Life in the Red Brigade: London Fire Brigade by R. M. Ballantyne (adult books to read TXT) š
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
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āWill you not consent to give up a thorough scoundrel, who every one condemns?ā demanded Mrs Dashwood, with sudden indignation.
āWell, that dependsāā
āBloater,ā said Mary, with increasing earnestness, āI cannot bribe youāI have not the means even if I had the will; but I would not if I could. I scorn bribery. If you will not aid me for the sake of a poor, helpless, infatuated girl, who is on the brink of ruināā
āMissis Dashwood,ā said the Bloater, with a look of serio-comic dignity, āI scorns bribery as much as you does. āNo bribery, no cāruptāons, no Popery,ā themās my mottoesābesides a few more that thereās no occasion to mention. Wāether or not I gives āim up depends on circumstances. Now, I sāpose you wantās āim took anā bagged, ācause āe aināt fit for your friend Martha Readingāweāll drop the āMissā if you please. Well, wot I want to know is, does Martha think as you does?ā
āOf course not, boy. No doubt she knows that he is an unworthy scoundrel, but she canāt prevail on herself to forsake him; so, you see, I want to help her a little.ā
āAh, I seeāyesāI see. Well, missis, Iāll take it into consideration. Come along, Jim.ā
Without waiting for a reply, the Bloater quitted the house abruptly, followed by his friend. He walked very fast towards the Cityāso fast that Jim was compelled to trotāand was unusually silent. He went straight to the abode of Martha Reading, and found her sewing and weeping.
āHa! heās bin with you, I see,ā said the Bloater. āDid āe ask you to let āim āide āere?ā
āYeāes;ā said Martha, hesitating; ābut I refused to do it. God knows how willingāhow willingāI would be to shelter and save him if I could!ā
āWould you shelter a guilty man?ā demanded the Bloater, sternly.
āI donāt know that he is guilty,ā said Martha, evasively. āBut, tell me, what did Mrs Dashwood want with you?ā
āThatās a private matter,ā said the Bloater, frowning. āYou canāt turn me off the scent like that. I ask you, aināt it right to āand a guilty man over to justice?ā
āIt is,ā replied Martha, wiping her eyes, ābut it is also right to temper justice with mercy.ā
āI say, thatās drawinā it rather fine, aināt it?ā said the Bloater, screwing up one eyebrow and turning towards Little Jim; but that small youth was so touched with the poor girlās sorrow and so attracted by her countenance, that he had quite forgotten his patron for the moment. Going towards her, he laid his dirty little hand on her knee, and looked up in her face.
āGod bless you, dear boy,ā she said, patting him on the head, āyou are the first that has given me a look of sympathy for manyāā
She broke down suddenly, burst into a flood of tears, and, seizing the child in her arms, absolutely hugged him!
āHallo! hallo!ā cried the Bloater, when Little Jim was released. āI say, you know, come, this sort oā thing will never do. Wāy, its houtrageous. Come along with you.ā
Saying which he seized Little Jim by the collar, dragged him out into the street, and hurried him along. Presently he released him, but without slackening his pace, and said, āNow, Jim, you anā I shall go and pay another wisit.ā
They traversed several small streets, which seemed to be influenced by a tendency to gravitate towards the Thames; while the river, as if in sympathy, appeared to meet them more than half way in the shape of mud. As they proceeded, huge warehouses frowned above, having doors high up on their blank faces where windows ought to have been, with no steps leading thereto, but in some cases with huge block tackles pendent therefrom, suggestive of the idea that the owners were wont to drop the enormous hooks and fish for passers-by. These streets naturally became more nautical in some respects as they neared the river. Old bits of timber lay here and there among old cordage in little yards, where the owners appeared to deal in small-coal and miscellaneous filth. Elsewhere, worn-out anchors held tenaciously to the mud, as if afraid of being again pressed into service and carried off to sea. Everything was cold, dismal, dreary, disreputable; and here, in the dirtiest corner of the smallest possible yard, the Bloater found a half-concealed door that might have been the portal to a dog-kennel or pig-sty. Opening it he entered, and Little Jim followed.
The aspect of things inside was not attractive. Dirt, damp, and rubbish prevailed in the room, which was just big enough to permit of a tall man lying down, but not high enough to admit of his standing up. An uncommonly small four-post bed almost filled the apartment, at the foot of which, on the floor and half-reclining against one of the posts, lay Phil Sparks, either dead-drunk or asleep, or both.
The Bloater glanced back at Little Jim with a look of satisfaction, and held up his finger to enjoin silence. Peering round the room, which was lighted by a farthing candle stuck in the neck of a pint bottle, he observed a piece of rope lying among some rubbish.
āHa! thisāll do,ā he whispered, as he took it up, and, with wonderful rapidity, made a loop on it.
āNow, Jim, you be ready to cut and run if he should waken before I āave āim fast. Donāt mind me; Iāll look arter myself. Anā wotever you do, donāt holler for the bobbies. Mind that, else Iāll strangle you.ā
With this advice and caution, the Bloater advanced toward the recumbent man, and passed the rope softly round his body, including his arms and the bedpost in the coil. Drawing it suddenly tight, he hastily made it fast; but there was no occasion for haste, for the sleep of the man was so profound that the action did not awake him.
āHall rightāfusā rate,ā said the Bloater aloud, as he wound the rope round and round Sparks, so as to make him doubly secure. āNothinā could be better. Now, Jim, Iām goinā for to preach a sermon to-nightāa sort oā discoorse. You never heard me preach, did you?ā
Little Jim, who, despite his love of mischief, was somewhat alarmed at the strange proceedings of his friend and patron, looked at him with a mingled expression of fear and glee, and shook his head.
āWell, you shall āear. Moreover, I āope that youāll profit by wot you āears.ā
Saying this, he advanced his hand towards the sleeping manās face, and, causing his thumb to act as a trigger to his middle finger, gave him such a flip on the point of his nose, that he awoke with a tremendous roar. Suddenly he became pale as deathāsupposing, no doubt, that he had betrayed himselfāand glanced towards the door with a bewildered stare.
āOh, you neednāt alarm yourself,ā said the Bloater, placing a stool in front of his victim, and sitting down thereon, with a hand on each knee, āit aināt the bobbies. If you keep quiet, thereās no fear of them in this neighbourhood. I can call āem wāen I wants āem. Thereās nobody but me and Little Jim āereāyour friends, you know.ā
Becoming suddenly convinced of the truth of this, Phil Sparks, who was very drunk, made so desperate an effort to free himself that he nearly overturned the bed.
āOh, you are anxious to see the bobbies, are you? Well, go anā call āem in, Jim.ā
Jim rose to obey, and the man became instantly quiet.
āHo! youāre reasonable now, are you? Thatās well. You neednāt call āem in yet, Jim. Weāll grant āim a reprieve. Fetch that stool, anā sit down beside meāthere. Now, Mr Sparks, alias Blazes, no doubt youāre a precious specimen of hinnocent āunmanity, aināt you?ā
Sparks made no reply, but scowled at the boy with a look of deadly hatred.
āWell, upon my word,ā resumed the Bloater, with a smile, āif I kepā a menagerie, Iād offer you five āundred a year to represent a Tasmanian devil. But look āere, now, Iāve no time to waste with you; I come āere to give you a bit of my mind. Youāre a fire-raiser, you are. Ah! you may well wince anā grow wāite. Youād grow wāiter still, with a rope round your neck, if you wos left to my tender mercies, you wāite livered villain! for I knows you; Iāve watched you; Iāve found you hout; anā Iāve only got to āold up my little finger to cut your pretty little career prematoorly short. You donāt seem to like that? No, I didnāt expect you would. This young man, whose āart is big, if āis bodyās small, knows as much about you as I do. Two witnesses, you see; but you aināt left to our tender mercies; and if you wants to know who delivered you from us, and from the maginstrates, and Jack Ketch, alias Calcraft, I replies, Martha Reading. Ha! you look surprised. Quite natāral. Youāve deserved very different treatment from that young ooman, anā didnāt expect that sheād return good for evil, I sāpose. Thatās because you donāt know āer; you donāt understand āer, you miserable lump of selfish stoopidity. āOwsāever, as I said before, I aināt a-goinā to waste no more time with you. But let me, before biddinā you adoo, give you a caution. Remember, that Iāve got my eye on you. Just one word more. Wāen you thinks of me, donāt think of one as āas got any tender mercies, for I aināt got none; not a scrap of āem, nor nothinā of the sort. Wāen you wants to know the true cause of your beinā let off, just think of two wordsāMartha Reading! She knows nothinā oā wot Iām doinā, nevertheless, sheās done it! Let āer name ring in your ears, anā thunder in your brain, and burn in your āart, till it consooms your witals or your willany! Now, Jim,ā concluded the Bloater, rising and opening a large clasp-knife, āyou go to the door, open it wide, anā stanā by to cut, and run. This genālmān aināt to be trusted wāen free. Are you ready?ā
āHall ready,ā replied Jim.
The Bloater cut the cord that bound Phil Sparks, and darted from the room. Before the man could disentangle himself from its coils, the boys were safe from pursuit, quietly wending their way through the crowded thoroughfares of the great city.
Several months passed away. During this period Phil Sparks kept in close hiding, because, although the Bloater, true to his promise, refrained from giving information against him, there were others who knew and suspected him, and who had no visions of an imploring Martha to restrain them in their efforts to deliver him into the hands of justice.
During this period, also, Ned Crashington recovered his wonted health and vigour, while his wife, to some extent, recovered her senses, and, instead of acting as an irritant blister on her husband, began really to aim at unanimity. The result was, that Nedās love for her, which had only been smothered a little, burst forth with renewed energy, and Maggie found that in peace there is prosperity. It is not to be supposed that Maggie was cured all at once. She was not an angelāonly an energetic and self-willed woman. She therefore broke out now and then in her old style; but, on the whole, she was much improved, and the stalwart fireman no longer sought martyrdom in the flames.
During this period, too, the men of the Red Brigade held on the even tenor of their furious fiery way; not, indeed, scatheless, but with a much smaller amount of damage to life and limb than might have been expected in a service where the numerical strength was so lowāonly about 380 menāand where the duty, night and day, was so severe and hazardous.
About this time, their Chiefās āReportā for the past year was issued, and it revealed a few facts which are worthy of record. It stated that there had been altogether 1946 fires in London during the past
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