the uncommercial traveller- 第11部分

The　uncommercial　transaction　which　had　brought　me　and　Jack

together；　was　this：…　I　had　entered　the　Liverpool　police　force；　that

I　might　have　a　look　at　the　various　unlawful　traps　which　are　every

night　set　for　Jack。　　As　my　term　of　service　in　that　distinguished

corps　was　short；　and　as　my　personal　bias　in　the　capacity　of　one　of

its　members　has　ceased；　no　suspicion　will　attach　to　my　evidence

that　it　is　an　admirable　force。　　Besides　that　it　is　composed；

without　favour；　of　the　best　men　that　can　be　picked；　it　is　directed

by　an　unusual　intelligence。　　Its　organisation　against　Fires；　I　take

to　be　much　better　than　the　metropolitan　system；　and　in　all　respects

it　tempers　its　remarkable　vigilance　with　a　still　more　remarkable

discretion。



Jack　had　knocked　off　work　in　the　docks　some　hours；　and　I　had　taken；

for　purposes　of　identification；　a　photograph…likeness　of　a　thief；

in　the　portrait…room　at　our　head　police　office　（on　the　whole；　he

seemed　rather　complimented　by　the　proceeding）；　and　I　had　been　on

police　parade；　and　the　small　hand　of　the　clock　was　moving　on　to

ten；　when　I　took　up　my　lantern　to　follow　Mr。　Superintendent　to　the

traps　that　were　set　for　Jack。　　In　Mr。　Superintendent　I　saw；　as

anybody　might；　a　tall；　well…looking；　well…set…up　man　of　a　soldierly

bearing；　with　a　cavalry　air；　a　good　chest；　and　a　resolute　but　not

by　any　means　ungentle　face。　　He　carried　in　his　hand　a　plain　black

walking…stick　of　hard　wood；　and　whenever　and　wherever；　at　any

after…time　of　the　night；　he　struck　it　on　the　pavement　with　a

ringing　sound；　it　instantly　produced　a　whistle　out　of　the　darkness；

and　a　policeman。　　To　this　remarkable　stick；　I　refer　an　air　of

mystery　and　magic　which　pervaded　the　whole　of　my　perquisition　among

the　traps　that　were　set　for　Jack。



We　began　by　diving　into　the　obscurest　streets　and　lanes　of　the

port。　　Suddenly　pausing　in　a　flow　of　cheerful　discourse；　before　a

dead　wall；　apparently　some　ten　miles　long；　Mr。　Superintendent

struck　upon　the　ground；　and　the　wall　opened　and　shot　out；　with

military　salute　of　hand　to　temple；　two　policemen　…　not　in　the　least

surprised　themselves；　not　in　the　least　surprising　Mr。

Superintendent。



'All　right；　Sharpeye？'



'All　right；　sir。'



'All　right；　Trampfoot？'



'All　right；　sir。'



'Is　Quickear　there？'



'Here　am　I；　sir。'



'Come　with　us。'



'Yes；　sir。'



So；　Sharpeye　went　before；　and　Mr。　Superintendent　and　I　went　next；

and　Trampfoot　and　Quickear　marched　as　rear…guard。　　Sharp…eye；　I

soon　had　occasion　to　remark；　had　a　skilful　and　quite　professional

way　of　opening　doors　…　touched　latches　delicately；　as　if　they　were

keys　of　musical　instruments　…　opened　every　door　he　touched；　as　if

he　were　perfectly　confident　that　there　was　stolen　property　behind

it　…　instantly　insinuated　himself；　to　prevent　its　being　shut。



Sharpeye　opened　several　doors　of　traps　that　were　set　for　Jack；　but

Jack　did　not　happen　to　be　in　any　of　them。　　They　were　all　such

miserable　places　that　really；　Jack；　if　I　were　you；　I　would　give

them　a　wider　berth。　　In　every　trap；　somebody　was　sitting　over　a

fire；　waiting　for　Jack。　　Now；　it　was　a　crouching　old　woman；　like

the　picture　of　the　Norwood　Gipsy　in　the　old　sixpenny　dream…books；

now；　it　was　a　crimp　of　the　male　sex；　in　a　checked　shirt　and　without

a　coat；　reading　a　newspaper；　now；　it　was　a　man　crimp　and　a　woman

crimp；　who　always　introduced　themselves　as　united　in　holy

matrimony；　now；　it　was　Jack's　delight；　his　（un）lovely　Nan；　but　they

were　all　waiting　for　Jack；　and　were　all　frightfully　disappointed　to

see　us。



'Who　have　you　got　up…stairs　here？'　says　Sharpeye；　generally。　　（In

the　Move…on　tone。）



'Nobody；　surr；　sure　not　a　blessed　sowl！'　　（Irish　feminine　reply。）



'What　do　you　mean　by　nobody？　　Didn't　I　hear　a　woman's　step　go　up…

stairs　when　my　hand　was　on　the　latch？'



'Ah！　sure　thin　you're　right；　surr；　I　forgot　her！　　'Tis　on'y　Betsy

White；　surr。　　Ah！　you　know　Betsy；　surr。　　Come　down；　Betsy　darlin'；

and　say　the　gintlemin。'



Generally；　Betsy　looks　over　the　banisters　（the　steep　staircase　is

in　the　room）　with　a　forcible　expression　in　her　protesting　face；　of

an　intention　to　compensate　herself　for　the　present　trial　by

grinding　Jack　finer　than　usual　when　he　does　come。　　Generally；

Sharpeye　turns　to　Mr。　Superintendent；　and　says；　as　if　the　subjects

of　his　remarks　were　wax…work：



'One　of　the　worst；　sir；　this　house　is。　　This　woman　has　been

indicted　three　times。　　This　man's　a　regular　bad　one　likewise。　　His

real　name　is　Pegg。　　Gives　himself　out　as　Waterhouse。'



'Never　had　sitch　a　name　as　Pegg　near　me　back；　thin；　since　I　was　in

this　house；　bee　the　good　Lard！'　says　the　woman。



Generally；　the　man　says　nothing　at　all；　but　becomes　exceedingly

round…shouldered；　and　pretends　to　read　his　paper　with　rapt

attention。　　Generally；　Sharpeye　directs　our　observation　with　a

look；　to　the　prints　and　pictures　that　are　invariably　numerous　on

the　walls。　　Always；　Trampfoot　and　Quickear　are　taking　notice　on　the

doorstep。　　In　default　of　Sharpeye　being　acquainted　with　the　exact

individuality　of　any　gentleman　encountered；　one　of　these　two　is

sure　to　proclaim　from　the　outer　air；　like　a　gruff　spectre；　that

Jackson　is　not　Jackson；　but　knows　himself　to　be　Fogle；　or　that

Canlon　is　Walker's　brother；　against　whom　there　was　not　sufficient

evidence；　or　that　the　man　who　says　he　never　was　at　sea　since　he　was

a　boy；　came　ashore　from　a　voyage　last　Thursday；　or　sails　tomorrow

morning。　　'And　that　is　a　bad　class　of　man；　you　see；'　says　Mr。

Superintendent；　when　he　got　out　into　the　dark　again；　'and　very

difficult　to　deal　with；　who；　when　he　has　made　this　place　too　hot　to

hold　him；　enters　himself　for　a　voyage　as　steward　or　cook；　and　is

out　of　knowledge　for　months；　and　then　turns　up　again　worse　than

ever。'



When　we　had　gone　into　many　such　houses；　and　had　come　out　（always

leaving　everybody　relapsing　into　waiting　for　Jack）；　we　started　off

to　a　singing…house　where　Jack　was　expected　to　muster　strong。



The　vocalisation　was　taking　place　in　a　long　low　room　up…stairs；　at

one　end；　an　orchestra　of　two　performers；　and　a　small　platform；

across　the　room；　a　series　of　open　pews　for　Jack；　with　an　aisle　down

the　middle；　at　the　other　end　a　larger　pew　than　the　rest；　entitled

SNUG；　and　reserved　for　mates　and　similar　good　company。　　About　the

room；　some　amazing　coffee…coloured　pictures　varnished　an　inch　deep；

and　some　stuffed　creatures　in　cases；　dotted　among　the　audience；　in

Sung　and　out　of　Snug；　the　'Professionals；'　among　them；　the

celebrated　comic　favourite　Mr。　Banjo　Bones；　looking　very　hideous

with　his　blackened　face　and　limp　sugar…loaf　hat；　beside　him；

sipping　rum…and…water；　Mrs。　Banjo　Bones；　in　her　natural　colours　…　a

little　heightened。



It　was　a　Friday　night；　and　Friday　night　was　considered　not　a　good

night　for　Jack。　　At　any　rate；　Jack　did　not　show　in　very　great　force

even　here；　though　the　house　was　one　to　which　he　much　resorts；　and

where　a　good　deal　of　money　is　taken。　　There　was　British　Jack；　a

little　maudlin　and　sleepy；　lolling　over　his　empty　glass；　as　if　he

were　trying　to　read　his　fortune　at　the　bottom；　there　was　Loafing

Jack　of　the　Stars　and　Stripes；　rather　an　unpromising　customer；　with

his　long　nose；　lank　cheek；　high　cheek…bones；　and　nothing　soft　about

him　but　his　cabbage…leaf　hat；　there　was　Spanish　Jack；　with　curls　of

black　hair；　rings　in　his　ears；　and　a　knife　not　far　from　his　hand；

if　you　got　into　trouble　with　him；　there　were　Maltese　Jack；　and　Jack

of　Sweden；　and　Jack　the　Finn；　looming　through　the　smoke　of　their

pipes；　and　turning　faces　that　looked　as　if　they　were　carved　out　of

dark　wood；　towards　the　young　lady　dancing　the　hornpipe：　　who　found

the　platform　so　exceedingly　small　for　it；　that　I　had　a　nervous

expectation　of　seeing　her；　in　the　backward　steps；　disappear　through

the　window。　　Still；　if　all　hands　had　been　got　together；　they　would

not　have　more　than　half…filled　the　room。　　Observe；　however；　said

Mr。　Licensed　Victualler；　the　host；　that　it　was　Friday　night；　and；

besides；　it　was　getting　on　for　twelve；　and　Jack　had　gone　aboard。　　A

sharp　and　watchful　man；　Mr。　Licensed　Victualler；　the　host；　with

tight　lips　and　a　complete　edition　of　Cocker's　arithmetic　in　each

eye。　　Attended　to　his　business　himself；　he　said。　　Always　on　the

spot。　　When　he　heard　of　talent；　trusted　nobody's　account　of　it；　but

went　off　by　rail　to　see　it。　　If　true　talent；　engaged　it。　　Pounds　a

week　for　talent　…　four　pound　…　five　pound。　　Banjo　Bones　was

undoubted　talent。　　Hear　this　instrument　that　was　going　to　play　…　it

was　real　talent！　　In　truth　it　was　very　good；　a　kind　of　piano…

accordion；　played　by　a　young　girl　of　a　delicate　prettiness　of　face；

figure；　and　dress；　that　made　the　audience　look　coarser。　　She　sang

to　the　instrument；　too；　first；　a　song　about　village　bells；　and　how

they　chimed；　then　a　song　about　how　I　went　to　sea；　winding　up　with

an　imitation　of　the　bagpipes；　which　Mercantile　Jack　seemed　to

understand　much　the　best。　　A　good　girl；