Peter's Pence

  Produced by David Widger

  SAILORS' KNOTS

  By W.W. Jacobs

  1909

  PETER'S PENCE

  Sailormen don't bother much about their relations, as a rule, said thenight-watchman; sometimes because a railway-ticket costs as much as abarrel o' beer, and they ain't got the money for both, and sometimesbecause most relations run away with the idea that a sailorman has beenknocking about 'arf over the world just to bring them 'ome presents.

  Then, agin, some relations are partikler about appearances, and theydon't like it if a chap don't wear a collar and tidy 'imself up. Dressis everything nowadays; put me in a top 'at and a tail-coat, with atwopenny smoke stuck in my mouth, and who would know the differencebetween me and a lord? Put a bishop in my clothes, and you'd ask 'im to'ave a 'arf-pint as soon as you would me--sooner, p'r'aps.

  "Put a bishop in my clothes, and you'd ask 'im to 'ave a'arf-pint as soon as you would me."]

  Talking of relations reminds me of Peter Russet's uncle. It's some yearsago now, and Peter and old Sam Small and Ginger Dick 'ad just come backarter being away for nearly ten months. They 'ad all got money in theirpockets, and they was just talking about the spree they was going tohave, when a letter was brought to Peter, wot had been waiting for 'im atthe office.

  He didn't like opening it at fust. The last letter he had 'ad kept 'imhiding indoors for a week, and then made him ship a fortnight afore 'ehad meant to. He stood turning it over and over, and at last, arter Sam,wot was always a curious man, 'ad told 'im that if he didn't open it he'ddo it for 'im, he tore it open and read it.

  "It's from my old uncle, George Goodman," he ses, staring. "Why, I ain'tseen 'im for over twenty years."

  "Do you owe 'im any money?" ses Sam.

  Peter shook his 'ead. "He's up in London," he ses, looking at the letteragin, "up in London for the fust time in thirty-three years, and he wantsto come and stay with me so that I can show 'im about."

  "Wot is he?" ses Sam.

  "He's retired," ses Peter, trying not to speak proud.

  "Got money?" ses Sam, with a start.

  "I b'leeve so," ses Peter, in a off-hand way. "I don't s'pose 'e liveson air."

  "Any wives or children?" ses Sam.

  "No," ses Peter. "He 'ad a wife, but she died."

  "Then you have 'im, Peter," ses Sam, wot was always looking out formoney. "Don't throw away a oppertunity like that. Why, if you treat 'imwell he might leave it all to you."

  "No such luck," ses Peter.

  "You do as Sam ses," ses Ginger. "I wish I'd got an uncle."

  "We'll try and give 'im a good time," ses Sam, "and if he's anything likePeter we shall enjoy ourselves."

  "Yes; but he ain't," ses Peter. "He's a very solemn, serious-minded man,and a strong teetotaller. Wot you'd call a glass o' beer he'd callpison. That's 'ow he got on. He's thought a great deal of in 'is place,I can tell you, but he ain't my sort."

  "That's a bit orkard," ses Sam, scratching his 'ead. "Same time, itdon't do to throw away a chance. If 'e was my uncle I should pretend tobe a teetotaller while 'e was here, just to please 'im."

  "And when you felt like a drink, Peter," ses Ginger, "me and Sam wouldlook arter 'im while you slipped off to get it."

  "He could 'ave the room below us," ses Sam. "It is empty."

  Peter gave a sniff. "Wot about you and Ginger?" he ses.

  "Wot about us?" ses Sam and Ginger, both together.

  "Why, you'd 'ave to be teetotallers, too," ses Peter. "Woes the good o'me pretending to be steady if 'e sees I've got pals like you?"

  Sam scratched his 'ead agin, ever so long, and at last he ses, "Well,mate," he ses, "drink don't trouble me nor Ginger. We can do without it,as far as that goes; and we must all take it in turns to keep the oldgentleman busy while the others go and get wot they want. You'd bettergo and take the room downstairs for 'im, afore it goes."

  Peter looked at 'im in surprise, but that was Sam all over. The idea o'knowing a man with money was too much for 'im, and he sat there givinggood advice to Peter about 'is behavior until Peter didn't know whetherit was 'is uncle or Sam's. 'Owever, he took the room and wrote theletter, and next arternoon at three o'clock Mr. Goodman came in a four-wheel cab with a big bag and a fat umbrella. A short, stiffish-built manof about sixty he was, with 'is top lip shaved and a bit o' short graybeard. He 'ad on a top 'at and a tail-coat, black kid gloves and alittle black bow, and he didn't answer the cabman back a single word.

  "Mr. Goodman came in a four-wheel cab with a big bag and afat umbrella."]

  He seemed quite pleased to see Peter, and by and by Sam, who was burstingwith curiosity, came down-stairs to ask Peter to lend 'im a boot-lace,and was interduced. Then Ginger came down to look for Sam, and in a fewminutes they was all talking as comfortable as possible.

  "I ain't seen Peter for twenty years," ses Mr. Goodman--"twenty longyears!"

  Sam shook his 'ead and looked at the floor.

  "I happened to go and see Peter's sister--my niece Polly," ses Mr.Goodman, "and she told me the name of 'is ship. It was quite by chance,because she told me it was the fust letter she had 'ad from him in sevenyears."

  "I didn't think it was so long as that," ses Peter. "Time passes soquick."

  His uncle nodded. "Ah, so it does," 'e ses. "It's all the same whetherwe spend it on the foaming ocean or pass our little lives ashore. Aforewe can turn round, in a manner o' speaking, it 'as gorn."

  "The main thing," ses Peter, in a good voice, "is to pass it properly."

  "Then it don't matter," ses Ginger.

  "So it don't," ses Sam, very serious.

  "I held 'im in my arms when 'e was a baby," ses Mr. Goodman, looking atPeter.

  "Fond o' children?" ses Sam.

  Mr. Goodman nodded. "Fond of everybody," he ses.

  "That's 'ow Peter is," ses Ginger; "specially young----"

  Peter Russet and Sam both turned and looked at 'im very sharp.

  "Children," ses Ginger, remembering 'imself, "_and_ teetotallers. Is'pose it is being a teetotaller 'imself."

  "Is Peter a teetotaller?" ses Mr. Goodman. "I'd no idea of it. Wot ajoyful thing!"

  "It was your example wot put it into his 'ead fust, I b'leeve," ses Sam,looking at Peter for 'im to notice 'ow clever he was.

  "And then, Sam and Ginger Dick being teetotallers too," ses Peter, "weall, natural-like, keep together."

  Mr. Goodman said they was wise men, and, arter a little more talk, hesaid 'ow would it be if they went out and saw a little bit of the greatwicked city? They all said they would, and Ginger got quite excitedabout it until he found that it meant London.

  They got on a bus at Aldgate, and fust of all they went to the BritishMuseum, and when Mr. Goodman was tired o' that--and long arter the otherswas--they went into a place and 'ad a nice strong cup of tea and a pieceo' cake each. When they come out o' there they all walked about lookingat the shops until they was tired out, and arter wot Mr. Goodman said wasa very improving evening they all went 'ome.

  Sam and Ginger went 'ome just for the look 'o the thing, and arterwaiting a few minutes in their room they crept downstairs agin to spendwot was left of the evening. They went down as quiet as mice, but, forall that, just as they was passing Mr. Goodman's room the door opened,and Peter, in a polite voice, asked 'em to step inside.

  "We was just thinking you'd be dull up there all alone," he ses.

  Sam lost 'is presence o' mind, and afore he knew wot 'e was doing 'im andGinger 'ad walked in and sat down. They sat there for over an hour and a'arf talking, and then Sam, with a look at Ginger, said they must begoing, because he 'ad got to call for a pair o' boots he 'ad left to bemended.

  "Why, Sam, wot are you thinking of?" ses Peter, wh
o didn't want anybodyto