take 'old of you and tear you limb from limb."
"I don't want to hurt 'im, ma'am," ses the other woman. "I on'y want himto come 'ome to me and my five. Why, he's never seen the youngest,little Annie. She's as like 'im as two peas."
"Pore little devil," ses the carman.
"Look here!" I ses, "you clear off. All of you. 'Ow dare you come on tomy wharf? If you aren't gone in two minutes I'll give you all incharge."
"Who to?" ses one of the draymen, sticking his face into mine. "You go'ome to your wife and kids. Go on now, afore I put up my 'ands to you."
"That's the way to talk to 'im," ses the pot-man, nodding at 'em.
They all began to talk to me then and tell me wot I was to do, and wotthey would do if I didn't. I couldn't get a word in edgeways. When Ireminded the mate that when he was up in London 'e always passed himselfoff as a single man, 'e wouldn't listen; and when I asked the skipperwhether 'is pore missus was blind, he on'y went on shouting at the top of'is voice. It on'y showed me 'ow anxious most people are that everybodyelse should be good.
I thought they was never going to stop, and, if it 'adn't been for a fitof coughing, I don't believe that the scraggy little woman could ha'stopped. Arter one o' the draymen 'ad saved her life and spoilt 'ertemper by patting 'er on the back with a hand the size of a leg o'mutton, the carman turned to me and told me to tell the truth, if itchoked me.
"I have told you the truth," I ses. "She ses I'm her 'usband and I say Iain't. Ow's she going to prove it? Why should you believe her, and notme?"
"She's got a truthful face," ses the carman.
"Look here!" ses the skipper, speaking very slow, "I've got an idea,wot'll settle it p'raps. You get outside," he ses, turning sharp on thetwo little boys.
One o' the draymen 'elped 'em to go out, and 'arf a minute arterwards astone came over the gate and cut the potman's lip open. Boys will beboys.
"Now!" ses the skipper, turning to the woman, and smiling withconceitedness. "Had your 'usband got any marks on 'im? Birth-mark, ormoles, or anything of that sort?"
"I'm sure he is my 'usband," ses the woman, dabbing her eyes.
"Yes, yes," ses the skipper, "but answer my question. If you can tell usany marks your 'usband had, we can take Bill down into my cabin and----"
"You'll do WOT?" I ses, in a loud voice.
"You speak when you're spoke to," ses the carman. "It's got nothing todo with you."
"No, he ain't got no birthmarks," ses the woman, speaking very slow--andI could see she was afraid of making a mistake and losing me--"but he'sgot tattoo marks. He's got a mermaid tattooed on 'im."
"Where?" ses the skipper, a'most jumping.
I 'eld my breath. Five sailormen out of ten have been tattooed withmermaids, and I was one of 'em. When she spoke agin I thought I shouldha' dropped.
"On 'is right arm," she ses, "unless he's 'ad it rubbed off."
"You can't rub out tattoo marks," ses the skipper.
They all stood looking at me as if they was waiting for something. Ifolded my arms--tight--and stared back at 'em.
"If you ain't this lady's 'usband," ses the skipper, turning to me, "youcan take off your coat and prove it."
"And if you don't we'll take it off for you," ses the carman, coming abit closer.
Arter that things 'appened so quick, I hardly knew whether I was standingon my 'cad or my heels. Both, I think. They was all on top o' me atonce, and the next thing I can remember is sitting on the ground in myshirt-sleeves listening to the potman, who was making a fearful fussbecause somebody 'ad bit his ear 'arf off. My coat was ripped up theback, and one of the draymen was holding up my arm and showing them allthe mermaid, while the other struck matches so as they could see better."
"That's your 'usband right enough," he ses to the woman. "Take 'im."
"P'raps she'll carry 'im 'ome," I ses, very fierce and sarcastic.
"And we don't want none of your lip," ses the carman, who was in a badtemper because he 'ad got a fearful kick on the shin from somewhere.
I got up very slow and began to put my coat on again, and twice I 'ad totell that silly woman that when I wanted her 'elp I'd let 'er know. ThenI 'eard slow, heavy footsteps in the road outside, and, afore any of 'emcould stop me, I was calling for the police.
I don't like policemen as a rule; they're too inquisitive, but when thewicket was pushed open and I saw a face with a helmet on it peeping in, Ifelt quite a liking for 'em.
"Wot's up?" ses the policeman, staring 'ard at my little party.
They all started telling 'im at once, and I should think if the potmanshowed him 'is ear once he showed it to 'im twenty times. He lost histemper and pushed it away at last, and the potman gave a 'owl that set myteeth on edge. I waited till they was all finished, and the policemantrying to get 'is hearing back, and then I spoke up in a quiet way andtold 'im to clear them all off of my wharf.
"They're trespassing," I ses, "all except the skipper and mate here.They belong to a little wash-tub that's laying alongside, and they'reboth as 'armless as they look."
It's wonderful wot a uniform will do. The policeman just jerked his 'eadand said "out-side," and the men went out like a flock of sheep. Theon'y man that said a word was the carman, who was in such a hurry that 'eknocked his bad shin against my foot as 'e went by. The thin littlewoman was passed out by the policeman in the middle of a speech she wasmaking, and he was just going for the other, when the skipper stopped'im.
"This lady is coming on my ship," he ses, puffing out 'is chest.
I looked at 'im, and then I turned to the policeman. "So long as shegoes off my wharf, I don't mind where she goes," I ses. "The skipper'sgoings-on 'ave got nothing to do with me."
"Then she can foller him 'ome in the morning," ses the skipper. "Goodnight, watch-man."
Him and the mate 'elped the silly old thing to the ship, and, arter I 'adbeen round to the Bear's Head and fetched a pint for the police-man, Ilocked up and sat down to think things out; and the more I thought theworse they seemed. I've 'eard people say that if you have a clearconscience nothing can hurt you. They didn't know my missus.
I got up at last and walked on to the jetty, and the woman, wot wassitting on the deck of the John Henry, kept calling out: "Bill!" like asick baa-lamb crying for its ma. I went back, and 'ad four pints at theBear's Head, but it didn't seem to do me any good, and at last I went andsat down in the office to wait for morning.
It came at last, a lovely morning with a beautiful sunrise; and thatwoman sitting up wide awake, waiting to foller me 'ome. When I openedthe gate at six o'clock she was there with the mate and the skipper,waiting, and when I left at five minutes past she was trotting alongbeside me.
Twice I stopped and spoke to 'er, but it was no good. Other peoplestopped too, and I 'ad to move on agin; and every step was bringing menearer to my house and the missus.
I turned into our street, arter passing it three times, and the firstthing I saw was my missus standing on the doorstep 'aving a few wordswith the lady next door. Then she 'appened to look up and see us, justas
