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.He was going to catch us for sure.Then, blessed relief, I heard the ting-ting of a tram bell warning us to move over, and a northbound tram slid alongside.Gathering the last of my breath I shouted to Charlie: “On!”He jumped up onto the tram’s backboard.I shoved the trunk up after him, and made my own leap, landing there – just – on my knees.Blast it, that hurt!Moulden’s chum in the beret had fallen badly behind, but Moulden himself wasn’t giving up his quarry so easily.A nasty grin spread beneath that bulbous twin-lobed pitted red nose, and he managed to get a hand on the pole.Next he would pull himself aboard, but before he could I lashed out a boot at his fingers, crushing them.With a howl he let go his grip and sprawled on the road in a heap, and Charlie and I watched him dwindle into the distance as the tram rattled away up the Brixton Road.We looked at one another then, breathless and sweating, and both began to laugh.We caught the boat train from Waterloo station with not an inch to spare, Chaplin-style, and as the locomotive headed towards Southampton Charlie seemed to regain a little of himself with every passing mile.Having started the journey looking very much like – well, not to put too fine a point on it – a tramp, he finished it spruced and gleaming like a thoroughgoing dandy.He contrived to shave along the way, which must have taken considerable dexterity, for there was not a scratch on him.So high were his spirits now, from one extreme direct to the other without calling at points in between, that he was not much interested in any explanations from me.He preferred to beam at the passing countryside, and burble about America, the land of opportunity.I suppose, in a way, he must have felt like he’d been spared the noose, as he would not now have to invent an explanation for Karno that would enable him keep his job.He would have to make some sort of excuse to Alf Reeves and the company, but that was small beer by comparison.As we neared our destination he suddenly leaned over and put his hand on my knee.“Thank you, Arthur,” he said, with a quite dazzling smile (those teeth!).“Friends?”“Friends,” I said, and we shook on it.He just loved doing that, didn’t he?And at that moment we were friends, I think, and I was glad I had relented, not just for Alf’s sake, but for Charlie’s and for mine.After all, I thought, so Charlie Chaplin comes to America with us.What’s the worst that could happen…? (Hint: read his autobiography and you’ll find out.)Once at Southampton we were collected at the dock gates by a functionary of the Thomson Line, and led to the RMS Cairnrona on foot.As we made our way along the quay we found ourselves passing by a steam packet with a lavender-grey hull and two red and black funnels.The name on the stern caught my eye.“Well, well,” I said.“How about that?”“What is it?” Charlie said.“Wait here a minute,” I said.A little way off I could see a starched busybody of a fellow in a braided uniform heading towards us.His white peaked cap bore the same name as the ship, and I put on a gentlemanly air and accosted him before he could drive me away.“Ahoy!” I said.“Are you from the Dover Castle there?”“I am, sir.What is your business?”“Are you the captain, might I ask?”“No, sir, I am not.I am Dawkins, the purser.Can I help you?”“Indeed,” I said.“The purser, is that so? It so happens that I am acquainted with Mr Turnbull, from your London office on Fenchurch Street.Do you know the gentleman?”“I do,” said this Dawkins.“You have a fellow on your boat, name of Moulden,” I said.“What of it?”“I have a message from him,” I said.“He wishes you to know that he has retired from the seafaring life, effective immediately, and you should take steps to replace him as quickly as possible.”“I see,” said Dawkins, frowning.“And did he give a reason?”“He said – I’m sorry to have to say this, Mr Dawkins, but remember I am merely the messenger – that the ship’s purser was an insufferable prig and that he could not bear to spend another moment in his company.”Dawkins stiffened, and his face turned a sort of purple colour.“He also gave me to understand that you would be pleased as Punch, because this would give you the chance to scour the docks for a young boy more to your taste.Does that mean anything to you?”The purser’s eyes bulged with outrage.“And what is your name, sir, if I might ask?”“My name?” I said.“My name is Sydney Chaplin.I bid you good day, sir.”I left him standing there with steam coming out from beneath his starched white cap, and rejoined Charlie and our guide, pleased with a very tidy bit of business.Shortly we came to the dock where the Cairnrona was berthed, and I got my first look at her.A modest little vessel, black-grey smoke already beginning to billow from her single funnel.The Thomson man noticed that I had stopped, and retraced his steps with a look of concern.“Something wrong, sir?”“Not exactly the Lusitania, is it?”He grimaced apologetically.“Few ships are,” he said.Once we joined the rest of the company on board it was plain to see that not everyone was as pleased to see Charlie Chaplin as Mr Alfred Reeves was.Talk about the prodigal! He took him, and embraced him, and pinched his face as though checking he was flesh and blood and not an apparition come to torment him [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]