The Lady of the Barge, W. W. Jacobs [feel good books to read txt] 📗

“He must ha’ got it tied round ’is waist next to ’is skin, like Thomas ’ad,” I says.

We stood there in the dark whispering, and then Bill couldn’t stand it any longer, and ’e went over on tiptoe to the bunk ag’in. He was tremblin’ with excitement and I wasn’t much better, when all of a sudden the cook sat up in ’is bunk with a dreadful laughing scream and called out that somebody was ticklin’ ’im.

I got into my bunk and Bill got into ’is, and we lay there listening while the cook, who was a terrible ticklish man, leaned out of ’is bunk and said wot ’e’d do if it ’appened ag’in.

“Go to sleep,” says Walter Jones; “you’re dreamin’. Who d’you think would want to tickle you?”

“I tell you,” says the cook, “somebody come over and tickled me with a ’and the size of a leg o’ mutton. I feel creepy all over.”

Bill gave it up for that night, but the next day ’e pretended to think Jimmy was gettin’ fat an’ ’e caught ’old of ’im and prodded ’im all over. He thought ’e felt something round ’is waist, but ’e couldn’t be sure, and Jimmy made such a noise that the other chaps interfered and told Bill to leave ’im alone. For a whole week we tried to find that money, and couldn’t, and Bill said it was a suspicious thing that Jimmy kept aft a good deal more than ’e used to, and ’e got an idea that the boy might ha’ ’idden it somewhere there. At the end of that time, ’owever, owing to our being short-’anded, Jimmy was sent for’ard to work as ordinary seaman, and it began to be quite noticeable the way ’e avoided Bill.

At last one day we got ’im alone down the fo’c’sle, and Bill put ’is arm round ’im and got im on the locker and asked ’im straight out where the money was.

“Why, I chucked it overboard,” he says. “I told you so afore. What a memory you’ve got, Bill!”

Bill picked ’im up and laid ’im on the locker, and we searched ’im thoroughly. We even took ’is boots off, and then we ’ad another look in ’is bunk while ’e was putting ’em on ag’in.

“If you’re innercent,” says Bill, “why don’t you call out?⁠—eh?”

“Because you told me not to say anything about it, Bill,” says the boy. “But I will next time. Loud, I will.”

“Look ’ere,” says Bill, “you tell us where it is, and the three of us’ll go shares in it. That’ll be two ’undered pounds each, and we’ll tell you ’ow to get yours changed without getting caught. We’re cleverer than you are, you know.”

“I know that, Bill,” says the boy; “but it’s no good me telling you lies. I chucked it overboard.”

“Very good, then,” says Bill, getting up. “I’m going to tell the skipper.”

“Tell ’im,” says Jimmy. “I don’t care.”

“Then you’ll be searched arter you’ve stepped ashore,” says Bill, “and you won’t be allowed on the ship ag’in. You’ll lose it all by being greedy, whereas if you go shares with us you’ll ’ave two ’undered pounds.”

I could see as ’ow the boy ’adn’t thought o’ that, and try as ’e would ’e couldn’t ’ide ’is feelin’s. He called Bill a red-nosed shark, and ’e called me somethin’ I’ve forgotten now.

“Think it over,” says Bill; “mind, you’ll be collared as soon as you’ve left the gangway and searched by the police.”

“And will they tickle the cook too, I wonder?” says Jimmy, savagely.

“And if they find it you’ll go to prison,” says Bill, giving ’im a clump o’ the side o’ the ’ead, “and you won’t like that, I can tell you.”

“Why, ain’t it nice, Bill?” says Jimmy, holding ’is ear.

Bill looked at ’im and then ’e steps to the ladder. “I’m not going to talk to you any more, my lad,” ’e says. “I’m going to tell the skipper.”

He went up slowly, and just as ’e reached the deck Jimmy started up and called ’im. Bill pretended not to ’ear, and the boy ran up on deck and follered ’im; and arter a little while they both came down again together.

“Did you wish to speak to me, my lad?” says Bill, ’olding ’is ’ead up.

“Yes,” says the boy, fiddling with ’is fingers; “if you keep your ugly mouth shut, we’ll go shares.”

“Ho!” says Bill, “I thought you throwed it overboard!”

“I thought so, too, Bill,” says Jimmy, very softly, “and when I came below ag’in I found it in my trousers pocket.”

“Where is it now?” says Bill.

“Never mind where it is,” says the boy; “you couldn’t get it if I was to tell you. It’ll take me all my time to do it myself.”

“Where is it?” says Bill, ag’in. “I’m goin’ to take care of it. I won’t trust you.”

“And I can’t trust you,” says Jimmy.

“If you don’t tell me where it is this minute,” says Bill, moving to the ladder ag’in, “I’m off to tell the skipper. I want it in my ’ands, or at any rate my share of it. Why not share it out now?”

“Because I ’aven’t got it,” says Jimmy, stamping ’is foot, “that’s why, and it’s all your silly fault. Arter you came pawing through my pockets when you thought I was asleep I got frightened and ’id it.”

“Where?” says Bill.

“In the second mate’s mattress,” says Jimmy. “I was tidying up down aft and I found a ’ole in the underneath side of ’is mattress and I shoved it in there, and poked it in with a bit o’ stick.”

“And ’ow are you going to get it?” says Bill, scratching ’is ’ead.

“That’s wot I don’t know, seeing that I’m not allowed aft now,” says Jimmy. “One of us’ll ’ave to make a dash for it when we get