Captains All | Page 7

eyed him
pleasantly.
"Got a pipe o' baccy, mate?" he inquired.
The boatswain handed him the small metal box in which he kept that

luxury.
"Lobster, ain't you?" he said, affably.
The tall man nodded. "Was," he replied. "Now I'm my own
commander-in- chief."
"Padding it?" suggested the boatswain, taking the box from him and
refilling his pipe.
The other nodded, and with the air of one disposed to conversation
dropped his bundle in the ditch and took a seat beside him. "I've got
plenty of time," he remarked.
Mr. Benn nodded, and for a while smoked on in silence. A dim idea
which had been in his mind for some time began to clarify. He stole a
glance at his companion--a man of about thirty-eight, clear eyes, with
humorous wrinkles at the corners, a heavy moustache, and a cheerful
expression more than tinged with recklessness.
"Ain't over and above fond o' work?" suggested the boatswain, when he
had finished his inspection.
"I love it," said the other, blowing a cloud of smoke in the air, "but we
can't have all we want in this world; it wouldn't be good for us."
The boatswain thought of Mrs. Waters, and sighed. Then he rattled his
pocket.
"Would arf a quid be any good to you?" he inquired.
"Look here," began the soldier; "just because I asked you for a pipe o'
baccy--"
"No offence," said the other, quickly. "I mean if you earned it?"
The soldier nodded and took his pipe from his mouth. "Gardening and
windows?" he hazarded, with a shrug of his shoulders.

The boatswain shook his head.
"Scrubbing, p'r'aps?" said the soldier, with a sigh of resignation. "Last
house I scrubbed out I did it so thoroughly they accused me of
pouching the soap. Hang 'em!"
"And you didn't?" queried the boatswain, eyeing him keenly.
The soldier rose and, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, gazed at him
darkly. "I can't give it back to you," he said, slowly, "because I've
smoked some of it, and I can't pay you for it because I've only got
twopence, and that I want for myself. So long, matey, and next time a
poor wretch asks you for a pipe, be civil."
"I never see such a man for taking offence in all my born days,"
expostulated the boat-swain. "I 'ad my reasons for that remark, mate.
Good reasons they was."
The soldier grunted and, stooping, picked up his bundle.
"I spoke of arf a sovereign just now," continued the boatswain,
impressively, "and when I tell you that I offer it to you to do a bit o'
burgling, you'll see 'ow necessary it is for me to be certain of your
honesty."
"Burgling?" gasped the astonished soldier. "Honesty? 'Struth; are you
drunk or am I?"
"Meaning," said the boatswain, waving the imputation away with his
hand, "for you to pretend to be a burglar."
"We're both drunk, that's what it is," said the other, resignedly.
The boatswain fidgeted. "If you don't agree, mum's the word and no
'arm done," he said, holding out his hand.
"Mum's the word," said the soldier, taking it. "My name's Ned Travers,
and, barring cells for a spree now and again, there's nothing against it.
Mind that."

"Might 'appen to anybody," said Mr. Benn, soothingly. "You fill your
pipe and don't go chucking good tobacco away agin."
Mr. Travers took the offered box and, with economy born of adversity,
stooped and filled up first with the plug he had thrown away. Then he
resumed his seat and, leaning back luxuriously, bade the other "fire
away."
"I ain't got it all ship-shape and proper yet," said Mr. Benn, slowly, "but
it's in my mind's eye. It's been there off and on like for some time."
He lit his pipe again and gazed fixedly at the opposite hedge. "Two
miles from here, where I live," he said, after several vigorous puffs,
"there's a little public-'ouse called the Beehive, kept by a lady wot I've
got my eye on."
The soldier sat up.
"She won't 'ave me," said the boatswain, with an air of mild surprise.
The soldier leaned back again.
"She's a lone widder," continued Mr. Benn, shaking his head, "and the
Beehive is in a lonely place. It's right through the village, and the
nearest house is arf a mile off."
"Silly place for a pub," commented Mr. Travers.
"I've been telling her 'ow unsafe it is," said the boatswain. "I've been
telling her that she wants a man to protect her, and she only laughs at
me. She don't believe it; d'ye see? Likewise I'm a small man--small, but
stiff. She likes tall men."
"Most women do," said Mr. Travers, sitting upright and instinctively
twisting his moustache. "When I was in the ranks--"
"My idea is," continued