C.J. Dennis, Rose of Spadgers - Part 5

72    
ROSE OF SPADGERS

''Peter the 'Ermit,'' sez the parson, ''saw
No 'arm in vi'lince when the cause was just.
While 'arm in vi'lance when the cause was just.
While 'e deplored, no doubt, the fightin' lust,
"E preached___" " 'Old on," I sez. " 'Ere comes the
Law:
'Ere's Brannigan, the cop. Pos'pone the jaw
Till we confer. I got idears 'e must
Keep track uv Spike; if 'e toils fer 'is crust."
"Spike Wegg?" growls Brannigan. I know that
bloke;
An' 'e's the one sweet soul I long to see.
That shrinkin' vi'lit 'ates publicity
Jist now," sez Brannigan. "Spike Wegg's in smoke.
Oh, jist concerns a cove 'e tried to croak.
'E's snug in some joint round about, maybe.
If you should meet, remember 'im to me."
The cop passed on. :Peter the 'Ermit was
A ri'chus man" the parson sez, "wot knoo___"
" 'Old 'ard!" I begs. "Jist for a hour or two
I wouldn't go an' nurse sich thorts, becoz

Drawing - see original document
HAL GYE

75
THE CRUSADERS
Too much soul-ferritin' might put the moz
On this 'ere expedition. I'll 'elp you
To search our conscience when the job is through.
"I know yer doubts," I sez, "an' 'ow you 'ate
The thorts uv stoush, an' 'old 'ard blows in dread.
But Pete the 'Ermit's been a long time dead.
'E'll keep. But we are in the 'ands uv Fate,
An' 'oly spruikers uv ancient date
Don't 'elp. I quite agrees with all you've said
But____" "Say no more," 'e answers. "Lead
ahead."
"But all the same," 'e sez, "I want no fight."
"Right 'ere, be'ind this 'oardin'," I replies,
"A two-up school's in session. If we spies
About a bit, there is a chance we might
Git news____" Jist then the spotter comes to light.
I word 'im gentle, with some 'asty lies:
I'm seeking Spike. See? Can 'e put me wise?
"Spike Wegg?" (At first 'e only twigs meself)
" 'E's gone ____" ('E spots the parson standin' by)
A cold, 'ard glimmer comes in 'is fish eye:

76     ROSE OF SPADGERS

"'Ere! Wot's the game?" 'e yelps. "Are you a

shelf?"

"'Ave sense!" I larfs. "I got a bit uv pelf,

An' thort I'd like to take a little fly----"

"Buzz orf!" 'e orders. So we done a guy.

"Blank number one," I sez. The parson sighed.

"Joshuer fought, an' never seemed to shrink----"

"Now, looks," I tells 'im. "Honest. Don't you

think

Them Bible blokes 'oo've 'ad their day an' died

Is best fergot until we're 'ome an' dried?

Now, up the street 'ere, is a little sink

Uv sin that does a traffic in strong drink."

"Sly grog?" 'e arsts. But I sez, "Ush! This place

Is kep' by Mother Weems 'oo's sof', blue eye

An' snow white 'air would make yeh 'shamed an'

shy

To brand 'er name with any sich disgrace.

'Er kind, sweet smile, 'er innercint ole face

Beams like a blessin'. Still, we'll 'ave a try

To word the dear ole dame, an' pump 'er dry.

THE  CRUSADERS     77

'Is nibs stands in the shadders while I knock.

Mother unlocks the door, an' smiles, an' peers

Into me face. She wears 'er three score years

Reel sweet, in lacy cap an' neat black frock.

Then: "Bill;" she cries. "You've give me quite 

a shock!

Why, dearie, I ain't seen you for long years.

Come in." 'Er kind ole eyes seem close to tears.

"Dearie, come in," she chirps. But I pretend

I'm on reel urgent biz. I got to 'aste.

"Jist for ole times," she pleads. "One little taste."

"I can't," I sez. "I'm lookin' for a friend,

Spike Wegg, for 'oo I've certin news no end

Important; an' I got no time to waste."

"Wot? Spike?" she sez."I 'ear 'e's bein' chased.

"'E's being' chased," she sez, "by D's, I've 'eard."

"Too true," I owns."'E's got no time to lose."

"Well, maybe, if you was to try Ah Foo's--

The privit room----" Then, as 'is rev'rince stirred,

She seen 'is choker. "Oo the 'ells this bird?

Is this a frame?" she shrieks . . . . Without adoos,

We slap the pavemint with four 'asty shoes.

78     ROSE OF SPADGERS

But, as along the sloppy lane we race,

'Er 'ot words tumble after in a flood:

"You pimps! You dirty swine! I'll 'ave yer

blood!"

"'Eavings!" the parson gasps. "With that sweet

face!"
"'Er words," I answer,"do seem outer place."

"Vile words, that I 'ave scarce 'arf understud."

Sez Snowy, sloshin' in a pool uv mud.

We reach Ah Foo's. "Now, 'ere," I sez, "is where

You stop outside. Twice you 'ave put me queer

It's a lone 'and I mean to play in 'ere.

You 'ang around an' breathe the 'olesome air."

"Young friend," 'e sez. " I go with you in there.

I've led you into this. Why should I fear

The danger? "Tis me jooty to be near."

Snowy's a game un! I lob in the shop,

The parson paddin' after on the floor

Ah Foo looks up. "Not there!" 'e squeaks. "Wha'

for?"

But we sail past the Chow without a stop.'

THE CRUSADERS    79

Straight for the little crib up near the top

That I knoo well in sinful days uv yore . . . .

I turn the knob; an' sling aside the door.

Beside a table, fearin' 'arm from non,

Spike an' another bloke is teet-ah-teet.

Quick on the knock, Spike Wegg jumps to 'is feet

An' jerks a 'and be'ind 'im for 'is gun.

I rush 'im, grab a chair up as I run,

A' swing it with a aim that ain't too neat.

Spike ducks aside; an', with a bump, we meet.

An', then we mix it. Strife an' merry 'ell

Breaks loose a treat, an' things git movin' fast.

An', as a Chinee jar goes crashin' past,

'Igh o'er the din I 'ears the parson's yell;

"hit! Hit 'im 'ard, young friend! Chastise 'im

well!

Hit 'im!" . . . The 'oly war is in full blast;

An' Pete the 'Ermit's come to light at last.

VI.   " 'AVE A 'EART!"

" 'AVE A 'EART!"

"'ERE! 'Ave a 'eart!" 'e sez. "Why, love a duck!

A 'uman bein' ain't a choppin' block!

There ain't no call fer you to go an' chuck

A man about when 'e 'as took the knock.

Gaw! Do yeh want to bust 'im all apart?

'Ere! 'Ave a 'eart!

"Aw, 'ave a 'eart!" 'e weeps. "A fight's a fight;

But, strike me bandy, this is a bloody war!

It's murder! An' you got no blasted right

To arst a 'uman man to come fer more.

'E 'ad no chance with you right frum the start.

Aw, 'ave a 'eart!

"Yeh've pulped 'is dile," 'e whines; "yeh've pinched

'is gun;

Yeh've bunged 'is eye 'an bashed in 'arf 'is teeth.

84     ROSE OF SPADGERS

'Struth! Ain't yeh satisfied with wot yeh've done?

Or are you out to fit 'im fer a wreath?

The man's 'arf dead a'ready! Wot's yer dart?

Say, 'ave a 'eart!"

I never did 'ear sich a bloke to squeal

About a trifle. This 'ere pal uv Spike's

Don't seem to 'ave the stummick fer a deal

Uv solid stoush; rough work don't soot 'is likes.

'E ain't done much but blather frum the start,

"Ere 'ave a 'eart!"

A rat-face coot 'e is, with rat-like nerves

That's got all jangled with ixceedin' fright,

While I am 'andin' Spike wot 'e deserves.

But twice 'e tried to trip me in the fight,

The little skunk, now sobbin' like a tart,

"Aw, 'ave a 'eart!"

This 'ere's the pretty pitcher in Ah Foo's

Back privit room: Spike Wegg, well on the floor

Is bleedin' pretty, with a bonzer bruise

Paintin' one eye, an' 'arf 'is clobber tore.

" 'AVE A 'EART!"       85

While me, the conq'rin' 'ero, stan's above

'Owlin' me love.

The rat-face mutt is dancin' up an' down;

Ah Foo is singin' jazz in raw Chinee;

The parson's starin' at me with a frown,

As if 'e thort sich things could never be;

An' I'm some bloke 'e's but 'arf rekernised.

'E's 'ipnertised.

Foo's furniture is scattered any'ow,

Artistic like, in bits about the floor.

An' 'arf a dozen blokes, drawn by the row,

Nosey but nervis, 'overs near the door.

I ain't no pitcher orf no chocklit box.

I've took some knocks.

I ain't no pitcher. But--O Glory!--But

Ther's dicky-birds awarblin' in me soul!

To think that I ain't lost that upper-cut!

An' my left-'ook's still with me, good an' whole.

I feared me punch was dead; but I was wrong.

Me 'eart's all song!

86 ROSE OF SPADGERS

Then, as Spike makes a move, I raise me mits

Fearin' a foul; an' Rat-face does 'is block.

'E loosens up a string uv epi-tits

That seem to jolt the parson with a shock.

Filthy an' free they was, make no mistakes.

Then Snowy wakes.

All through the fight 'e 'ad seemed kind uv dazed,

Ubsorbin' it like some saint in a dream.

But now 'e straightened up, 'is ole eyes blazed

An', as the filth flowed in a red-'ot stream,

'Is voice blew in like cool winds frum the south:

"Shut that foul mouth!"

"Shut your vile mouth, or, by the Lord! -" 'Is 'and

Went up, an' there was anger on 'is face.

But Rat-face ducked. 'E weren't the man to stand

Agin that figger uv avengin' grace.

Ducked, or 'e might uv stopped one 'oly smite

From Snowy's right.

"Young friend," 'E turns to me. An' then I 'ear

A yell: "The cops! The cops is in the Lane!"

"Parson," I sez, "we are de tropp, I fear.

Mid 'appier scenes I'll vencher to ixplain.

"'AVE A 'EART!" 87

'Ang to me 'and, an' wave no fond farewell;

But run like 'ell!"

Some say wrong livin' reaps no good reward.

Well, I dunno. If I 'ad not cut loose

In Spadgers, in them days long, long deplored,

'Ow could I knowed the run uv Foo's caboose?

That back-way entrance, used fer Chiner's friends'

Un'oly ends.

Out by a green door; down a flight uv stairs;

Along a passige; up another flight;

Through 'arf a dozen rooms, broadcastin' scares

To twenty yellow men, pea-green with fright;

Me an' the parson, through that 'eathen land,

Trips 'and in 'and.

Out uv dark corners, voices 'ere an' there

Break sudden with a jabberin' sing-song,

Like magpies flutin' on the mornin' air.

We pays no 'eed to them, but plug along,

Twistin' an' turnin' through them secret ways,

Like in a maze.

88 ROSE OF SPADGERS

I bust a bolted door. The parson gasps:

The air inside is 'eavy with the drug.

A fat Chow goggles at the broken hasps;

Another dreams un'eedin' on a rug.

Out by the other door - past piles uv fruit - 

'Ow we did the scoot!

Red lanterns - lacquer-work - brass pots - strange

smells -

Silk curtains - slippers - baskets - ginger-jars -

A squealin' Chinee fiddle - tinklin' bells -

Queer works uv art - filth - fowls - ducks - iron

bars

To winders - All pass by us in a stream,

Like 'twuz a dream.

Down to a cellar; up agen, an' out -

Bananers - brandy jars - we rush pell-mell,

Turnin' to left, to right, then round about

(The parson, after, said it seemed like 'ell)

Through one last orful pong, then up a stair

Into clean air.

"'AVE A 'EART!" 89

We're in a little yard; no thing to stop

Our flight to freedom but a fence. "Now, jump!"

I grabs 'is rev'rince, 'eaves 'im to the top,

An' bungs me own frame over with a bump.

"Dam!" sez the parson - or it sounded so.

But I dunno.

Seems that 'is coat got 'itched up on a nail.

'E jerks it free an' gently comes to earth.

"Peter the 'ermit's 'ome!" I sez. "All 'ail!"

An' makes punk noises indicatin' mirth.

The parson, 'e walks on, as still as death.

Seems out o' breath.

I walk beside 'im; but 'e sez no word.

To put it straight, I'm feelin' pretty mean - 

Feelin' a bit ashamed uv wot's occurred -

But still, I never planned to 'ave no scene

With Spike. I did n't start the flamin' row,

Not any'ow.

I tells 'im so. But still 'e never spoke.

I arsts 'im 'ow else could the thing be done.

90 ROSE OF SPADGERS

I tells 'im straight I'd let no flamin' bloke

Take pot shots at me with no flamin' gun.

'E stops, an' pats me shoulder with 'is 'and:

"I understand.

"Young friend." 'Is face is orful stern an' grave.

"The brawl was not your seekin', we'll suppose.

But does it 'elp this girl we wish to save?

'Ow can sich mad brutality serve Rose?

May be, in anger, you fergot, young friend,

Our Christian end?"

"Not on yer life!" I tells 'im. "Spike's in soak,

Whether the cops 'ave got 'im now or not.

An' that removes one interferin' bloke

Wot 'ad a mind to queer our 'oly plot.

Tomorrer we'll find Rose, an' work good works

With gentler lurks."

"Gentler?" 'e sez. "I 'ope so." Still 'e's grave.

"The ways uv 'Eaven's strage," 'e sez, "an'

yours

Is stranger still. Yet all may work to save

One strugglin' soul, if 'Eaven's grace endures."

"'AVE A 'EART!" 91

'E's dreadful solemn. "I must own I feel

Grieved a great deal.

"Your face," 'e sez, "is very badly cut - "

"Now, look," I chips. "'Old on. Let's git this 

right.

'Oo was it tried to stoush that rat-face mutt?

'Oo was it barracked for me in the fight?

'Oo was it used that word uv evul sense

Up on that fence?"

"Young friend!" . . . Indignant? 'Struth! I see 'im

try

To keep reel stern. But soon I rekernise

The little twinkle stealin' in 'is eye,

That won't keep out, no matter 'ow 'e tries.

An' then - 'is twitchin' lips smile wide apart:

"Aw, 'ave a eart!"