Bed Cases

The night-watchman was ill at ease, and, all ordinary positions failing to give relief, adopted several entirely out of keeping with his age and figure. A voice from the next wharf which wanted to know whether he was going on to the stage, and, if so, whether he was going to wear tights, brought him at once to a more becoming position. His voice was broken with pain, but the masterly fashion in which he dealt with his tormentor’s ancestors and the future behaviour of his descendants left nothing to be desired. Uncouth noises, lacking in variety, were the only retort.

“It took me sudden yesterday morning, just arter brekfuss,” said the night-watchman. “The woman—if you can call ’er a woman—next door but one ’ad given my missis best part of a tin of salmon. I wondered at the time why she gave it away—now I know. I ate it all, except one mouthful wot my missis threw in the fireplace, and in less than a couple of hours arterwards I thought my last hour ’ad come.”

He clasped his hands at the waist-line and rocked to and fro. Faint moans and indignant grunts attested to his suffering.

“I’ve been taking things for it ever since and nothing seems to do it any good,” he resumed, in an interval. “Fust of all I tried a couple o’ pints to see wot that ’ud do; and the barman told me to go and die outside. He said wot I ought to ’ave ’ad was rum, so I ’ad a quartern. Arter that ’e put me outside—me being too ill to stop ’im—and an old gentleman wot was passing took me into a chemist’s shop and stood treat. I don’t know wot it was the chemist gave me, but a’most direckly arterwards there was a little crowd round the door peeping in, and behaving theirselves as if I was a Punch and Judy show. Some of ’em follered me ’ome, and it was all my missis could do to stop ’em coming inside and helping ’er to put me to bed.”

He rose and, stifling a moan, took a few paces up and down the jetty.

“Seems to be passing off a bit for the time,” he said, resuming his seat. “It sort o’ comes and goes, but it comes longer than it goes. It’s funny ’ow soft and kind-’earted illness makes you. Three times yesterday arternoon I called my missis upstairs to tell ’er that I couldn’t pass away without letting ’er know I’d forgiven her everything. She on’y came the fust time, but that wasn’t my fault. I called ’er loud enough.

“It seems to me to be the same complaint that Ginger Dick had a year or two ago—on’y worse—and he made a great deal more fuss about it, being a free-spoken man and not minding much wot he said about things he didn’t like.

“It came on in a public-’ouse in the Commercial Road, and it was so sudden, and Ginger made such a funny noise, that Sam and Peter Russet thought at fust he ’ad swallered ’is pipe.

“‘Wot’s the matter?’ ses the landlord, leaning over the bar.

“‘He’s swallered ’is pipe,’ ses Sam.

“‘You’re—a—liar,’ ses Ginger, groaning.

“‘Wot is it, then?’ ses the landlord.

“Ginger shook his ’ead. ‘I don’t know,’ he ses in a weak voice. ‘I think it’s the beer.’

“‘Outside,’ ses the landlord. ‘D’ye ’ear me? Outside.’

“OUTSIDE,” SES THE LANDLORD—“D’YE ’EAR ME?—OUTSIDE.”

“Ginger went out with Sam propping ’im up on one side and Peter the other and the landlord shoving ’im behind. His groans was ’art-rending and the way he talked against beer made Sam and Peter blush for shame. They stood on the pavement for a little while and then they helped ’im on to a tram-car, and two minutes arterwards the conductor and five passengers helped ’im off agin.

“‘Wot’s to be done now?’ ses Sam.

“‘Shove ’im in a puddle and leave ’im,’ ses Peter, very savage.

“‘I can’t ’elp it—I feel as if I’d swallered fireworks,’ ses Ginger.

“‘Little touch o’ stummick-ache,’ ses Sam.

“‘And they keeps going off,’ ses Ginger. ‘Oh! Oh, my!’

“‘’Ave you got any pain?’ ses Peter. ‘That’ll do! That’ll do! Why can’t you give a civil answer to a civil question?’

“He walked on, leaving Ginger ’anging on to Sam and talking at the top of his voice. O’ course a crowd got round and told Sam wot to do, until Ginger left off being ill for a little while to attend to a chap as ’ad told Sam to stand ’im on his ’ead. If it ’adn’t ha’ been for a cab wot ’ad stopped to see wot the row was about Ginger would most likely ’ave been given some medicine.

“They walked along for some time with their ’eads down as though they expected to see a doctor sitting on the pavement waiting for them, and then Sam turned to Peter and asked ’im where they was going.

“‘There’s one in the Whitechapel Road,’ ses Peter.

“‘There must be one nearer than that,’ ses Sam. ‘Let’s go in somewhere and ask.’

“They ’appened to be passing the Turk’s Head as ’e spoke, and, not wanting everybody to know their business, they went into the private bar instead of the usual, and ’ad a couple o’ glasses o’ bitter.

“There was on’y one other chap there, a tall young man in a black tail-coat, a bowler ’at, and a collar and necktie. He ’ad a large nose and a pair of very sharp light eyes, and he sat there as if the place belonged to ’im, stroking ’is little sandy moustache and tapping ’is boots with a cane. Sam and Peter could see at once that he never went anywhere except in private bars, and for the fust minute or two they was talking a’most in whispers. They must ha’ talked a bit louder arter a bit, ’cos all of a sudden, the gentleman emptied ’is glass and spoke to ’em.

“‘What’s that you want?’ he ses. ‘A doctor?’

“‘Yes,’ ses Sam, and the gentleman sat there with a smile on ’is face while Peter and Sam described Ginger’s illness and repeated some of ’is remarks about it.

“‘Funny you should tell me,’ ses the gentleman. ‘Very funny.’

“Sam looked at ’im, and waited.

“‘Cos I’m a doctor myself,’ ses the gentleman. ‘Dr. Brown.’

“‘Wot a bit o’ luck!’ ses Peter. ‘We thought we’d got to walk no end of a way.’

“The doctor shook his ’ead.

“‘I’m afraid I’m no good to you,’ he ses.

“‘Why not?’ ses Sam, staring.

“‘Too expensive,’ ses the doctor. ‘You see, I’m a West-end man, and we’re not allowed to see a patient under a pound a visit.’

“He shook his ’ead and sat smiling at them sad-like and listening to Sam, wot was sitting perched up on a stool making a noise like bronchitis, with surprise.

“‘I on’y come this way for a stroll,’ he ses, ‘’cos I like to see ships and sailormen.’

“‘A—pound—a—visit?’ ses Peter. ‘D’ye ’ear that, Sam?’

“Sam looked at ’im, and arter a time he managed to nod.

“‘P’r’aps it does seem a lot,’ ses the doctor, ‘but it comes cheaper in the end to have a good man.’

“‘Not if the chap dies,’ ses Peter.

“‘My patients don’t die,’ ses the doctor. ‘It’s only cheap doctors wot loses their patients.’

“He took up ’is glass and then, finding as there was nothing in it, put it down agin. Sam gave a little cough, and arter waiting a moment asked whether ’e would do ’im the pleasure of having a drink with ’im.

“‘Well, I’ve ’ad enough really,’ ses the doctor. ‘Still, I don’t mind ’aving a glass of port with you.’

“Peter said he’d ’ave a port, too, afore Sam could stop ’im, and him and the doctor sat and drank Sam’s ’ealth, and Peter said ’ow well he was looking and wot a fine rosy colour he’d got. Then Sam told the doctor all about Ginger’s illness agin, and, in a off-hand sort o’ way, asked ’im wot Ginger could take for it.

“‘I couldn’t say without seeing ’im,’ ses the doctor; ‘it ain’t allowed.’

“‘’Ow much would it be to see ’im?’ ses Sam.

“‘He ain’t much to look at,’ ses Peter, looking at him ’opeful-like.

“The doctor laughed, and then shook his ’ead at ’imself. ‘Well, I don’t know,’ he says, ‘but if you’ll keep it a dead secret and not let anybody know that I said—I mean, that I’m a doctor—I don’t mind seein’ ’im for ’arf a dollar a visit.’

“‘Ginger couldn’t say anything agin that,’ ses Peter.

“‘Couldn’t he?’ ses Sam. ‘’Owever, he’ll ’ave to put up with it. It’s your turn, Peter; mine’s a port.’

“‘I suppose I’d better ’ave the same,’ says the doctor. ‘I don’t believe in mixing. Tell ’im to give us the special this time. It’s better.’

“Peter told ’im, and the landlord ’ad to tell ’im three times ’ow much it was afore he understood. He seemed ’arf dazed, and the noise Sam made smacking ’is lips over his wine nearly drove ’im crazy. The doctor got up as soon as he ’ad finished ’is glass, and they all went out into the street; Sam and Peter wondering what Ginger would say when ’e saw the doctor and what ’e would do when he ’eard the price. They went upstairs very quiet, as the doctor said he didn’t want anybody to see ’im, and the fust thing they saw when they got into the room was Ginger laying face downwards on the bed with ’is arms and legs spread out, groaning.

“‘Wot ’ave you been all this time for?’ he ses, as soon as he ’eard them. ‘You’ve been gone long enough to find fifty doctors.’

“‘This is a good ’un, Ginger,’ ses Sam, very solemn. ‘One o’ the best.’

“‘Charges as much as twenty ordinary doctors,’ ses Peter.

“‘Wot!’ ses Ginger, turning over with surprise and temper.

“The doctor smiled and, arter fust putting the chair by the side of the bed and sitting down on it, put it back very careful and sat down on the bed instead.

“‘Let’s have a look at your tongue,’ he ses.

“Ginger put it out, and then put it in agin to tell Sam that when ’e wanted to ’ear his remarks about it he’d let ’im know.

“‘I’ve seen a worse tongue than that,’ ses the doctor. ‘Once.’

“‘Did ’e die?’ ses Ginger.

“‘Never mind,’ ses the doctor.

“‘But I do mind,’ ses Ginger, very sharp.

“‘No,’ ses the doctor; ‘I was called in at the last moment and, after sitting up with ’im all night, pulled ’im through.’

“‘I told you wot he was, Ginger,’ ses Peter Russet in a whisper that you could have ’eard downstairs.

“The doctor took ’old of Ginger’s wrist; and then Sam got into trouble agin for taking upon himself to tell ’im that Ginger ’ad got a natural dark skin. The doctor took out ’is watch and they all ’eld their breath while he counted Ginger’s pulse.

“‘H’m!’ he ses, putting the watch back. ‘It’s a fortunate thing you met me when you did. Now let’s have a look at your chest.’

“Ginger unbuttoned ’is shirt, and the doctor, arter a good look at the ship wot was tattoed there, laid his ’ead on it amidships and listened.

“‘Say ninety-nine,’ he ses, ’and go on saying it.’

“‘Ninety-nine,’ ses Ginger, ‘ninety-nine, ninety-nine, ninety—if I get up to you, Sam, you’ll know it.’

“‘You’d laugh yourself if you could on’y see yourself, Ginger,’ ses Sam.

“‘H’sh!’ ses the doctor; ‘he ’asn’t got much to laugh about, poor chap.’

“He moved his ’ead a bit and told Ginger to keep quiet. Then he sat up and, buttoning Ginger’s shirt acrost ’is chest very careful, made a sign to Sam and Peter to keep quiet, and sat thinking.

“‘His ’art has moved,’ he ses at last; ‘it’s about two inches out of place.’

“‘Good-bye, mates,’ ses pore Ginger.

“‘There’s no need to say “good-bye,”’ ses the doctor, very sharp. ‘If you’ll keep quite quiet and do as I tell you, you’ll be all right agin, in time.’

“He sat thinking agin for a bit, and then ’e sent Peter downstairs for a jug of ’ot water and a tumbler, and while it was being fetched he told Sam ’e was to be head-nurse and told ’im all he was to do.

“‘You don’t want to pay two or three pounds a week for a nurse, I suppose?’ he ses, when Sam began to speak up for ’imself and tell ’im ’ow much he enjoyed ’is sleep.

“‘I shan’t be much trouble to ’im,’ ses Ginger. ‘I can ’elp myself.’

“‘You mustn’t move,’ ses the doctor. ‘You’ve got to lay quite still. Even if a fly settled on your nose you mustn’t brush it off. You don’t know ’ow bad you are. I want you to keep per-feck-ly still. Till to-morrow, at any rate.’

“He took the ’ot water from Peter and, after putting a little cold to it, put ’is arm round Ginger’s neck and ’eld the tumbler to ’is lips. He ’ad four tumblers, one arter the other, except for wot went down ’is chest, and then ’e laid his ’ead back on the piller without a word.

“‘That’ll do ’im good,’ ses the doctor, taking the ’arf-dollar wot Sam got out of Ginger’s pocket. ‘I’ll look round agin in the morning.’

“‘And wot about medicine?’ ses Sam.

“‘I’ll bring some with me,’ ses the doctor. ‘Good-bye.’

“Sam and Peter went to bed early. One thing there was nothing to do, and another thing was Ginger wouldn’t let ’em do it. Every time they moved ’e spoke about it and said wot it did to ’is ’art, and once, when Sam sneezed, ’e called ’im a murderer.

“It was about two o’clock in the morning when Sam woke up from a dream of a beautiful gal with yaller ’air and blue eyes wot kept calling ’im by ’is Christian name. He woke up with a smile on ’is lips and was just shutting ’is eyes to go on dreaming if ’e could, when he ’eard it again.

“‘Sam! Sam! Sam! Sam!’

“‘Hullo!’ he ses, sitting up in bed very cross.

“‘I thought you was dead,’ ses Ginger. ‘I’ve been calling you for ten minutes or more. It’s made my ’eart worse.’

“‘Wot d’ye want?’ ses Sam.

“‘I’ve got a nasty itching feeling between my shoulders,’ ses Ginger.

“‘D’you mean to say—d’you mean to say you woke me up just to tell me that?’ ses Sam, ’ardly able to speak for temper.

“‘I woke you up to come and rub it,’ ses Ginger. ‘And look sharp about it. You know I mustn’t move.’

“‘Hurry up, Sam!’ ses Peter Russet. ‘Wot are you waiting for? I want to get to sleep agin.’

“Sam got out o’ bed at last and stood rubbing Ginger’s back with ’is fist while Ginger kept telling ’im ’ow not to do it, and reminding ’im wot a delikit skin he ’ad got.

“He woke ’im up twice arter that. Once to give ’im a drink of water, and once to ask him ’ow old he thought the doctor was. Wot with being woke up and being afraid of being woke up, Sam ’ardly got a wink of sleep.

“Him and Peter Russet ’ad their brekfuss at a coffee-shop next mornin’, and they had ’ardly got back afore the doctor come in. He seemed pleased to ’ear that the pain was better, but ’e told Ginger that he’d ’ave to keep as still as he could for another day or two, and, arter putting ’is face on ’is chest agin, said that the ’art ’ad stopped moving.

“‘I mean moving out of place,’ he ses, as Ginger sat up making a ’orrible noise and threw ’is arms round his neck. ‘To-morrow I ’ope it will begin to move back.’

“He fished a bottle o’ medicine out of ’is pocket which he said would be another bob, and, arter telling Sam to ’ave a lump o’ sugar ready and pop it in quick, gave Ginger ’is fust dose. Sam popped it in all right, but unfortunately the medicine was so nasty that Ginger was quicker than wot ’e was. Anybody might ha’ thought he ’ad been killed the way ’e carried on.

“‘I’ll look in agin this evening,’ ses the doctor as he put a ’arf-dollar and a bob o’ Ginger’s in his pocket. ‘Don’t let ’im move more than can be helped and—— Hullo!’

“‘Wot’s the matter?’ ses Sam, taking ’is finger out of ’is mouth and staring at ’im.

“The doctor didn’t answer ’im. He lifted up ’is eyelids instead and looked at his eyes, and then he told Ginger to open ’is mouth, and looked at ’is teeth. Then he looked at Sam agin and felt all round ’is throat.

“‘Wot is it?’ ses Sam, going pale.

“‘It might be blood-poisoning,’ ses the doctor, ‘but I can’t tell yet. His teeth are in a very bad state.’

“‘’Ow shall I know if it is?’ ses Sam.

“‘You’ll know fast enough,’ ses the doctor, shaking his ’ead. ‘P’r’aps you’d better ’ave a quiet time at ’ome to-day and keep your friend company, and I’ll ’ave a look at you when I come in this evening. Keep your spirits up and be as cheerful as you can—for ’is sake.’

“He left ’em all staring at each other; and then Sam sat down on ’is bed and told Peter Russet wot ought to be done to Ginger before England would be fit for decent people to live in. Peter said it was a wonder ’ow he could think of it all, and Ginger said it was because he ’ad got a nasty mind, and he told ’im wot he’d do to ’im when ’e got well agin.

“They spent most of the day quarrelling, and on’y left off to find fault with Peter when ’e came in from enjoying ’imself to see ’ow they was getting on. Sam was the worst, cos Ginger was afraid of ’is ’eart if he got too excited, but arter the doctor saw ’im in the evening ’e was as quiet as Ginger was.

“He said the poison ’ad got from Sam’s finger down into ’is liver and an abscess was forming there. He showed Sam where ’is liver was—a thing he ’adn’t known afore—and found out where the abscess was with ’is thumb-nail. He found it twice, and was just going to find it agin when Sam pulled ’is shirt down.

“‘There’s no danger,’ he ses, ‘if you do just wot I tell you. If you keep quiet like your friend does, I’ll ’ave you up agin in a week. If you move about or ’ave any violent shock you’ll die afore you know where you are.’

“He sat talking with ’em for a little while, and, arter saying that Ginger’s ’art was not going back as fast as he could wish, ’e took ’is money and went off. Peter sat looking at ’em till Sam asked ’im whether he thought they was waxworks, and then, arter punching up their pillers and tickling Ginger’s toes, playful-like, ’e picked up ’is cap and went out. He spent most of ’is time out, and, when ’e did come in, all he could talk about was the drinks he’d been ’aving and ’ow glad ’e was that his ’art and liver was as sound as a bell.

“‘I wonder you ain’t sick of bed,’ he ses, arter Ginger had ’ad four days of it.

“‘Sick of it!’ ses Ginger, choking. ‘Sick of it! Why, you ugly, mutton-faced son of a——’

“‘Mind your ’art, Ginger,’ ses Sam.

“‘I don’t believe in doctoring and laying in bed,’ ses Peter, picking ’is teeth with a pin. ‘I believe that if you and Sam was to get up and ’ave a little dance in your shirts it ’ud do you all the good in the world. I’d ’um to you.’

“Mind your ’art, Ginger,’ ses Sam, very quick.

“Ginger minded it, but they was both so disagreeable that Peter got up and went out agin and didn’t come back until the pubs was closed. He woke ’em both up getting to bed, but when they tried to wake ’im up arterwards they might as well ’ave tried to wake the dead. All they did was to wake each other up and then ’ave words about it.

“They wouldn’t speak to Peter when ’e got up next morning, and, arter giving ’em both wot ’e called a bit of ’is mind, but wot other people would ’ave called nasty langwidge, ’e flung Ginger’s trowsis into Sam’s face and went off for the day.

“He didn’t come back until six-o’clock, but when ’e did come back ’e was a reg’lar sunbeam, smiling all over ’is face. He ’ad a look at Ginger and smiled, and then ’e went and smiled at Sam, with his ’and over ’is mouth.

“‘He’s drunk,’ ses Sam, trying to sneer.

“‘Mad and drunk,’ ses Ginger.

“Peter didn’t say anything. He went and sat down on ’is bed and covered up ’is face with his ’andkerchief and the bed shook as if there was an earthquake sitting on it.

“‘’Ow—’ow—’ow’s the ’art, Ginger?’ he ses at last.

“Ginger didn’t answer ’im.

“‘And Sa—Sa—Sam’s pore old liver!’ ses Peter, going off agin.

“He wiped ’is eyes at last, and then ’e got up and walked up and down the room fighting for ’is breath and saying ’ow it hurt ’im. And when he saw them two pore invalids laying in bed and looking at each other ’elpless, ’e sat down and laughed till ’e cried.

“‘It’s the d-d-doctor,’ he ses at last. ‘The—the landlord told me.’

“‘Told you wot?’ ses Ginger, grinding ’is teeth.

“‘He—he ain’t a doctor,’ ses Peter, wiping ’is eyes; ‘he’s a bookmaker’s clerk, and you won’t see ’im agin ’cos the police are arter ’im.’

“You might have ’eard a pin drop, as the saying is, if it ’adn’t been for the choking noise in Sam’s throat.

“‘You ought to ’ave ’eard the landlord laugh when I told ’im about you and Sam,’ ses Peter. ‘It would ha’ done you good. ’Ow much money ’as he ’ad off of you, Ginger?’

“Ginger didn’t answer ’im. He got out of bed very slow, and put on ’is boots and ’is trowsis. Then ’e got up and locked the door.

“‘Wot are you doing that for?’ ses Sam, wot was sitting on the edge of ’is bed putting on ’is socks.

“‘I’m going to give Peter something else to laugh about,’ ses Ginger.”

THE END