The Nest Egg

  Produced by David Widger

  CAPTAINS ALL

  By W.W. Jacobs

  THE NEST EGG

  "The Nest Egg."]

  "Artfulness," said the night-watch-man, smoking placidly, "is a gift; butit don't pay always. I've met some artful ones in my time--plenty of'em; but I can't truthfully say as 'ow any of them was the better formeeting me."

  He rose slowly from the packing-case on which he had been sitting and,stamping down the point of a rusty nail with his heel, resumed his seat,remarking that he had endured it for some time under the impression thatit was only a splinter.

  "I've surprised more than one in my time," he continued, slowly. "When Imet one of these 'ere artful ones I used fust of all to pretend to bemore stupid than wot I really am."

  He stopped and stared fixedly.

  "More stupid than I looked," he said. He stopped again.

  "More stupid than wot they thought I looked," he said, speaking withmarked deliberation. And I'd let 'em go on and on until I thought I had'ad about enough, and then turn round on 'em. Nobody ever got the bettero' me except my wife, and that was only before we was married. Twonights arterwards she found a fish-hook in my trouser-pocket, and arterthat I could ha' left untold gold there--if I'd ha' had it. It spoiltwot some people call the honey-moon, but it paid in the long run.

  One o' the worst things a man can do is to take up artfulness all of asudden. I never knew it to answer yet, and I can tell you of a casethat'll prove my words true.

  It's some years ago now, and the chap it 'appened to was a young man, ashipmate o' mine, named Charlie Tagg. Very steady young chap he was, toosteady for most of 'em. That's 'ow it was me and 'im got to be suchpals.

  He'd been saving up for years to get married, and all the advice we couldgive 'im didn't 'ave any effect. He saved up nearly every penny of 'ismoney and gave it to his gal to keep for 'im, and the time I'm speakingof she'd got seventy-two pounds of 'is and seventeen-and-six of 'er ownto set up house-keeping with.

  Then a thing happened that I've known to 'appen to sailormen afore. AtSydney 'e got silly on another gal, and started walking out with her, andafore he knew wot he was about he'd promised to marry 'er too.

  Sydney and London being a long way from each other was in 'is favour, butthe thing that troubled 'im was 'ow to get that seventy-two pounds out ofEmma Cook, 'is London gal, so as he could marry the other with it. Itworried 'im all the way home, and by the time we got into the Londonriver 'is head was all in a maze with it. Emma Cook 'ad got it all savedup in the bank, to take a little shop with when they got spliced, and 'owto get it he could not think.

  He went straight off to Poplar, where she lived, as soon as the ship wasberthed. He walked all the way so as to 'ave more time for thinking, butwot with bumping into two old gentlemen with bad tempers, and beingnearly run over by a cabman with a white 'orse and red whiskers, he gotto the house without 'aving thought of anything.

  They was just finishing their tea as 'e got there, and they all seemed sopleased to see 'im that it made it worse than ever for 'im. Mrs. Cook,who 'ad pretty near finished, gave 'im her own cup to drink out of, andsaid that she 'ad dreamt of 'im the night afore last, and old Cook saidthat he 'ad got so good-looking 'e shouldn't 'ave known him.

  "I should 'ave passed 'im in the street," he ses. "I never see such analteration."

  "They'll be a nice-looking couple," ses his wife, looking at a youngchap, named George Smith, that 'ad been sitting next to Emma.

  Charlie Tagg filled 'is mouth with bread and butter, and wondered 'ow hewas to begin. He squeezed Emma's 'and just for the sake of keeping upappearances, and all the time 'e was thinking of the other gal waitingfor 'im thousands o' miles away.

  "You've come 'ome just in the nick o' time," ses old Cook; "if you'd doneit o' purpose you couldn't 'ave arranged it better."

  "Somebody's birthday?" ses Charlie, trying to smile.

  Old Cook shook his 'ead. "Though mine is next Wednesday," he ses, "andthank you for thinking of it. No; you're just in time for the biggestbargain in the chandlery line that anybody ever 'ad a chance of. If you'adn't ha' come back we should have 'ad to ha' done it without you."

  "Eighty pounds," ses Mrs. Cook, smiling at Charlie. "With the moneyEmma's got saved and your wages this trip you'll 'ave plenty. You mustcome round arter tea and 'ave a look at it."

  "Little place not arf a mile from 'ere," ses old Cook. "Properly workedup, the way Emma'll do it, it'll be a little fortune. I wish I'd had achance like it in my young time."

  He sat shaking his 'ead to think wot he'd lost, and Charlie Tagg satstaring at 'im and wondering wot he was to do.

  "My idea is for Charlie to go for a few more v'y'ges arter they'remarried while Emma works up the business," ses Mrs. Cook; "she'll be allright with young Bill and Sarah Ann to 'elp her and keep 'er companywhile he's away."

  "We'll see as she ain't lonely," ses George Smith, turning to Charlie.

  Charlie Tagg gave a bit of a cough and said it wanted considering. Hesaid it was no good doing things in a 'urry and then repenting of 'em allthe rest of your life. And 'e said he'd been given to understand thatchandlery wasn't wot it 'ad been, and some of the cleverest people 'eknew thought that it would be worse before it was better. By the timehe'd finished they was all looking at 'im as though they couldn't believetheir ears.

  "You just step round and 'ave a look at the place," ses old Cook; "ifthat don't make you alter your tune, call me a sinner."

  Charlie Tagg felt as though 'e could ha' called 'im a lot o' worse thingsthan that, but he took up 'is hat and Mrs. Cook and Emma got theirbonnets on and they went round.

  "I don't think much of it for eighty pounds," ses Charlie, beginning hisartfulness as they came near a big shop, with plate-glass and a doublefront.

  "Eh?" ses old Cook, staring at 'im. "Why, that ain't the place. Why,you wouldn't get that for eight 'undred."

  "Well, I don't think much of it," ses Charlie; "if it's worse than that Ican't look at it--I can't, indeed."

  "You ain't been drinking, Charlie?" ses old Cook, in a puzzled voice.

  "Certainly not," ses Charlie.

  He was pleased to see 'ow anxious they all looked, and when they did cometo the shop 'e set up a laugh that old Cook said chilled the marrer in'is bones. He stood looking in a 'elpless sort o' way at his wife andEmma, and then at last he ses, "There it is; and a fair bargain at theprice."

  "I s'pose you ain't been drinking?" ses Charlie.

  "Wot's the matter with it?" ses Mrs. Cook flaring up.

  "Come inside and look at it," ses Emma, taking 'old of his arm.

  "Not me," ses Charlie, hanging back. "Why, I wouldn't take it at agift."

  He stood there on the kerbstone, and all they could do 'e wouldn't budge.He said it was a bad road and a little shop, and 'ad got a look about ithe didn't like. They walked back 'ome like a funeral procession, andEmma 'ad to keep saying "_H's!_" in w'ispers to 'er mother all the way.

  "He said it was a had road and a little shop, and 'ad gota look about it he didn't like."]

  "I don't know wot Charlie does want, I'm sure," ses Mrs. Cook, taking off'er bonnet as soon as she got indoors and pitching it on the chair he wasjust going to set down on.

  "It's so awk'ard," ses old Cook, rubbing his 'cad. "Fact is, Charlie, wepretty near gave 'em to understand as we'd buy it."

  "It's as good as settled," ses Mrs. Cook, trembling all over with temper.

  "They won't settle till they get the money," ses Charlie. "You may makeyour mind easy about that."

  "Emma's drawn it all out of the bank ready," ses old Cook, eager like.

  Charlie felt 'ot and cold all over. "I'd better take care of it," heses, in a trembling voice. "You might
be