Two or three bullies always ride on the long-distance pirate omnibuses, and their fellow-travellers, as a rule, have not the slightest suspicion that they are not ordinary passengers. Of course they pay the second fare without a murmur, and if any other passenger does not follow their example they express great astonishment that any one could be so mean as to attempt to swindle a poor ’bus conductor. Generally that contemptuous speech has the desired effect—the passenger submits to being cheated. But sometimes a man is smart enough to guess that the indignant passengers are friends of the conductor, and is rash enough to say so. If he looks the kind of man that can be frightened, the bullies discard their rôle of being disinterested passengers, and join the conductor in swearing at him and threatening him alternately with personal violence and the police. Frequently those threats cause the passenger and his friends to pay up without any further complaints; but sometimes the bullies meet with a surprise—the passengers threaten them. Now, the pirate conductor, although frequently a big beery-faced fellow, is usually a cowardly cur, and his dislike of a thrashing is exceeded only by his abhorrence of police courts and magistrates. Therefore he changes his tone, and requests the passengers to get out if they will not pay; and naturally they oblige him.
Decoy women are another speciality of pirate omnibuses starting for a long Sunday run into the country. Showily dressed, these women take their seats on top of the omnibus at its starting place with the idea of giving an air of respectability to the vehicle. If the omnibus fills up quickly they pretend to remember that they have left something at home—their money perhaps—and must of course go back for it; but, if it does not fill, they go for the ride.
A few pirates cater on Sunday mornings for the lowest of the lower classes by running a few miles out to some suburban public-house. There are no restrictions as to behaviour in these omnibuses. A passenger may smoke, spit and swear, inside or out, to his heart’s content. Moreover, he may take in with him dogs, ferrets, rats, birdcages and beer. The conductor smokes a clay pipe and talks, with the air of an authority, of sporting matters. Several passengers offer him drinks from their private bottles. He accepts them all, and yet never forgets to collect the fares inside before going on top.
A few years ago I gave the following answer, to the oft-repeated question, “How can you tell a pirate?” “No pirates issue tickets; therefore, before entering an omnibus, see if the conductor has a ticket-punch or roll of tickets. If he has you may enter his ’bus assured that it belongs to one of the London Companies or Associations. It is not, however, suggested that every omnibus which does not issue tickets is a pirate, for Messrs. Balls Brothers’ Brixton omnibuses,[1] and a few others, are exceptions.”
[1] Messrs. Balls Brothers adopted the ticket system on August 26, 1901.
Unfortunately, the pirate conductors read my advice, and some of them quickly rendered it nugatory by wearing punches and holding packets of tickets in their hands so that every one might see them. The punches differed, however, in appearance from those used by the Companies and Associations.
A similar dodge was very common among pirates immediately after the great strike, when the ticket system was in its infancy and conductors of the various companies carried rolls of paper tickets. The pirate conductors provided themselves with ticket-rolls, but once passengers were safe in their omnibuses they never troubled to tear off and issue the tickets. One old lady, deceived by a pirate’s appearance, entered it, in the belief that it was one of the London General’s omnibuses, and ensconced herself comfortably in the far corner. After a time the conductor entered, collected her fare and returned to the door without giving her a ticket. For a few moments the old lady eyed him sorrowfully. Then she said in a tone of gentle reproof, “Conductor, you haven’t given me a ticket.”
“Want a ticket, lady?” the conductor replied cheerfully. “’Ere you are, then; take a bloomin’ yard of ’em,” and tearing off a long string of tickets dropped it in coils in the astonished passenger’s lap.
But the favourite reply of pirate conductors when asked for a ticket is, “We don’t have to give tickets. We’re honest men on these ’buses.”
In conclusion, I would point out that the London General, the Road Car, and the other Companies and Associations described in Chapter VI., between them cover the whole of London, and there is, therefore, not the slightest necessity for any one to enter a pirate. All the would-be passenger has to do is to refrain from placing the slightest reliance on the colour of the omnibus, but to see that it bears on the panels the name of one of the Companies or Associations which I have mentioned.