by W. W. Jacobs
Produced by David Widger
DEEP WATERS
By W.W. JACOBS
SAM'S GHOST
Yes, I know, said the night-watchman, thoughtfully, as he sat with a coldpipe in his mouth gazing across the river. I've 'eard it afore. Peopletell me they don't believe in ghosts and make a laugh of 'em, and all Isay is: let them take on a night-watchman's job. Let 'em sit 'ere allalone of a night with the water lapping against the posts and the windmoaning in the corners; especially if a pal of theirs has slippedoverboard, and there is little nasty bills stuck up just outside in theHigh Street offering a reward for the body. Twice men 'ave fallenoverboard from this jetty, and I've 'ad to stand my watch here the samenight, and not a farthing more for it.
One of the worst and artfullest ghosts I ever 'ad anything to do with wasSam Bullet. He was a waterman at the stairs near by 'ere; the sort o'man that 'ud get you to pay for drinks, and drink yours up by mistakearter he 'ad finished his own. The sort of man that 'ad always left hisbaccy-box at 'ome, but always 'ad a big pipe in 'is pocket.
He fell overboard off of a lighter one evening, and all that his matescould save was 'is cap. It was on'y two nights afore that he 'ad knockeddown an old man and bit a policeman's little finger to the bone, so that,as they pointed out to the widder, p'r'aps he was taken for a wisepurpose. P'r'aps he was 'appier where he was than doing six months.
"He was the sort o' chap that'll make himself 'appy anywhere," ses one of'em, comforting-like.
"Not without me," ses Mrs. Bullet, sobbing, and wiping her eyes onsomething she used for a pocket-hankercher. "He never could bear to beaway from me. Was there no last words?"
"On'y one," ses one o' the chaps, Joe Peel by name.
"As 'e fell overboard," ses the other.
Mrs. Bullet began to cry agin, and say wot a good 'usband he 'ad been."Seventeen years come Michaelmas," she ses, "and never a cross word.Nothing was too good for me. Nothing. I 'ad only to ask to 'ave."
"Well, he's gorn now," ses Joe, "and we thought we ought to come roundand tell you."
"So as you can tell the police," ses the other chap.
That was 'ow I came to hear of it fust; a policeman told me that night asI stood outside the gate 'aving a quiet pipe. He wasn't shedding tears;his only idea was that Sam 'ad got off too easy.
"Well, well," I ses, trying to pacify 'im, "he won't bite no morefingers; there's no policemen where he's gorn to."
He went off grumbling and telling me to be careful, and I put my pipe outand walked up and down the wharf thinking. On'y a month afore I 'ad lentSam fifteen shillings on a gold watch and chain wot he said an uncle 'adleft 'im. I wasn't wearing it because 'e said 'is uncle wouldn't likeit, but I 'ad it in my pocket, and I took it out under one of the lampsand wondered wot I ought to do.
My fust idea was to take it to Mrs. Bullet, and then, all of a sudden,the thought struck me: "Suppose he 'adn't come by it honest?"
I walked up and down agin, thinking. If he 'adn't, and it was found out,it would blacken his good name and break 'is pore wife's 'art. That'sthe way I looked at it, and for his sake and 'er sake I determined tostick to it.
I felt 'appier in my mind when I 'ad decided on that, and I went round tothe Bear's Head and 'ad a pint. Arter that I 'ad another, and then Icome back to the wharf and put the watch and chain on and went on with mywork.
Every time I looked down at the chain on my waistcoat it reminded me ofSam. I looked on to the river and thought of 'im going down on the ebb.Then I got a sort o' lonesome feeling standing on the end of the jettyall alone, and I went back to the Bear's Head and 'ad another pint.
They didn't find the body, and I was a'most forgetting about Sam when oneevening, as I was sitting on a box waiting to get my breath back to 'aveanother go at sweeping, Joe Peel, Sam's mate, came on to the wharf to seeme.
He came in a mysterious sort o' way that I didn't like: looking be'ind'im as though he was afraid of being follered, and speaking in a whisperas if 'e was afraid of being heard. He wasn't a man I liked, and I wasglad that the watch and chain was stowed safe away in my trowsis-pocket.
"I've 'ad a shock, watchman," he ses.
"Oh!" I ses.
"A shock wot's shook me all up," he ses, working up a shiver. "I've seensomething wot I thought people never could see, and wot I never want tosee agin. I've seen Sam!"
I thought a bit afore I spoke. "Why, I thought he was drownded," I ses.
"So 'e is," ses Joe. "When I say I've seen 'im I mean that I 'ave seenhis ghost!"
He began to shiver agin, all over.
"Wot was it like?" I ses, very calm.
"Like Sam," he ses, rather short.
"When was it?" I ses.
"Last night at a quarter to twelve," he ses. "It was standing at myfront door waiting for me."
"And 'ave you been shivering like that ever since?" I ses.
"Worse than that," ses Joe, looking at me very 'ard. "It's wearing offnow. The ghost gave me a message for you."
I put my 'and in my trowsis-pocket and looked at 'im. Then I walked veryslow, towards the gate.
"It gave me a message for you," ses Joe, walking beside me. "'We wasalways pals, Joe,'" it ses, "'you and me, and I want you to pay upfifteen bob for me wot I borrowed off of Bill the watchman. I can't restuntil it's paid,' it ses. So here's the fifteen bob, watchman."
He put his 'and in 'is pocket and takes out fifteen bob and 'olds it outto me.
"No, no," I ses. "I can't take your money, Joe Peel. It wouldn't beright. Pore Sam is welcome to the fifteen bob--I don't want it."
"You must take it," ses Joe. "The ghost said if you didn't it would cometo me agin and agin till you did, and I can't stand any more of it."
"I can't 'elp your troubles," I ses.
"You must," ses Joe. "'Give Bill the fifteen bob,' it ses, 'and he'llgive you a gold watch and chain wot I gave 'im to mind till it waspaid.'"
I see his little game then. "Gold watch and chain," I ses, laughing."You must ha' misunderstood it, Joe."
"I understood it right enough," ses Joe, getting a bit closer to me as Istepped outside the gate. "Here's your fifteen bob; are you going togive me that watch and chain?"
"Sartainly not," I ses. "I don't know wot you mean by a watch and chain.If I 'ad it and I gave it to anybody, I should give it to Sam's widder,not to you."
"It's nothing to do with 'er," ses Joe, very quick. "Sam was mostpertikler about that."
"I expect you dreamt it all," I ses. "Where would pore Sam get a goldwatch and chain from? And why should 'e go to you about it? Why didn't'e come to me? If 'e thinks I 'ave got it let 'im come to me."
"All right, I'll go to the police-station," ses Joe.
"I'll come with you," I ses. "But 'ere's a policeman coming along.Let's go to 'im."
I moved towards 'im, but Joe hung back, and, arter using one or two wordsthat would ha' made any ghost ashamed to know 'im, he sheered off. I 'ada word or two with the policeman about the weather, and then I wentinside and locked the gate.
My idea was that Sam 'ad told Joe about the watch and chain afore he felloverboard. Joe was a nasty customer, and I could see that I should 'aveto be a bit careful. Some men might ha' told the police about it--but Inever cared much for them. They're like kids in a way, always askingquestions--most of which you can't answer.
It was a little bit creepy all alone on the wharf that night. I don'tdeny it. Twice I thought I 'eard something coming up on tip-toe behindme. The second time I was so nervous that I began to sing to keep myspirits up, and I went on singing till three of the hands of the SusanEmily, wot was lying alongside, came up from the fo'c'sle and offered tofight me. I was thankful when daylight came.
Five nights arterwards I '
ad the shock of my life. It was the fust nightfor some
