Deserted
"Sailormen ain't wot you might call dandyfied as a rule," said the night-watchman, who had just had a passage of arms with a lighterman and beenadvised to let somebody else wash him and make a good job of it; "they'vegot too much sense. They leave dressing up and making eyesores oftheirselves to men wot 'ave never smelt salt water; men wot drift up anddown the river in lighters and get in everybody's way."He glanced fiercely at the retreating figure of the lighterman, and,turning a deaf ear to a request for a lock of his hair to patch afavorite doormat with, resumed with much vigor his task of sweeping upthe litter.The most dressy sailorman I ever knew, he continued, as he stood thebroom up in a corner and seated himself on a keg, was a young fellernamed Rupert Brown. His mother gave 'im the name of Rupert while hisfather was away at sea, and when he came 'ome it was too late to alterit. All that a man could do he did do, and Mrs. Brown 'ad a black eyetill 'e went to sea agin. She was a very obstinate woman, though--likemost of 'em--and a little over a year arterwards got pore old Brown threemonths' hard by naming 'er next boy Roderick Alfonso.Young Rupert was on a barge when I knew 'im fust, but he got tired ofalways 'aving dirty hands arter a time, and went and enlisted as asoldier. I lost sight of 'im for a while, and then one evening he turnedup on furlough and come to see me.O' course, by this time 'e was tired of soldiering, but wot upset 'immore than anything was always 'aving to be dressed the same and not beingable to wear a collar and neck-tie. He said that if it wasn't for thesake of good old England, and the chance o' getting six months, he'ddesert. I tried to give 'im good advice, and, if I'd only known 'ow Iwas to be dragged into it, I'd ha' given 'im a lot more.As it 'appened he deserted the very next arternoon. He was in the ThreeWidders at Aldgate, in the saloon bar--which is a place where you get apenn'orth of ale in a glass and pay twopence for it--and, arter beingtold by the barmaid that she had got one monkey at 'ome, he got intoconversation with another man wot was in there.He was a big man with a black moustache and a red face, and 'is fingersall smothered in di'mond rings. He 'ad got on a gold watch-chain asthick as a rope, and a scarf-pin the size of a large walnut, and he had'ad a few words with the barmaid on 'is own account. He seemed to take afancy to Rupert from the fust, and in a few minutes he 'ad given 'im abig cigar out of a sealskin case and ordered 'im a glass of sherry wine."Have you ever thought o' going on the stage?" he ses, arter Rupert 'adtold 'im of his dislike for the Army."No," ses Rupert, staring."You s'prise me," ses the big man; "you're wasting of your life by notdoing so.""But I can't act," ses Rupert."Stuff and nonsense!" ses the big man. "Don't tell me. You've got anactor's face. I'm a manager myself, and I know. I don't mind tellingyou that I refused twenty-three men and forty-eight ladies onlyyesterday.""I wonder you don't drop down dead," ses the barmaid, lifting up 'isglass to wipe down the counter.The manager looked at her, and, arter she 'ad gone to talk to a gentlemanin the next bar wot was knocking double knocks on the counter with a pintpot, he whispered to Rupert that she 'ad been one of them."She can't act a bit," he ses. "Now, look 'ere; I'm a business man andmy time is valuable. I don't know nothing, and I don't want to knownothing; but, if a nice young feller, like yourself, for example, wastired of the Army and wanted to escape, I've got one part left in mycompany that 'ud suit 'im down to the ground.""Wot about being reckernized?" ses Rupert.The manager winked at 'im. "It's the part of a Zulu chief," he ses, in awhisper.Rupert started. "But I should 'ave to black my face," he ses."A little," ses the manager; "but you'd soon get on to better parts--andsee wot a fine disguise it is."He stood 'im two more glasses o' sherry wine, and, arter he' ad drunk'em, Rupert gave way. The manager patted 'im on the back, and said thatif he wasn't earning fifty pounds a week in a year's time he'd eat his'ead; and the barmaid, wot 'ad come back agin, said it was the best thinghe could do with it, and she wondered he 'adn't thought of it afore.They went out separate, as the manager said it would be better for themnot to be seen together, and Rupert, keeping about a dozen yards behind,follered 'im down the Mile End Road. By and by the manager stoppedoutside a shop-window wot 'ad been boarded up and stuck all over withsavages dancing and killing white people and hunting elephants, and,arter turning round and giving Rupert a nod, opened the door with a keyand went inside."That's all right," he ses, as Rupert follered 'im in. "This is my wife,Mrs. Alfredi," he ses, introducing 'im to a fat, red-'aired lady wot wassitting inside sewing. "She has performed before all the crowned 'eadsof Europe. That di'mond brooch she's wearing was a present from theEmperor of Germany, but, being a married man, he asked 'er to keep itquiet."Rupert shook 'ands with Mrs. Alfredi, and then her 'usband led 'im to aroom at the back, where a little lame man was cleaning up things, andtold 'im to take his clothes off."If they was mine," he ses, squinting at the fire-place, "I should knowwot to do with 'em."Rupert laughed and slapped 'im on the back, and, arter cutting hisuniform into pieces, stuffed it into the fireplace and pulled the dampersout. He burnt up 'is boots and socks and everything else, and they allthree laughed as though it was the best joke in the world. Then Mr.Alfredi took his coat off and, dipping a piece of rag into a basin ofstuff wot George 'ad fetched, did Rupert a lovely brown all over."That's the fust coat," he ses. "Now take a stool in front of the fireand let it soak in."He gave 'im another coat arf an hour arterwards, while George curled his'air, and when 'e was dressed in bracelets round 'is ankles and wrists,and a leopard-skin over his shoulder, he was as fine a Zulu as you couldwish for to see. His lips was naturally thick and his nose flat, andeven his eyes 'appened to be about the right color."He's a fair perfect treat," ses Mr. Alfredi. "Fetch Kumbo in, George."The little man went out, and came back agin shoving in a fat, stumpy Zuluwoman wot began to grin and chatter like a poll-parrot the moment she sawRupert."It's all right," ses Mr. Alfredi; "she's took a fancy to you.""Is--is she an actress?" ses Rupert."One o' the best," ses the manager. "She'll teach you to dance and shyassegais. Pore thing! she buried her 'usband the day afore we come here,but you'll be surprised to see 'ow skittish she can be when she has gotover it a bit."They sat there while Rupert practised--till he started shying theassegais, that is--and then they went out and left 'im with Kumbo.Considering that she 'ad only just buried her 'usband, Rupert found herquite skittish enough, and he couldn't 'elp wondering wot she'd be likewhen she'd got over her grief a bit more.The manager and George said he 'ad got on wonderfully, and arter talkingit over with Mrs. Alfredi they decided to open that evening, and poreRupert found out that the shop was the theatre, and all the acting he'dgot to do was to dance war-dances and sing in Zulu to people wot had paida penny a 'ead. He was a bit nervous at fust, for fear anybody shouldfind out that 'e wasn't a real Zulu, because the manager said they'd tear'im to pieces if they did, and eat 'im arterwards, but arter a time 'isnervousness wore off and he jumped about like a monkey.They gave performances every arf hour from ha'-past six to ten, andRupert felt ready to drop. His feet was sore with dancing and his throatached with singing Zulu, but wot upset 'im more than anything was anelderly old party wot would keep jabbing 'im in the ribs with herumbrella to see whether he could laugh.They 'ad supper arter they 'ad closed, and then Mr. Alfredi and 'is wifewent off, and Rupert and George made up beds for themselves in the shop,while Kumbo 'ad a little place to herself at the back.He did better than ever next night, and they all said he was improvingfast; and Mr. Alfredi told 'im in a whisper that he thought he was betterat it than Kumbo. "Not that I should mind 'er knowing much," he ses,"seeing that she's took such a fancy to you.""Ah, I was going to speak to you about that," ses Rupert. "Forwardnessis no name for it; if she don't keep 'erself to 'erself, I shall chuckthe whole thing up."The manager coughed behind his 'and. "And go back to the Army?" he ses."Well, I should be sorry to lose you, but I won't stand in your way."Mrs. Alfredi, wot was standing by, stuffed her pocket-'ankercher in 'ermouth, and Rupert began to feel a bit uneasy in his mind."If I did," he ses, "you'd get into trouble for 'elping me to desert.""Desert!" ses Mr. Alfredi. "I don't know anything about your deserting.""Ho!" ses Rupert. "And wot about my uniform?""Uniform?" ses Mr. Alfredi. "Wot uniform? I ain't seen no uniform.Where is it?"Rupert didn't answer 'im, but arter they 'ad gone 'ome he told Georgethat he 'ad 'ad enough of acting and he should go."Where to?" ses George."I'll find somewhere," ses Rupert. "I sha'n't starve.""You might ketch your death o' cold, though," ses George.Rupert said he didn't mind, and then he shut 'is eyes and pretended to beasleep. His idea was to wait till George was asleep and then pinch 'isclothes; consequently 'is feelings when 'e opened one eye and saw Georgegetting into bed with 'is clothes on won't bear thinking about. He laidawake for hours, and three times that night George, who was a very heavysleeper, woke up and found Rupert busy tucking him in.By the end of the week Rupert was getting desperate. He hated beingblack for one thing, and the more he washed the better color he looked.He didn't mind the black for out o' doors, in case the Army was lookingfor 'im, but 'aving no clothes he couldn't get out o' doors; and when hesaid he wouldn't perform unless he got some, Mr. Alfredi dropped 'intsabout having 'im took up for a deserter."I've 'ad my suspicions of it for some days," he ses, with a wink,"though you did come to me in a nice serge suit and tell me you was anactor. Now, you be a good boy for another week and I'll advance you acouple o' pounds to get some clothes with."Rupert asked him to let 'im have it then, but 'e wouldn't, and foranother week he 'ad to pretend 'e was a Zulu of an evening, and try andpersuade Kumbo that he was an English gentleman of a daytime.He got the money at the end of the week and 'ad to sign a paper to give amonth's notice any time he wanted to leave, but he didn't mind that atall, being determined the fust time he got outside the place to run awayand ship as a nigger cook if 'e couldn't get the black off.He made a list o' things out for George to get for 'im, but there seemedto be such a lot for two pounds that Mr. Alfredi shook his 'ead over it;and arter calling 'imself a soft-'arted fool, and saying he'd finish upin the workhouse, he made it three pounds and told George to look sharp."He's a very good marketer," he ses, arter George 'ad gone; "he don'tmind wot trouble he takes. He'll very likely haggle for hours to getsixpence knocked off the trousers or twopence off the shirt."It was twelve o'clock in the morning when George went, and at ha'-pastfour Rupert turned nasty, and said 'e was afraid he was trying to getthem for nothing. At five o'clock he said George was a fool, and atha'-past he said 'e was something I won't repeat.It was just eleven o'clock, and they 'ad shut up for the night, when thefront door opened, and George stood there smiling at 'em and shaking his'ead."Sush a lark," he ses, catching 'old of Mr. Alfredi's arm to steady'imself. "I gave 'im shlip.""Wot d'ye mean?" ses the manager, shaking him off. "Gave who the slip?Where's them clothes?""Boy's got 'em," ses George, smiling agin and catching hold of Kumbo'sarm. "Sush a lark; he's been car-carrying 'em all day--all day. NowI've given 'im the--the shlip, 'stead o'--'stead o' giving 'im fourpence.Take care o' the pensh, an' pouns--"He let go o' Kumbo's arm, turned round twice, and then sat down 'eavy andfell fast asleep. The manager rushed to the door and looked out, butthere was no signs of the boy, and he came back shaking his 'ead, andsaid that George 'ad been drinking agin."Well, wot about my clothes?" ses Rupert, hardly able to speak."P'r'aps he didn't buy 'em arter all," ses the manager. "Let's try 'ispockets."He tried fust, and found some strawberries that George 'ad spoilt bysitting on. Then he told Rupert to have a try, and Rupert found somebits of string, a few buttons, two penny stamps, and twopence ha'penny incoppers."Never mind," ses Mr. Alfredi; "I'll go round to the police-station inthe morning; p'r'aps the boy 'as taken them there. I'm disapp'inted inGeorge. I shall tell 'im so, too."He bid Rupert good-night and went off with Mrs. Alfredi; and Rupert,wishful to make the best o' things, decided that he would undress Georgeand go off in 'is clothes. He waited till Kumbo 'ad gone off to bed, andthen he started to take George's coat off. He got the two top buttonsundone all right, and then George turned over in 'is sleep. It surprisedRupert, but wot surprised 'im more when he rolled George over was to findthem two buttons done up agin. Arter it had 'appened three times he see'ow it was, and he come to the belief that George was no more drunk thanwot he was, and that it was all a put-up thing between 'im and Mr.Alfredi.He went to bed then to think it over, and by the morning he 'ad made uphis mind to keep quiet and bide his time, as the saying is. He spokequite cheerful to Mr. Alfredi, and pretended to believe 'im when he saidthat he 'ad been to the police-station about the clothes.Two days arterwards he thought of something; he remembered me. He 'adfound a dirty old envelope on the floor, and with a bit o' lead pencil hewrote me a letter on the back of one o' the bills, telling me all histroubles, and asking me to bring some clothes and rescue 'im. He stuckon one of the stamps he 'ad found in George's pocket, and opening thedoor just afore going to bed threw it out on the pavement.The world is full of officious, interfering busy-bodies. I should nomore think of posting a letter that didn't belong to me, with an unusedstamp on it, than I should think o' flying; but some meddle-some son of a----a gun posted that letter and I got it.I was never more surprised in my life. He asked me to be outside theshop next night at ha'-past eleven with any old clothes I could pick up.If I didn't, he said he should 'ang 'imself as the clock struck twelve,and that his ghost would sit on the wharf and keep watch with me everynight for the rest o' my life. He said he expected it 'ud have a blackface, same as in life.A wharf is a lonely place of a night; especially our wharf, which is fullof dark corners, and, being a silly, good-natured fool, I went. I got apal off of one of the boats to keep watch for me, and, arter getting someold rags off of another sailorman as owed me arf a dollar, I 'ad a drinkand started off for the Mile End Road.I found the place easy enough. The door was just on the jar, and as Itapped on it with my finger-nails a wild-looking black man, arf naked,opened it and said "H'sh!" and pulled me inside. There was a bit o'candle on the floor, shaded by a box, and a man fast asleep and snoringup in one corner. Rupert dressed like lightning, and he 'ad just put on'is cap when the door at the back opened and a 'orrid fat black womancame out and began to chatter.Rupert told her to hush, and she 'ushed, and then he waved 'is hand to'er to say "good-bye," and afore you could say Jack Robinson she 'adgrabbed up a bit o' dirty blanket, a bundle of assegais, and a spear, andcome out arter us."Back!" ses Rupert in a whisper, pointing.Kumbo shook her 'ead, and then he took hold of 'er and tried to shove 'erback, but she wouldn't go. I lent him a 'and, but all wimmen are thesame, black or white, and afore I knew where I was she 'ad clawed my capoff and scratched me all down one side of the face."Walk fast," ses Rupert.I started to run, but it was all no good; Kumbo kept up with us easy, andshe was so pleased at being out in the open air that she began to danceand play about like a kitten. Instead o' minding their own businesspeople turned and follered us, and quite a crowd collected."We shall 'ave the police in a minute," ses Rupert. "Come in 'ere--quick."He pointed to a pub up a side street, and went in with Kumbo holding onto his arm. The barman was for sending us out at fust, but such a crowdfollered us in that he altered 'is mind. I ordered three pints, and,while I was 'anding Rupert his, Kumbo finished 'ers and began on mine.I tried to explain, but she held on to it like grim death, and in theconfusion Rupert slipped out.He 'adn't been gone five seconds afore she missed 'im, and I never seeanybody so upset in all my life. She spilt the beer all down the placewhere 'er bodice ought to ha' been, and then she dropped the pot and wentarter 'im like a hare. I follered in a different way, and when I gotround the corner I found she 'ad caught 'im and was holding 'im by thearm.O' course, the crowd was round us agin, and to get rid of 'em I did athing I'd seldom done afore--I called a cab, and we all bundled in anddrove off to the wharf, with the spear sticking out o' the window, andmost of the assegais sticking into me."This is getting serious," ses Rupert."Yes," I ses; "and wot 'ave I done to be dragged into it? You must ha'been paying 'er some attention to make 'er carry on like this."I thought Rupert would ha' bust, and the things he said to the man wotwas spending money like water to rescue 'im was disgraceful.We got to the wharf at last, and I was glad to see that my pal 'ad gottired of night-watching and 'ad gone off, leaving the gate open. Kumbowent in 'anging on to Rupert's arm, and I follered with the spear, whichI 'ad held in my 'and while I paid the cabman.They went into the office, and Rupert and me talked it over while Kumbokept patting 'is cheek. He was afraid that the manager would track 'imto the wharf, and I was afraid that the guv'nor would find out that I 'adbeen neglecting my dooty, for the fust time in my life.We talked all night pretty near, and then, at ha'-past five, arf an hourafore the 'ands came on, I made up my mind to fetch a cab and drive 'emto my 'ouse. I wanted Rupert to go somewhere else, but 'e said he 'adgot nowhere else to go, and it was the only thing to get 'em off thewharf. I opened the gates at ten minutes to six, and just as the fustman come on and walked down the wharf we slipped in and drove away.We was all tired and yawning. There's something about the motion of acab or an omnibus that always makes me feel sleepy, and arter a time Iclosed my eyes and went off sound. I remember I was dreaming that I 'adfound a bag o' money, when the cab pulled up with a jerk in front of my'ouse and woke me up. Opposite me sat Kumbo fast asleep, and Rupert 'addisappeared!I was dazed for a moment, and afore I could do anything Kumbo woke up andmissed Rupert. Wot made matters worse than anything was that my missiswas kneeling down in the passage doing 'er door-step, and 'er face, as Igot down out o' that cab with Kumbo 'anging on to my arm was somethingtoo awful for words. It seemed to rise up slow-like from near the door-step, and to go on rising till I thought it 'ud never stop. And everyinch it rose it got worse and worse to look at.She stood blocking up the doorway with her 'ands on her 'ips, while Iexplained, with Kumbo still 'anging on my arm and a crowd collectingbehind, and the more I explained, the more I could see she didn't believea word of it.She never 'as believed it. I sent for Mr. Alfredi to come and take Kumboaway, and when I spoke to 'im about Rupert he said I was dreaming, andasked me whether I wasn't ashamed o' myself for carrying off a pore blackgal wot 'ad got no father or mother to look arter her. He said thatafore my missis, and my character 'as been under a cloud ever since,waiting for Rupert to turn up and clear it away.
Deserted was featured as
TheShort Story of the Day on
Wed, Oct 23, 2013
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