Hooligan Nights | Page 6

your own prop'ty. But 'ang
around, and you mit jest as well walk into the next cop you see, and
arst 'im to 'and you your stretch. See? You got to look after yourself;
and it ain't your graft to look after anyone else, nor it ain't likely that
anybody else'd look after you--only the cops. See?'
A cloud came over the moon, and threw the room and the yard outside
into darkness. Young Alf became a dim shadow against the window.
'Time we was off,' he said.
He shut down the window softly, and, by the shaded light of a match
with which I supplied him, led me to the door and down the stairs. The
dog was awake and alert, and barked noisily, though young Alf's step
would not have broken an egg or caused a hare to turn in its sleep. He
protested in a whisper against my inability to tread a stair without
bringing the house about my ears. But the yard outside was empty, and
no one but the dog seemed aware of our presence. Young Alf was
bound, he said, for the neighbourhood of Westminster Bridge, but he
walked with me down to Vauxhall Station through a network of dim
and silent streets.
I inquired of his plans for the night, and he explained that there was a
bit of a street-fight in prospect. The Drury Lane boys were coming
across the bridge, and had engaged to meet the boys from Lambeth
Walk at a coffee-stall on the other side. Then one of the Lambeth boys
would make to one of the Drury Lane boys a remark which cannot be
printed, but never fails to send the monkey of a Drury Lane boy a
considerable way up the pole. Whereafter the Drury Lane boys would
fall upon the Lambeth boys, and the Lambeth boys would give them
what for.
As we came under the gas-lamps of Upper Kennington Lane, young
Alf opened his coat. He was prepared for conflict. Round his throat he

wore the blue neckerchief, spotted with white, with which my memory
will always associate him; beneath that a light jersey. His trousers were
supported by a strong leathern belt with a savage-looking buckle.
Diving into his breast pocket, and glancing cautiously round, he drew
out a handy-looking chopper which he poised for a moment, as though
assuring himself of its balance.
'That's awright, eh?' he said, putting the chopper in my hand.
'Are you going to fight with that?' I asked, handing it back to him.
He passed his hand carefully across the blade.
'That oughter mean forty winks for one or two of 'em. Don't you fink
so?' he said.
His eyes glittered in the light of the gas-lamp as he thrust the chopper
back into his pocket and buttoned up his coat, having first carefully
smoothed down the ends of his spotted neckerchief.
'Then you'll have a late night, I suppose?' I said as we passed along up
the lane.
''Bout two o'clock I shall be back at my kip,' he replied.
We parted for the night at Vauxhall Cross, where a small crowd of
people waited for their trains. We did not shake hands. The ceremony
always seems unfamiliar and embarrassing to him. With a curt nod he
turned and slid through the crowd, a lithe, well-knit figure. shoulders
slightly hunched, turning his head neither to this side nor to that, hands
close to his trouser pockets, sneaking his way like a fish through the
scattered peril of rocks.

Chapter 2

Concerning Hooligans
There, was, but a few years ago, a man called Patrick Hooligan, who
walked to and fro among his fellow-men, robbing them and
occasionally bashing them. This much is certain. His existence in the
flesh is a fact as well established as the existence of Buddha or of
Mahomet. But with the life of Patrick Hooligan, as with the lives of
Buddha and of Mahomet, legend has been at work, and probably many
of the exploits associated with his name spring from the imagination of
disciples. It is at least certain that he was born, that he lived in Irish
Court, that he was employed as a chucker-out at various resorts in the
neighbourhood. His regular business, as young Alf puts it, was 'giving
mugs and other barmy sots the push out of pubs when their old swank
got a bit too thick'. Moreover, he could do more than his share at
tea-leafing, which denotes the picking up of unconsidered trifles, being
handy with his fingers, and a good man all round. Finally, one day he
had a difference with a constable, put his light out, and threw the body
into a dust-cart. He was lagged, and given a lifer. But he had not been
in