High Seas Murder by Peter Drax

Author:Peter Drax
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2017-04-13T00:00:00+00:00

10

On the same night that Carl tried to break into the captain’s cabin on board the Ivanhoe, Tubby spent three hours in the warmth, light and noise of the public bar of the “Keel and Barge”.

His tankard was never empty for long, though he spent nothing himself on the beer which loosened his tongue, and made thumbs of his fingers as he plucked at the strings of his zither.

His rendering of “Two lovely Black Eyes” was not such as would have got him a job on the halls, but a few false notes meant nothing to the crowd which encircled him and shouted the chorus.

They felt like singing and they sang, and when breath began to get short they made Tubby tell them all over again the story of the salving of the Ivanhoe, and gave him more beer.

When closing-time came, Tubby was in no shape for walking and, after following a zigzag course for a hundred yards or so, he came to anchor under the lee of a fish-store. There he slept until the lights were switched on and carts came rumbling over the cobblestones.

Feeling a little better, but not much, Tubby got on to his feet and, with his zither under his arm, made for the welcoming light of Hoppy’s stall. What he craved more than anything at that moment was a nice cup of hot coffee.

There was a number of lorry drivers, porters, salesmen and trawlermen talking and eating at the counter, and Tubby had to wait until the sales had started and the crowd had thinned out before he could find a place.

Mr. Hopkins looked disapprovingly at Tubby’s bleary face and said: “Hullo! What have you been up to?”

“I want a cup of coffee,” Tubby said with unusual distinctness. He wasn’t feeling too sure of his tongue, nor of his legs and he took a firm grip of the counter.

“What you wants is twelve hours in your bed,” said Hoppy severely as he took a cup off a hook and held, it under the tap of the urn.

“Now, Mr. Hopkins, don’t you start getting on to me; and after all I’ve been through, too. I’ve finished with the sea.”

“That’s what they all say,” said Hoppy and put a brimming cup on the counter. “Maybe if you drink that you’ll feel a bit better.”

Tubby devoutly hoped that he would and sipped noisily at the scalding coffee. It burned his mouth. “Carl’s a good old scout, a good old scout, and there’s not another man—not one other man could ha’ done what he did.” Tubby stretched out a hand and laid it on the sleeve of Hoppy’s coat. “And if it hadn’t been for that damn’ old codger we’d have been in Gilboro’ twelve hours afore we did.”

A man standing beside him said: “What’s that?”

“What I says. And what I says is right. If it hadn’t been for him we’d have got the blooming old engines started up right away—right away, and we wouldn’t have had to lie there rolling our guts out the whole of the blasted night.

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