A Complete Story

New Zealand Tablet, Volume LII, Issue 49, 9 December 1925, Page 9

A Complete Story

(By Reginald Pound* in John o’ London's Weekly.)

• After six years’ silence the parrot had ’ : spoken. . From its perch in the ornate gilt cage ‘C. which its owner, Jacob Cruden, newly in ■ from sea, had set down on the steps, it had peered with an unwinking fullstop of an eye at the woman who stood in the doorway and v ’ had broken into the conversation with a throatily-irrelevant, “What ho, she bumps, C? ma!” - Whereupon the woman, a neater figure than most of her kind in that mean Dockland street, had raised her -hands and uttered a sharp, astounded “Gracious!” followed by a no less incredulous, “Well, I never! Well” Jacob Cruden’s astonishment, as profound as the woman’s, manifested itself more forcibly. He struck the cage with the back of his great red hand, making the wires twang and scattering seed and water with a fine disregard for the code of strict economy he ' ' ordinarily imposed on himself, - “Go on, y’old rip, you!” he growled, “Take that!” r Momentarily it seemed that the woman, who, according to the legend in the window, had “superior lodgings” to let, would shut ' the door on Jacob Cruden; she stepped back uncertainly gazing at the cage, then at Jacob Cruden, and then reflectively, into the gathering lamp-lit dusk behind him. s The notion flashed through Jacob Cruden’s < blind that this woman did not like him, that in some indefinite way he repelled her. He k had noticedor was it that he only thought he had noticed?that one or two other landladies of whom, earlier in the day, he had Hy sought lodgings, had looked at him in the . v same queer, hesitant fashion. Was it that * he looked —well, bad? Women’s intuition was a deuced funny thing sometimes! Scornfully dismissing these assuredly foolish ideas, ■'-v he insisted again that he wanted permanent lodgings, which provoked the landlady to ask: “Permanent? But aren’t you—aren’t you sailing again?” “Maybe not, missus,’’-.he answered. “Tired of the sea a man gets after ” ~ '' “Tired? Well, I never knew a ” “ after thirty-two years of it. There’s more sailormen get tired of the sea than’ll own it. . Fact! Now, what about that room K you spoke of?” “Room? I see. Yes, of course.” The woman appeared to be thinking deeply, p> Then, deliberately: “Yes, I can let you have a room.' This way.” -- She stood aside, pressing closely against the door to let him pass, as if she had no desire for contact with him —the fancy was , his. Blinking in the glare of the gaslight ||b'- within, he precipitated the question of terms. ITjlf Jacob Cruden liked giving the 'impression ,}: that there was no hanky-panky about him. , 1 . “Straight to the point” might have been his F;:""; motto, always. • - “A permanency, mind, missus,” he reiter‘.'r ated 1 presently, when everything had been

THE PARROT

settled.- “You’ll find us easy to please—me an’ the old bird here; no —best lodgers you ever had. See if we'ain’t!” Ensconced now in an easy chair beside a glowing grate, he laughed gocd-humoredly, feeling more complacent, more self-satisfied, more secure than he had felt for a long time. The landlady, moving from kitchen to scullery, from table to cupboard, from pantry to kitchen again, about the business of getting supper for the new lodger, three gentlemen upstairs, and a gentleman, and his wife in the next room, apparently preferred listening to talking, Jacob Cruden decided very soon that she was not one of the talkative sort. In the light of the tidy, homely-smelling kitchen, where he sprawled luxuriously before taking up his quarters in the room assigned to him, she seemed to have shed some of her years, to bo less matronly and more attractive, in a gentle way, than he had thought her. Was she, he wondered, a widow? She was wearing black, with a becoming little frill of white at the neck. No sooner thought of than the question was put bluntly. But the way she answered somehow stifled the other questions that rose to his tongue.’ “Yes,” she said. Then, as she turned aside to reach for plates on the dresser, she brushed her hand across her cheek, but too late to hide the tear that glistened there. Jacob Cruden relapsed into a thoughtful, respectful silence. - He had his supper alone in the kitchen, the landlady telling him to help himself; she was obliged to go out to buy extra provisions' for the next day’s breakfast. Afterwards, if he cared, he could sit by the fire and smoke his pipe; it would save her, if he did not mind, bothering to light a fire at that advanced hour in his room, which "would be ready for permanent occupation on the morrow. Announcing this, the landlady sudden-* ly remembered the parrot. Should she give it some food some bread and milk ? Unless he happened to have some seed' by him. Jacob Cruden fumbled in the bundle he had brought with him and found a big packet of seed. “What ho, she bumps, ma, ' said the parrot, comically, as the landlady bent over the cage. When she had gone out, Jacob Cruden slewed round . and fixed the parrot , with a malicious eye. . “What the devil 1” he muttered, and pulled with sudden fervor at his pipe. ■Strange it was that after all this time that bird should suddenly find speech! Rum speech, too. Where did it learn that silly catch phrase, anyway? Sinking deeper into the —the most comfortable, enticing chair he had ever sat in; no doubt of that! —he rapidly reviewed the parrot’s past, and unavoidably, since the two were inextricably bound up, the latter portion of his own. - Dark thoughts burrowed again in his mind, as too often they tended to do of late. His pip’e, listing hard to port, fell with a clatter

to the floor he made no effort to pick it up. His lips "puckered grossly, accentuating the' look- of evil that clouded his face. And his eyes were screwed up, as it to emphasize .the intensity of the memories that shuttled now in his brain. ; *, - ;Z- --¥^M

Events of the past, the too-recent pasty swung before his inner vision like episodes in some satanic pageant. He saw himself aboard the barque Mary Loring, of which he had been the hard-hitting second in command, until one thick night the captain mysteriously disappeared, being logged as washed overboard. With almost indecently little delay, Jacob Cruden had stepped into the late skipper's sea boots, as it were, to reopen negotiations with a strange vessel which, having hailed the barque that morning, had hove-to and made overtures to the now dead captain. But the captain had refused to have anything to do with gun- running for Mexican rebels.

Briefly, the cargo-running agent of the rebels, havings enlisted the Mary Loring's help in landing a consignment of rifles north of Tampico, had prevailed on Jacob Cruden to accompany him to the rebel headguarters a mile or so inland, where the G. 0.0. would disburse in person the balance due for services rendered. The G.0.C., to cut the longish and very vexing story short, had let Jacob Cruden down, cooly repudiating the bargain and ordering him to make himself scarce on penalty of being hanged if he did not do so.

Jacob Cruden, who had pluck told,the G.O.C. exactly what he though him, and for his trouble found himself shut up in a nasty smelling, damp-walled jail, from which a week later he was released, to be oflFoied the job of private in the rebel army on terms' which made it imperative that lie: should accept them forwith. So the tenth day saw Jacob Cruden climbing the high serras in the ranks of a nondescript force, on the way to join the main body, which was. mobilizing somewhere in the interior. In:. Jacob Cruden's heart there was black rage; on his shoulder there perched the late captain's pet parrot, which had shown an unaccountable attachment for him almost from the moment of its old master's painfully sudden death. .••• ..:•;

The parrot was about the only thing in creation that Jacob Crt!ieri, at this stage, was. even remotely thanl.; til for; it was at any rate something to talk' to, something to feel a grudging friendship towards. As for the Mary Loring, her crew, having no morals and no affection for Jacob Cruden, decided, on sighting a low, business-like; hull • on the horizon, to do the vanishing trick, and did it effectively. ■•'.■* ■" ■' v|;f;

Weeks later Jacob. <>uden,. having. escapeu from the rebels, staggered down to the coast, where he got a trading ship for the Bahamas, sailing thereafter three times ' round the world, before coming ashore for the last time. Henceforth he was going to be -"'a landlubber. The ; sea made him think of things that he wanted to forget;" things that were becoming more and more persistent in refusing to be forgotten. ;. ~. ; , -: Bah! Opening his eyes suddenly, he sat upright in the chair. /Giving way ; to these' moods was not doing him ; any good; none

at all. Getting nervy he was, like some blamed female. All that was past and done with; he would make a new start entirely, He had money put by, enough to live on. for a year or two, after which—well, let the future look after itself. He might marry, Well, and why not? Might find some decent woman with a stocking of her own. There were plenty of women who would be glad to have him look after them. Some widow, possibly. He toyed with the idea, which, vaguely, had already attracted him. This widow for instance; why should he not make up to her? Again, why not? He pondered over a pleasant vision of himself as head of this trim household, living down what had gone before by being a good, dutiful husband. Saw himself spending all the long evenings that were left to him in that cosy kitchen. It was a consummation that would have to be gradually effected, of course. So far, in their very brief acquaintance, she had shown no wish to be more than merely polite to him. But doubtless she was amenable to—well, friendliness. And, after it, perhaps a wooing. The front door jarred just then. Jacob Cruden heard the landlady's steps in the passage. It occurred to him, as he glanced at the remains of the supper, that he would offer to wash-up for her. The thought gave him a curious glow of satisfaction, symbolical of his newly-found hopes. Heavier footsteps obtruded on his mental activity; one of the other lodgers, no doubt.

, The landlady came into the room, followed by two men who lowered their heads as the light met their eyes, then looked up to meet Jacob • Cruden's. The foremost of the two held a faded photograph near the lamp. Jacob Cruden glimpsed on it rows of faces against a background that seemed to be composed of a ship's mainmast and rigging. Sudden terror gripped him.

"You see—there," said the landlady, with a catch in her breath. She laid a finger on the photograph. ''Next but one to my husband."

"Jacob Cruden," said the first detective, stepping forward, "I have a warrant here for your arrest on a charge of murdering Captain Septimus Triggs on the high seas. It is my duty to warn you that anything you say may be used in evidence against you." "And there's the parrot—poor Sep's parrot," said the landlady, pressing a handkerchief nervously to her lips. "It knew me the moment I opened the door! Pollv! Polly!" J "What ho, she bumps, ma," said the parrot, stirring sleepily on its perch. Jacob Cruden swore horribly and held, out his wrists.