The Young Trawler

by R. M. Ballantyne

He was checked and almost floored by a tremendous though facetious slap on the back from Gunter, who said that they wouldn’t argue it out; that they would drink it out first and argue it out afterwards.

In pursuance of this plan he called the landlord, and, ordering spirits and water, treated the assembled company all round—including a few bloated and wretched women, some of whom carried children in their arms.

Whatever of the ludicrous might have struck an observer of the scene, while listening to the above conversation, it would have been all put to flight by the sight of these poor women, and perchance by the thought that they had been brought up to that life; had never known better, and would never have a chance of knowing better, unless some exceptional rays of heavenly light should penetrate the dark region in which they lived. Praise be to God! such rays do visit such haunts at times, and brands are often plucked from the fire, but with these we have nothing to do at present. Our object just now is to trace the course of John Gunter.

You may be sure that one who spent his money so freely, and at the same time drank heavily, was not likely to escape the special attention of his new friend, the burglar. That worthy, besides being an expert in the heavier branches of his art, was not unacquainted with its lighter work. He watched the fisherman narrowly, observed in which pocket he kept his money, waited until he was sufficiently drunk for his purpose, and then picked his pockets at an engrossing moment, when the clerk was unfolding a perfect scheme of national reform to the parson, who, with eyes shut, and supposed to be listening intently, was in reality fast asleep.

His object accomplished, the burglar said he would go out, and have a look at the weather, which he did, and having quietly hidden his spoils he returned to report the weather “all right,” and to make quite sure that he had left nothing whatever in any of Gunter’s pockets. Having satisfied himself on this point he was about to retire to take a final look at the weather when Gunter said—“Hold on, mate; ’ave another glass.”

He felt in his pocket for the wherewith to pay for the drink, and missed his money. He was by no means as drunk as he appeared to be, and at once suspected his comrade.

“You’ve stole my blunt!” he shouted, without a moment’s hesitation.

“You’re a liar,” returned the burglar, promptly. Gunter was fierce by nature. He made no rejoinder, but struck a blow at the other which would have felled him had it taken effect. The burglar, however, was a pugilist. He evaded the blow, and returned it with such force that the fisherman staggered, but recovered himself, and grappled with his adversary.

In a moment all was uproar and confusion; benches were upset, spittoons kicked about, and pipes smashed, as the two powerful men swayed about, and tried fiercely to strangle each other. The women rushed screaming from the place; the landlord and his assistants interfered, but it was not until the police were called in that the combatants were separated. Then there occurred a violent scene of explanation, allegation, recrimination, and retort, during which the guardians of the peace attempted to throw oil on the troubled waters, for it is always their aim, we believe, to quiet down drunken uproars when possible rather than to take up the rioters.

As the burglar, with an injured, innocent look, denied the charge made against him, and turned all his pockets inside out in proof of his veracity, Gunter was fain to content himself with the supposition that he had lost his money in some incomprehensible manner.