Part 2 (2/2)

”Then I see nothing for it but to fit in a neat fiddlehead-perhaps. You know, carved scrollwork, nicely gilt.”

He became very dejected after his outburst.

”Yes. Scrollwork. Maybe. Jacobus hinted at that too. He's never at a loss when there's any money to be extracted from a sailorman. He would make me pay through the nose for that carving. A gilt fiddlehead did you say-eh? I dare say it would do for you. You young fellows don't seem to have any feeling for what's proper.”

He made a convulsive gesture with his right arm.

”Never mind. Nothing can make much difference. I would just as soon let the old thing go about the world with a bare cut.w.a.ter,” he cried sadly.

Then as the boat got away from the steps he raised his voice on the edge of the quay with comical animosity:

”I would! If only to spite that figurehead-procuring bloodsucker. I am an old bird here and don't you forget it. Come and see me on board some day!”

I spent my first evening in port quietly in my s.h.i.+p's cuddy; and glad enough was I to think that the sh.o.r.e life which strikes one as so pettily complex, discordant, and so full of new faces on first coming from sea, could be kept off for a few hours longer. I was however fated to hear the Jacobus note once more before I slept.

Mr. Burns had gone ash.o.r.e after the evening meal to have, as he said, ”a look round.” As it was quite dark when he announced his intention I didn't ask him what it was he expected to see. Some time about midnight, while sitting with a book in the saloon, I heard cautious movements in the lobby and hailed him by name.

Burns came in, stick and hat in hand, incredibly vulgarised by his smart sh.o.r.e togs, with a jaunty air and an odious twinkle in his eye. Being asked to sit down he laid his hat and stick on the table and after we had talked of s.h.i.+p affairs for a little while:

”I've been hearing pretty tales on sh.o.r.e about that s.h.i.+p-chandler fellow who s.n.a.t.c.hed the job from you so neatly, sir.”

I remonstrated with my late patient for his manner of expressing himself.

But he only tossed his head disdainfully. A pretty dodge indeed: boarding a strange s.h.i.+p with breakfast in two baskets for all hands and calmly inviting himself to the captain's table! Never heard of anything so crafty and so impudent in his life.

I found myself defending Jacobus's unusual methods.

”He's the brother of one of the wealthiest merchants in the port.” The mate's eyes fairly snapped green sparks.

”His grand brother hasn't spoken to him for eighteen or twenty years,” he declared triumphantly. ”So there!”

”I know all about that,” I interrupted loftily.

”Do you sir? H'm!” His mind was still running on the ethics of commercial compet.i.tion. ”I don't like to see your good nature taken advantage of. He's bribed that steward of ours with a five-rupee note to let him come down-or ten for that matter. He don't care. He will shove that and more into the bill presently.”

”Is that one of the tales you have heard ash.o.r.e?” I asked.

He a.s.sured me that his own sense could tell him that much. No; what he had heard on sh.o.r.e was that no respectable person in the whole town would come near Jacobus. He lived in a large old-fas.h.i.+oned house in one of the quiet streets with a big garden. After telling me this Burns put on a mysterious air. ”He keeps a girl shut up there who, they say-”

”I suppose you've heard all this gossip in some eminently respectable place?” I snapped at him in a most sarcastic tone.

The shaft told, because Mr. Burns, like many other disagreeable people, was very sensitive himself. He remained as if thunderstruck, with his mouth open for some further communication, but I did not give him the chance. ”And, anyhow, what the deuce do I care?” I added, retiring into my room.

And this was a natural thing to say. Yet somehow I was not indifferent.

I admit it is absurd to be concerned with the morals of one's s.h.i.+p-chandler, if ever so well connected; but his personality had stamped itself upon my first day in harbour, in the way you know.

After this initial exploit Jacobus showed himself anything but intrusive.

He was out in a boat early every morning going round the s.h.i.+ps he served, and occasionally remaining on board one of them for breakfast with the captain.

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