Chapter VII: Part 7

Before a word was spoken the door opened and Somers hastily entered the room. His eyes fell on the floor. “Good God!” he cried. “You didn’t—”

Nobody spoke.

“I told him not to,” he said, in a suffocating voice. “I told him not to. I told him—”

He leaned against the wall, deathly sick, put his arms out feebly, and fell fainting into the traveller’s arms.

THE PEACEMAKER

The harbour was crowded with fishing boats, and fresh arrivals were coming in every few minutes. Until the entrance was reached they came scudding along with every appearance of haste, but then their mainsails came tumbling down to the deck, and the boats with sufficient way left on them moved easily over the still water, and felt their way to a berth. Small boats conveyed the fish to the quay, where embryo fishermen were appraising the catch with a wisdom beyond their years.

There was a glut of whiting. So many whiting, and going so cheaply that it was enough to make them bite their tails from sheer vexation. Small flat fish which slid away from their pile were carefully looked after and coaxed back with the toe of a sea-boot, but whiting slid away unnoticed until they vanished from mortal ken in the pockets of predatory urchins.

In the small market, a short, red-faced man with a scrubby beard walked in a disparaging fashion from heap to heap, using a favourite briar in lieu of a hammer to knock down such fish as found bidders. The latter were few and wary, and turning a deaf ear to eloquence expressed opinions distasteful to an auctioneer’s ear in crude English.

The sense of the meeting being against him, the auctioneer truckled to it, and coming to another heap consisting of a selection of the most undesirable fish that swim Britannia’s realm, gazed at it indignantly. There was a titter behind him, and he voiced his wrath impetuously.

“That’s Joe Gubbs’s catch,” he bawled. “S’elp me, I’d know that man’s luck anywhere.”

He turned the fish over scornfully with his foot, and, with a severe glance at the hapless Gubbs, moved away to something more saleable.

“Where d’ye get ’em from, Gubbs?” inquired an aggravating voice. “We never get such things in our nets. I’ve never seen some o’ them things afore.”

“There’s a lot you ain’t seen, Bob Tarbut,” said Gubbs, turning upon him, “and what you do see don’t do you much good.”

“I’d be ashamed to bring home such a queer-looking lot,” jeered the other.

“They mayn’t be up to much, but there’s none on ’em would care to change faces with you, I expect,” related Gubbs.

“You leave my face alone,” said Tarbut, whose physiognomy was much used in the village for purposes of comparison.

“A skate’s handsome to you,” said Gubbs, following up his advantage.

He jumped back suddenly as the fist of the sensitive Tarbut shot suddenly out, and treading on a small fish, whirled round wildly with his hands in the air in the effort to retain his balance, and sat down heavily. The bystanders instantly separated into two groups, and two or three anxious sympathisers helped the fallen man to his feet, and indicated those parts of Tarbut’s frame which in their opinion were least adapted to offer resistance to his fist.

“Stand up,” said Gubbs, sternly, as he shook himself free from these friends.

“I am a-standin’ up!” said Tarbut, breathing hard.

The two combatants approached each other stealthily, and manœuvring round the heaps of fish, struck safely at each other over these convenient barriers.

“Get ’em in the road,” cried an excited voice, “they can’t ’urt each other here.”

A dozen kindly hands helped them there, and finding too much strategy for sport in a large ring, at the bidding of the resourceful individual who had last spoken, gradually made it smaller and smaller. Two or three small blows warmed the combatants, and they set to work in earnest. Then Gubbs, under a heavy blow from Tarbut, went to the ground and stayed there.

It was three minutes before he came thoroughly round, and then he sat up in a dazed fashion and looked round for his opponent.

“Did I kill ’im?” he inquired, in a whisper.

“No, not quite,” said one of his friends, gently.

Gubbs rubbed his eyes. “What are they patting him on the back for?” he inquired, eyeing the group who were making a fuss over Tarbut.

“’Cos he’s won,” said his friend.

Gubbs staggered to his feet.

“It’s no good,” said the landlord of the “Three Fishers,” who had run over to the scene of the fray; “you wasn’t properly trained, you know. Now, look ’ere. If you put yourself in my hands, in three weeks you can beat him holler.”

“You do as Mr. Larkins ses, Joe,” said his friend, impressively.

“I lived among prizefighters afore I come down ’ere,” said Mr. Larkins, expanding his small frame. “In three weeks’ time, Gubbs, you’ll be able to knock him silly.”

“Well, what about Tarbut? He ought to be trained too,” said one of the men. “Fair play’s fair play any day.”

“I’ll train ’im,” said an old ex-coastguardsman.

“I don’t want no training,” said Tarbut, surlily. “I’ve beat ’im, beat ’im easy.”

“Well, beat ’im again, Tarbut,” said one of his friends. “I’ll put my five bob on you. Who’ll take me?”

For the next five minutes, heedless of the assertions of both men that they wouldn’t fight any more, bets were freely taken, Tarbut, in view of his recent success, being a hot favourite.

A jarring element was introduced into the proceedings by a small, elderly man wearing a piece of blue ribbon, who, pushing his way in eagerly, inquired what it was all about. Nobody troubling to give him a correct answer, he tried to solve it for himself, and was then caught, just in the nick of time, trying to make the enemies shake hands.

“You go off to your Mother’s Meeting, Peter Morgan,” said an incensed voice.

“It’s a fight,” said the little man, raising his voice. “Oh, my friends——”

“It’s nothing o’ the kind,” said Larkins, hotly. “I’m training ’em for a race, that’s all. They’re just going to see who’s the best runner.”

Morgan, disregarding the publican, looked to others for information.

“It’s quite right,” said a bystander. “You can believe me, can’t you?”

“When’s it going to be?” asked Morgan.

“I don’t know,” said the other, turning away.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourselves,” said Morgan, warmly. “It’s bad enough to make a couple of men fight what don’t want to without telling a lot of lies about it.”

“It’s none o’ your business,” said Larkins, surlily. “Ask no questions and you’ll hear no lies. You’ll get some idea into that ’ead of yours and then go and split, and have it stopped.”

“I never told of anything in my life,” said Morgan, sharply. “My mates here know that. That ain’t my way. My way’s persuasion and example, not forcing people to do what I want.”

“There’s a purse o’ fifteen and six made up for the winner,” said Larkins, turning away and whispering the news to Gubbs. “The spot for the picnic’ll be made known later on. Them what’s in the know is respectfully asked to keep their mouths shut to save trouble all round.”

He went back to his bar, and the other men, after standing about a bit, strolled off one by one to their teas. Mr. Morgan was one of the last to leave, and went as far as Tarbut’s door with him to tell him an anecdote of a man who was struck behind the ear in a fight and killed on the spot.

A comfortable meal and a good night’s rest restored Mr. Gubbs to his wonted serenity of mind, and he awoke at six o’clock feeling determined to shake hands with Tarbut and let the matter drop. A persistent hammering at the door, which gradually got louder and louder, interfering with his meditations, he roused Mrs. Gubbs, who was sleeping peacefully, and with some asperity bade her get up and stop it.

“It’s Mr. Larkins, Joe,” said the lady, hastily withdrawing her head from the window.

Mr. Gubbs sat up in bed, and then with a mighty yawn rose, and, pushing open the casement again, gazed indignantly at the small publican, who was standing below keeping up an incessant rapping on the door with a small cane.

“Morning, Mr. Larkins, sir,” said Gubbs, sniffing at the cool morning air.

“Halloa!” said Larkins, looking up. “This won’t do, you know. You’re wasting time. You ought to be up and out by now.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” said Gubbs, leaning out and speaking in a low voice to defeat the intentions of Mrs. Gubbs, who was listening. “I dreamt I killed Tarbut, an’ it’s give me such a fright that I’ve resolved not to fight.”

“That’s all right,” said Larkins, briskly; “dreams always go by contraries.”

“Well there ain’t much comfort in that,” said Gubbs, who was anxious to get back to his warm bed, sharply.

“You dress and come down,” said the imperious Larkins. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself after all the trouble I’m taking on your behalf.”

Mr. Gubbs rubbed his eyes and pondered. “What’s the towel for?” he demanded, suspiciously.

“Rub you down with after you’ve bathed,” said the other.

“_Bathed?_” said Mr. Gubbs, with emphasis. “Bathed? What for?”

“Training,” replied Mr. Larkins. “Hurry up.”

“I don’t believe old Bullock’s going to make Tarbut bathe,” said Gubbs, shivering; “it’s weakening.”

“You do as you’re told,” said the autocratic Larkins. “Bullock don’t know nothing about it.”

Mr. Gubbs sighed and withdrew his head, and explaining to his astonished wife that he was going for a little stroll, gloomily dressed himself and joined his trainer below.

“Shoulders back,” said the small publican. “Head up.”

He led the way down to the beach, and, ignoring the looks of aversion which Mr. Gubbs bestowed upon the silver sea, stood by while he disrobed and picked his way painfully over the shingle to the edge of the water. It was a bright morning, but somewhat chill, and Mr. Gubbs’s breathless gaspings furnished an excellent clue to the temperature of the water.

“How do you feel?” inquired Mr. Larkins, anxiously, as he rubbed him down.

“I feel ill,” said the other, shivering.

“You’ll feel better when you’ve had your run,” said Larkins, cheerily.

“’Ad my w—w—_wot?_” inquired Mr. Gubbs, staring at him offensively, and rubbing himself furiously with the towel.

“Your run,” repeated Larkins, sternly. “You don’t want your coat. I’ll hold that. And mind, I don’t want you to go running like a steam-engine, or a runaway horse.”

“I wasn’t goin’ to,” said Gubbs.

“Just trot easy,” continued the other, “for about half a mile. Go as far as that gate over there, then rest two minutes and trot back again.”

His manner was so dictatorial that Mr. Gubbs, remembering in time his score at the “Three Fishers,” swallowed something he was going to say—and it was nearly strong enough to choke him—and set off at a strange, weird gait towards the indicated goal. He reached it at last, and after a long two minutes started back again in response to the semaphore-like appeals of the enthusiastic Larkins.

“I’ve got my work cut out for me, I can see,” said the latter, as his victim, puffing and blowing, sat down on the ground. “But I’ll soon get you in trim, and mind you keep quiet about it. I don’t want Bullock to know.”

“Why not?” demanded Mr. Gubbs.

“Because he’d train Tarbut the same way,” said Larkins, with a cunning grin.

“Well, why shouldn’t Tarbut ’ave a doing same as me?” said Mr. Gubbs, vindictively. “Why should ’e be a-laying in comfort in ’is bed while I’m catching cold bathing and killing myself running?”

“Don’t you be a fool,” said Larkins, affectionately patting him on the shoulder. “Come into my place when you have time, and I’ll put the gloves on with you a bit; and be careful what you eat, mind, else you’ll undo all the good I’ve done you.”

If it is possible for a man to expectorate sarcastically, Mr. Gubbs achieved that feat.

“Only two cups of tea with your breakfast,” continued Larkins, solemnly, “and no greens for dinner, and I’ll send you in one pint of old ale every day free gratis.”

The tensity of Mr. Gubbs’s features relaxed, and he smiled faintly as he rose and accompanied his friend back. Larkins saw him to his door, and after explaining fluently to Mrs. Gubbs that her husband was training for a race, gave her explicit instructions as to his diet, and departed.

It was a source of much joy to Mr. Larkins, though he was unable to persuade Gubbs to share in his feelings, that Tarbut’s trainer was satisfied with a less vigorous system for his man. He let Tarbut off with a cold sponging on rising, and as Tarbut had his own ideas as to what constituted a cold sponging, both parties were well pleased with each other.

The business-like nature of these proceedings was keenly appreciated by the inhabitants of the fishing quarter. Fights had happened before and doubtless would again, but they were mere rough-and-tumble affairs, and over before any proper excitement could be worked up. The purse had steadily mounted up to thirty-five shillings, and the betting varied from day to day.

Each man had his knot of supporters, and enthusiasm had reached such a pitch that Gubbs, who was naturally of a retiring disposition, had to take his matutinal tub before quite a circle of admirers. Opposition on the part of the ladies was balked by continuing to allude to the affair as a race, though Mrs. Gubbs, who got up one morning to see her man run, went home in a state of mind bordering upon stupefaction.

An uneasy feeling was caused by the anxiety of the excellent Mr. Morgan to discover the time and place of meeting. No information was afforded him, and as he had indignantly denied any intention of giving the alarm, the gentlemen interested were much exercised as to the reasons for his curiosity.

The battle was fixed for a Saturday evening, the two trainers, after much wordy warfare, having selected a site which Mr. Larkins insisted had been made purposely by Nature with a view to affairs of the kind. Lofty cliffs hid it from view, and the ground itself consisted of turf so soft and spongy that Larkins predicted that Tarbut would bounce up from it like an indiarubber ball. The principals expressed themselves as satisfied, though their niggardliness in the matter of thanks for the trouble which had been taken over the arrangements formed food for conversation for the trainers all the way home.

The boats got in early on Friday afternoon with their fish. The catch was small and soon disposed of, and then the attentive trainers, rescuing their men from admirers, who were feeling their arms and putting leading questions as to their wind and state of mind, sent them indoors with concise instructions as to how they were to spend the last evening. Larkins officiously sent his man off for a short, sharp walk after his tea, and later on, going to the quay, found that Bullock had given his man the same instructions.

“Don’t you go worrying of ’em, mind,” said Larkins sternly to the group, “an’ let ’em have an easy time of it to-morrow in the boats. Both of ’em,” he added, generously.

“Spoke like a Briton, Mr. Larkins,” said an old fisherman.

“What I want is fair play and no favour,” said Mr. Larkins; “it’s to be a genuine sporting affair. No bad blood or anything of that kind. After the little affair, all what go to see it are welcome to one drink at my expense.”

“It’s time my man was back,” said Bullock, looking up the road which led over the cliffs. “I told him to go just as far as the ground and back.”

“Old Peter Morgan’s gone down to the place too, I think,” piped a small lad in huge boots. “I saw ’im following of Tarbut.”

The landlord of the “Three Fishers” started uneasily. “It’s on my mind,” he said, in a melancholy voice, “that that blessed old teetotaller’ll have the thing stopped. He’ll tell the police or something.”

“No he won’t,” said the old fisherman who had spoken before. “Me an’ Peter was boys together, an’ he’s never done anything o’ that sort in his life. Before old Peter got religious there was nothing he liked better than to see a fight, or to take part in one either, an’ it’s my opinion he’d like to see this one, only he don’t like to say so.”

“Well, he won’t,” said Larkins, grimly; “it may be as you say, but we’re not going to take any risks.”

Conversation became general, and in view of the nearness of the event, animated, but still the two gladiators failed to put in an appearance.

“He’s overdoing it, that’s what he is,” said Mr. Larkins, referring to the ardent Gubbs. “You can ’ave a man too willing. He’ll go and knock hisself up.”

The small boy came up, his big boots clattering over the stones, and, shading his eyes with his hands, looked up the road. The other men, following his gaze, saw three men advancing lovingly arm-in-arm towards them.

“It—it can’t be old Morgan with ’em?” said Mr. Larkins.

“It is, though,” said the old fisherman, peering through screwed-up eyes. “They’ve made it up through old Peter, that’s wot they’ve done. He’s been talking at ’em and getting at ’em, and now there won’t be no fight.”

His disappointed auditors groaned in chorus. “Won’t there,” said Larkins, savagely. “Ho—won’t there—— You don’t think me and my friend Bullock here are going to slave three weeks for nothing, do you?”

“There won’t be no fight,” repeated the old man. “Look how loving they are! All three of ’em as close together as sweethearts.”

The advancing trio certainly bore out the old man’s words to the letter. Mr. Peter Morgan was in the centre, and appeared to be half-embracing his companions.

“Why, they can hardly walk,” said Bullock; “they’ve been too far.”

“Yes, that’s what it is,” said Larkins, in a hollow voice.

“Seems to me,” said the boy, slowly, “that they’ve ’ad a bit of a scrap already.”

The crowd, with bated breath, stepped out to meet them, Larkins and Bullock leading. It was evident that the two heroes were clinging to Mr. Morgan more for support than from any motives of affection, and it was no less evident that the lad’s remark as to a bit of a scrap was capable of wide interpretation. In a few minutes both parties were face to face, and the two trainers gazing at their charges speechless with indignation.

“Which is Gubbs?” demanded Larkins at last, in an unnatural voice.

The figure on Morgan’s right arm managed to open an eye and to twist its swollen lips into something intended for a smile.

“What ’ave you been doing?” vociferated the incensed landlord.

“Fightin’,” said Gubbs, speaking with some difficulty; “it’s all over now. It was a draw, and we’re going to halve the money between us.”

“Oh, are you,” said Larkins, bitterly. “Well, you won’t have a damned ha’penny of it. What do you mean by it? Eh?”

“I’ll tell you all about it,” said Morgan, who was looking radiantly happy. “I saw Tarbut going up the road and I followed him and talked to him, and by and by up comes Gubbs, and I talked to him. Then I found out what, of course, I knew before, that all you men were trying to induce these poor souls to knock each other about for money.”

Mr. Larkins, choking helplessly, looked sternly at Mr. Morgan, and pointed an incriminating finger at Tarbut’s visage.

“I urged ’em not to make such a brutal show of themselves for money,” continued Mr. Morgan, “but they said as ’ow they would. Gubbs said it would be the easiest thirty-five shillings he’d ever earned, and Tarbut said it was him as was going to earn it. After a little talk o’ this kind, Gubbs here ’it Tarbut smack in the eye.”

Tarbut gave a faint groan in confirmation.

“Then they both started to peel,” continued Mr. Morgan.

“Why didn’t you stop ’em?” inquired the ex-coastguard; “it was your duty as a Christian to stop ’em.”

“I thought it was better for ’em to fight like that than to make a brutal exhibition of themselves,” said Mr. Morgan, with dignity. “It was a revolting spectacle, shocking, and I’m glad and thankful there was nobody there but me to see ’em make such brute beasts of themselves.”

A threatening murmur broke from the crowd.

“There in that sweet secluded spot,” said Mr. Morgan, shaking his head, “these two men, stripped to the waist, knocked one another about for fifteen rounds. First blood fell to Tarbut, he got in with his left on Gubbs’s nose, then Gubbs up with a fearful blow and knocked him flat. It was as clean a blow as ever I see. I took Tarbut on my knee—poor fellow, he was doing wrong, but still he was suffering, and Peter Morgan’s always got a knee for the sufferer. Second round he was more cautious, and watching ’is opportunity, he clenched and fell with Gubbs underneath. It was a disgusting spectacle.”

Mr. Larkins bent savagely over to Mr. Bullock and whispered in his ear.

“When time was called”—said Mr. Morgan.

“Who called it?” inquired a voice, with the air of one making a point.

“I did,” said Mr. Morgan; “there was nobody else;—both of ’em walked round each other a bit, sparring and looking for opportunities. I think the third round was the longest of all. Both of ’em kept getting in a lot of little knocks and then dodging away again. Then Tarbut caught Gubbs one in the bread-ba—in the wind—and then followed up on his jaw and knocked him down again. It was a disgusting spectacle.”

“Must ha’ been,” said a dejected voice.

“After that there was twelve more rounds,” continued the narrator; “sometimes Tarbut had the best of it, and sometimes Gubbs. Both men was very determined and fought very fair. It was good, solid hard hitting, and they were marked all over before they’d finished. Once Gubbs gave Tarbut a blow over the heart, and I thought he wouldn’t get up to time.”

“I wouldn’t if you hadn’t blowed water into my face out of that puddle,” said Tarbut.

“It was a most disgusting spectacle,” said Mr. Peter Morgan, hurriedly.

“Seems to me——” began Larkins, ferociously.

“Two fine strong men, stripped to the waist, hard as nails, knocking each other about for money,” said Mr. Morgan. “They’re never going to fight any more. I made ’em promise they wouldn’t. They’re good friends now; ain’t you, lads?”

With an utter disregard of the feelings of the bystanders the two men shook hands.

“And though I regard fighting with horror,” concluded Mr. Morgan, beaming on them, “I think that, as it was a bargain, you should divide the purse between ’em.”

“They won’t get a farthing of it,” said Mr. Larkins, explosively, “unless you like to give it to ’em out of your own pocket.”

“_Me!_” said Mr. Morgan, opening his eyes. “Why?”

“Ask yourself,” said Mr. Larkins, pointedly. “I should say if any man ever ’ad thirty-five shillingsworth of sport all to hisself, you have; and, what’s more, you know it, Mr. Peter Morgan.”

The peacemaker sighed, and, turning, led his charges gently away. The crowd watched them as far as the “Three Fishers,” and observing that they detached themselves by force from their guide and friend, crossed the road and followed them in.

FALSE COLOURS

“Of course, there is a deal of bullying done at sea at times,” said the night-watchman, thoughtfully. “The men call it bullying an’ the officers call it discipline, but it’s the same thing under another name. Still, it’s fair in a way. It gets passed on from one to another. Everybody aboard a’most has got somebody to bully, except, perhaps, the boy; he ’as the worst of it, unless he can manage to get the ship’s cat by itself occasionally.

“I don’t think sailor-men mind being bullied. I never ’eard of its putting one off ’is feed yet, and that’s the main thing, arter all’s said and done.

“Fust officers are often worse than skippers. In the fust place, they know they ain’t skippers, an’ that alone is enough to put ’em in a bad temper, especially if they’ve ’ad their certifikit a good many years and can’t get a vacancy.

“I remember, a good many years ago now, I was lying at Calcutta one time in the _Peewit_, as fine a barque as you’d wish to see, an’ we ’ad a fust mate there as was a disgrace to ’is sects. A nasty, bullying, violent man, who used to call the hands names as they didn’t know the meanings of and what was no use looking in the dictionary for.

“There was one chap aboard, Bill Cousins, as he used to make a partikler mark of. Bill ’ad the misfortin to ’ave red ’air, and the way the mate used to throw that in ’is face was disgraceful. Fortunately for us all, the skipper was a very decent sort of man, so that the mate was only at ’is worst when he wasn’t by.

“We was sitting in the fo’c’s’le at tea one arter-noon, when Bill Cousins came down, an’ we see at once ’e’d ’ad a turn with the mate. He sat all by hisself for some time simmering, an’ then he broke out. ‘One o’ these days I’ll swing for ’im; mark my words.’

“‘Don’t be a fool, Bill,’ ses Joe Smith.

“‘If I could on’y mark ’im,’ ses Bill, catching his breath. ‘Just mark ’im fair an’ square. If I could on’y ’ave ’im alone for ten minutes, with nobody standing by to see fair play. But, o’ course, if I ’it ’im it’s mutiny.’

“‘You couldn’t do it if it wasn’t, Bill,’ ses Joe Smith again.

“‘He walks about the town as though the place belongs to ’im,’ said Ted Hill. ‘Most of us is satisfied to shove the niggers out o’ the way, but he ups fist and ’its ’em if they comes within a yard of ’im.’

“‘Why don’t they ’it ’im back?’ ses Bill. ‘I would if I was them.’

“Joe Smith grunted. ‘Well, why don’t you?’ he asked.

“‘’Cos I ain’t a nigger,’ ses Bill.

“‘Well, but you might be,’ ses Joe, very softly. ‘Black your face an’ ’ands an’ legs, and dress up in them cotton things, and go ashore and get in ’is way.’

“‘If you will, I will, Bill,’ ses a chap called Bob Pullin.

“Well, they talked it over and over, and at last Joe, who seemed to take a great interest in it, went ashore and got the duds for ’em. They was a tight fit for Bill, Hindoos not being as wide as they might be, but Joe said if ’e didn’t bend about he’d be all right, and Pullin, who was a smaller man, said his was fust class.

“After they were dressed, the next question was wot to use to colour them with; coal was too scratchy, an’ ink Bill didn’t like. Then Ted Hill burnt a cork and started on Bill’s nose with it afore it was cool, an’ Bill didn’t like that.

“‘Look ’ere,’ ses the carpenter, ‘nothin’ seems to please you, Bill—it’s my opinion you’re backing out of it.’

“‘You’re a liar,’ ses Bill.

“‘Well, I’ve got some stuff in a can as might be boiled-down Hindoo for all you could tell to the difference,’ ses the carpenter; ‘and if you’ll keep that ugly mouth of yours shut, I’ll paint you myself.’

“Well, Bill was a bit flattered, the carpenter being a very superior sort of a man, and quite an artist in ’is way, an’ Bill sat down an’ let ’im do ’im with some stuff out of a can that made ’im look like a Hindoo what ’ad been polished. Then Bob Pullin was done too, an’ when they’d got their turbins on, the change in their appearance was wonderful.

“‘Feels a bit stiff,’ ses Bill, working ’is mouth.

“‘That’ll wear off,’ ses the carpenter; ‘it wouldn’t be you if you didn’t ’ave a grumble, Bill.’

“‘And mind and don’t spare ’im, Bill,’ ses Joe. ‘There’s two of you, an’ if you only do wot’s expected of you, the mate ought to ’ave a easy time abed this v’y’ge.’

“‘Let the mate start fust,’ ses Ted Hill. ‘He’s sure to start on you if you only get in ’is way. Lord, I’d like to see his face when you start on _’im_.

“Well, the two of ’em went ashore arter dark with the best wishes o’ all on board, an’ the rest of us sat down in the fo’c’s’le spekerlating as to what sort o’ time the mate was goin’ to ’ave. He went ashore all right, because Ted Hill see ’im go, an’ he noticed with partikler pleasure as ’ow he was dressed very careful.

“It must ha’ been near eleven o’clock. I was sitting with Smith on the port side o’ the galley, when we heard a ’ubbub approaching the ship. It was the mate just coming aboard. He was without ’is ’at; ’is necktie was twisted round ’is ear, and ’is shirt and ’is collar was all torn to shreds. The second and third officers ran up to him to see what was the matter, and while he was telling them, up comes the skipper.

“‘You don’t mean to tell me, Mr. Fingall,’ ses the skipper, in surprise, ‘that you’ve been knocked about like that by them mild and meek Hindoos?’

“‘Hindoos, sir?’ roared the mate. ‘Certainly not, sir. I’ve been assaulted like this by five German sailor-men. And I licked ’em all.’

“‘I’m glad to hear that,’ ses the skipper; and the second and third pats the mate on the back, just like you pat a dog you don’t know.

“‘Big fellows they was,’ ses he, ‘an’ they give me some trouble. Look at my eye!’

“The second officer struck a match and looked at it, and it cert’n’y was a beauty.

“‘I hope you reported this at the police station?’ ses the skipper.

“‘No, sir,’ ses the mate, holding up ’is ’ead. ‘I don’t want no p’lice to protect me. Five’s a large number, but I drove ’em off, and I don’t think they’ll meddle with any British fust officers again.’

“‘You’d better turn in,’ ses the second, leading him off by the arm.

“The mate limped off with him, and as soon as the coast was clear we put our ’eads together and tried to make out how it was that Bill Cousins and Bob ’ad changed themselves into five German sailor-men.

“‘It’s the mate’s pride,’ ses the carpenter. ‘He didn’t like being knocked about by Hindoos.’

“We thought it was that, but we had to wait nearly another hour afore the two came aboard, to make sure. There was a difference in the way they came aboard, too, from that of the mate. _They_ didn’t make no noise, and the fust thing we knew of their coming aboard was seeing a bare, black foot waving feebly at the top of the fo’c’s’le ladder feelin’ for the step.

“That was Bob. He came down without a word, and then we see ’e was holding another black foot and guiding it to where it should go. That was Bill, an’ of all the ’orrid, limp-looking blacks that you ever see, Bill was the worst when he got below. He just sat on a locker all of a heap and held ’is ’ead, which was swollen up, in ’is hands. Bob went and sat beside ’im, and there they sat, for all the world like two wax figgers instead o’ human beings.

“‘Well, you done it, Bill,’ ses Joe, after waiting a long time for them to speak. ‘Tell us all about it.’

“‘Nothin’ to tell,’ ses Bill, very surly. ‘We knocked ’im about.’

“‘And he knocked us about,’ ses Bob, with a groan. ‘I’m sore all over, and as for my feet—’

“‘Wot’s the matter with them?’ ses Joe.

“‘Trod on,’ ses Bob, very short. ‘If my bare feet was trod on once they was a dozen times. I’ve never ’ad such a doing in all my life. He fought like a devil. I thought he’d ha’ murdered Bill.’

“‘I wish ’e ’ad,’ ses Bill, with a groan; ‘my face is bruised and cut about cruel. I can’t bear to touch it.’

“‘Do you mean to say the two of you couldn’t settle ’im?’ ses Joe, staring.

“‘I mean to say we got a hiding,’ ses Bill. ‘We got close to him fust start off and got our feet trod on. Arter that it was like fighting a windmill, with sledge-hammers for sails.’

“He gave a groan and turned over in his bunk, and when we asked him some more about it, he swore at us. They both seemed quite done up, and at last they dropped off to sleep just as they was, without even stopping to wash the black off or to undress themselves.

“I was awoke rather early in the morning by the sounds of somebody talking to themselves, and a little splashing of water. It seemed to go on a long while, and at last I leaned out of my bunk and see Bill bending over a bucket and washing himself and using bad langwidge.

“‘Wot’s the matter, Bill?’ ses Joe, yawning and sitting up in bed.

“‘My skin’s that tender, I can hardly touch it,’ ses Bill, bending down and rinsing ’is face. ‘Is it all orf?’

“‘Orf?’ ses Joe; ‘no, o’ course it ain’t. Why don’t you use some soap?’

“‘_Soap_,’ answers Bill, mad-like; ‘why, I’ve used more soap than I’ve used for six months in the ordinary way.’

“That’s no good,’ ses Joe; ‘give yourself a good wash.’

“Bill put down the soap then very careful, and went over to ’im and told him all the dreadful things he’d do to him when he got strong agin, and then Bob Pullin got out of his bunk an’ ’ad a try on _his_ face. Him an’ Bill kept washing and then taking each other to the light and trying to believe it was coming off until they got sick of it, and then Bill, ’e up with his foot and capsized the bucket, and walked up and down the fo’c’s’le raving.

“‘Well, the carpenter put it on,’ ses a voice, ‘make ’im take it orf.’

“You wouldn’t believe the job we ’ad to wake that man up. He wasn’t fairly woke till he was hauled out of ’is bunk an’ set down opposite them two pore black fellers an’ told to make ’em white again.

“‘I don’t believe as there’s anything will touch it,’ he says, at last. ‘I forgot all about that.’

“‘Do you mean to say,’ bawls Bill, ‘that we’ve got to be black all the rest of our life?’

“‘Cert’nly not,’ ses the carpenter, indignantly, ‘it’ll wear off in time; shaving every morning ’ll ’elp it, I should say.’

“‘I’ll get my razor now,’ ses Bill, in a awful voice; ‘don’t let ’im go, Bob. I’ll ’ack ’is head orf.’

“He actually went off an’ got his razor, but, o’ course, we jumped out o’ our bunks and got between ’em and told him plainly that it was not to be, and then we set ’em down and tried everything we could think of, from butter and linseed oil to cold tea-leaves used as a poultice, and all it did was to make ’em shinier an’ shinier.

“‘It’s no good, I tell you,’ ses the carpenter, ‘it’s the most lasting black I know. If I told you how much that stuff is a can, you wouldn’t believe me.’

“‘Well, you’re in it,’ ses Bill, his voice all of a tremble; ‘you done it so as we could knock the mate about. Whatever’s done to us’ll be done to you too.’

“‘I don’t think turps’ll touch it,’ ses the carpenter, getting up, ‘but we’ll ’ave a try.’

“He went and fetched the can and poured some out on a bit o’ rag and told Bill to dab his face with it. Bill give a dab, and the next moment he rushed over with a scream and buried his head in a shirt what Simmons was wearing at the time and began to wipe his face with it. Then he left the flustered Simmons an’ shoved another chap away from the bucket and buried his face in it and kicked and carried on like a madman. Then ’e jumped into his bunk again and buried ’is face in the clothes and rocked hisself and moaned as if he was dying.

“‘Don’t you use it, Bob,’ he ses, at last.

“‘’Tain’t likely,’ ses Bob. ‘It’s a good thing you tried it fust, Bill.’

“‘’Ave they tried holy-stone?’ ses a voice from a bunk.

“‘No, they ain’t,’ ses Bob, snappishly, ‘and, what’s more, they ain’t goin’ to.’

“Both o’ their tempers was so bad that we let the subject drop while we was at breakfast. The orkard persition of affairs could no longer be disregarded. Fust one chap threw out a ’int and then another, gradually getting a little stronger and stronger, until Bill turned round in a uncomfortable way and requested of us to leave off talking with our mouths full and speak up like Englishmen wot we meant.

“‘You see, it’s this way, Bill,’ ses Joe, soft-like. ‘As soon as the mate sees you there’ll be trouble for all of us.’

“‘For all of us,’ repeats Bill, nodding.

“‘Whereas,’ ses Joe, looking round for support, ‘if we gets up a little collection for you and you should find it convenient to desart——’

“‘’Ear, ’ear,’ ses a lot o’ voices. ‘Bravo, Joe.’

“‘Oh, desart is it?’ ses Bill; ‘an’ where are we goin’ to desart to?’

“‘Well, that we leave to you,’ ses Joe; ‘there’s many a ship short-’anded as would be glad to pick up sich a couple of prime sailor-men as you an’ Bob.’

“‘Ah, an’ wot about our black faces?’ ses Bill, still in the same sneering, ungrateful sort o’ voice.

“‘That can be got over,’ ses Joe.

“’Ow?’ ses Bill and Bob together.

“‘Ship as nigger cooks,’ ses Joe, slapping his knee and looking round triumphant.

“It’s no good trying to do some people a kindness. Joe was perfectly sincere, and nobody could say but wot it wasn’t a good idea, but o’ course Mr. Bill Cousins must consider hisself insulted, and I can only suppose that the trouble he’d gone through ’ad affected his brain. Likewise Bob Pullin’s. Anyway, that’s the only excuse I can make for ’em. To cut a long story short, nobody ’ad any more breakfast, and no time to do anything until them two men was scrouged up in a corner an’ ’eld there unable to move.

“‘I’d never ’ave done ’em,’ ses the carpenter, arter it was all over, ‘if I’d known they was goin’ to carry on like this. They wanted to be done.’

“‘The mate’ll half murder ’em,’ ses Ted Hill.

“‘He’ll ’ave ’em sent to gaol, that’s wot he’ll do,’ ses Smith. ‘It’s a serious matter to go ashore and commit assault and battery on the mate.’

“‘You’re all in it,’ ses the voice o’ Bill from the floor. ‘I’m going to make a clean breast of it. Joe Smith put us up to it, the carpenter blacked us, and the others encouraged us.’

“‘Joe got the clothes for us,’ ses Bob. ‘I know the place he got ’em from, too.’

“The ingratitude o’ these two men was sich that at first we decided to have no more to do with them, but better feelings prevailed, and we held a sort o’ meeting to consider what was best to be done. An’ everything that was suggested one o’ them two voices from the floor found fault with and wouldn’t ’ave, and at last we ’ad to go up on deck with nothing decided upon, except to swear ’ard and fast as we knew nothing about it.

“The only advice we can give you,’ ses Joe, looking back at ’em, ’is to stay down ’ere as long as you can.’

“A’most the fust person we see on deck was the mate, an’ a pretty sight he was. He’d got a bandage round ’is left eye, and a black ring round the other. His nose was swelled and his lip cut, but the other officers were making sich a fuss over ’im, that I think he rather gloried in it than otherwise.

“‘Where’s them other two ’ands?’ he ses, by and by, glaring out of ’is black eye.

“‘Down below, sir, I b’lieve,’ ses the carpenter, all of a tremble.

“‘Go an’ send ’em up,’ ses the mate to Smith.

“‘Yessir,’ ses Joe, without moving.

“‘Well, go on then,’ roars the mate.

“‘They ain’t over and above well, sir, this morning,’ ses Joe.

“‘Send ’em up, confound you,’ ses the mate, limping towards ’im.

“Well, Joe give ’is shoulders a ’elpless sort o’ shrug and walked forward and bawled down the fo’c’s’le.

“‘They’re coming, sir,’ he ses, walking back to the mate just as the skipper came out of ’is cabin.

“We all went on with our work as ’ard as we knew ’ow. The skipper was talking to the mate about ’is injuries, and saying unkind things about Germans, when he give a sort of a shout and staggered back staring. We just looked round, and there was them two blackamoors coming slowly towards us.

“‘Good heavens, Mr. Fingall,’ ses the old man. ‘What’s this?’

“I never see sich a look on any man’s face as I saw on the mate’s then. Three times ’e opened ’is mouth to speak, and shut it agin without saying anything. The veins on ’is forehead swelled up tremendous and ’is cheeks was all blown out purple.

“‘That’s Bill Cousins’s hair,’ ses the skipper to himself. ‘It’s Bill Cousins’s hair. It’s Bill Cous—’

“Bob walked up to him, with Bill lagging a little way behind, and then he stops just in front of ’im and fetches up a sort o’ little smile.

“‘Don’t you make those faces at me, sir,’ roars the skipper. ‘What do you mean by it? What have you been doing to yourselves?’

“‘Nothin’, sir,’ ses Bill, ’umbly; ‘it was done to us.’

“The carpenter, who was just going to cooper up a cask which ’ad started a bit, shook like a leaf, and gave Bill a look that would ha’ melted a stone.

“‘Who did it?’ ses the skipper.

“‘We’ve been the wictims of a cruel outrage, sir,’ ses Bill, doing all ’e could to avoid the mate’s eye, which wouldn’t be avoided.

“‘So I should think,’ ses the skipper. ‘You’ve been knocked about, too.’

“‘Yessir,’ ses Bill, very respectful; ‘me and Bob was ashore last night, sir, just for a quiet look round, when we was set on to by five furriners.’

“‘_What?_’ ses the skipper; and I won’t repeat what the mate said.

“‘We fought ’em as long as we could, sir,’ ses Bill, ‘then we was both knocked senseless, and when we came to ourselves we was messed up like this ’ere.’

“‘What sort o’ men were they?’ asked the skipper, getting excited.

“‘Sailor-men, sir,’ ses Bob, putting in his spoke. ‘Dutchies or Germans, or something o’ that sort.’

“‘Was there one tall man, with a fair beard,’ ses the skipper, getting more and more excited.

“‘Yessir,’ ses Bill, in a surprised sort o’ voice.

“‘Same gang,’ ses the skipper. ‘Same gang as knocked Mr. Fingall about, you may depend upon it. Mr. Fingall, it’s a mercy for you you didn’t get your face blacked too.’

“I thought the mate would ha’ burst. I can’t understand how any man could swell as he swelled without bursting.

“‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ he ses, at last.

“‘Why not?’ ses the skipper, sharply.

“‘Well, I don’t,’ ses the mate, his voice trembling with passion. ‘I ’ave my reasons.’

“‘I s’pose you don’t think these two poor fellows went and blacked themselves for fun, do you?’ ses the skipper.

“The mate couldn’t answer.

“‘And then went and knocked themselves about for more fun?’ ses the skipper, very sarcastic.

“The mate didn’t answer. He looked round helpless like, and see the third officer swopping glances with the second, and all the men looking sly and amused, and I think if ever a man saw ’e was done ’e did at that moment.

“He turned away and went below, and the skipper arter reading us all a little lecture on getting into fights without reason, sent the two chaps below agin and told ’em to turn in and rest. He was so good to ’em all the way ’ome, and took sich a interest in seeing ’em change from black to brown and from light brown to spotted lemon, that the mate daren’t do nothing to them, but gave us their share of what he owed them, as well as an extra dose of our own.”