Part 5 (1/2)

”'O' course not,' she ses, squeezing my arm. 'Poor father! I hope he is enjoying himself as much as I am.'

”We walked down to the jetty agin arter that, and sat side by side looking acrost the river. And she began to talk about Life, and wot a strange thing it was; and 'ow the river would go on flowing down to the sea thousands and thousands o' years arter we was both dead and forgotten. If it hadn't ha' been for her little 'ead leaning agin my shoulder I should have 'ad the creeps.

”'Let's go down into the cabin,' she ses, at last, with a little s.h.i.+ver; 'it makes me melancholy sitting here and thinking of the ”might-have-beens.”'

”I got up first and 'elped her up, and, arter both staring hard at the cook, wot didn't seem to know 'is place, we went down into the cabin. It was a comfortable little place, and arter she 'ad poured me out a gla.s.s of 'er father's whisky, and filled my pipe for me, I wouldn't ha'

changed places with a king. Even when the pipe wouldn't draw I didn't mind.

”'May I write a letter?' she ses, at last.

”'Sartainly,' I ses.

”She got out her pen and ink and paper, and wrote. 'I sha'n't be long,'

she ses, looking up and nibbling 'er pen. 'It's a letter to my dressmaker; she promised my dress by six o'clock this afternoon, and I am just writing to tell her that if I don't have it by ten in the morning she can keep it.'

”'Quite right,' I ses; 'it's the on'y way to get things done.'

”'It's my way,' she ses, sticking the letter in an envelope and licking it down. 'Nice name, isn't it?'

”She pa.s.sed it over to me, and I read the name and address: 'Miss Minnie Miller, 17, John Street, Mile End Road.'

”'That'll wake her up,' She ses, smiling. 'Will you ask Joe to take it for me?'

”'He-he's on guard,' I ses, smiling back at 'er and shaking my 'ead.

”'I know,' she ses, in a low voice. 'But I don't want any guard-only you. I don't like guards that peep down skylights.'

”I looked up just in time to see Joe's 'ead disappear. Then I nipped up, and arter I 'ad told 'im part of wot I thought about 'im I gave 'im the letter and told 'im to sheer off.

”'The skipper told me to stay 'ere,' he ses, looking obstinate.

”'You do as you're told,' I ses. 'I'm in charge, and I take full responsibility. I shall lock the gate arter you. Wot are you worrying about?'

”'And here's a s.h.i.+lling, Joe, for a bus fare,' ses the gal, smiling.

'You can keep the change.'

”Joe took off 'is cap and scratched 'is silly bald 'ead.

”'Come on,' I ses; 'it's a letter to a dressmaker. A letter that must go to-night.'

”'Else it's no use,' ses the gal. 'You don't know 'ow important it is.'

”'All right,' ses Joe. ''Ave it your own way. So long as you don't tell the skipper I don't mind. If anything 'appens you'll catch it too, Bill.'

”He climbed ash.o.r.e, and I follered 'im to the gate and unlocked it. He was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up 'is eye ready for a wink, but I give 'im such a look that he thought better of it, and, arter rubbing his eye with 'is finger as though he 'ad got a bit o' dust in it, he went off.

”I locked the gate and went back to the cabin, and for some time we sat talking about fathers and the foolish ideas they got into their 'eads, and things o' that sort. So far as I remember, I 'ad two more goes o'

whisky and one o' the skipper's cigars, and I was just thinking wot a beautiful thing it was to be alive and 'ealthy and in good spirits, talking to a nice gal that understood wot you said a'most afore you said it, when I 'eard three blows on a whistle.

”'Wot's that?' I ses, starting up. 'Police whistle?'