by W. W. Jacobs
Produced by David Widger
SAILORS' KNOTS
By W.W. Jacobs
1909
PRIZE MONEY
The old man stood by the window, gazing at the frozen fields beyond. Thesign of the Cauliflower was stiff with snow, and the breath of a pair ofwaiting horses in a wagon beneath ascended in clouds of steam.
"The sign of the Cauliflower was stiff with snow."]
"Amusements" he said slowly, as he came back with a shiver and, resuminghis seat by the tap-room fire, looked at the wayfarer who had been idlyquestioning him. "Claybury men don't have much time for amusements.The last one I can call to mind was Bill Chambers being nailed up in apig-sty he was cleaning out, but there was such a fuss made over that--by Bill--that it sort o' disheartened people."
He got up again restlessly, and, walking round the table, gazed long andhard into three or four mugs.
"Sometimes a little gets left in them," he explained, meeting thestranger's inquiring glance. The latter started, and, knocking on thetable with the handle of his knife, explained that he had been informedby a man outside that his companion was the bitterest teetotaller inClaybury.
"That's one o' Bob Pretty's larks," said the old man, flushing. "I seeyou talking to 'im, and I thought as 'ow he warn't up to no good.Biggest rascal in Claybury, he is. I've said so afore, and I'll say soagin."
He bowed to the donor and buried his old face in the mug.
"A poacher!" he said, taking breath. "A thief!" he continued, afteranother draught. "I wonder whether Smith spilt any of this a-carrying ofit in?"
He put down the empty mug and made a careful examination of the floor,until a musical rapping on the table brought the landlord into the roomagain.
"My best respects," he said, gratefully, as he placed the mug on thesettle by his side and slowly filled a long clay pipe. Next time you seeBob Pretty ask 'im wot happened to the prize hamper. He's done a goodmany things has Bob, but it'll be a long time afore Claybury men'll lookover that.
It was Henery Walker's idea. Henery 'ad been away to see an uncle of 'iswife's wot had money and nobody to leave it to--leastways, so Henerythought when he wasted his money going over to see 'im--and he came backfull of the idea, which he 'ad picked up from the old man.
"We each pay twopence a week till Christmas," he ses, "and we buy ahamper with a goose or a turkey in it, and bottles o' rum and whiskey andgin, as far as the money'll go, and then we all draw lots for it, and theone that wins has it."
It took a lot of explaining to some of 'em, but Smith, the landlord,helped Henery, and in less than four days twenty-three men had paid theirtuppences to Henery, who 'ad been made the seckitary, and told him tohand them over to Smith in case he lost his memory.
Bob Pretty joined one arternoon on the quiet, and more than one of 'emtalked of 'aving their money back, but, arter Smith 'ad explained as 'owhe would see fair play, they thought better of it.
"He'll 'ave the same chance as all of you," he ses. "No more and noless."
"I'd feel more easy in my mind, though, if'e wasn't in it," ses BillChambers, staring at Bob. "I never knew 'im to lose anything yet."
"You don't know everything, Bill," ses Bob, shaking his 'ead. "You don'tknow me; else you wouldn't talk like that. I've never been caught doingwrong yet, and I 'ope I never shall."
"It's all right, Bill," ses George Kettle. "Mr. Smith'll see fair, andI'd sooner win Bob Pretty's money than anybody's."
"I 'ope you will, mate," ses Bob; "that's what I joined for."
"Bob's money is as good as anybody else's," ses George Kettle, lookinground at the others. "It don't signify to me where he got it from."
"Ah, I don't like to hear you talk like that George," ses Bob Pretty."I've thought more than once that you 'ad them ideas."
He drank up his beer and went off 'ome, shaking his 'cad, and, arterthree or four of'em 'ad explained to George Kettle wot he meant, Georgewent off 'ome, too.
The week afore Christmas, Smith, the landlord, said as 'ow he 'ad gotenough money, and three days arter we all came up 'ere to see the prizedrawn. It was one o' the biggest hampers Smith could get; and there wasa fine, large turkey in it, a large goose, three pounds o' pork sausages,a bottle o' whiskey, a bottle o' rum, a bottle o' brandy, a bottle o'gin, and two bottles o' wine. The hamper was all decorated with holly,and a little flag was stuck in the top.
On'y men as belonged was allowed to feel the turkey and the goose, andarter a time Smith said as 'ow p'r'aps they'd better leave off, and 'eput all the things back in the hamper and fastened up the lid.
"How are we going to draw the lottery?" ses John Biggs, the blacksmith.
"There'll be twenty-three bits o' paper," ses Smith, "and they'll benumbered from one to twenty-three. Then they'll be twisted up all thesame shape and put in this 'ere paper bag, which I shall 'old as each mandraws. The chap that draws the paper with the figger on it wins."
He tore up twenty-three bits o' paper all about the same size, and thenwith a black-lead pencil 'e put the numbers on, while everybody leanedover 'im to see fair play. Then he twisted every bit o' paper up andheld them in his 'and.
"Is that satisfactory?" he ses.
"Couldn't be fairer," ses Bill Chambers.
"Mind," ses Smith, putting them into a tall paper bag that had 'ad sugarin it and shaking them up, "Number I wins the prize. Who's going to drawfust?"
All of 'em hung back and looked at each other; they all seemed to thinkthey'd 'ave a better chance when there wasn't so many numbers left in thebag.
"Come on," ses Smith, the landlord. "Some-body must be fust."
"Go on, George Kettle," ses Bob Pretty. "You're sure to win. I 'ad adream you did."
"Go on yourself," ses George.
"I never 'ave no luck," ses Bob; "but if Henery Walker will draw fust,I'll draw second. Somebody must begin."
"O' course they must," ses Henery, "and if you're so anxious why don'tyou 'ave fust try?"
Bob Pretty tried to laugh it off, but they wouldn't 'ave it, and at lasthe takes out a pocket-'andkerchief and offers it to Smith, the landlord.
"All right, I'll go fust if you'll blindfold me," he ses.
"There ain't no need for that, Bob," ses Mr. Smith. "You can't see inthe bag, and even if you could it wouldn't help you."
"Never mind; you blindfold me," ses Bob; "it'll set a good example to theothers."
Smith did it at last, and when Bob Pretty put his 'and in the bag andpulled out a paper you might ha' heard a pin drop.
"Open it and see what number it is, Mr. Smith," ses Bob Pretty. "Twenty-three, I expect; I never 'ave no luck."
Smith rolled out the paper, and then 'e turned pale and 'is eyes seemedto stick right out of his 'ead.
"He's won it!" he ses, in a choky voice. "It's Number I. Bob Pretty'as won the prize."
"He's won it!" he ses, in a choky voice."It's Number I."]
You never 'eard such a noise in this 'ere public-'ouse afore or since;everybody shouting their 'ardest, and Bill Chambers stamping up and downthe room as if he'd gone right out of his mind.
"Silence!" ses Mr. Smith, at last. "Silence! How dare you make thatnoise in my 'ouse, giving it a bad name? Bob Pretty 'as won it fair andsquare. Nothing could ha' been fairer. You ought to be ashamed o'yourselves."
Bob Pretty wouldn't believe it at fust. He said that Smith was makinggame of 'im, and, when Smith held the paper under 'is nose, he kept thehandkerchief on his eyes and wouldn't look at it.
"I've seen you afore to-day," he says, nodding his 'ead. "I like a jokeas well as anybody, but it ain't fair to try and make fun of a pore,'ard-working man like that."
I never see a man so astonished in my life as Bob Pretty was, when 'efound out it was really
true. He seemed fair 'mazed-like, and stoodthere scratching his 'ead, as
