W. W. Jacobs

“ A GARDEN PLOT
The able-bodied men of the village were at work, the children were at school singing the multiplication-table lullaby, while the wives and mothers at home nursed the baby with one hand and did the housework with the other. At the end of the village an old man past work sat at a rough deal table under the creaking signboard of the Cauliflower, gratefully drinking from a mug of ale supplied by a chance traveller who sat opposite him. ”

“ Bliss.
“Look ‘ere,” said Bill, frankly, “go and speak to the old man. It's no good talking to us. Go and have it out with him.”
Private Bliss thanked him and went on deck. Old Thomas was at the wheel, and a pleasant clatter of knives and forks came up through the open skylight of the cabin. Ignoring the old man, who waved him away, he raised the open skylight still higher, and thrust his head in.
“Go away,” bawled the skipper, pausing with his knife in his fist as he caught sight of him. ”

“ At half-past nine the crew of the Merman were buried in slumber, at nine thirty-two three of the members were awake with heads protruding out of their bunks, trying to peer through the gloom, while the fourth dreamt that a tea-tray was falling down a never-ending staircase. On the floor of the forecastle something was cursing prettily and rubbing itself.
“Did you ‘ear anything, Ted?” inquired a voice in an interval of silence.
“Who is it?” demanded Ted, ignoring the question. “Wot d'yer want?” ”

“ Nobody else does. He's a man who as good as told me I'm a liar.”
“Wot!” said Mr. Wiggett, rising and stumping across the bar; “take it back, mate. I've only got one leg, but nobody shall run down Sol while I can draw breath. The finest sailor-man that ever trod a deck is Sol, and the best-'earted.”
“Hear, hear,” said Mr. Smith; “own up as you're in the wrong, Ned.”
“When I was laying in my bunk in the fo'c's'le being nursed back to life,” continued Mr. Wiggett, enthusiastically, “who was it that set by my side ‘olding my ‘and and telling me to live for his sake?—why, Sol Ketchmaid. ”

“ Before the paralysed crew could prevent him he had flung his coat into Bill's arms and followed the master of the Merman aft. As a light-weight he was rather fancied at the gymnasium, and in the all too brief exhibition which followed he displayed fine form and a knowledge of anatomy which even the skipper's tailor was powerless to frustrate. ”

“ He was not allowed to proceed any further; footsteps and a voice were heard above, and as old Thomas hastily extinguished the lamp, the mate's head was thrust down the scuttle, and the mate's voice sounded a profane reveillé.
“Wot are we goin' to do with it?” inquired Ted, as the mate walked away.
“I'm, Ted,” said Bill, nervously. “He's alive all right.”
“If we put ‘im ashore an' ‘e's dead,” said old Thomas, “there'll be trouble for somebody. Better let ‘im be, and if ‘e's dead, why we don't none of us know nothing about it.” ”

“ Brown, harshly, as he turned to the boy, “I shall give you a hiding.”
“Where am I to run to?” whimpered Master Jones, dodging off and on.
“Run ‘ome,” said Sam.
“That's where I'm going,” said Master Jones, following.
“Better try and give ‘im the slip, Sam,” said Mr. Legge, in a confidential whisper; “though it seems an unnatural thing to do.”
“Unnatural? What d'ye mean?” demanded his unfortunate friend. “Wot d'ye mean by unnatural?”
“Oh, if you're going to talk like that, Sam,” said Mr. Legge, shortly, “it's no good giving you advice. As you've made your bed, you must lay on it.” ”

“ Hirst shuddered, and, still retaining his nervous grip of Malcolm's sleeve, dropped into a chair.
“Well, it's a most unaccountable thing,” said the dumbfounded Malcolm, turning round to the others. “It's the last time I come to this house.”
“I leave to-morrow,” said George. “I wouldn't go down to that bar again by myself, no, not for fifty pounds!”
“It's talking about the thing that's caused it, I expect,” said one of the men; “we've all been talking about this and having it in our minds. Practically we've been forming a spiritualistic circle without knowing it.” ”

“ In fact my father used to confess that it was only the unpleasantness of the thing that upset him, and that for all practical purposes Jerry's fingers might have been made of cottonwool for all the harm they could do.”
“That's all very fine,” said the last speaker again; “a ghost story is a ghost story, sir; but when a gentleman tells a tale of a ghost in the house in which one is going to sleep, I call it most ungentlemanly!”
“Pooh! nonsense!” said the old gentleman, rising; “ghosts can't hurt you. ”

“ Wot's easier than to ‘ave ‘em put on?'
“‘Wot?' screams Ginger. ‘Tattoo me! Spile my skin with a lot o' beastly blue marks! Not me, not if I know it. I'd like to see anybody try it, that's all.'
“He was that mad ‘e wouldn't listen to reason, and, as old Sam said, ‘e couldn't have made more fuss if they'd offered to skin ‘im alive, an' Peter Russet tried to prove that a man's skin was made to be tattooed on, or else there wouldn't be tattooers; same as a man ‘ad been given two legs so as ‘e could wear trousers. But reason was chucked away on Ginger, an' ‘e wouldn't listen to ‘em. ”

“ The old man started, and hurriedly ascended to the deck. He was absent two or three minutes, and, when he returned, consternation was writ large upon his face.
“He's gone,” he spluttered; “there ain't a sign of ‘im about, and the life-belt wot hangs on the galley ‘as gone too. Wot am I to do?”
“Well, they was very old cloes,” said Bill, soothingly, “an' you ain't a bad figger, not for your time o' life, Thomas.”
“There's many a wooden-legged man ‘ud be glad to change with you,” affirmed Ted, who had been roused by the noise. “You'll soon get over the feeling o' shyness, Thomas.” ”

“ Smith, who, with the rest of the company, had been looking on in a state of great admiration. “He's never tired of telling us ‘ow you saved him from the shark and ‘ad your leg bit off in so doing.”
“I'd ‘ave my other bit off for ‘im, too,” said Mr. Wiggett, as the landlord patted him affectionately on the shoulder and thrust a glass of spirits into his hands. “Cheerful, I would. The kindest-'earted and the bravest man that ever breathed, is old Sol Ketchmaid.” ”

“ 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. ”

“ We'd only ‘ad the Flower Show one year, and little anybody thought that the next one was to be the last. The first year you might smell the place a mile off in the summer, and on the day of the show people came from a long way round, and brought money to spend at the Cauliflower and other places.
“It was started just after we got our new parson, and Mrs. Pawlett, the parson's wife, ‘is name being Pawlett, thought as she'd encourage men to love their ‘omes and be better ‘usbands by giving a prize every year for the best cottage garden. ”

“ Cox; “it would be a lesson to her not to be deceitful again. And, by Jove, I'll get some money from her to escape with; I know she's got some, and if she hasn't she will have in a day or two. There's a little pub at Newstead, eight miles from here, where we could be as happy as fighting cocks with a fiver or two. And while we're there enjoying ourselves my wife'll be half out of her mind trying to account for your disappearance to Mrs. Berry.”
“It sounds all right,” said Mr. Piper, cautiously, “but she won't believe you. You don't look wild enough to have killed anybody.” ”

“ Summers. Side by side they sat and quaffed lemonade, and burlesqued the landlord's autobiography, the only consolation afforded to Mr. Ketchmaid consisting in the reflection that they were losing a harmless pleasure in good liquor. Once, and once only, they succumbed to the superior attractions of alcohol, and Mr. Ketchmaid, returning from a visit to his brewer at the large seaport of Burnsea, heard from the ostler the details of a carouse with which he had been utterly unable to cope. ”

“ It ain't wot I should ‘ave expected of men wot's lived in the same place as me for years. Talk about honesty,' ‘e ses, shaking ‘is ‘ead agin, ‘I should like to see a little of it.'
“Peter Smith opened his mouth to speak, and ‘ardly knowing wot ‘e was doing took a pull at ‘is beer at the same time, and if Sam Jones ‘adn't been by to thump ‘im on the back I b'lieve he'd ha' died there and then.
“‘Mark my words,' ses George English, speaking very slow and solemn, ‘there'll be no blessing on it. Whoever's made ‘is fortune by getting up and digging ‘is garden over won't get no real benefit from it. ”

“ Tattooing is a gift,” said the night-watchman, firmly. “It ‘as to be a gift, as you can well see. A man ‘as to know wot ‘e is going to tattoo an' ‘ow to do it; there's no rubbing out or altering. It's a gift, an' it can't be learnt. I knew a man once as used to tattoo a cabin-boy all over every v'y'ge trying to learn. ‘E was a slow, painstaking sort o' man, and the langwidge those boys used to use while ‘e was at work would ‘ardly be believed, but ‘e ‘ad to give up trying arter about fifteen years and take to crochet-work instead. ”

“ Young Beauty was quite enough for me without that.
“‘Ter ‘blige me,' ses Ginger, anxiously, ‘just make yourself as ugly as wot you can, Beauty.'
“‘Leave ‘im alone,' ses old Sam, as his nevy snarled at ‘em. ‘You ain't everybody's money yourself, Ginger.'
“‘I tell you, mates,' ses Ginger, speaking very slow and solemn, ‘there's a fortin in ‘im. I was lookin' at ‘im just now, trying to think who ‘e reminded me of. At fust I thought it was that big stuffed monkey we saw at Melbourne, then I suddenly remembered it was a wild man of Borneo I see when I was a kid up in Sunderland. ”

“ Ginger Dick looks at ‘em ‘ard, ‘e did, and then, ‘e ses, jeering like:
“‘I ‘spose you don't want any Post Office money-orders sent you, then?' he ses.
“‘No,' says Sam and Peter, both together.
“‘You may have ‘em all,' ses Sam; ‘but if you'll be ruled by us, Ginger, you'll give it up, same as wot we ‘ave—you'll sleep the sweeter for it.'
“‘Give it up!' shouts Ginger, dancing up an' down the room, ‘arter being tattooed all over? Why, you must be crazy, Sam—wot's the matter with you?'
“‘It ain't fair play agin a woman,' says old Sam, ‘three strong men agin one poor old woman ”

“ Old Sam looked at Russet, and Russet looked at Ginger, and then they all larfed.
“‘Well, there's no getting over you, I can see that,' ses Reddish, at last. ‘Is he strong?'
“‘Strong? Strong ain't the word for it,' ses Sam.
“‘Bring ‘im to the back and let ‘im ‘ave a wrestle with one o' the brown bears, Ted,' ses ‘is wife.
“‘'E'd kill it,' ses old Sam, hastily.
“‘Never mind,' ses Reddish, getting up; ‘brown bears is cheap enough.'
“They all got up then, none of ‘em knowing wot to do, except the wild man, that is, and he got ‘is arms tight round the leg o' the table. ”

“ 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. ”

“ Ketchmaid, with a loud cry, snatched up a bottle and made as though to brain him with it.
“You rascal,” said the landlord, in a stifled voice. “You infernal rascal. I never set eyes on you till I saw you the other day on the quay at Burnsea, and, just for an innercent little joke like with Ned Clark, asked you to come in and pretend.”
“Pretend!” repeated Mr. Wiggett, in a horror-stricken voice. “Pretend! Have you forgotten me pushing you out of the way and saying, ‘Save yourself, Sol,' as the shark's jaw clashed together over my leg? Have you forgotten ‘ow—?” ”

“ When Joe Gubbins started digging up ‘is garden people began to think they were all bewitched, and I went round to see Henery Walker to tell ‘im wot a fine chance ‘e'd got, and to remind ‘im that I'd put another ninepence on ‘im the night before. All ‘e said was, ‘More fool you,' and went on digging a ‘ole in his garden big enough to put a ‘ouse in.
“In a fortnight's time there wasn't a garden worth looking at in the place, and it was quite clear there'd be no Flower Show that year, and of all the silly, bad-tempered men in the place them as ‘ad dug up their pretty gardens was the wust. ”

“ 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. ”

“ Bill was the first to yield, and to the astonishment of his friends passed into a soft magnetic slumber, from which he emerged to perform the usual idiotic tricks peculiar to mesmerised subjects.
“It's wonderful what power you ‘ave over em,” said Captain Bradd, respectfully.
Captain Zingall smiled affably. “At the present moment,” he said, “that man is my unthinkin' slave, an' whatever I wish him to do he does. Would any of you like him to do anything?” ”