My idea was that he 'ad gone mad, and, being pretty artful and
always 'aving a horror of mad people, I let 'im chase me into a
police-station. Leastways, I would ha' let 'im, but he didn't come,
and I all but got fourteen days for being drunk and disorderly.
Then there was Bill Clark. He 'ad been keeping comp'ny with a gal and
got tired of it, and to oblige 'im I went to her and told 'er he was a
married man with five children. Bill was as pleased as Punch at fust,
but as soon as she took up with another chap he came round to see me and
said as I'd ruined his life. We 'ad words about it--naturally--and I did
ruin it then to the extent of a couple o' ribs. I went to see 'im in the
horsepittle--place I've always been fond of--and the langwidge he used to
me was so bad that they sent for the Sister to 'ear it.
That's on'y two out of dozens I could name. Arf the unpleasantnesses in
my life 'ave come out of doing kindnesses to people, and all the
gratitoode I've 'ad for it I could put in a pint-pot with a pint o' beer
already in it.
The only case o' real gratitoode I ever heard of 'appened to a shipmate
o' mine--a young chap named Bob Evans.
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