The Narrow Corner (7 page)

“I was tellin’ you about Fred Blake,” the skipper continued, after a pause to relight his pipe. “Well, as I was sayin’, I was in that bar. I said good evenin’ to one or two chaps, cordial like, you know, and they said good evenin’ to me and looked the other way. You could see them just sayin’ to theirselves: ‘There’s that bum again, cadgin’ around for drinks; ’e ain’t goin’ to get one out of me.’ You can’t wonder I was feelin’ pretty low. Humiliating, that’s what it was, for a man as ’ad been in a good position like what I ’ave. It’s terrible ’ow near a fellow can be with ’is money when he knows you ain’t got none. The boss give me a dirty look and I ’alf thought he was going to ask me what I’d ’ave, and then when I said I’d wait a bit, ’e’d say, well, I’d better wait outside. I began talkin’ to one or two chaps I didn’t know, but they wasn’t what you’d call cordial. I cracked a joke or two, but I couldn’t get ’em laughin’, and they made it pretty plain that I was buttin’ in. And then I saw a fellow come in I knew. Big bully of a chap. What they call a larrikin in Australia. Name of Ryan. You ’ad to keep in with him. He ’ad something to do with politics. Always ’ad plenty of money. He lent me five
bob once. Well, I didn’t think ’e’d want to see me, so I pretended I didn’t recognise ’im and just went on talkin’. But I was watchin’ ’im out of the corner of me eye. He looked round and then ’e come right up to me.

“ ‘Good evenin’, Captain,’ he says, very friendly like. ‘How’s the world been treatin’ you these days?’

“ ‘Rotten,’ I says.

“ ‘Still lookin’ for a job?’

“ ‘Yes,’ I says.

“ ‘What’ll you ’ave?’ he says.

“I ’ad a beer and ’e ’ad a beer. It pretty near saved my life. But you know, I’m not much of a one for believin’ in miracles. I wanted that beer pretty bad, but I knew just as well as I know I’m talkin’ to you, that Ryan wasn’t givin’ it me for nothin’. He’s one of them ’earties, you know; slaps you on the back and laughs at your jokes as though he’d fair bust, and it’s, “ ’Ullo, where ’ave you been ’idin’ yourself,’ and, ‘My missus is a grand little woman and you should see my kiddies’ and all that; and then all the time ’e’s watchin’ you and ’is eyes look right through you. It takes in the mugs. ‘Good old Ryan,’ they say; ‘one of the best.’ There are no flies on me, doc. You don’t catch me so easy as that. And while I was drinkin’ my beer I said to myself: ‘Now, then, old boy, you keep your eyes skinned. He wants something.’ But of course I didn’t let on. I told ’im a yarn or two and ’e just laughed ’is ’ead off.

“ ‘You’re a caution, Captain,’ ’e said; ‘great old sport, that’s what you are. Finish your beer and we’ll ’ave another. I could listen to you talkin’ all night.’

“Well, I finished my beer and I saw ’e was goin’ to order another.

“ ‘Look ’ere, Bill,’ he says: well, my name’s Tom, but I didn’t say nothing. I saw ’e was tryin’ to be friendly. ‘Look ’ere, Bill,’ he says, ‘there’s too many people round ’ere, one simply can’t ’ear oneself talk, and you never know who’s listenin’ to what you say. I’ll tell you what we’ll do.’ He called the boss. ‘Look ’ere, George, come ’ere a minute.’ And up he comes with a run. ‘Look ’ere, George, me and my friend we want to ’ave a little quiet yarn about old times. What about that room of yours?’

“ ‘My office? All right. You can go in there if you want to, and welcome.’

“ ‘That’s the ticket. And you bring us a couple of beers.’

“Well, we walks round and we goes into the office, and George brings us a couple of beers ’imself. In person; gives me a nod, ’e does. And George goes out. Ryan shut the door after ’im and ’e looked at the window to see it was shut all right. Said ’e couldn’t stand a draught at any price. I didn’t know what ’e was after, and I thought I’d better get straight with ’im at once.

“ ‘Look ’ere, Ryan,’ I says; ‘I’m sorry about that
five bob you lent me. It’s been on me mind ever since, but the truth is I’ve ’ad all I can do just to keep body and soul together.’

“ ‘Forget it,’ he says. ‘What’s five bob? I know you’re all right. You’re a fine feller, Bill. What’s the good of ’avin’ money if you can’t lend it to a pal when ’e’s down on his luck?’

“ ‘Well, I’d do the same by you, Ryan,’ says I, takin’ my cue from ’im. To listen to us you’d ’ave thought us a pair of brothers.”

Captain Nichols chuckled as he recalled the scene they had played. He took an artist’s delight in his own rascality.

“ ‘Chin, chin,’ says I.

“We both ’ad a drink of beer. ‘Now look ’ere, Bill,’ says ’e, wipin’ ’is mouth with the back of ’is ’and, ‘I been makin’ enquiries about you. Good seaman and all that, ain’t you?’ ‘None better,’ says I. ‘If you ain’t ’ad a job for some time I reckon it’s more by bad luck than bad management.’ ‘That’s right,’ says I. ‘Now I’m going to give you a surprise, Bill,’ says ’e. ‘I’m going to offer you a job meself.’ ‘I’ll take it,’ says I. ‘No matter what it is.’ ‘That’s the spirit,’ says ’e. ‘I knew I could count on you.’

“ ‘Well, what is it?’ I ask ’im.

“He give me a look, and though ’e was smilin’ at me as if I was his long lost brother and ’e loved me like
anything, ’e was lookin’ at me pretty ’ard. It was no jokin’ matter, I could see that.

“ ‘Can you keep your mouth shut?’ ’e asks me.

“ ‘Like a clam,’ says I.

“ ‘That’s good,’ says ’e. ‘Now what d’you say to takin’ a tidy little pearling lugger, you know, one of them ketches they ’ave at Thursday Island and Port Darwin, and cruisin’ about the islands for a few months?’

“ ‘Sounds all right to me,’ I says.

“ ‘Well, that’s the job.’

“ ‘Tradin’?’ I says.

“ ‘No, just pleasure.’ ”

Captain Nichols sniggered.

“I nearly laughed outright when ’e said that, but one ’as to be careful, lot of people ’ave no sense of humour, so I just looked as grave as a judge. He give me another look and I could see ’e could be an ugly customer if you put ’is back up.

“ ‘I’ll tell you ’ow it is,’ ’e says. ‘Young fellow I know been workin’ too ’ard. His dad’s an old pal of mine, and I’m doin’ this to please ’im, see? He’s a man in a very good position. Got a lot of influence in one way and another.’

“He ’ad another drink of beer. I kep’ me eyes on ’im, but I never said a word. Not a syllable.

“ ‘The old man’s in a rare state. Only kid, you know.
Well, I know what it is with me own kids. If one of ’em gets a pain in ’is big toe, I’m upset for the day.’

“ ‘You don’t ’ave to tell me,’ I says. ‘I got a daughter meself.’

“ ‘Only child?’ he says.

“I nodded.

“ ‘Grand thing, children,’ he says. ‘Nothin’ like ’em to bring ’appiness in a man’s life.’

“ ‘You’re right there,’ I says.

“ ‘Always delicate, this boy’s been,’ ’e says, shakin’ ’is ’ead. ‘Got a touch of the lungs. The doctors say the best thing ’e can do, is to ’ave a cruise on a sailin’ ship. Well, ’is dad didn’t ’alf like the idea of ’is takin’ a passage on any old ship and ’e ’eard of this ’ere ketch and ’e bought her. You see, like that, you’re not tied down and you can go anywhere. Nice easy life, that’s what ’e wants the boy to ’ave; I mean, you don’t ’ave to ’urry. You choose your own weather an’ when you get to some island what looks like you could stay there for a bit, why, you just stay. There’s dozens of them islands up between Australia and China, they tell me.’

“ ‘Thousands,’ says I.

“ ‘An’ the boy’s got to be kep’ quiet. Essential, that is. His dad wants you to keep away from where there’s a lot of people.’

“ ‘That’s all right,’ says I, lookin’ as innocent as a new-born babe. ‘And ’ow long for?’

“ ‘I don’t exactly know,’ says he. ‘Depends on the boy’s ’ealth. Two or three months, maybe, or maybe a year.’

“ ‘I see,’ says I; ‘and what do I get out of it?’

“ ‘Two ’undred quid when your passenger comes on board, and two ’undred quid when you comes back.”

“ ‘Make it five ’undred down and I’m game,’ says I. He never says a thing, but ’e give me a dirty look. And ’e just shoved his jaw out at me. My word, ’e looked a beauty. If there’s one thing I got it’s tact. He could make things pretty unpleasant for me if ’e wanted to. I knew that, and I ’ad a feeling that if I didn’t take care ’e would want to. So I just shrugged me shoulders, careless like, and laughed. ‘Oh, well, I don’t care about the money,’ I says. ‘Money means nothin’ to me, never ’as. If it ’ad I’d be one of the richest men in Australia to-day. I’ll take what you say. Anythin’ to oblige a friend.’

“ ‘Good old Bill,’ says ’e.

“ ‘Where’s the ketch now?’ says I. ‘I’d like to go and ’ave a look at her.’

“ ‘Oh, she’s all right. Friend of mine just brought her down from Thursday Island to sell ’er. She’s in grand shape. She ain’t in Sydney. She’s up the coast a few miles.’

“ ‘What about a crew?’

“ ‘Niggers from Torres Straits. They brought ’er
down. All you’ve got to do is to get on board and sail away.’

“ ‘When would you want me to sail?’

“ ‘Now.’

“ ‘Now?’ says I, surprised. ‘Not to-night?’

“ ‘Yes, to-night. I got a car waitin’ down the street. I’ll drive you over to where she’s lying.’

“ ‘What’s the ’urry?’ I says, smiling, but giving ’im a look as much to say I thought it damned fishy.

“ ‘The boy’s dad’s a big business man. Always does things like that.’

“ ‘Politician?’ says I.

“I was beginning to put two and two together, so to speak.

“ ‘My aunt,’ says Ryan.

“ ‘But I’m a married man,’ says I. ‘If I just go off like this without sayin’ so much as a word to nobody, my old woman’ll be makin’ enquiries all over the place. She’ll want to know where I am and when she can’t find nobody to tell her she’ll go to the police.’

“He looked at me pretty sharp when I said this. I knew he didn’t ’alf like the idea of ’er goin’ to the police.

“ ‘It’ll look funny, a master mariner disappearin’ like this. I mean, it ain’t like as if I was a blackfellow or a Kanaka. Of course I don’t know if there’s anyone ’as reason to be inquisitive. There’s a lot of nosey-parkers
about, especially just now with the election comin’ on.’

“I couldn’t ’elp thinkin’ I got a good one in there, about the election, but ’e didn’t let on a thing. His great ugly face might ’a’ been a blank wall.

“ ‘I’ll go and see ’er meself,’ ’e said.

“I ’ad me own game to play, too, and I wasn’t goin’ to let a chance like this pass me by.

“ ‘Tell ’er the first mate of a steamer broke his neck just as she was going out and they took me on and I didn’t ’ave time to go ’ome and she’ll ’ear from me next from Cape Town.’

“ ‘That’s the ticket,’ says ’e.

“ ‘An’ if she kicks up a racket give ’er a passage to Cape Town and a five-pound note. That’s not askin.’ much.’

“He laughed then, honest, and ’e said ’e’d do it.

“He finished ’is beer and I finished mine.

“ ‘Now then,’ says ’e, ‘if you’re ready we’ll be startin’.’ He looked at ’is watch. ‘You meet me at the corner of Market Street in ’alf an hour. I’ll drive by in my car and you just jump in. You go out first. No need for you to go out by the bar. There’s a door at the end of the passage. You take that and you’ll find yourself in the street.’

“ ‘O.K.,’ says I, and I takes me ’at.

“ ‘There’s just one thing I’d like to say to you,’ ’e says, as I was going. ‘An’ this refers to now and later.
If you don’t want a knife in your back or a bullet in your guts you better not try no monkey tricks. See?’

“He said it quite pleasant, but I’m no fool, and I knew ’e meant it.

“ ‘Don’t you ’ave no fear,’ says I. ‘When a chap treats me like a gentleman, I behave like one.’ Then very casual like, ‘Young feller on board, I suppose?’

“ ‘No, ’e ain’t. Comin’ on board later.’

“I walked out and I got into the street. I walked along to where he said. It was only a matter of two ’undred yards. I thought to meself, if ’e wanted me to wait there for ’alf an hour it was because he ’ad to go and see someone and say what ’ad ’appened. I couldn’t ’elp wonderin’ what the police’d say if I told ’em somethin’ funny was up and it’d be worth their while to follow the car and ’ave a look at this ketch. But I thought p’raps it wouldn’t be worth
my
while. It’s all very well to do a public duty, and I don’t mind bein’ in well with the cops any more than anyone else does, but it wouldn’t do me much good if I got a knife in me belly for me pains. And there was no four ’undred quid to be got out of them. P’raps it’s just as well I didn’t try any ’anky-panky on with Ryan, because I see a chap on the other side of the street, standin’ in the shadow as if ’e didn’t want no one to see ’im, and it looked to me as if ’e was watchin’ me. I walked over to ’ave a look at ’im and ’e walked away when he saw me
comin’, then I walked back again and he come and stood just where ’e was before. Funny. It was all damned funny. The thing what grizzled me was that Ryan ’adn’t shown more confidence in me. If you’re goin’ to trust a man, trust ’im, that’s what I say. I want you to understand I didn’t mind its bein’ funny. I seen a lot of funny things in my day and I take ’em as they come.”

Dr. Saunders smiled. He began to understand Captain Nichols. He was a man who found the daily round of honest life a trifle humdrum. He needed a spice of crookedness to counteract the depression his dyspepsia caused him. His blood ran faster, he felt better in health, his vitality was heightened when his fingers dabbled in crime. The alertness he must then exercise to protect himself from harm took his mind off the processes of his lamentable digestion. If Dr. Saunders was somewhat lacking in sympathy, he made up for it by being uncommonly tolerant. He thought it no business of his to praise or condemn. He was able to recognise that one was a saint and another a villain, but his consideration of both was fraught with the same cool detachment.

“I couldn’t ’elp laughin’ as I thought of meself standin’ there,” continued the skipper, “and startin’ off on a cruise without so much as a change of clothes, me shavin’ tackle or a toothbrush. You wouldn’t find many
men as’d be prepared to do that and not give a tinker’s cuss.”

“You wouldn’t,” said the doctor.

“And then I thought of the face my old woman’d make when Ryan told ’er I’d sailed. I can just see ’er toddlin’ off to Cape Town by the next ship. She’ll never find me no more. This time I
’ave
got away from her. And who’d ’ave thought it’d come like that just when I was thinkin’ I couldn’t stand another day of it. If it wasn’t Providence, I don’t know what it was.”