The Narrow Corner

  “ ‘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.”

  “Its ways are always said to be inscrutable.”

  “Don’t I know it? Brought up a Baptist, I was. ‘Not a sparrow shall fall—’ you know ’ow it goes. I seen it come true over and over again. And then after I’d been waitin’ there a bit, a good ’alf hour, a car come along and stops just by me. ‘Jump in,’ says Ryan, and off we go. The roads are terrible bad round Sydney and we was bumpin’ up and down like a cork in the water. Pretty fast he drove.

  “ ‘What about stores and all that?’ I says to Ryan.

  “ ‘It’s all on board,’ ’e says. ‘You got enough to last you three months.’

  “I didn’t know where ’e was goin’. Dark night and I couldn’t see a thing; it must ’ave been gettin’ on for midnight.

  “ ‘Here we are,’ ’e says, and stops. ‘Get out.’

  “I got out and ’e got out after me. He turns off ’is lights. I knew we was pretty near the sea, but I couldn’t see a yard in front of me. He ’ad an electric torch.

  “ ‘You follow me,’ ’e says, ‘an’ look where you’re goin’.’

  “We walked a bit. A sort of pathway there was. I’m pretty nimble on me feet, but I nearly come arse over tip two or three times. ‘Nice thing if I break my bloody leg goin’ down’ ere,’ I says to meself. I wasn’t ’alf sorry when we come to the bottom and I felt the beach under me feet. You could see the water, but you couldn’t see nothin’ else. Ryan gave a whistle. Someone on the water shouted, but low, if you know what I mean, and Ryan flashed his torch to show where we was. Then I ’eard oars splashin’ and in a minute or two a couple of blackfellows rowed up in the dinghy. Ryan and me, we got in, and they pushed off. If I’d ’ad twenty quid on me I wouldn’t ’ave given much for my chances of ever seein’ Australia no more. Australia felix, by gum. We rowed for about ten minutes, I should say, and then we come alongside the ketch.

  “ ‘What d’you think of ’er?’ asks Ryan, when we got on board.

  “ ‘Can’t see much,’ says I. ‘Tell you more in the morning.’

  “ ‘In the morning you got to be well out to sea,’ says Ryan.

  “ ‘When’s this poor invalid boy comin’?’ says I.

  “ ‘Pretty soon now,’ says Ryan. ‘You go down into the cabin and light the lamp and ’ave a look round. We’ll ’ave a bottle of beer. Here’s a box of matches.’

  “ ‘Suits me,’ I says, and down I goes.

  “I couldn’t see much, but I knew the way about by instinct. And I didn’t go down so quick I couldn’t ’ave a look behind me. I twigged he was up to somethin’. I see ’im give three or four flashes with the torch. “Ullo,’ I says to meself, ‘someone’s watchin’,’ but if it was ashore or on sea, I couldn’t say. Then Ryan comes down and I ’ad a look round. He fished out a bottle of beer for ’isself and a bottle of beer for me.

  “ ‘The moon’ll be gettin’ up soon,’ he says. ‘There’s a nice little breeze.’

  “ ‘Startin’ right away, are we?’ I says.

  “ ‘Sooner the better, after the boy’s come on board, and just keep goin’, see?’

  “ ‘Look ’ere, Ryan,’ I says, ‘I ain’t got so much as a safety razor with me.’

  “ ‘Grow a beard then, Bill,’ he answers. ‘The orders is, no landin’ anywhere till you get to New Guinea. If you want to go ashore at Merauke, you can.’

  “ ‘Dutch, ain’t it?’ He nods. ‘Look here, Ryan,’ I says. ‘You know I wasn’t born yesterday. I can’t ’elp thinkin’, can I? What’s the good, why don’t you come out with it straight and tell me what it’s all about?’

  “ ‘Bill, old boy,’ ’e says very friendly like, ‘you drink your beer and don’t you ask no questions. I know I can’t ’elp you thinkin’, but you just believe what you’re told or I swear to God I’ll gouge your bloody eyes out meself.’

  “ ‘Well, that’s straight enough,’ says I, laughing.

  “ ‘Here’s luck,’ says ’e.

  “He took a swig of beer and so did I.

  “ ‘Plenty of it?’ I asked.

  “ ‘Enough to last you. I know you’re not a soaker. I wouldn’t ’ave given you the job if I ’adn’t known that.’

  “ ‘No,’ I says, ‘I like me little drop of beer, but I know when I’ve ’ad enough. What about the money?’

  “ ‘I got it ’ere,’ ’e says. ‘I’ll give it you before I get off.’

  “Well, we sat talkin’ of one thing and another. I ask ’im what crew there was and a lot like that, and he ask me if I’d ’ave a job gettin’ out at night and I says, no, I could sail the boat with me eyes shut, and then suddenly I ’eard something. I got sharp ears, I ’ave, and there ain’t much goin’ on that I miss that way.

  “ ‘There’s a boat comin’,’ I says.

  “ ‘And about time, too,’ ’e says. ‘I got to get back to my missus and the kids to-night.’

  “ ‘Better go on deck, ’adn’t we?’ I says.

  “ ‘No necessity at all,’ ’e says.

  “ ‘All right,’ I says.

  “We just sat there listenin’. Sounded like a dinghy. She come up and give a bump on the side. Then someone come on board. He come down the companion. All dressed up he was, blue serge suit, collar and tie, brown shoes. Not like what ’e is now.

  “ ‘This is Fred,’ says Ryan, givin’ me a look.

  “ ‘Fred Blake,’ says the young fellow.

  “ ‘This is Captain Nichols. First-rate seaman. He’s all right.’

  “The kid give me a look and I give ’im one. He didn’t look exactly what you’d call delicate, I must say, picture of ’ealth, I’d ’ave said. Bit jumpy. If you’d asked me I’d ’ave said he was scared.

  “ ‘Bad luck your crockin’ up like this,’ I says, very affable like. ‘The sea air’ll pull you together, believe me. Nothin’ like a cruise to build up a young fellow’s constitution.’

  “I never see anyone go so red as ’e done when I said that. Ryan looked at ’im an’ ’e looked at me and laughed. Then ’e says ’e’d tip over the dibs and be gettin’ off. He ’ad it in his belt and ’e took it off and
paid it over to me, two ’undred golden sovereigns. I ’adn’t seen gold in donkey’s years. Only the banks ’ad it. Seemed to me that whoever it was wanted to get this ’ere boy out of the way, ’e must be pretty high up.

  “ ‘Throw in the belt, Ryan,’ I says. ‘I can’t leave a lot of money like that lyin’ about.’

  “ ‘All right,’ says ’e, ‘take the belt. Well, good luck.’ And before I could say a word he was out of the cabin and ’e’d popped over the side and the boat was movin’ away. They wasn’t takin’ no chances of my seein’ who was in it.”

  “And what happened then?”

  “Well, I put the money back in the belt and strapped it round me.”

  “Devil of a weight, isn’t it?”

  “When we come to Merauke we bought a couple of boxes and I’ve hid mine away so as nobody knows where it is. But if things go on like they are, I’ll be able to carry all what’s left without so much as feelin’ it.”

  “What d’you mean by that?”

  “Well, we sailed all the way up the coast, inside the Bank, of course, fine weather and all that, nice breeze, and I said to the kid: ‘What about a game of cribbage?’ Had to pass the time somehow, you know, and I knew ’e’d got a good bit of money. I didn’t see why I shouldn’t ’ave some of it. I’ve played cribbage all me life, and I thought I got a soft thing on. I believe the devil’s in them cards. D’you know, I ’aven’t ’ad a winnin’ day since we left Sydney. I’ve lost a matter of seventy pounds, I ’ave. And it’s not as if ’e could play. It’s the devil’s own luck he’s got.”

  “Perhaps he plays better than you think.”

  “Don’t you believe it. What I don’t know about cribbage ain’t worth knowin’. D’you think I’d ’ave took him on if I ’adn’t known that? No, it’s luck, and luck can’t go on for ever. It’s bound to change and then I’ll get back all I’ve lost and all he’s got besides. It’s aggravatin’, of course, but I ain’t worryin’.”

  “Has he told you anything about himself?”

  “Not a thing. But I’ve put two and two together and I got a pretty shrewd idea what’s at the bottom of it.”