Light Freights, by W. W. Jacobs 
 
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Title: Light Freights 
Author: W. W. Jacobs 
Release Date: June 25, 2007 [EBook #21928] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIGHT 
FREIGHTS *** 
 
Produced by David Widger 
 
LIGHT FREIGHTS 
By W. W. JACOBS 
1901 
TO MY SISTER AMY
[Illustration: Frontispiece] 
[Illustration: Titlepage] 
CONTENTS: 
 
AN ODD FREAK 
A GARDEN PLOT 
PRIVATE CLOTHES 
THE BULLY OF THE "CAVENDISH" 
THE RESURRECTION OF MR. WIGGETT 
A MARKED MAN 
TO HAVE AND TO HOLD 
BREVET RANK 
TWIN SPIRITS 
SAM'S BOY 
JERRY BUNDLER 
FALSE COLOURS 
 
AN ODD FREAK 
"Speaking o' money," said the night-watchman thoughtfully, as he 
selected an empty soapbox on the wharf for a seat, "the whole world 
would be different if we all 'ad more of it. It would be a brighter and a 
'appier place for everybody."
He broke off to open a small brass tobacco-box and place a little quid 
of tobacco tenderly into a pouch in his left cheek, critically observing at 
the same time the efforts of a somewhat large steamer to get alongside 
the next wharf without blocking up more than three parts of the river. 
He watched it as though the entire operation depended upon his 
attention, and, the steamer fast, he turned his eyes back again and 
resumed his theme. 
"Of course it's the being short that sharpens people," he admitted 
thoughtfully; "the sharpest man I ever knew never 'ad a ha'penny in 'is 
pocket, and the ways 'e had o' getting other chaps to pay for 'is beer 
would ha' made 'is fortin at the law if 'e'd only 'ad the eddication. 
Playful little chap 'e was. I've seen men wot didn't know 'im stand 'im a 
pot o' beer and then foller 'im up the road to see 'im knock down a 
policeman as 'e'd promised. They'd foller 'im to the fust policeman 'e 
met, an' then 'e'd point them out and say they were goin' to half kill 'im, 
an' the policeman 'ud just stroll up an' ask 'em wot they were 'anging 
about for, but I never 'eard of a chap telling 'im. They used to go away 
struck all of a 'eap. He died in the accident ward of the London 
Horse-pittle, poor chap." 
He shook his head thoughtfully, and ignoring the statement of a 
watchman at the next wharf that it was a fine evening, shifted his quid 
and laughed rumblingly. 
"The funniest way o' raising the wind I ever 'eard of," he said in 
explanation, "was one that 'appened about fifteen years ago. I'd just 
taken my discharge as A.B. from the North Star, trading between here 
and the Australian ports, and the men wot the thing 'appened to was 
shipmates o' mine, although on'y firemen. 
"I knows it's a true story, becos I was in it a little bit myself, and the 
other part I 'ad from all of 'em, and besides, they didn't see anything 
funny in it at all, or anything out of the way. It seemed to them quite a 
easy way o' making money, and I dessay if it 'ad come off all right I 
should have thought so too. 
"In about a week arter we was paid off at the Albert Docks these chaps
was all cleaned out, and they was all in despair, with a thirst wot wasn't 
half quenched and a spree wot was on'y in a manner o' speaking just 
begun, and at the end of that time they came round to a room wot I 'ad, 
to see wot could be done. There was four of 'em in all: old Sam Small, 
Ginger Dick, Peter Russet, and a orphan nevy of Sam's whose father 
and mother was dead. The mother 'ad been 'alf nigger an' 'alf Malay 
when she was living, and Sam was always pertickler careful to point 
out that his nevy took arter 'er. It was enough to make the pore woman 
turn in 'er grave to say so, but Sam used to say that 'e owed it to 'is 
brother to explain. 
"'Wot's to be done?' ses Peter Russet, arter they'd all said wot miserable 
chaps they was, an' 'ow badly sailor-men was paid. 'We're all going to 
sign on in the Land's End, but she doesn't sail for a fortnight; wot's to 
be done in the meantime for to live?' 
"'There's your watch, Peter,' ses old Sam, dreamy-like, 'and there's 
Ginger's ring. It's a good    
    
		
	
	
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