“Powerful?” John asked, wondering how much this had in common with his own sensation.
“Same as you feel, sir, when you’re alone, an’ there ain’t no one to see ’ow small you are. I always thinks then o’ the things I might do if I liked—but it don’t seem a fair advantage to take o’ folk what aren’t made the same way.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s this way, sir. You see, I can make people do things—anything. I don’t rightly know what the name of it is—’ypnotism, or mesmerism, or the like. It don’t make much odds what they call it. But I can make people do things all right, I can, an’ ’ere they are makin’ me do things all day. I’m a proper bad ’at, I am—always on the carpet. I get to feel angry like, knowin’ the power I ’ave. I did a turn at a ship’s concert once—afore you young gen’lemen joined—an’ the Commander, ’e won’t ’ave me doin’ it no more.”
“Could you make me do things now?”
The man held up a finger. “I could make you ’op into the water, sir.” John looked over the side, and the voice went on. “An’ if I went up close to ’em, I could make the ruddy carpenter’s party stand on their ruddy ’eads an’ stop there. An’ if I stepped out in front of ’em, an’ the ship’s police kep’ their ’ands off, I could make the Captain an’ the Commander do a cake-walk at Sunday Divisions, I could.”
“Why on earth don’t you?” said John.
“Oh, it wouldn’t never do, sir. That ain’t Service, sir—the orficers cake-walkin’. I should be doin’ detention for the rest o’ me mortal.... Besides, that ain’t what I likes doin’—sing-song turns, an’ funny stunts, an’ the like.” He looked away, and his words drifted into vagueness, being no longer addressed to an audience. “I likes talkin’ to a crowd an’ seein’ ’em all comin’ round, comin’ round gradual-like, not knowin’ ’ow or why, all of ’em comin’ round to my way o’ thinkin’. They don’t agree to start off, but soon I sees ’em noddin’ their ’eads, an’ smilin’ an’ smilin’, an’ sayin’ ‘Aye, aye,’ an’ ‘’Ere, ’ere.’ An’ their faces looks strange some’ow till they douse the glim.” He paused, shot out both hands in an expansive gesture, and let them fall again to his sides. “’Ere I be, Able Seaman, ’undredth class for conduck, ’undredth class for leaf, an’, Gawd Almighty! I might ’a bin Prime Minister of All England, wi’ the Albert ’All risin’ up to me, jus’ as if I ’ad ’em on strings....”
Together they sat there, dreaming vast dreams. Above them the carpenter’s party was driving in nails. John held his cigar close to the water, and watched the diffused red of its reflection. When he dropped it, as if by accident, it fizzled sharply.
“Dropped yer cigar, sir?”