At Sunwich Port, Part 1. - W.W. Jacobs
AT SUNWICH PORT
BY
W. W. JACOBS
Part 1.
ILLUSTRATIONS
From Drawings by Will Owen
CHAPTER I
The ancient port of Sunwich was basking in the sunshine of a July
afternoon. A rattle of cranes and winches sounded from the shipping in
the harbour, but the town itself was half asleep. Somnolent shopkeepers
in dim back parlours coyly veiled their faces in red handkerchiefs from
the too ardent flies, while small boys left in charge noticed listlessly
the slow passing of time as recorded by the church clock.
It is a fine church, and Sunwich is proud of it. The tall grey tower is
a landmark at sea, but from the narrow streets of the little town itself
it has a disquieting appearance of rising suddenly above the roofs
huddled beneath it for the purpose of displaying a black-faced clock with
gilt numerals whose mellow chimes have recorded the passing hours for
many generations of Sunwich men.
Regardless of the heat, which indeed was mild compared with that which
raged in his own bosom, Captain Nugent, fresh from the inquiry of the
collision of his ship _Conqueror_ with the German barque _Hans Muller_,
strode rapidly up the High Street in the direction of home. An honest
seafaring smell, compounded of tar, rope, and fish, known to the educated
of Sunwich as ozone, set his thoughts upon the sea. He longed to be
aboard ship again, with the Court of Inquiry to form part of his crew.
In all his fifty years of life he had never met such a collection of
fools. His hard blue eyes blazed as he thought of them, and the mouth
hidden by his well-kept beard was set with anger.
Mr. Samson Wilks, his steward, who had been with him to London to give
evidence, had had a time upon which he looked back in later years with
much satisfaction at his powers of endurance. He was with the captain,
and yet not with him. When they got out of the train at Sunwich he
hesitated as to whether he should follow the captain or leave him. His
excuse for following was the bag, his reason for leaving the volcanic
condition of its owner's temper, coupled with the fact that he appeared
to be sublimely ignorant that the most devoted steward in the world was
tagging faithfully along a yard or two in the rear.
The few passers-by glanced at the couple with interest. Mr. Wilks had
what is called an expressive face, and he had worked his sandy eyebrows,
his weak blue eyes, and large, tremulous mouth into such an expression of
surprise at the finding of the Court, that he had all the appearance of a
beholder of visions. He changed the bag to his other hand as they left
the town behind them, and regarded with gratitude the approaching end of
his labours.
At the garden-gate of a fair-sized house some half-mile along the road
the captain stopped, and after an impatient fumbling at the latch strode
up the path, followed by Mr. Wilks, and knocked at the door. As he
paused on the step he half turned, and for the first time noticed the
facial expression of his faithful follower.
"What the dickens are you looking like that for?" he demanded.
"I've been surprised, sir," conceded Mr. Wilks; "surprised and
astonished."
Wrath blazed again in the captain's eyes and set lines in his forehead.
He was being pitied by a steward!
"You've been drinking," he said, crisply; "put that bag down."
"Arsking your pardon, sir," said the steward, twisting his unusually dry
lips into a smile, "but I've 'ad no opportunity, sir--I've been follerin'
you all day, sir."
A servant opened the door. "You've been soaking in it for a month,"
declared the captain as he entered the hall. "Why the blazes don't you
bring that bag in? Are you so drunk you don't know what you are doing?"
Mr. Wilks picked the bag up and followed humbly into the house. Then he
lost his head altogether, and gave some colour to his superior officer's
charges by first cannoning into the servant and then wedging the captain
firmly in the doorway of the sitting-room with the bag.
"Steward!" rasped the captain.
"Yessir," said the unhappy Mr. Wilks.
"Go and sit down in the kitchen, and don't leave this house till you're
sober."
Mr. Wilks disappeared. He was not in his first lustre, but he was an
ardent admirer of the sex, and in an absent-minded way he passed his arm
round the handmaiden's waist, and sustained a buffet which made his head
ring.
"A man o' your age, and drunk, too," explained the damsel.
Mr. Wilks denied both charges. It appeared that he was much younger than
he looked, while, as for drink, he had forgotten the taste of it. A
question as to the reception Ann would have accorded a boyish teetotaler
remained unanswered.
In the sitting-room Mrs. Kingdom, the captain's widowed sister, put down
her crochet-work as her brother entered, and turned to him expectantly.
There was an expression of loving sympathy on her mild and rather foolish
face, and the captain stiffened at once.
"I was in the wrong," he said, harshly, as he dropped into a chair; "my
certificate has been suspended for six months, and my first officer has
been commended."
"Suspended?" gasped Mrs. Kingdom, pushing back the white streamer to the
cap which she wore in memory of the late Mr. Kingdom, and sitting
upright. You?"
"I think that's what I said," replied her brother.
Mrs. Kingdom gazed at him mournfully, and, putting her hand behind her,
began a wriggling search in her pocket for a handkerchief, with the idea
of paying a wholesome tribute of tears. She was a past-master in the art
of grief, and, pending its extraction, a docile tear hung on her eyelid
and waited. The captain eyed her preparations with silent anger.
"I am not surprised," said Mrs. Kingdom, dabbing her eyes; "I expected it
somehow. I seemed to have a warning of it. Something seemed to tell me;
I couldn't explain, but I seemed to know."
She sniffed gently, and, wiping one eye at a time, kept the disengaged
one charged with sisterly solicitude upon her brother. The captain, with
steadily rising anger, endured this game of one-eyed bo-peep for five
minutes; then he rose and, muttering strange things in his beard, stalked
upstairs to his room.
Mrs. Kingdom, thus forsaken, dried her eyes and resumed her work. The
remainder of the family were in the kitchen ministering to the wants of a
misunderstood steward, and, in return, extracting information which
should render them independent of the captain's version.
"Was it very solemn, Sam?" inquired Miss Nugent, aged nine, who was
sitting on the kitchen table.
Mr. Wilks used his hands and eyebrows to indicate the solemnity of the
occasion.
"They even made the cap'n leave off speaking," he said, in an awed voice.
"I should have liked to have been there," said Master Nugent, dutifully.
"Ann," said Miss Nugent, "go and draw Sam a jug of beer."
"Beer, Miss?" said Ann.
"A jug of beer," repeated Miss Nugent, peremptorily.
Ann took a jug from the dresser, and Mr. Wilks, who was watching her,
coughed helplessly. His perturbation attracted the attention of his
hostess, and, looking round for the cause, she was just in time to see
Ann disappearing into the larder with a cream jug.
[Illustration: "His perturbation attracted the attention of his
hostess."]
"The big jug, Ann," she said, impatiently; "you ought to know Sam would
like a big one."
Ann changed the jugs, and, ignoring a mild triumph in Mr. Wilks's eye,
returned to the larder, whence ensued a musical trickling. Then Miss
Nugent, raising the jug with some difficulty, poured out a tumbler for
the steward with her own fair hands.
"Sam likes beer," she said, speaking generally.
"I knew that the first time I see him, Miss," re-marked the vindictive
Ann.
Mr. Wilks drained his glass and set it down on the table again, making a
feeble gesture of repulse as Miss Nugent refilled it.
"Go on, Sam," she said, with kindly encouragement; "how much does this
jug hold, Jack?"
"Quart," replied her brother.
"How many quarts are there in a gallon?"
"Four."
Miss Nugent looked troubled. "I heard father say he drinks gallons a
day," she remarked; "you'd better fill all the jugs, Ann."
"It was only 'is way o' speaking," said Mr. Wilks, hurriedly; "the cap'n
is like that sometimes."
"I knew a man once, Miss," said Ann, "as used to prefer to 'ave it in a
wash-hand basin. Odd, ugly-looking man 'e was; like Mr. Wilks in the
face, only better-looking."
Mr. Wilks sat upright and, in the mental struggle involved in taking in
this insult in all its ramifications, did not notice until too late that
Miss Nugent had filled his glass again.
"It must ha' been nice for the captain to 'ave you with 'im to-day,"
remarked Ann, carelessly.
"It was," said Mr. Wilks, pausing with the glass at his lips and eyeing
her sternly. "Eighteen years I've bin with 'im--ever since 'e 'ad a
ship. 'E took a fancy to me the fust time 'e set eyes on me."
"Were you better-looking then, Sam?" inquired Miss Nugent, shuffling
closer to him on the table and regarding him affectionately.
"Much as I am now, Miss," replied Mr. Wilks, setting down his glass and
regarding Ann's giggles with a cold eye.
Miss Nugent sighed. "I love you, Sam," she said, simply. "Will you have
some more beer?"
Mr. Wilks declined gracefully. "Eighteen years I've bin with the cap'n,"
he remarked, softly; "through calms and storms, fair weather and foul,
Samson Wilks 'as been by 'is side, always ready in a quiet and 'umble way
to do 'is best for 'im, and now--now that 'e is on his beam-ends and lost
'is ship, Samson Wilks'll sit down and starve ashore till he gets
another."
At these touching words Miss Nugent was undisguisedly affected, and
wiping her bright eyes with her pinafore, gave her small, well-shaped
nose a slight touch _en passant_ with the same useful garment, and
squeezed his arm affectionately.
"It's a lively look-out for me if father is going to be at home for
long," remarked Master Nugent. Who'll get his ship, Sam?"
"Shouldn't wonder if the fust officer, Mr. Hardy, got it," replied the
steward. "He was going dead-slow in the fog afore he sent down to rouse
your father, and as soon as your father came on deck 'e went at
'arfspeed. Mr. Hardy was commended, and your father's certifikit was
suspended for six months."
Master Nugent whistled thoughtfully, and quitting the kitchen proceeded
upstairs to his room, and first washing himself with unusual care for a
boy of thirteen, put on a clean collar and brushed his hair. He was not
going to provide a suspended master-mariner with any obvious reasons for
fault-finding. While he was thus occupied the sitting-room bell rang,
and Ann, answering it, left Mr. Wilks in the kitchen listening with some
trepidation to the conversation.
"Is that steward of mine still in the kitchen?" demanded the captain,
gruffly.
"Yessir," said Ann.
"What's he doing?"
Mr. Wilks's ears quivered anxiously, and he eyed with unwonted disfavour
the evidences of his late debauch.
"Sitting down, sir," replied Ann.
"Give him a glass of ale and send him off," commanded the captain; "and
if that was Miss Kate I heard talking, send her in to me."
Ann took the message back to the kitchen and, with the air of a martyr
engaged upon an unpleasant task, drew Mr. Wilks another glass of ale and
stood over him with well-affected wonder while he drank it. Miss Nugent
walked into the sitting-room, and listening in a perfunctory fashion to a
shipmaster's platitude on kitchen-company, took a seat on his knee and
kissed his ear.
CHAPTER II
The downfall of Captain Nugent was for some time a welcome subject of
conversation in marine circles at Sunwich. At The Goblets, a rambling
old inn with paved courtyard and wooden galleries, which almost backed on
to the churchyard, brother-captains attributed it to an error of
judgment; at the Two Schooners on the quay the profanest of sailormen
readily attributed it to an all-seeing Providence with a dislike of
over-bearing ship-masters.
[Illustration: "A welcome subject of conversation in marine circles."]
The captain's cup was filled to the brim by the promotion of his first
officer to the command of the _Conqueror_. It was by far the largest
craft which sailed from the port of Sunwich, and its master held a
corresponding dignity amongst the captains of lesser vessels. Their
allegiance was now transferred to Captain Hardy, and the master of a brig
which was in the last stages of senile decay, meeting Nugent in The
Goblets, actually showed him by means of two lucifer matches how the
collision might have been avoided.
A touching feature in the business, and a source of much gratification to
Mr. Wilks by the sentimental applause evoked by it, was his renunciation
of the post of steward on the ss. _Conqueror_. Sunwich buzzed with the
tidings that after eighteen years' service with Captain Nugent he
preferred starvation ashore to serving under another master. Although
comfortable in pocket and known to be living with his mother, who kept a
small general shop, he was regarded as a man on the brink of starvation.
Pints were thrust upon him, and the tale of his nobility increased with
much narration. It was considered that the whole race of stewards had
acquired fresh lustre from his action.
His only unfavourable critic was the erring captain himself. He sent
a peremptory summons to Mr. Wilks to attend at Equator Lodge, and the
moment he set eyes upon that piece of probity embarked upon such a
vilification of his personal defects and character as Mr. Wilks had never
even dreamt of. He wound up by ordering him to rejoin the ship
forthwith.
"Arsking your pardon, sir," said Mr. Wilks, with tender reproach, "but I
couldn't."
"Are you going to live on your mother, you hulking rascal?" quoth the
incensed captain.
"No, sir," said Mr. Wilks. "I've got a little money, sir; enough for my
few wants till we sail again."
"When I sail again you won't come with me," said the captain, grimly.
"I suppose you want an excuse for a soak ashore for six months!"
Mr. Wilks twiddled his cap in his hands and smiled weakly.
"I thought p'r'aps as you'd like me to come round and wait at table, and
help with the knives and boots and such-like," he said, softly. "Ann is
agreeable."
"Get out of the house," said the captain in quiet, measured tones.
Mr. Wilks went, but on his way to the gate he picked up three pieces of
paper which had blown into the garden, weeded two pieces of grass from
the path, and carefully removed a dead branch from a laurel facing the
window. He would have done more but for an imperative knocking on the
glass, and he left the premises sadly, putting his collection of rubbish
over the next garden fence as he passed it.
But the next day the captain's boots bore such a polish that he was able
to view his own startled face in them, and at dinner-time the brightness
of the knives was so conspicuous that Mrs. Kingdom called Ann in for the
purpose of asking her why she didn't always do them like that. Her
brother ate his meal in silence, and going to his room afterwards
discovered every pair of boots he possessed, headed by the tall
sea-boots, standing in a nicely graduated line by the wall, and all
shining their hardest.
For two days did Mr. Wilks do good by stealth, leaving Ann to blush to
find it fame; but on the third day at dinner, as the captain took up his
knife and fork to carve, he became aware of a shadow standing behind his
chair. A shadow in a blue coat with metal buttons, which, whipping up
the first plate carved, carried it to Mrs. Kingdom, and then leaned
against her with the vegetable dishes.
The dishes clattered a little on his arm as he helped the captain, but
the latter, after an impressive pause and a vain attempt to catch the eye
of Mr. Wilks, which was intent upon things afar off, took up the spoon
and helped himself. From the unwonted silence of Miss Nugent in the
presence of anything unusual it was clear to him that the whole thing had
been carefully arranged. He ate in silence, and a resolution to kick Mr.
Wilks off the premises vanished before the comfort, to say nothing of the
dignity, afforded by his presence. Mr. Wilks, somewhat reassured,
favoured Miss Nugent with a wink to which, although she had devoted much
time in trying to acquire the art, she endeavoured in vain to respond.
It was on the day following this that Jack Nugent, at his sister's
instigation, made an attempt to avenge the family honour. Miss Nugent,
although she treated him with scant courtesy herself, had a touching
faith in his prowess, a faith partly due to her brother occasionally
showing her his bicep muscles in moments of exaltation.
"There's that horrid Jem Hardy," she said, suddenly, as they walked along
the road.
"So it is," said Master Nugent, but without any display of enthusiasm.
"Halloa, Jack," shouted Master Hardy across the road.
"The suspense became painful."
"Halloa," responded the other.
"He's going to fight you," shrilled Miss Nugent, who thought these
amenities ill-timed; "he said so."
Master Hardy crossed the road. "What for?" he demanded, with surprise.
"Because you're a nasty, horrid boy," replied Miss Nugent, drawing
herself up.
"Oh," said Master Hardy, blankly.
The two gentlemen stood regarding each other with uneasy grins; the lady
stood by in breathless expectation. The suspense became painful.
[Illustration: "The suspense became painful."]
"Who are you staring at?" demanded Master Nugent, at last.
"You," replied the other; "who are you staring at?"
"You," said Master Nugent, defiantly.
There was a long interval, both gentlemen experiencing some difficulty in
working up sufficient heat for the engagement.
"You hit me and see what you'll get," said Master Hardy, at length.
"You hit me," said the other.
"Cowardy, cowardy custard," chanted the well-bred Miss Nugent, "ate his
mother's mustard. Cowardy, cowardy cus--"
"Why don't you send that kid home?" demanded Master Hardy, eyeing the
fair songstress with strong disfavour.
"You leave my sister alone," said the other, giving him a light tap on
the shoulder. "There's your coward's blow."
Master Hardy made a ceremonious return. "There's yours," he said.
"Let's go behind the church."
His foe assented, and they proceeded in grave silence to a piece of grass
screened by trees, which stood between the church and the beach. Here
they removed their coats and rolled up their shirt-sleeves. Things look
different out of doors, and to Miss Nugent the arms of both gentlemen
seemed somewhat stick-like in their proportions.
The preliminaries were awful, both combatants prancing round each other
with their faces just peering above their bent right arms, while their
trusty lefts dealt vicious blows at the air. Miss Nugent turned pale and
caught her breath at each blow, then she suddenly reddened with wrath as
James Philip Hardy, having paid his tribute to science, began to hammer
John Augustus Nugent about the face in a most painful and workmanlike
fashion.
She hid her face for a moment, and when she looked again Jack was on the
ground, and Master Hardy just rising from his prostrate body. Then Jack
rose slowly and, crossing over to her, borrowed her handkerchief and
applied it with great tenderness to his nose.
"Does it hurt, Jack?" she inquired, anxiously. "No," growled her
brother.
He threw down the handkerchief and turned to his opponent again; Miss
Nugent, who was careful about her property, stooped to recover it, and
immediately found herself involved in a twisting tangle of legs, from
which she escaped by a miracle to see Master Hardy cuddling her brother
round the neck with one hand and punching him as hard and as fast as he
could with the other. The unfairness of it maddened her, and the next
moment Master Hardy's head was drawn forcibly backwards by the hair. The
pain was so excruciating that he released his victim at once, and Miss
Nugent, emitting a series of terrified yelps, dashed off in the direction
of home, her hair bobbing up and down on her shoulders, and her small
black legs in an ecstasy of motion.
Master Hardy, with no very well-defined ideas of what he was going to do
if he caught her, started in pursuit. His scalp was still smarting and
his eyes watering with the pain as he pounded behind her. Panting wildly
she heard him coming closer and closer, and she was just about to give up
when, to her joy, she saw her father coming towards them.
Master Hardy, intent on his quarry, saw him just in time, and, swerving
into the road, passed in safety as Miss Nugent flung herself with some
violence at her father's waistcoat and, clinging to him convulsively,
fought for breath. It was some time before she could furnish the
astonished captain with full details, and she was pleased to find that
his indignation led him to ignore the hair-grabbing episode, on which,
to do her justice, she touched but lightly.
That evening, for the first time in his life, Captain Nugent, after some
deliberation, called upon his late mate. The old servant who, since Mrs.
Hardy's death the year before, had looked after the house, was out, and
Hardy, unaware of the honour intended him, was scandalized by the manner
in which his son received the visitor. The door opened, there was an
involuntary grunt from Master Hardy, and the next moment he sped along
the narrow passage and darted upstairs. His father, after waiting in
vain for his return, went to the door himself.
"Good evening, cap'n," he said, in surprise.
Nugent responded gruffly, and followed him into the sitting-room. To an
invitation to sit, he responded more gruffly still that he preferred to
stand. He then demanded instant and sufficient punishment of Master
Hardy for frightening his daughter.
Even as he spoke he noticed with strong disfavour the change which had
taken place in his late first officer. The change which takes place when
a man is promoted from that rank to that of master is subtle, but
unmistakable--sometimes, as in the present instance, more unmistakable
than subtle. Captain Hardy coiled his long, sinewy form in an arm-chair
and, eyeing him calmly, lit his pipe before replying.
[Illustration: "Captain Hardy lit his pipe before replying."]
"Boys will fight," he said, briefly.
"I'm speaking of his running after my daughter," said Nugent, sternly.
Hardy's eyes twinkled. "Young dog," he said, genially; "at his age,
too."
Captain Nugent's face was suffused with wrath at the pleasantry, and he
regarded him with a fixed stare. On board the _Conqueror_ there was a
witchery in that glance more potent than the spoken word, but in his own
parlour the new captain met it calmly.
"I didn't come here to listen to your foolery," said Nugent; "I came to
tell you to punish that boy of yours."
"And I sha'n't do it," replied the other. "I have got something better
to do than interfere in children's quarrels. I haven't got your spare
time, you know."
Captain Nugent turned purple. Such language from his late first officer
was a revelation to him.
"I also came to warn you," he said, furiously, "that I shall take the law
into my own hands if you refuse."
"Aye, aye," said Hardy, with careless contempt; "I'll tell him to keep
out of your way. But I should advise you to wait until I have sailed."
Captain Nugent, who was moving towards the door, swung round and
confronted him savagely.
"What do you mean?" he demanded.
"What I say," retorted Captain Hardy. "I don't want to indulge Sunwich
with the spectacle of two middle-aged ship-masters at fisticuffs, but
that's what'll happen if you touch my boy. It would probably please the
spectators more than it would us."
"I'll cane him the first time I lay hands on him," roared Captain Nugent.
Captain Hardy's stock of patience was at an end, and there was, moreover,
a long and undischarged account between himself and his late skipper. He
rose and crossed to the door.
"Jem," he cried, "come downstairs and show Captain Nugent out."
There was a breathless pause. Captain Nugent ground his teeth with fury
as he saw the challenge, and realized the ridiculous position into which
his temper had led him; and the other, who was also careful of
appearances, repented the order the moment he had given it. Matters had
now, however, passed out of their hands, and both men cast appraising
glances at each other's form. The only one who kept his head was Master
Hardy, and it was a source of considerable relief to both of them when,
from the top of the stairs, the voice of that youthful Solomon was heard
declining in the most positive terms to do anything of the kind.
Captain Hardy repeated his command. The only reply was the violent
closing of a door at the top of the house, and after waiting a short time
he led the way to the front door himself.
"You will regret your insolence before I have done with you," said his
visitor, as he paused on the step. "It's the old story of a beggar on
horseback."
"It's a good story," said Captain Hardy, "but to my mind it doesn't come
up to the one about Humpty-Dumpty. Good-night."