“I was ashore at Suez—we all was, owin' to a 'itch with the canal company—a matter of money, I may say. They make yer pay before they'll take yer through. Do you know that?”
I nodded.
“Suez is a place,” he continued, “where they don't sell whisky, only poison. Was you ever at Suez?”
Again I nodded, being most anxious to avoid diverting the current of my friend's thoughts.
“Well, then,” he continued, “you know Greek Jimmy's—and that's where I'd been.”
I did not know Greek Jimmy's, but I thought it unnecessary to mention the fact.
“It was just about this time on a steamin' 'ot night as I come out of Jimmy's and started for the ship. I was walkin' along the Waghorn Quay, same as I might be walkin' along to-night, all by myself—bit of a list to port but nothing much—full o' joy an' happiness, 'appy an' free—'appy an' free. Just like you might have noticed to-night, I noticed a knot of Chinks scrappin' on the ground all amongst the dust right in front of me. I rammed in, windmillin' all round and knocking 'em down like skittles. Seemed to me there was about ten of 'em, but allowin' for Jimmy's whisky, maybe there wasn't more than three. Anyway, they all shifted and left me standin' there in the empty street with this 'ere in my 'and.”
At that, without more ado, he thrust his hand deep into some concealed pocket and jerked out a Chinese pigtail, which had been severed, apparently some three inches from the scalp, by a clean cut. My acquaintance, with somewhat bleared eyes glistening in appreciation of his own dramatic skill—for I could not conceal my surprise—dangled it before me triumphantly.
“Which of 'em it belong to,” he continued, thrusting it into another pocket and drumming loudly on the counter for more beer, “I can't say, 'cos I don't know. But that ain't all.”
The tankards being refilled and my friend having sampled the contents of his own: