Part 5

'It was just below us,' continued 'the Heckler,' 'that I found his cap, an' thinkin' him drooned, an' him bein' a favour-yte wi' me, I just put up that bit stone for him an' carved his initials on it, an' the Latin, an' G. C., that's for us, "the Heckler," ye ken, his mark. But it was a false alarm efter aal, an' noo that Jim Hedley's a Right Hon. Lord Mayor oot iv Australie, I's warn'd but when he's put under the sod he'll hev a hearse an' four horses an' a proper musulyum' (mausoleum) 'tiv hisself.'

'What made you think he was drowned?' I inquired. 'Did you think it a case of suicide?'

'Ay, o' course I did; we aal did that, an' not wivvoot reasons,' responded 'the Heckler,' 'for he was full o' misery at that time, an' wanted ti get shot o' the whole lot ov it. Jim was a fine, tall, proper lad--"bonny Jim" the lasses called him--wunnerfu' handy, too, iv aal sorts of ways, an' as for behaviour, wey, he could talk ti my lord as canny as tiv a pot-boy.

'Well, wiv aal these gifts o' fortune it wasn't surprisin' he got hisself sweetheartin' wiv a young, bonny, quiet-faced lassie, daughter ov aad Sheepshanks, the farmer, close in by the village.

'It was a bit lift for Jim, for she had some brass, but aad Sheepshanks, he tries to forbid the "callins"' (banns) 'i' church; "for what's a pitman," says he, "that a farmer's daughter should marry on?--a dirty-faced, drunken, dog-lovin', gamblin' chep," says he; an' a lot o' gob o' that kind, ye ken, bein' a red-hot Tory wiv a lot o' Noah's-ark kind ov ideas iv his head.

'The lassie didn't think that, though; she just warshipped Jim, followin' him aboot wiv her eyes everywhere, just like the aad bitch' (here he nodded towards the greyhound beside him) 'does "the Heckler."

'Well, they marries an' has a bit fam'ly, an' Jim gans ahead quick; he was marrow' (mate) 'wi' me as a hewer yence, an' then he becomes a deputy, an' bein' a great reader an' a gran' speaker, there was some talk o' makin' him wor Member o' Parlyment when he got a bit older. Well, it had aal been plain sailin' for Jim so far, an' everybody thought his success was sartin, but he soon came tarr'ble nigh makin' a tragedy ov hisself, poor chap.

'There was a young widow woman came ti live doon here at the Prospect House ower there. She'd been married on a fat old chap that had made a lot o' brass i' the toon i' publics, an' they used to come here for a bit i' the summer, an' when he died she comes doon ti the "Prospect" ti bide for good an' aal.

'I sometimes think,' continued my companion after a slight pause, 'that it's a sair pity folks isn't sometimes drooned like kittens or "put under" same as dogs that turn oot no use. It wud save a lot o' misfortunes an' misery, I's warn'd, an' unless ye drooned a Gladstone, or a John Wesley, or mevvies even a "Heckler," the world would be aal the better o't.

'Anyways, she should have been drooned slap off as a babby, for she was a rank bad un--just rank bad ti the bone--an' when a woman is bad, she's just the devil's own viewer[11] or deputy, by Gox!

'She had been on the stage, 'twas said, at one time, an' there was queer stories aboot her, so that the gentry-folk aboot here would have nowt ti do wiv her, sae she had aal the better opportunity ti play her tricks wi' Jim.

'She was free wi' the brass, ye ken, an' give subscriptions awa for the askin', providin' she had her name an' address clagged up large on the play-bills, an' was a champion at gettin' up concerts for wor Mechanic Institute an' such-like entertainments.

'That was hoo she first got a hand upon Jim, for he had a gran' voice--a perfect champion at harmony he was, an' she just buttered him up properly. It was "Oh, Mr. Hedley, an' what a fortin ye would have made in the Opera!" "Sing it again, Mr. Hedley, it's fair ravishin'," an' so she carried on till she had him awa to practise duetties wiv her at her hoos, an' made him stay ti supper wi' glasses o' wine tiv it--yellow shampain wine that'll set your brain iv a froth, I b'lieve, an' at the finish she has him just drugged wiv her enchantments.

'There was one night I mind I was oot walkin' an' chanst ti pass by alang that road there that leads past the hoos--the trees wasn't grown up then, ye ken, an' I could spy a bit in through the windie, which was open on the night--it bein' summer then, d'ye see.

'She was settin' beside the pianner playin' pretence wiv it, an' castin' up white eye-glances at Jim soft-like, noo an' again, with a sort ov insolence, too, as though she kenned her power ower him--drawin' oot the very marrow an' soul ov him wiv her perfections.

'She was aal clad i' silks an' satins, like a play-actress--her bosom gleamin' wi' jools, an' Jim was leanin' against the pianner gazin' at her, fair drunk wiv her blandishments.

'I cuddn't stand by an' just do nowt ava, sae I let fly a yell upon the night, "Ho-way home ti thy own lawfu' missus, an' leave that d----d hussy alone."

'He gave a sudden start at that, an' leaps round ti the windie, claps it ti wiv a smash, an' pulls the curtains ower it.

'Well, I kenned then by that token that it was aal ower wi' Jim. She had him fast, an' nowt could be done, for interferin' i' them cases is warse than useless; but I was sair, sair grieved for him an' his wee quiet bonny-faced wife, an' I walked awa home callin' that woman aal things I could lay my tongue ti under heaven.

'Things went gradually from warse ti warse; he neglected his work an' avoided his wife, an' he became tarr'ble violent iv his temper, an' nigh offered ti fight me yence when I tried ti argy wiv him upon his foolishness. Well, the crissis comes one night when his wife follows him ti the Prospect Hoos an' walks straight inti the drorin'-room where him an' the other woman was. He'd just been threatened by the viewer, d'ye see, wi' gettin' his notice if he didn't pull hisself tegither, an' knawin' things were aaltegither wrang wiv him, he just gans slap off ti the woman oot o' pure recklessness, for he was none o' yo'r half an' half gentlemen, an' as he was gannin' ti the deevil, wey, he wud gan wiv a brass band, ye ken.

'His wife comes in upon them like a ghost, an' never heedin' the other woman, cries tiv him, haudin' oot her arms for him, "Oh, come back, Jim, come back; divvn't break my heart!"

'Jim says nowt, but glares moodily on the ground, an' there's silence for a bit. Then the woman begins ti laugh saftly tiv herself, eyein' Jim's missus scornfu' like frae top ti toe standin' there, small an' shabby-dressed an' tearfu', an', "Wey doesn't thoo gan?" says she, "here's yo'r hooskeeper come ti fetch thoo home!" she says.

'Jim gies a start at this an' looks up wi' blazing eyes at his temptress, then he says tiv his wife, "Gan home, Mary, gan home; this is no a fit place for thoo," an' sae she gans awa softly, weepin' like a desolate bairn.

'Soon as the door shuts he turns upon the other woman, an' he says sternly, "This is the end o't, Susan; I'm gannin' awa' an' ye'll never see me mair. You've plenty brass, an' can fend for yo'rself. I've given thoo my life, an' I can do nae mair; sae good-bye, my lass, for ever an' aye."

'But she rushes tiv him, an' clasps her arms roond aboot his neck an' sweethearts him an' swears they must get married; but Jim, he puts her quietly awa', an' wiv a stone-set face gans oot o' the hoos an' straight for the shore.

'Tossin' his cap on ti the ground, he walks right inti the waters an' begins swimmin' oot, right oot inti the sea, there ti droon hissel' an' his troubles straight awa.

'Well, mevvies he was ower strong ti be easy ti droon; mevvies the cold water cleared his mind a bit, an' he thought shame on hissel' ti leave wife an' bairns ti shift for theirsels; anyhoo, as he said efter, when he saw the red light of a little schooner ridin' waitin' for the tide off the harbour, a thought cam intiv his brain, "Wey not gan right awa an' make a fresh start iv a fresh place?"

'The thought grows on him, an' he swims oot ti the schooner just as she was standin' awa for London town, an' he hails her an' is taken on board i' the nick o' time. Another minute an' she would have been oot o' sight an' hearin', an' Jim would have been a corpse in another ten minutes, I's warn'd.

'Well, nowt is heard ov him for months an' months. "The Heckler" carves an "In memoriov'm" on that headstone; his missus gans inti "blacks," an' the other woman leaves the Prospect Hoos an' gans right awa from these parts.

'One day though, Jim's missus comes alang tiv us cryin' an' laughin' aal at yence, haudin' up a letter and kissin' it between whiles. "It's from Jim! Jim!" she cries, "an' Jim, sweet Jim, he kept hissel' alive for me an' Jackie an' Sal! Oh, he loves me yet, my Jim!"

'Well, it seems as hoo he had gan oot tiv Australia, an' efter a bit wanderin' had gettened hisself a very canny sitivation at a gold mine, an' he sends aff at yence for his missus an' bairns, an' a week later awa they starts.

'They finds Jim doin' first-class when they gets there, an' he went ahead like a hoos-o'-fire as soon as he gets his missus an' bairns back tiv hissel', an' the past wiv its clartiness was just clean wiped out between them.

'An' noo he's the Right Honourable the Lord Mayor o' Ballarat, or some such place, an' cannot mak' enough ov his missus and bairns, they say.

'There's some women mevvies,' added 'the Heckler' in conclusion, 'who wouldn't have pardoned their man, but she was one o' the sort that are just faithfu' ti death--nowt can tarr'fy them aff, an' it's fair providential that it should be so, for there's many men noo livin' who wud just have been iv hell lang syne else.'

FOOTNOTE:

[11] Manager.

'THE HECKLER' UPON WOMENFOLK

'Men are kittle cattle enough,' replied 'the Heckler' oracularly, from his position of vantage on the top of a gate, to some question of mine concerning an indignation meeting held recently to protest against some matter about which no two people could give a like account; 'but they're nowt ti what womenfolk is. Ye can get roond most men easy enough if ye've a bit tax.'

'Tax?' I queried aloud, somewhat mystified. 'What tax? not rates an' tax----'

'Gan on wi' thoo--rates an' taxes be d----!' retorted the oracle swiftly. 'No, nowt ti do wi' them things; just tax, or tacts, mevvies it is, meanin' a pleasant way wi' ye, a bit touch o' the cap when the manager's vext wi' ye, a turn o' management when a drunken man wants ti fight ye for nowt at aal, ye ken, an' sae forth. Wow, but ye can fettle most things amangst men wiv a little o' that social lubricant, but wi' women it's different aaltigether; tax is nae use wi' them; it's just throwin' pearls before swine.'

'Holloa!' I interrupted again. 'What would the missus say to that?'

'Not hevin' heard it, she'll say nowt,' retorted 'the Heckler' severely.

'Well, as I was aboot to say when thoo forgot theeself, and disturbed the meetin' wi' yor interruptions, most men has foibles--some's dog-men like myself, some's book-men, some's gard'ners, some's beer-barrils, an' sae forth, an' if ye mind this ye can get what ye want usuallies oot o' them. But women's a different breed aaltigether. They divvn't care for the same things as men, an' ye cannet get roond them, I's warn'd, for they elwis gets roond ye instead. A man has no ambitions till he's married, Maistor John. Mevvies he's keen aboot this, an' that, an' 'tother thing, but that's nowt. Noo, woman's just chockfull ov ambitions aal her life long, an's nivvor, no, nivvor, satisfied from her cradle tiv her grave, an' even then she's wantin' fower horses tiv her hearse. Tak' a wee girlie for an instance: she's elwis wantin' new claes; then she's wantin' a man, then bairns, then a hoos ov her own, then a better cloak than Mariarann nex' door; an' when she gets them aal she's not satisfied, not one little bit, but's warse than ivvor.

'Noo I'll gie ye an instance o't.

'Ye'll dootless mind havin' seen or heard tell ov Tom Archbold, yence fore overman here i' the aad pit, a great, big, buirdly man, champion hewer o' the colliery at one time, who aye took the lead i' the village at every bit sport, an' carry-on, an' jollification that might be gannin' on at any time.

'Well, there was a little wee bit lassie ov aboot twenty-five years ov age, who had been married yence, but had lost her man iv an accident doon the pit--a fall o' stone, ye ken--an' nae sooner has she buried him than she's on the look-oot for anither mate.

'Well, bein' the littlest woman i' the village, she natorally--such bein' woman's human nature--tak's a fancy for the biggest man iv it, meanin' Tom Archbold, an' she gans for him straight awa.

'Ye'll hev seen a setter dog workin' for a partridge or a rabbit iv a rough grass field, mevvies. Weel, it was just the same method o' procedure wiv her. She gets a scent o' what she was wantin'; she draws upon him up wind; then she gets a tip-toe, steals tiv him till her breath's fair upon him, an' the man's done--fair done--clean copped, and it's "for better an' warse till death do us part."

'So it was wi' Lizzie an' Tom.

'Tom was a weeda (widower), an' on the look-out for anither missus, an' havin' had a great big woman for his first--a proper marrow ov himself i' size an' shape--an' not havin' been ower well satisfied wiv his venture, he thinks he'll try a smaller article for his second lott'ry.

'Well, Tom was elwis very free an' open wiv his conversation, an' mevvies Lizzie, she gets ti hear ov it; but she pretends ti tak' no notice o' Tom when she passes along the Raa,[12] or meets Tom i' the street. She just sails past him, noo wiv head i' the air, again wiv her eyes upon the ground, mournfu' like for the loss of her man, an' Tom becomes quite bewitched by her manners, for she was a fair contrast wiv Bella, who had ti tarrify him wiv a summons from the pollis at the finish before she could get him ti marry her i' chorch.

'Well, she bags him clivvor at the finish, an' they gets theyselves married wivoot more ado.

'A week efter comes "pay-Friday,"[13] an', natorally, quite apart from the "celebration of his nuptials," as the newspaper cheps say, he gets hissel' as boosy as can be, what wi' standin' treat, an' bein' treat an' aal, an' efter closin' time it was wi' some difficulty that me an' my marrer gets him along home.

'We knocks on the door, an' we assists him in, an' he staggers up tiv his missus, who was sittin' iv her armchair knittin', an' tries ti gie her a bit chuck under the chin. "Ho--way----," he stutters, "Lizzie, maa lass, an' put us ti bed!" an' stoopin' down iv a staggerin' way ti kiss her loses his balance, an' flops doon unexpected on the floor. "Ye needn't wait," Lizzie says tiv us, haughty-like, takin' no notice o' Tom, an' sae oot we gans, an' leaves them. But we just stops a minute ootside ti hear Lizzie gie him his gruel; an', wow! but she let him have it, an' no mistake! "Thoo great flamin' drunken lubbert!" says she, "comin' home ti my hoos at this time o' night, drunk as a lord, an' only been married a week!" she cries. "Thoo mun just get used wiv it, maa lass," says he solemnly from the floor; "for aa elwis gets drunk reg'lor on a pay-Friday; an' it'sh maa hoos thoo ----, for aa's maistor," he says, thinkin', mevvies, he mun assert hissel' even if he has had his gills.

'"Put thoo ti bed?" cries she. "Wey, I'll not touch thoo, nor let thoo touch me nowther till thoo's sober again, an's begged maa pardon."

'"Pardon-sh?" says Tom, an' laughs, fair amused by her impittence. "Wey, if maa legs wesn't sae wambly the night, I'd larn thoo a lesson, thoo ----"

'"Get up, an' try, thoo sponge o' beer," she says, an' snaps her fingers iv his face. "Get up, an' try," cries she again. "I daur thoo ti;" an' she actually has the impittence ti stir him wiv her foot. Just fancy that! A yard an' a half o' petticoat, fair insultin' upon a proper mountain ov a man like Tom! The door was a bit open, d'ye see, an' my marrer an' me could see them two comics quite plain.

'Well, Tom, he thinks things is comin' tiv a pretty pass if his missis is gannin' ti clean her boots on him efter a week's marryin'; so, much against his will, he pulls hissel' tegither, an' by the help o' the bedpost gets on his feet.

'"Wey," cries Lizzie again, lookin' him ower mair scornfu' than ever, "thoo's as unsteady on thy feet as a horse wi' the staggers!" she says. "I could knock thoo doon wi' one finger!"

'"I bet-sh a sovereign thoo cannet; ay, an' anither that I'll drive yo'r lugs reet intiv yo'r heid wi' one bat o' my fist," says he; an' he puffs hissel' oot as he searches for the coin, an' spits on his hands iv a preliminary sort o' way.

'Then, sudden, she comes up tiv him, gies him a tap wiv her forefinger, unexpected like, straight on the breast, an' Tom, taken unawares, lurches backward, catches his foot iv a bracket, crashes intiv a chair, an' falls wiv a tarr'ble thump an' a racket of furniture straight on ti the flaggin'. He gies a little lift ov his head as he looks up in a dazed way for a moment from the floor. Then he says, sinkin' back again, "There's been a fall o' stone; gan an' fetch the depity," he says, then sort o' dwams (swoons) awa.

'Lizzie, she looks him ower for awhile, cool as a policeman wiv a lantern, then lifts a pillow off the bed, an' puts it under his head as he lies stretched upon the floor. Next, she takes the boots off her man, an' sae leaves him ti bide where he lies, whilst she gans ti bed her lane.

'Next mornin' Tom feels hissel' as sick as a bad bat o' the head an' a wambly stomach can make a man, an' "lies in" while his missus gies him warm things ti drink, an' tends him like a bairn.

'Well, she has him properly caught, for he has ti lie there idle the best part ov a week, an' cannet work for another week efter that, the skelp he'd got frae the fall bein' a serious affair, as it seemed.

'When he gets up again he was sae savage at the chaff he gets aboot bein' knocked doon biv his missus that he gans back tiv his hoos iv a hurry, tak's off his belt, an' is gannin' ti strap her within an inch ov her life, when she says, "Tom, an' who was it that's been nursin' thoo this last fortnight?" An' she axes it quietly, facin' him wivoot a tremor, her eyes fixed upon his.

'Tom stands there wiv his arm uplifted; but though he was hot ti strike her, somehoo or ither, as he said efter, he was fair bested if he could manage it.

'Well, that was aboot the beginnin' an' the end o't, for she'd conquered him properly, an' Mister Six-Foot-Two soon found oot he'd got a proper taskmaster for his missus, even though she was but a yard an' a half high, an' looked as though ye could have snapt her across yor arm. She didn't knock him doon again, but she was elwis surprisin' him inti startin' things, an' when he tired ov it she would scorn him a bit, an' ask, "An' what's the good o' bein' a strong man if ye cannet show yor strength? Any fool can get drunk," says she, "an' lose his brass bettin'; but thoo's a strong man, Tom, I's warn'd, an' I've bet Ned Lee's wife a dollar that thoo can walk past the Pitman's Arms on pay-Friday night wivvoot ever lookin' inside!"

'Well, that was the way o't i' Lizzie's case. She soon had her Samson's locks clipped short, an' iv a few years' time he becomes a depity, a back overman, an' finally fore overman, has a hoos ov his own, an' a whole raa (row) o' cottages.

'Some has different ways from others,' reflected my companion, further, 'but aal womenfolk's ambitious.'

'Noo, tak' my own case--"the Heckler's"--when I got married on the aad lady there was no nonsense aboot the business. "Ho-way," I says, "will ye tak' us, Betty?" for I kenned nicely beforehand she was the right sort for us, havin' obsarved her previous, an' walked oot wiv her a Sunday night or two. "Ay, an' I will, Geordie," she says thankfully, an' as meek as skim milk; but for aal that I've been got the best o' lots o' time biv her ambition, an' noo, here I is, wiv a fam'ly o' seven, an' the missus insistin' upon Harry's--that's the eldest boy, ye ken--gannin' ti the Grammar School ti parfect hissel' as a scholar. Ay, wor Harry's a proper scholar, I's warn'd, but schoolin's tarr'ble expensive.

'An' noo, I'll just gie ye this bit advice, Maistor John. Divvn't thoo get married unless thoo marries a heiress, for, I tell thoo, aal women's ambitious, an' ambition's a tarr'ble expensive hobby.

'Gox! yes, just fearful, Maistor John.'

FOOTNOTES:

[12] Row.

[13] Pitmen are paid fortnightly on the Friday: the following day is 'pay-Saturday.' Non-pay-Saturday is known as 'baff-Saturday,' the derivation of which no man knows to this day.

THE 'CALEB JAY'

(THE 'QUEL OBJÊT')

I.

The 'Caleb Jay'[14] was not, as his nickname of itself might testify, popular in our pit village of Black Winning. His appearance was against him in the first instance, and he continued to be shy and reserved even after you might be said to have made his acquaintance. Reserve is unpopular in any society, but in the lower social grades, where life is of a freer and more hearty character than in the propriety-loving circles of the well-to-do, it may be said to be one of the 'seven deadly sins.'

There was no reserve about Tom, his elder brother, who was a good-looking, idle, somewhat dissolute youth of twenty-three years of age.

Tom was always ready to 'stand in' for a 'ha'penny loo,' never flinched from a 'bout at the beer,' could throw a quoit well, when his eye was clear and his hand steady, and was never at a loss with the lasses.

Tom, therefore, was a general favourite, being 'well ta'en up wi'' by all save a few of the more serious-minded people; and 'Caleb Jay' suffered, I think, partly through contrast with his brother.

'Caleb Jay' had been injured when working as a putter down the pit, and consequently was 'game of one leg.' He wore the cast-off finery of his brother, the coloured scarves and embroidered waistcoats of his festive occasions--out of economy, no doubt, but some said 'oot o' foolishness.'

Certainly they did not suit well with his sallow complexion and thin, peaked countenance, and with the big and weary eyes.

He worked now at any odd job he could find. He had the care of the viewer's strip of kitchen garden, and went round with papers, etc.; but it was not much that he earned, apparently, for his mother, who doted on her handsome son Tom, was often heard to complain that he wasn't worth his keep.

He had a strange way of mysteriously disappearing for some days on occasion, sometimes even for a week at a stretch, and sundry persons, annoyed perhaps by his reticence, hinted at secret dissipation.

If closely questioned, he would admit having had a 'job i' the toon,' or 'ower away yonder,' pointing vaguely this way or that; and gossip had at least this confirmation for its uncharitable suspicion, that he always returned pale, tired and haggard-looking.

Some of the boys had tried to 'nab' him either coming or going on one of these expeditions of his, but he was 'cuter nor a cushat'[15] as I overheard a sporting youth lament who had followed him in early morning all the way to Oldcastle, and there in the suburbs had suddenly lost him just on the brink of discovering the secret.

Gradually we became accustomed to his flittings, and he was spied upon no more; but for my own part I thought I had, by a comparison of the times and seasons of his absences, at least discovered this much--that he was usually away at the incidence of fairs and festivals.

I think I knew him more intimately than any other person in the village, except, perhaps, our Methodist minister, who never rested till he had succoured any who might be in 'sickness, sorrow, or distress'; but to neither of us, I found, on comparing notes, had he ever vouchsafed any confidences.