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Page 48
With surprising steadiness of gait, considering the liquid cargo
he had aboard, the man, releasing my hand and now seizing me
firmly by the arm, confidently led me by divers narrow ways,
which I knew, to a little beerhouse frequented by persons of his
class.
My own attire was such as to excite no suspicion in these
surroundings, and although I considered that my acquaintance had
imbibed more than enough for one night, I let him have his own
way in order that I might learn the story which he seemed
disposed to confide in me. Settled in the corner of the
beerhouse--which chanced to be nearly empty--with portentous
pewters before us, the conversation was opened by my new friend:
"I've been paid off from the Jupiter--Samuelson's Planet Line,"
he explained. "What I am is a fireman."
"She was from Singapore to London?" I asked.
"She was," he replied, "and it was at Suez it 'appened--at Suez."
I did not interrupt him.
"I was ashore at Suez--we all was, owin' to a 'itch with the
canal company--a matter of money, I may say. They make yer pay
before they'll take yer through. Do you know that?"
I nodded.
"Suez is a place," he continued, "where they don't sell whisky,
only poison. Was you ever at Suez?"
Again I nodded, being most anxious to avoid diverting the current
of my friend's thoughts.
"Well, then," he continued, "you know Greek Jimmy's--and that's
where I'd been."
I did not know Greek Jimmy's, but I thought it unnecessary to
mention the fact.
"It was just about this time on a steamin' 'ot night as I come
out of Jimmy's and started for the ship. I was walkin' along the
Waghorn Quay, same as I might be walkin' along to-night, all by
myself--bit of a list to port but nothing much--full o' joy an'
happiness, 'appy an' free--'appy an' free. Just like you might
have noticed to-night, I noticed a knot of Chinks scrappin' on
the ground all amongst the dust right in front of me. I rammed
in, windmillin' all round and knocking 'em down like skittles.
Seemed to me there was about ten of 'em, but allowin' for Jimmy's
whisky, maybe there wasn't more than three. Anyway, they all
shifted and left me standin' there in the empty street with this
'ere in my 'and."
At that, without more ado, he thrust his hand deep into some
concealed pocket and jerked out a Chinese pigtail, which had been
severed, apparently some three inches from the scalp, by a clean
cut. My acquaintance, with somewhat bleared eyes glistening in
appreciation of his own dramatic skill--for I could not conceal
my surprise--dangled it before me triumphantly.
"Which of 'em it belong to," he continued, thrusting it into
another pocket and drumming loudly on the counter for more beer,
"I can't say, 'cos I don't know. But that ain't all."
The tankards being refilled and my friend having sampled the
contents of his own:
"That ain't all," he continued. "I thought I'd keep it as a sort
of relic, like. What 'appened? I'll tell you. Amongst the crew
there's three Chinks--see? We ain't through the canal before one
of 'em, a new one to me--Li Ping is his name--offers me five bob
for the pigtail, which he sees me looking at one mornin'. I give
him a punch on the nose an' 'e don't renew the offer: but that
night (we're layin' at Port Said) 'e tries to pinch it! I dam'
near broke his neck, and 'e don't try any more. To-night"--he
extended his right arm forensically--"a deppitation of Chinks
waits on me at the dock gates; they explains as from a patriotic
point of view they feels it to be their dooty to buy that pigtail
off of me, and they bids a quid, a bar of gold--a Jimmy o'
Goblin!"
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