That was a smart notion of Josh"s, the Jago opinion ran, to get through Weech"s and out into the courts behind. But it was no go.
Hannah Perrott sat in her room, inert and lamenting. d.i.c.ky could not rouse her, and at last he went off by himself to reconnoitre about Commercial Street Police Station, and pick up what information he might; while a gossip or two came and took Mrs Perrott for consolation to Mother Gapp"s. Little Em, unwashed, tangled and weeping, could well take care of herself and the room, being more than two years old.
Josh Perrott would be brought up to-morrow, d.i.c.ky ascertained, at the North London Police Court. So the next morning found d.i.c.ky trudging moodily along the two miles of flags to Stoke Newington Road; while his mother and three sympathising friends, who foresaw an opportunity for numerous tiny drops with interesting circ.u.mstances to flavour them, took a penny cast on the way in a tramcar.
d.i.c.ky, with some doubt as to the disposition of the door-keeping policeman toward ragged boys, waited for the four women, and contrived to pa.s.s in un.o.bserved among them. Several Jagos were in the court, interested not only in Josh"s adventure, but in one of c.o.c.ko Harnwell"s, who had indulged, the night before, in an animated little scramble with three policemen in Dalston; and they waited with sympathetic interest while the luck was settled of a long string of drunk-and-disorderlies.
At last Josh was brought in, and lurched composedly into the dock, in the manner of one who knew the routine. The police gave evidence of arrest, in consequence of information received, and of finding the watch and chain in Josh"s trousers pocket. The prosecutor, with his head conspicuously bedight with sticking-plaster, puffed and grunted up into the witness-box, kissed the book, and was a "retired commission agent."
He positively identified the watch and chain, and he not less positively identified Josh Perrott, whom he had picked out from a score of men in the police-yard. This would have been a feat indeed for a man who had never seen Josh, and had only once encountered his fist in the dark, had it not been for the dutiful though private aid of Mr Weech: who, in giving his information had described Josh and his one suit of clothes with great fidelity, especially indicating a scar on the right cheek-bone which would mark him among a thousand. The retired commission agent was quite sure of the prisoner. He had met him on the stairs, where there was plenty of light from a lamp, and the prisoner had attacked him savagely, beating him about the head and flinging him downstairs. The policeman called by the prosecutor"s servant deposed to finding the prosecutor bruised and bleeding. There was a ladder against the back of the house; a bedroom window had been opened; there were muddy marks on the sill; and he had found the stick--produced--lying in the bedroom.
Josh leaned easily on the rail before him while evidence was being given, and said "No, yer worship," whenever he was asked if he desired to question a witness. He knew better than to run the risk of incriminating himself by challenging the prosecutor"s well-coloured evidence; and, as it was a certain case of committal for trial, it would have been useless in any event. He made the same reply when he was asked if he had anything to say before being committed: and straightway was "fullied." He lurched serenely out of the dock, waving his cap at his friends in the court, and that was all. The Jagos waited till c.o.c.ko Harnwell got his three months and then retired to neighbouring public-houses; but d.i.c.ky remembered his little sister, and hurried home.
The month"s session at the Old Bailey had just begun, so that Josh had no long stay at Holloway. Among the Jagos it was held to be a most creditable circ.u.mstance that Josh was to take his trial with full honours at the Old Bailey, and not at mere County Sessions at Clerkenwell, like a simple lob-crawler or peter-claimer. For Josh"s was a case of burglary with serious violence, such as was fitting for the Old Bailey, and not even a High Mobsman could come to trial with greater glory. "As like as not it"s laggin" dues, after "is other convictions,"
said Bill Rann. And Jerry Gullen thought so too.
d.i.c.ky went, with his mother and Em, to see Josh at Newgate. They stood with other visitors, very noisy, before a double iron railing covered with wire-netting, at the farther side whereof stood Josh and other prisoners, while a screaming hubbub of question and answer filled the air. Josh had little to say. He lounged against the farther railing with his hands in his pockets, asked what c.o.c.ko Harnwell had got, and sent a message to Bill Rann. While his wife did little more than look dolefully through the wires, and pipe:--"Oh, Josh, wotever shall I do?" at intervals, with no particular emotion; while Em pressed her smudgy little face against the wires, and stared mightily; and while d.i.c.ky felt that if he had been younger he would have cried. When time was up, Josh waved his hand and slouched off, and his family turned out with the rest: little Em carrying into later years a memory of father as a man who lived in a cage.
In such a case as this, the Jago would have been for ever disgraced if Josh Perrott"s pals had neglected to get up a "break" or subscription to pay for his defence. Things were never very flourishing in the Jago. But this was the sort of break a Jago could not shirk, lest it were remembered against him when his own turn came. So enough was collected to brief an exceedingly junior counsel, who did his useless best. But the facts were too strong even for the most inexperienced advocate; the evidence of the prosecutor was nowhere to be shaken, and the jury found a verdict of guilty without leaving the box--indeed, with scarce the formality of collecting their heads together over the rails. Then Josh"s past was most unpleasantly raked up before him. He had been convicted of larceny, of a.s.saulting the police, and of robbery with violence.
There were two sentences of six months" imprisonment recorded against him, one of three months, and two of a month. Besides fines. The Recorder considered it a very serious offence. Not deterred by the punishments he had already received, the prisoner had proceeded to a worse crime--burglary; and with violence. It was plain that lenience was wasted in such a case, and simple imprisonment was not enough. There must be an exemplary sentence. The prisoner must be kept in penal servitude for five years.
Lagging dues it was, as Bill Rann had antic.i.p.ated. That Josh Perrott agreed with him was suggested by the fact that from the very beginning he described himself as a painter; because a painter in prison is apt to be employed at times in painting--a lighter and a more desirable task than falls to the lot of his fellows in other trades.
In a room by the court Josh saw his wife, d.i.c.ky, and Bill Rann (Josh"s brother-in-law for the occasion) before his ride to Holloway, his one stopping place on the way to Chelmsford Gaol. Little Em had been left sprawling in the Jago gutters. This time Hannah Perrott wept in good earnest, and d.i.c.ky, notwithstanding his thirteen years, blinked very hard at the wall before him. The arrangement of Josh"s affairs was neither a long nor a difficult labour. "S"pose you"ll "ave to do wot you can with rush bags, an" sacks, and match-boxes, an" wot not," he said to his wife, and she a.s.sented. Josh nodded:--"An" if you "ave to go in the "ouse,"--he meant the workhouse,--"well, it can"t be "elped. You won"t be no wuss auf "n me."
"Oh, _she"ll_ be awright," said Bill Rann, jerking his thumb cheerfully toward the missis. "Wot about you? Think they"ll make it Parkhurst?"
Josh shook his head moodily. Parkhurst being the prison reserved for convicts of less robust habit, he had little hope of enjoying its easier conditions. Presently he said:--"I bin put away this time--fair put away."
"Wot?" answered Bill, "narkin" dues is it?"
Josh nodded.
""Oo done it then? "Oo narked?"
Josh shook his head. "Never mind," he said, "I don"t want "im druv out o" the Jago "fore I come out. I"d be sorry to miss "im. _I_ know "im--that"s enough."
And then time was up. Josh suffered the missis to kiss him, and shook hands with Bill Rann. "Good luck to all you Jagos," he said. d.i.c.ky shook hands too, and said "Good-bye, father!" in a voice of such laboured cheerfulness that a grin burst for a moment amid Josh"s moody features as he was marched away, and so departed for the place--in Jago idiom--where the dogs don"t bite.
XXVI
It was Father Sturt"s practice to visit every family in his parish in regular order. But small as the parish was--insignificant, indeed, in mere area--its population exceeded eight thousand: so that the round was one of many months, for visiting was but one among innumerable duties.
But Josh Perrott"s lagging secured his family a special call. Not that the circ.u.mstances were in any way novel or at all uncommon; nor even that the vicar had any hope of being able to help. He was but the one man who could swim in a howling sea of human wreckage. In the Jago, wives like Hannah Perrott, temporarily widowed by the absence of husbands "in the country," were to be counted in scores, and most were in worse case than she, in the matter of dependent children. Father Sturt"s house-list revealed the fact that in Old Jago Street alone, near seventy of the males were at that moment on ticket-of-leave.
In the Perrott case, indeed, the sufferers were fortunate, as things went. Mrs Perrott had but herself and the child of two to keep, for d.i.c.ky could do something, whether good or bad, for himself. The vicar might try to get regular work for d.i.c.ky, but it would be a vain toil, for he must tell an employer what he knew of d.i.c.ky"s past and of that other situation. He could but give the woman the best counsel at his command, and do what he might to quicken any latent spark of energy. So he did his best, and that was all. The struggle lay with Hannah Perrott.
She had been left before, and more than once; but then the periods had been shorter, and, as a matter of fact, things had fallen out so well that scarce more than a meal here and there had had to be missed, though, when they came, the meals were apt to be but of crusts. And now there was more trouble ahead; for though she began her lonely time with but one small child on hand, she knew that ere long there would be two.
Of course, she had worked before; not only when Josh had been "in" but at other times, to add to the family resources. She was a clumsy needlewoman: else she might hope to earn some ninepence or a shilling a day at making shirts, by keeping well to the needle for sixteen hours out of the twenty-four; and from the whole sum there would be no deductions, except for needles and cotton, and what the frugal employer might choose to subtract for work to which he could devise an objection.
But, as it was, she must do her best to get some sack-making. They paid one and sevenpence a hundred for sacks, and, with speed and long hours, she could make a hundred in four days. Rush bag-making would bring even more, which would be desirable, considering the three-and-sixpence a week for rent: which, with the payments for other rooms, made the rent of the crazy den in Old Jago Street about equal, s.p.a.ce for s.p.a.ce, to that of a house in Onslow Square. Then there was a more lucrative employment still, but one to be looked for at intervals only: one not to be counted on at all, in fact, for it was a prize, and many sought after it. This was the making of match-boxes. For making one hundred and forty-four outside cases with paper label and sandpaper, and the same number of trays to slide into them--a gross of complete boxes, or two hundred and eighty-eight pieces in all--one got twopence farthing; indeed, for a special size one even got a farthing a gross more; and all the wood and the labels and the sandpaper were provided free: so that the fortunate operative lost nothing out of the twopence farthing but the cost of the paste, and the string for tying up the boxes into regularly numbered batches, and the time employed in fetching the work and taking it back again. And if seven gross were to be got, and could be done in a day--and it was really not very difficult for the skilful hand who kept at work long enough--the day"s income was one and threepence three-farthings, less expenses: still better, that, than the shirts. But the work was hard to get. As the public-spirited manufacturers complained: people would buy Swedish matches, whereas if people would Support Home Industries and buy no matches but theirs, they would be able to order many a twopence-farthingsworth of boxes more.
There might be collateral sources of income, but these were doubtful and irregular. Probably d.i.c.ky would bring in a few coppers now and again.
Then judicious attendance at churches, chapels and prayer-meetings beyond the Jago borders was rewarded by coal-tickets, boots, and the like. It was necessary to know just where and when to go and what to say, else the sole result might be loss of time. There was a church in Bethnal Green, for instance, which it would be foolish to enter before the end of the Litany, for then you were in good time to get your half-quarter hundredweight of coals; but at other places they might object to so late an appearance. Above all, one must know the ropes.
There were several women in the Jago who made almost a living in this way alone. They were experts; they knew every fund, every meeting-house, all the comings and goings of the gullible; insomuch that they would take black umbrage at any unexpected difficulty in getting what they demanded. "Wy," one would say, "I "ad to pitch sich a bleed"n"
"oly tale I earned it twice over." But these were the proficient, and proficiency in the trade was an outcome of long experience working on a foundation of natural gifts; and Hannah Perrott could never hope to be among them.
Turning these things in her mind, she addressed herself to her struggle.
She managed to get some sacks, but for a week or two she could make nothing like twenty-five a day, though d.i.c.ky helped. Her fingers got raw; but she managed to complete a hundred within the first week. They might have been better done, as the employer said when he saw them. But she got her full one and sevenpence. She p.a.w.ned her boots for fourpence, and wore two old odd ones of Josh"s; and she got twopence on a petticoat. d.i.c.ky also helped a little; and at the end of a fortnight there came a G.o.dsend in the shape of material for match-boxes. Mrs Perrott was slow with them at first; but d.i.c.ky was quick, and even little Em began to learn to spread paste.
XXVII
d.i.c.ky grew slighter and lanker, dark about the eyes, and weaker. He was growing longitudinally, and that made his lateral wasting the quicker and the more apparent. A furtive frighted look hung ever in his face, a fugitive air about his whole person. His mother"s long face was longer than ever, and blacker under the eyes than d.i.c.ky"s own, and her weak open mouth hung at the corners as that of a woman faint with weeping.
Little Em"s knees and elbows were k.n.o.bs in the midst of limbs of unnatural length. Rarely could a meal be seen ahead; and when it came, it made d.i.c.ky doubtful whether or not hunger were really caused by eating. But his chief distress was to see that little Em cried not like a child, but silently, as she strove to thread needles or to smear matchbox labels. And when good fortune brought match-boxes, there was an undue loss on the twopence farthing in the matter of paste. The stuff was a foul mess, sour and faint, and it was kept in a broken tea-cup, near which d.i.c.ky had detected his sister sucking her fingers; for in truth little Em stole the paste.
On and off, by one way and another, Mrs Perrott made enough to keep the rent paid with indifferent regularity, and sometimes there was a copper or so left over. She did fairly well, too, at the churches and prayer-meetings; people saw her condition, and now and again would give her something beyond the common dole; so that she learned the trick of looking more miserable than usual at such places.
The roof provided, d.i.c.ky felt that his was the task to find food. Alone, he might have rubbed along clear of starvation, but there were his mother and his sister. Lack of victuals shook his nerve and made him timid. Moreover, his terror grew greater than ever at the prospect of being caught in a theft. He lay awake at night and sweated to think of it. Who would bring in things from the outer world for mother and Em then? And the danger was worse than ever. He had felt the police-court birch, and it was bad, very bad. But he would take it every day and take it almost without a tear, rather than the chance of a reformatory.
Magistrates were unwilling to send boys to reformatories while both father and mother were at hand to control them, for that were relieving the parents of their natural responsibility; but in a case like d.i.c.ky"s, a "schooling" was a very likely thing. So that d.i.c.ky, as he prowled, was torn between implacable need and the fear of being cut off from all chance of supplying it.
It was his rule never to come home without bringing something, were it no more than a mildewed crust. It was a resolve impossible to keep at times, but at those times it was two in the morning ere he would drag himself, pallid and faint, into the dark room where the others might be--probably were--lying awake and unfed. Rather than face such a homecoming he had sometimes ventured on a more difficult feat than stealing in the outer world: he had stolen in the Jago. Sam Cash, for instance, had lost a bloater.
d.i.c.ky never ate at Weech"s now. Rarely, indeed, would he take payment in kind, unless it were for something of smaller value than the average of his poor pilferings; and then he carried the food home. But cheaper things could be bought elsewhere, so that more usually he insisted on money payments: to the grief of Mr Weech, who set forth the odiousness of ingrat.i.tude at length; though his homilies had no sort of effect on d.i.c.ky"s morals.
Father Sturt saw that Hannah Perrott gained no ground in her struggle, and urged her to apply for outdoor parish relief, promising to second her request with the guardians. But with an odd throwback to the respectability of her boiler-making ancestry, she disliked the notion of help from the parish, and preferred to remain as she was; for there at least her ingrained inertness seemed to side with some phantom of self-respect. To her present position she had subsided by almost imperceptible degrees, and she was scarce conscious of a change. But to parish relief there was a distinct and palpable step: a step that, on the whole, it seemed easier not to take. But it was with eagerness that she took a Maternity Society"s letter, wherewith the vicar had provided himself on her behalf. For her time was drawing near.
XXVIII
Josh Perrott well understood the advantage of good prison-behaviour, and after six months in his Chelmsford cell he had earned the right to a visit from friends. But none came. He had scarcely expected that anybody would, and asked for the order merely on the general principle that a man should take all he can get, useful or not. For there would have been a five shilling fare to pay for each visitor from London, and Hannah Perrott could as easily have paid five pounds. And indeed she had other things to think of.
Kiddo Cook had been less observed of late in the Jago. In simple fact he was at work. He found that a steady week of porterage at Spitalfields Market would bring him sixteen shillings and perhaps a little more; and he had taken Father Sturt"s encouragement to try another week, and a week after that. Father Sturt too, had cunningly stimulated Kiddo"s ambitions: till he cherished aspirations to a fruit and vegetable stall, with a proper tarpaulin cover for bad weather; though he cherished them in secret, confident that they were of his own independent conception.
Perhaps the Perrotts saw as much of Kiddo as did anybody at this time.
For Kiddo, seeing how it went with them (though indeed it went as badly with others too) built up laboriously a solemn and most circ.u.mstantial Lie. There was a friend of his, a perfect gentleman, who used a beer-shop by Spitalfields Market, and who had just started an extensive and complicated business in the general provision line. He sold all sorts of fruit and vegetables fresh, and all sorts of meat, carrots, cabbages, saveloys, fried fish and pease-pudding cooked. His motto was:--"Everything _of_ the best." But he had the misfortune to be quite unable himself to judge whether his goods were really of the best or not, in consequence of an injury to his palate, arising from a blow on the mouth with a quart pot, inflicted in the heat of discussion by a wealthy acquaintance. So that he, being a perfect gentleman, had requested Kiddo Cook, out of the friendship he bore him, to drop in occasionally and test his samples. "Take a good big whack, you know,"
said he, "and get the advice of a friend or two, if _you_ ain"t sure."
So Kiddo would take frequent and handsome whacks accordingly, to the perfect gentleman"s delight; and, not quite knowing what to do with all the whacks, or being desirous of an independent opinion on them (there was some confusion between these two motives) he would bring Mrs Perrott samples, from time to time, and hope it wouldn"t inconvenience her. It never did.
It was late in the dusk of a rainy day that Kiddo Cook stumped into Old Jago Street with an apple in his pocket for Em. It was not much, but money was a little short, and at any rate the child would be pleased. As he climbed the stairs he grew conscious of sounds of anguish, m.u.f.fled by the Perrotts" door. There might have been sobs, and there seemed to be groans; certainly little Em was crying, though but faintly, and something--perhaps boot-heels--sc.r.a.ped on the boards. Kiddo hesitated a little, and then knocked softly. The knock was unnoticed, so in the end he pushed the door open.