Four Pigeons
Page 1
Produced by David Widger
CAPTAINS ALL
By W.W. Jacobs
THE FOUR PIGEONS
"The Four Pigeons."]
The old man took up his mug and shifted along the bench until he was inthe shade of the elms that stood before the _Cauliflower_. The action alsohad the advantage of bringing him opposite the two strangers who wererefreshing themselves after the toils of a long walk in the sun.
"My hearing ain't wot it used to be," he said, tremulously. "When youasked me to have a mug o' ale I 'ardly heard you; and if you was to askme to 'ave another, I mightn't hear you at all."
One of the men nodded.
"Not over there," piped the old man. "That's why I come over here," headded, after a pause. "It 'ud be rude like to take no notice; if you wasto ask me."
He looked round as the landlord approached, and pushed his mug gently inhis direction. The landlord, obeying a nod from the second stranger,filled it.
"It puts life into me," said the old man, raising it to his lips andbowing. "It makes me talk."
"Time we were moving, Jack," said the first traveller. The second,assenting to this as an abstract proposition, expressed, however, adetermination to finish his pipe first.
I heard you saying something about shooting, continued the old man, andthat reminds me of some shooting we 'ad here once in Claybury. We'vealways 'ad a lot o' game in these parts, and if it wasn't for a low,poaching fellow named Bob Pretty--Claybury's disgrace I call 'im--we'd'ave a lot more.
It happened in this way. Squire Rockett was going abroad to foreignparts for a year, and he let the Hall to a gentleman from London namedSutton. A real gentleman 'e was, open-'anded and free, and just aboutOctober he 'ad a lot of 'is friends come down from London to 'elp 'imkill the pheasants.
The first day they frightened more than they killed, but they enjoyedtheirselves all right until one gentleman, who 'adn't shot a single thingall day, shot pore Bill Chambers wot was beating with about a dozen more.
Bill got most of it in the shoulder and a little in the cheek, but therow he see fit to make you'd ha' thought he'd been killed. He laid onthe ground groaning with 'is eyes shut, and everybody thought 'e wasdying till Henery Walker stooped down and asked 'im whether 'e was hurt.
It took four men to carry Bill 'ome, and he was that particular youwouldn't believe. They 'ad to talk in whispers, and when Peter Gubbinsforgot 'imself and began to whistle he asked him where his 'art was.When they walked fast he said they jolted 'im, and when they walked slow'e asked 'em whether they'd gone to sleep or wot.
Bill was in bed for nearly a week, but the gentleman was very nice aboutit and said that it was his fault. He was a very pleasant-spokengentleman, and, arter sending Dr. Green to him and saying he'd pay thebill, 'e gave Bill Chambers ten pounds to make up for 'is sufferings.
Bill 'ad intended to lay up for another week, and the doctor, wot 'adbeen calling twice a day, said he wouldn't be responsible for 'is life ifhe didn't; but the ten pounds was too much for 'im, and one evening, justa week arter the accident, he turned up at this _Cauliflower_ public-'ouseand began to spend 'is money.
His face was bandaged up, and when 'e come in he walked feeble-like andspoke in a faint sort o' voice. Smith, the landlord, got 'im aeasy-chair and a couple of pillers out o' the parlour, and Bill sat therelike a king, telling us all his sufferings and wot it felt like to beshot.
I always have said wot a good thing beer is, and it done Bill more goodthan doctor's medicine. When he came in he could 'ardly crawl, and atnine o'clock 'e was out of the easy-chair and dancing on the table aswell as possible. He smashed three mugs and upset about two pints o'beer, but he just put his 'and in his pocket and paid for 'em without aword.
"There's plenty more where that came from," he ses, pulling out a handfulo' money.
Peter Gubbins looked at it, 'ardly able to speak. "It's worth whilebeing shot to 'ave all that money," he ses, at last.
"Don't you worry yourself, Peter," ses Bob Pretty; "there's plenty moreof you as'll be shot afore them gentlemen at the Hall 'as finished.Bill's the fust, but 'e won't be the last--not by a long chalk."
"They're more careful now," ses Dicky Weed, the tailor.
"All right; 'ave it your own way," ses Bob, nasty-like. "I don't knowmuch about shooting, being on'y a pore labourin' man. All I know is Ishouldn't like to go beating for them. I'm too fond o' my wife andfamily."
"There won't be no more shot," ses Sam Jones.
"We're too careful," ses Peter Gubbins.
"Bob Pretty don't know everything," ses Dicky Weed.
"I'll bet you what you like there'll be some more of you shot," ses BobPretty, in a temper. "Now, then."
"'Ow much'll you bet, Bob," ses Sam Jones, with a wink at the others."I can see you winking, Sam Jones," ses Bob Pretty, "but I'll do morethan bet. The last bet I won is still owing to me. Now, look 'ere; I'llpay you sixpence a week all the time you're beating if you promise togive me arf of wot you get if you're shot. I can't say fairer thanthat."
"Will you give me sixpence a week, too?" ses Henery Walker, jumping up.
"I will," ses Bob; "and anybody else that likes. And wot's more, I'llpay in advance. Fust sixpences now."
Claybury men 'ave never been backward when there's been money to be madeeasy, and they all wanted to join Bob Pretty's club, as he called it.But fust of all 'e asked for a pen and ink, and then he got Smith, theland-lord, being a scholard, to write out a paper for them to sign.Henery Walker was the fust to write 'is name, and then Sam Jones, PeterGubbins, Ralph Thomson, Jem Hall, and Walter Bell wrote theirs. Bobstopped 'em then, and said six 'ud be enough to go on with; and then 'epaid up the sixpences and wished 'em luck.
Wot they liked a'most as well as the sixpences was the idea o' gettingthe better o' Bob Pretty. As I said afore, he was a poacher, and thatartful that up to that time nobody 'ad ever got the better of 'im.
They made so much fun of 'im the next night that Bob turned sulky andwent off 'ome, and for two or three nights he 'ardly showed his face; andthe next shoot they 'ad he went off to Wickham and nobody saw 'im allday.
That very day Henery Walker was shot. Several gentlemen fired at arabbit that was started, and the next thing they knew Henery Walker waslying on the ground calling out that 'is leg 'ad been shot off.
He made more fuss than Bill Chambers a'most, 'specially when they dropped'im off a hurdle carrying him 'ome, and the things he said to Dr. Greenfor rubbing his 'ands as he came into the bedroom was disgraceful.
The fust Bob Pretty 'eard of it was up at the _Cauliflower_ at eighto'clock that evening, and he set down 'is beer and set off to see Heneryas fast as 'is legs could carry 'im. Henery was asleep when 'e gotthere, and, do all he could, Bob Pretty couldn't wake 'im till he satdown gentle on 'is bad leg.
"The fust Bob Pretty 'eard of it was up at the_Cauliflower_ at eight o'clock that evening."]
"It's on'y me, old pal," he ses, smiling at 'im as Henery woke up andshouted at 'im to get up.
Henery Walker was going to say something bad, but 'e thought better ofit, and he lay there arf busting with rage, and watching Bob out of thecorner of one eye.
"I quite forgot you was on my club till Smith reminded me of it," sesBob. "Don't you take a farthing less than ten pounds, Henery."
Henery Walker shut his eyes again. "I forgot to tell you I made up mymind this morning not to belong to your club any more, Bob," he ses.
"Why didn't you come and tell me, Henery, instead of leaving it till itwas too late?" ses Bob, shaking his 'ead at 'im.
"I shall want all that money," ses Henery in a weak voice. "I might 'aveto have a wooden leg, Bob."
"Don't meet troubles arf way, Henery," ses Bob, in a kind voice. "I've
no doubt Mr. Sutton'll throw in a wooden leg if you want it, and lookhere, if he does, I won't trouble you for my arf of it."
He said good-night to Henery and went off, and when Mrs. Walker