Pincher Martin, O.D.: A Story of the Inner Life of the Royal Navy

Billings, strangely redolent of violets – he had purchased a pennyworth of cachous subsequent to absorbing one pint of beer immediately on getting ashore – advanced with a sheepish grin. Martin followed close behind.

'Good-evenin', miss,' the former remarked, touching his forelock. 'I 'ope I finds yer well?'

The girl laughed. 'Thank you, Mister Billings,' she said; 'I am enjoying the best of health, and I hope you are the same.' She regarded Pincher out of the corner of her eye; and that youth, very ill at ease, shuffled nervously and began to get red in the face. He was always rather frightened of women.

'I'm quite fit, miss,' said Joshua. 'This 'ere's Mr Martin – Pincher Martin we calls 'im. Friend o' mine, 'e is. Brought 'im along o' me ter be interjooced.' He pushed the ordinary seaman forward by the arm.

'Pleased ter meet yer, miss,' said Pincher awkwardly, advancing and shaking hands over a row of glass bottles filled with sweets. 'I've 'eard a lot abart yer from my frien' Mister Billings.'

The A.B. warned him of his indiscretion by a violent nudge in the side.

'I'm glad I'm a celebrity,' the girl remarked, a trifle suspiciously. 'And what did Mr Billings say about me? I hope it was something nice.'

'Where's yer ma, miss?' Joshua himself interrupted, hastily changing the subject.

'She's out now, Mr Billings, but she'll be back home to tea at half-past five. She's expecting you then, I believe; and if this gentleman would join us I'm sure he'd be very welcome.' She looked at Martin.

'Wot say, Pincher?' asked Joshua with a wink. 'Like ter 'ave a cup o' tea wi' th' ladies?'

'Don't mind if I does,' said the youth shyly.

'Needn't come if you don't want to, mister,' the girl retorted sarcastically, tossing her head. 'There are plenty who'd be glad to be asked.'

Pincher felt more awkward and sheepish than ever. 'I should like ter come, miss, thankin' yer for yer kindness in arskin' me,' he managed to stammer. 'No offence meant, I'm sure, miss. 'Fraid I said it a bit awk'ard like.'

'No offence taken,' laughed Emmeline, moving off to attend to three customers.

'Now, Mister Billings,' she said, coming back in a few minutes, 'I can't stand gossiping here all the afternoon. This is our busy time, and the shop will be filling up soon, and I sha'n't know whether I'm standing on my head or my heels. What with mother being out, and that plaguy boy having a holiday, I don't know how I shall be able to manage. If you drop in again at half-past five, mother will be in then. Is there anything I can serve you with before you go?'

'I'll 'ave two packets o' woodbines, miss,' Joshua had to reply, quite forgetting that he did not smoke cigarettes, but unable to ignore the hint. He put down twopence. – 'Wot abart you, Pincher?'

Martin looked blankly round the shop.

'A penn'orth of bull's-eyes or almond rock?' suggested the girl, with a malicious twinkle in her eyes. 'Or perhaps you'd fancy some jujubes or acid drops, fresh in to-day?'

'Thank you, miss, I don't fancy sweets,' the ordinary seaman returned, painfully aware that he was being made fun of. 'I'll 'ave one o' them there packets o' Egyptian fags. The sixpenny ones.'

'We generally call them cigarettes,' Emmeline remarked.

'Lor,' Billings ejaculated, 'we ain't 'arf goin' a bu'st!'

'Let the boy have what he wants, mister,' retorted Miss Figgins tartly, her business instinct uppermost, and a little anxious lest Pincher should change his mind and choose something cheaper. 'They're very good cigarettes, I'm sure, and excellent value for the money. Don't know what he wants to go smoking for, though,' she added sweetly, gazing at Pincher with an innocent smile. 'I'm sure sweets are more in his line.'

Joshua laughed, but Martin felt he had never been so insulted in his life. 'Boy,' indeed! She had called him a boy, and had offered him sweets!

More prospective customers arrived; and, paying for their purchases, the two bluejackets started to leave the establishment, when Billings, remembering something rather important, turned back. 'Say, miss,' he queried in an anxious, confidential whisper in the young lady's ear, 'did yer ma say anythin' abart comin' ter the pictures along o' me ter-night?'

Emmeline paused in the act of weighing out half-an-ounce of shag tobacco and laughed merrily. 'Go on with you!' she exclaimed roguishly. 'You're a proper caution, Mister Billings!'

'Did she say nothin' abart it?'

'I'm not my mother's keeper. She said nothing to me.'

'Sure?' queried the lovesick one, rather disappointed.

The girl winked twice and pointed to the door. 'Hop it!' she giggled. 'Don't come worrying round me when I'm busy with customers. Take your Mister – er – Martin with you; and if I were you I should buy him' – she sank her voice to a whisper and glanced in Pincher's direction – 'a nice rattle! Ta-ta; see you both later.'

'Wot did she say yer wus ter buy me?' Martin wanted to know when they got outside.

'Didn't 'ear, chum,' Joshua answered hastily, unwilling to hurt the other's feelings. 'Wot d' yer think o' 'er? Bit o' orl right – wot?'

'She looks orl right,' Martin agreed, rather depressed. 'But she seems a bit 'orty-like for a kid o' seventeen. Tryin' ter 'ave me on, she was, abart them there sweets.'

'Garn! That's only 'er way. She don't mean nothin'. Yer carn't expec' a gal ter take a fancy ter a bloke orl of a sudden like. Don't get rattled abart wot she said. Come on,' Joshua added, glancing at a clock in a jeweller's window. 'It's only a quarter ter five, plenty o' time ter go an' 'ave a wet afore we goes back there ter tea.' He made off across the road in the direction of a public-house.

'No, yer bloomin' well don't!' Pincher exclaimed, overtaking him, seizing him by the arm, and swinging him round in the opposite direction. 'Yer said yer was only goin' ter 'ave one pint. S'welp me, yer did.'

'Don't act so barmy, Pincher,' Joshua expostulated, bitterly aggrieved. 'W'en I sez a pint I only means a pint directly I gits ashore. I didn't say 'ow much I'd 'ave arterwards.'

'Well, yer ain't goin' ter 'ave one now, any'ow,' Martin retorted. 'If you goes drinkin' now, I sha'n't come ter tea along o' yer an' Missis Figgins; an' I wants me two bob back, strite, I do.'

'Wot d' yer want ter go spoilin' a chap's bit o' sport fur?' Billings grumbled feelingly. 'I'm that dry I could jist do wi' a pint. No more'n a pint, I promises yer.'

But Pincher was adamant. 'If yer feels dry yer kin go and buy yerself some lemonade. Yer don't git no beer while yer along o' me.'

'Lemonade! 'Oo wants lemonade, 'orrible pisenous stuff full o' hacids an' sich like! Only fit fur kids ter swaffle!'

'Yer won't git no beer, so it ain't no use yer talkin'.'

'Oh, ain't it bloomin' well?' the A.B. exclaimed, beginning to get angry. 'Yer ain't lookin' arter me, yer knows. It's me wot's lookin' arter you.'

Pincher held out his hand. 'Orl right, then,' he said quietly; 'give me back me two bob wot yer borrowed.'

Joshua glared at him in speechless astonishment 'Give it back to yer?' he almost shouted. 'Not 'arf I don't!'

'Orl right. S' long, then; I'm not comin' along ter tea wi' Missis Figgins. Yer knows werry well yer carn't go takin' ladies along ter th' pictures if yer starts drinkin' now.' Martin pretended to move off.

There was some truth in the remark, and Billings felt rather foolish. ''Ere, 'arf a mo'!' he expostulated. 'Don't shove orf. Look 'ere, chum; she 'as a drop 'erself now an' then. Allus 'as a bottle o' stout along wi' 'er dinner, an' another along o' 'er supper. Told me so 'erself.' He looked hopefully to see if this information would have the desired effect, but Martin merely shook his head.

It took at least five minutes further argument, and much backing and filling between the two pavements, before Billings could be drawn off from the glaring portals of the 'Rose and Crown.' He seemed attracted to the place like a steel filing to a magnet; and it was all Martin could do to entice him away. But he succeeded eventually, and, with Joshua still complaining bitterly, the two adventurers entered a barber's shop to have their hair cut.

At five-thirty precisely they both returned to the shop to find Mrs Figgins there. She was a short, bulbous little woman of uncertain age, with her dark hair, slightly streaked with gray, drawn tightly over her head and tied in a knob behind. Except for her blue eyes, which twinkled through her spectacles as she talked, she bore little resemblance to her daughter, but, for all that, possessed a certain vivacity of manner and speech which more than made up for lack of good looks. She greeted them with cordiality.

'It's pleased I am to see you an' your friend, Mister Billings,' she said, when Pincher had been solemnly introduced. 'Such a day I 'ave 'ad you never would believe. Went to see my poor John's brother's wife at Dorchester. 'Er youngest, Halfred, 'im that was born last Easter, 'as come out all over in red spots, an' the doctor doesn't know wot to make of 'em. 'E's a fraud, I think,' she went on – speaking with great rapidity, and nodding her head to emphasise the point – 'a reg'lar fraud, same as all doctors. I don't 'old wi' them an' their speriments. I said to Jane that the boy was sickenin' for measles, 'cause the spots are the same as wot Hemmeline 'ad when she was a baby; but the doctor' —

'Measles!' Joshua ejaculated, with vague visions of being put in quarantine. 'Infectious, ain't it?'

'Don't be scared,' the lady laughed. 'It's all right so long as you've 'ad it before. – Hemmeline!'

'Yes, mother?' came the girl's answer from the sitting-room at the back of the shop.

'Is that kettle boilin' yet? 'Ere's Mister Billings an' 'is friend ready for their teas.'

'All ready, mother. Look out you shut the outer door in case of customers coming.'

Mrs Figgins shut the door, and then ushered her guests into the sitting-room. It was a bright little apartment, with a cheerful fire blazing in an old-fashioned grate, before which, judging from the smell, Emmeline had been making hot buttered toast. The room was crammed with furniture, and was decorated with china ornaments, velvet hangings, and pictures, conspicuous among these being a large photographic enlargement of the late Mr John Figgins. It hung in a massive gilt frame, and the defunct gentleman was shown in black cut-away coat, dark trousers, high choker collar, white tie, and a very shiny top-hat. He gripped a walking-stick and a pair of gloves in one hand, while the other rested in négligé fashion upon a large marble column bearing a very palpable imitation palm. He had side whiskers and rather a fierce expression. There were also three large, highly coloured oleographs. One depicted the late Queen Victoria at the time of her 1887 Jubilee; another, entitled 'Lead, Kindly Light,' showed a sailing-ship in dangerous proximity to the Eddystone Lighthouse during a terrible storm; and the third, some immaculate soldiers in tight red tunics saying good-bye to a number of lachrymose, slim-waisted ladies on the platform at Waterloo Station. They were, it would appear, about to sail for South Africa – the soldiers, I mean, not the ladies.

On the mantelpiece stood a cabinet photograph of Joshua Billings in an ornate aluminium frame painted with forget-me-nots. The original glanced at it with a self-conscious smirk. It had been his last present to Mrs Figgins, and he felt it augured well for his prospects to see it in the place of honour.

But Pincher was not so much interested in the appearance of the room as in that of the round table in the centre of the apartment. It was spread for tea, and such a tea! There was a fine crusty cottage loaf and a generous plate of sliced ham; a mountain of shrimps lay cheek by jowl with an enormous pot of jam; while rounds of hot buttered toast, a large currant-cake, and a pile of mixed pastry stood on the outskirts of the more substantial comestibles. Martin sucked his teeth appreciatively. There were only four places laid, he was glad to see. The ship's steward's assistant from the flagship was evidently not coming.

Mrs Figgins settled herself in front of the teapot, and began pouring out, keeping up a rapid flow of conversation the while. 'Mister Billings,' she said, motioning with her head to the place on her right, 'will you sit 'ere? an' you, Mister Martin, 'ere? Hemmeline will be opposite me. I 'ope you will 'elp yourselves to anything you fancy, and if hanybody likes heggs, I've got some werry nice ones fresh in from the country to-day. My poor John was fond of a hegg to 'is tea,' she added, gazing sadly at the representation of her late husband.

'I reckons we kin do werry well wi' wot we 'ave 'ere,' remarked Billings, glancing round the table with an approving smile, and helping himself to ham and hot buttered toast. 'Thank yer, Missis Figgins,' he continued, 'two lumps fur me.' He took the proffered cup with a coy smile, put it down, and began to masticate noisily.

Pincher fancied shrimps to start with; but Emmeline, who had her own ideas as to how a lady should behave, scorned the more substantial eatables, and nibbled daintily at a piece of thin bread and jam.

''Ave a bit of 'am, my gal,' said her mother, helping herself to that delicacy, and handing the plate across.

'No, thanks, mother. I'll spoil my supper if I do.'

'Quite right, miss,' murmured Billings, with his mouth rather full. 'I never could understan' 'ow folks wot 'as a reg'lar supper kin stow their kites full at tea-time. 'Orrible 'abit, I calls it. On board, ye see,' he hastened to explain, lest he himself should be thought a glutton, 'we 'as a sort o' 'igh tea, an' a bit o' biscuit or sich like fur our suppers. It ain't wot you'd call a proper meal.'

Martin gasped. He knew that on board the Belligerent Joshua frequently had kippers for his tea, while six rashers of bacon and six fried eggs often formed his evening meal at a quarter past seven.

Emmeline raised her eyebrows. 'Kites?' she asked, rather surprised. 'What's kites?'

'Stummick, 'e means, miss,' put in Pincher, anxious to air his knowledge. 'Mister Billings' – He heard a horrified gasp, looked up, saw Emmeline frowning at him fiercely, thought better of what he was going to say, and then stared at his plate, with his face getting redder and redder. He had evidently put his foot into it rather badly.

But the girl did not intend to let him off. 'We don't mention those things in polite society,' she pointed out acidly. 'It's not nice.'

Pincher said nothing, but wished that the floor might open and swallow him whole.

'Yer promised ye'd come along o' me ter th' pictures ter-night, Missis Figgins,' remarked Joshua, finishing his ham and looking round the table. 'Thought we'd go an' 'ave a bit o' supper at a restorong arterwards.'

'Promised you, did I?' the widow returned, handing him a plate of jam-puffs with a sweet smile.' 'Ave one o' these? Or do you fancy a piece o' cake? It's 'ome-made.'

Joshua helped himself to the pastry. 'Yus,' he said, 'yer promised ye'd come.'

'Oh, did I?' the lady said archly, determined to keep him on tenter-hooks. 'Think I've got nothin' to do but to go to them silly pictures? 'Oo's goin' to mind the shop, I should like to know?'

'I don't want to go out, mother,' Emmeline put in.

'Course you don't, my gal,' said her mother. 'It's not respectable for gals to be hout after dark unless they're hescorted.'

'No,' Billings agreed, pausing in the act of biting a large chunk off his jam-puff; 'it ain't fit an' proper fur gals o' your age to go abart unpertected like.'

Emmeline glared at him. 'Oh, isn't it?' she retorted. 'And who asked you to put your oar in, Mister Billings? I'll have you know I'm quite capable of looking after myself, and I wouldn't go along of you if you were the last man on earth. You'd best take mother along to the pictures, and not worry your head about what I'm going to do.' She tossed her head.

Billings, covered with confusion, retired from the contest and resumed his meal.

Mrs Figgins, anxious to keep the peace, looked up apprehensively. 'No need to let your tongue run away wi' you, Hemmeline,' she chided. 'Mister Billings agrees wi' what I think about it, an' there's no call for you to get snappy. – All right, Josh – Mister Billings,' she added; 'I'll come with you. What about your friend?'

Joshua, insinuating a massive fist under the tablecloth, squeezed his loved one affectionately by the hand. 'That's orl right,' he murmured, greatly relieved and very happy.

'But what about Mister Martin?'

''Is leaf's up at seven,' Joshua explained. ''E carn't come.'

'Thank goodness for that!' Emmeline remarked with a loud sniff. What she meant exactly Pincher could not imagine, but it was quite obvious that she meant to hurt his feelings. She succeeded, for he felt more of a fool than ever; and it was just as well, perhaps, that at that moment the shop door opened with a clang to admit a customer, and the girl left the room.

From a purely gastronomic point of view, though Martin did not do full justice to it, the meal was undoubtedly a success; but he returned to the ship that evening in a very saddened frame of mind. He was bitterly disappointed with Emmeline. She was pretty and attractive, he felt bound to admit; but it was only too evident that she was not the least taken with him, and, moreover, had no hesitation in showing it. She had a nasty, snappy way of saying things, too. Billings had wilfully misled him, and had borrowed two shillings under false pretences. He had led Pincher to believe that he would be received with open arms; but all that Joshua really cared about, apparently, was the feathering of his own downy nest, ungrateful old sinner that he was! Drat Billings! Drat Emme – No; drat the ship's steward's assistant from the flagship!

II

Wilfrid Parkin, the ship's steward's assistant from the Tremendous, was a gay young dog. He was a tall youth of about Pincher's own age, with sleek, well-greased black hair. His clothes were always immaculate and well brushed; he affected a crease down the legs of his trousers; and, when he was ashore, the odour of scent and pomatum generally emanated from his person. With his peaked cap set jauntily on the side of his head, a cigarette pendulous from his lower lip, and his double-breasted coat, white linen collar, and black tie, he imagined himself to be vastly superior in breeding and deportment to any man clad in the uniform of a bluejacket. Sometimes he even wore brown kid gloves, hoping that this would cause ignorant people to take him for an officer.

He was not beautiful to gaze upon, but downright ugly, in fact, for his putty-coloured face was covered with pimples, which he vainly endeavoured to eradicate with somebody's patent ointment. But in spite of this, and other blemishes, he had female admirers by the score; and even the level-headed Emmeline, for some inscrutable reason, had fallen a victim to his charms. She would not have admitted it if she had been asked, of course; but the giddy Wilfrid had shown a preference for her society, and Emmeline had not objected.

Men disliked Parkin for his affectation and conceit. On board his ship he had a very poor time; but ashore he was absolutely it, so far as the ladies were concerned. He was a shining light at the local skating-rink, where, in company with one or other of his girl friends, he waltzed and two-stepped to his heart's content. When he could obtain the necessary leave he always attended dances – 'Entrance fee, one shilling; evening dress optional' – and was never averse to singing 'They all love Jack,' or some other very nautical song, at a tea-party at which ladies were present.

It came to pass that one wet afternoon, when there was no football, Pincher, feeling the want of exercise, was forced to take refuge in the skating-rink, and almost the first person he saw was Emmeline Figgins gliding round with the immaculate Wilfrid. They both skated well; but whereas the girl did it with a really natural grace, her companion, desperately anxious to create an impression, put in sundry little kicks and twirls of his own invention which made his performance border on the ridiculous. He was showing off, in fact.

Now Pincher could barely skate at all, much less dance, pirouette on one leg, or hurtle round backwards; and, seeing Emmeline, he became rather nervous, and wished to seek safety in flight. But he had paid sixpence to come in, and could not very well demand his money back; so, with a pair of skates in his hand, he stood sheepishly by the edge of the rink watching the others. Emmeline spotted him the next time she came round, smiled cheerily over her shoulder, and said something to her companion, who shook his head. She was evidently in a good temper, and Martin smiled back at her.

The next time she drew near, it was more slowly. Checking her speed, she came gracefully to rest by the padded balustrade immediately opposite where Pincher stood. She was flushed with the exercise, and looked quite adorable. Parkin hovered in the background.

'Well,' she asked gaily, extending her hand, 'aren't you going to say, "How d' you do?" Mister Martin?'

'How d'ye do, miss?' said Pincher, shaking it, but half-suspecting she was about to make a fool of him.

'This is Mister Parkin,' Emmeline went on, presenting the spotty-faced one. 'Mister Parkin – Mister Martin of the Belligerent.'

''Ow do, Parkin?' remarked Pincher with a nod.

'Pleased to meet yer,' murmured the other, with a low bow and a lofty expression. 'What terrible weather we are 'avin' for the time of year, are we not?'

The ordinary seaman stared at him in astonishment; while Emmeline, unable to restrain herself, burst out into a little chuckle of amusement.

'What's the matter now, Miss Figgins?' Parkin asked, rather aggrieved.

'I'm amused at your polite talk,' she said, laughing openly. 'You do put on such airs sometimes, Mister Parkin. I can't help laughing.'

'Oh, can't you?' retorted the pimply gentleman. 'You needn't go saying them things in front of – er' – he was going to say 'ordinary seamen,' but noticed Martin was looking at him, and substituted 'other people.'

'I'll say exactly what I please, Mister Parkin,' she returned with asperity, deliberately turning her back upon him. – 'Can you skate well?' she asked Martin.

'I kin jest git round, miss, but can do none o' them there fancy touches.'

'Well, be quick, and get your skates on,' she said. 'I'll help you. Mister Parkin is tired of my company, I think. – You'd better go and look for some one else to skate with,' she added to Wilfrid over her shoulder.

'You said you was going to skate with me the 'ole afternoon,' he protested angrily.

'Can't help what I said,' Emmeline retorted, tossing her head. 'I've changed my mind. Run away, like a good boy, or I shall get angry with you.'

Parkin, after further useless expostulation, eventually skated off, greatly annoyed. To think that Emmeline, his Emmeline, as he chose to consider her, should dare to throw herself at the head of an ordinary seaman, while he, Wilfrid Parkin, admittedly one of the best skaters in the place, should be sent packing! It was insufferable – absolutely insufferable! Assuredly he must teach this young woman that it was an honour for her to be seen in his company at all.

Martin himself hardly knew what to make of it. The last time he had met the girl she had been deliberately rude, and had done her best to hurt his feelings and to make him feel awkward. But now she was all smiles, and was looking at him in quite a friendly way. He half-suspected a trap of some kind, and that she intended to make a fool of him, after all; but, murmuring his thanks, he strapped on his skates, removed his cap, and stepped gingerly on to the floor. He got on better than he expected, though he took good care not to try any rash experiments, and rather enjoyed it. He was skating with quite the prettiest girl on the rink, for one thing, and he was pleased to see Parkin's sullen scowl of jealousy every time he flashed by with another lady on his arm.

'Look at that horrid little thing, Jane Crawley!' Emmeline whispered in Martin's ear. 'Stuck-up little minx! Giggling and laughing with Mister Parkin, she is. Thinks it'll annoy me, I suppose.'

'She don't look up ter much,' Pincher agreed, glancing at Wilfrid's companion as they went past.