Sailor's Knots (Entire Collection). William Wymark Jacobs

and several times Ginger was on the point of calling ‘im the names he ‘ad called ‘im in the arternoon, on’y Peter trod on ‘is foot and stopped him. They wouldn’t let ‘im go to sleep for talking, and at last, when ‘e was pretty near tired out, he told ‘em all about it.

      “Going—to ‘ave your—pocket picked?” ses Ginger, staring at ‘im, when ‘e had finished.

      “I shall be watched over,” ses Sam.

      “He’s gorn stark, staring mad,” ses Ginger. “Wot a good job it is he’s got me and you to look arter ‘im, Peter.”

      “Wot d’ye mean?” ses Sam.

      “Mean?” ses Ginger. “Why, it’s a put-up job to rob you, o’ course. I should ha’ thought even your fat ‘ead could ha’ seen that’:”

      “When I want your advice I’ll ask you for it,” ses Sam, losing ‘is temper. “Wot about the di’mond ring—eh?”

      “You stick to it,” ses Ginger, “and keep out o’ Mr. Cubbins’s way. That’s my advice to you. ‘Sides, p’r’aps it ain’t a real one.”

      Sam told ‘im agin he didn’t want none of ‘is advice, and, as Ginger wouldn’t leave off talking, he pretended to go to sleep. Ginger woke ‘im up three times to tell ‘im wot a fool ‘e was, but ‘e got so fierce that he gave it up at last and told ‘im to go ‘is own way.

      Sam wouldn’t speak to either of ‘em next morning, and arter breakfast he went off on ‘is own. He came back while Peter and Ginger was out, and they wasted best part o’ the day trying to find ‘im.

      “We’ll be on Tower Hill just afore nine and keep ‘im out o’ mischief, any way,” ses Peter.

      Ginger nodded. “And be called names for our pains,” he ses. “I’ve a good mind to let ‘im be robbed.”

      “It ‘ud serve ‘im right,” ses Peter, “on’y then he’d want to borrer off of us. Look here! Why not—why not rob ‘im ourselves?”

      “Wot?” ses Ginger, starting.

      “Walk up behind ‘im and rob ‘im,” ses Peter. “He’ll think it’s them two chaps he spoke about, and when ‘e comes ‘ome complaining to us we’ll tell ‘im it serves ‘im right. Arter we’ve ‘ad a game with ‘im for a day or two we’ll give ‘im ‘is money back.”

      “But he’d reckernize us,” ses Ginger.

      “We must disguise ourselves,” ses Peter, in a whisper. “There’s a barber’s shop in Cable Street, where I’ve seen beards in the winder. You hook ‘em on over your ears. Get one o’ them each, pull our caps over our eyes and turn our collars up, and there you are.”

      Ginger made a lot of objections, not because he didn’t think it was a good idea, but because he didn’t like Peter thinking of it instead of ‘im; but he gave way at last, and, arter he ‘ad got the beard, he stood for a long time in front o’ the glass thinking wot a difference it would ha’ made to his looks if he had ‘ad black ‘air instead o’ red.

      Waiting for the evening made the day seem very long to ‘em; but it came at last, and, with the beards in their pockets, they slipped out and went for a walk round. They ‘ad ‘arf a pint each at a public-’ouse at the top of the Minories, just to steady themselves, and then they came out and hooked on their beards; and wot with them, and pulling their caps down and turning their coat-collars up, there wasn’t much of their faces to be seen by anybody.

      It was just five minutes to nine when they got to Tower Hill, and they walked down the middle of the road, keeping a bright lookout for old Sam. A little way down they saw a couple o’ chaps leaning up agin a closed gate in the dock wall lighting their pipes, and Peter and Ginger both nudged each other with their elbows at the same time. They ‘ad just got to the bottom of the Hill when Sam turned the corner.

      Peter wouldn’t believe at fust that the old man wasn’t really the worse for liquor, ‘e was so lifelike. Many a drunken man would ha’ been proud to ha’ done it ‘arf so well, and it made ‘im pleased to think that Sam was a pal of ‘is. Him and Ginger turned and crept up behind the old man on tiptoe, and then all of a sudden he tilted Sam’s cap over ‘is eyes and flung his arms round ‘im, while Ginger felt in ‘is coat-pockets and took out a leather purse chock full o’ money.

      It was all done and over in a moment, and then, to Ginger’s great surprise, Sam suddenly lifted ‘is foot and gave ‘im a fearful kick on the shin of ‘is leg, and at the same time let drive with all his might in ‘is face. Ginger went down as if he ‘ad been shot, and as Peter went to ‘elp him up he got a bang over the ‘cad that put ‘im alongside o’ Ginger, arter which Sam turned and trotted off down the Hill like a dancing-bear.

      For ‘arf a minute Ginger didn’t know where ‘e was, and afore he found out the two men they’d seen in the gateway came up, and one of ‘em put his knee in Ginger’s back and ‘eld him, while the other caught hold of his ‘and and dragged the purse out of it. Arter which they both made off up the Hill as ‘ard as they could go, while Peter Russet in a faint voice called “Police!” arter them.

      He got up presently and helped Ginger up, and they both stood there pitying themselves, and ‘elping each other to think of names to call Sam.

      “Well, the money’s gorn, and it’s ‘is own silly fault,” ses Ginger. “But wotever ‘appens, he mustn’t know that we had a ‘and in it, mind that.”

      “He can starve for all I care,” ses Peter, feeling his ‘ead. “I won’t lend ‘im a ha’penny—not a single, blessed ha’penny.”

      “Who’d ha’ thought ‘e could ha’ hit like that?” says Ginger. “That’s wot gets over me. I never ‘ad such a bang in my life—never. I’m going to ‘ave a little drop o’ brandy—my ‘ead is fair swimming.”

      Peter ‘ad one, too; but though they went into the private bar, it wasn’t private enough for them; and when the landlady asked Ginger who’d been kissing ‘im, he put ‘is glass down with a bang and walked straight off ‘ome.

      Sam ‘adn’t turned up by the time they got there, and pore Ginger took advantage of it to put a little warm candle-grease on ‘is bad leg. Then he bathed ‘is face very careful and ‘elped Peter bathe his ‘ead. They ‘ad just finished when they heard Sam coming upstairs, and Ginger sat down on ‘is bed and began to whistle, while Peter took up a bit o’ newspaper and stood by the candle reading it.

      “Lor’ lumme, Ginger!” ses Sam, staring at ‘im. “What ha’ you been a-doing to your face?”

      “Me?” ses Ginger, careless-like. “Oh, we ‘ad a bit of a scrap down Limehouse way with some Scotchies. Peter got a crack over the ‘ead at the same time.”

      “Ah, I’ve ‘ad a bit of a scrap, too,” ses Sam, smiling all over, “but I didn’t get marked.”

      “Oh!” ses Peter, without looking up from ‘is paper. “Was it a little boy, then?” ses Ginger.

      “No, it wasn’t a little boy neither, Ginger,” ses Sam; “it was a couple o’ men twice the size of you and Peter here, and I licked ‘em both. It was the two men I spoke to you about last night.”