<SPAN name="chap05"></SPAN>
<h3 align="center"> CHAPTER 5 </h3>
<p>Whether Mr Quilp took any sleep by snatches of a few winks at a time,
or whether he sat with his eyes wide open all night long, certain it is
that he kept his cigar alight, and kindled every fresh one from the
ashes of that which was nearly consumed, without requiring the
assistance of a candle. Nor did the striking of the clocks, hour after
hour, appear to inspire him with any sense of drowsiness or any natural
desire to go to rest, but rather to increase his wakefulness, which he
showed, at every such indication of the progress of the night, by a
suppressed cackling in his throat, and a motion of his shoulders, like
one who laughs heartily but the same time slyly and by stealth.</p>
<p>At length the day broke, and poor Mrs Quilp, shivering with cold of
early morning and harassed by fatigue and want of sleep, was discovered
sitting patiently on her chair, raising her eyes at intervals in mute
appeal to the compassion and clemency of her lord, and gently reminding
him by an occasion cough that she was still unpardoned and that her
penance had been of long duration. But her dwarfish spouse still smoked
his cigar and drank his rum without heeding her; and it was not until
the sun had some time risen, and the activity and noise of city day
were rife in the street, that he deigned to recognize her presence by
any word or sign. He might not have done so even then, but for certain
impatient tapping at the door he seemed to denote that some pretty hard
knuckles were actively engaged upon the other side.</p>
<p>'Why dear me!' he said looking round with a malicious grin, 'it's day.
Open the door, sweet Mrs Quilp!'</p>
<p>His obedient wife withdrew the bolt, and her lady mother entered.</p>
<p>Now, Mrs Jiniwin bounced into the room with great impetuosity; for,
supposing her son-in-law to be still a-bed, she had come to relieve her
feelings by pronouncing a strong opinion upon his general conduct and
character. Seeing that he was up and dressed, and that the room
appeared to have been occupied ever since she quitted it on the
previous evening, she stopped short, in some embarrassment.</p>
<p>Nothing escaped the hawk's eye of the ugly little man, who, perfectly
understanding what passed in the old lady's mind, turned uglier still
in the fulness of his satisfaction, and bade her good morning, with a
leer or triumph.</p>
<p>'Why, Betsy,' said the old woman, 'you haven't been—you don't mean to
say you've been a—'</p>
<p>'Sitting up all night?' said Quilp, supplying the conclusion of the
sentence. 'Yes she has!'</p>
<p>'All night?' cried Mrs Jiniwin.</p>
<p>'Ay, all night. Is the dear old lady deaf?' said Quilp, with a smile of
which a frown was part. 'Who says man and wife are bad company? Ha ha!
The time has flown.'</p>
<p>'You're a brute!' exclaimed Mrs Jiniwin.</p>
<p>'Come come,' said Quilp, wilfully misunderstanding her, of course, 'you
mustn't call her names. She's married now, you know. And though she did
beguile the time and keep me from my bed, you must not be so tenderly
careful of me as to be out of humour with her. Bless you for a dear
old lady. Here's to your health!'</p>
<p>'I am much obliged to you,' returned the old woman, testifying by a
certain restlessness in her hands a vehement desire to shake her
matronly fist at her son-in-law. 'Oh! I'm very much obliged to you!'</p>
<p>'Grateful soul!' cried the dwarf. 'Mrs Quilp.'</p>
<p>'Yes, Quilp,' said the timid sufferer.</p>
<p>'Help your mother to get breakfast, Mrs Quilp. I am going to the wharf
this morning—the earlier the better, so be quick.'</p>
<p>Mrs Jiniwin made a faint demonstration of rebellion by sitting down in
a chair near the door and folding her arms as if in a resolute
determination to do nothing. But a few whispered words from her
daughter, and a kind inquiry from her son-in-law whether she felt
faint, with a hint that there was abundance of cold water in the next
apartment, routed these symptoms effectually, and she applied herself
to the prescribed preparations with sullen diligence.</p>
<p>While they were in progress, Mr Quilp withdrew to the adjoining room,
and, turning back his coat-collar, proceeded to smear his countenance
with a damp towel of very unwholesome appearance, which made his
complexion rather more cloudy than it was before. But, while he was
thus engaged, his caution and inquisitiveness did not forsake him, for
with a face as sharp and cunning as ever, he often stopped, even in
this short process, and stood listening for any conversation in the
next room, of which he might be the theme.</p>
<p>'Ah!' he said after a short effort of attention, 'it was not the towel
over my ears, I thought it wasn't. I'm a little hunchy villain and a
monster, am I, Mrs Jiniwin? Oh!'</p>
<p>The pleasure of this discovery called up the old doglike smile in full
force. When he had quite done with it, he shook himself in a very
doglike manner, and rejoined the ladies.</p>
<p>Mr Quilp now walked up to front of a looking-glass, and was standing
there putting on his neckerchief, when Mrs Jiniwin happening to be
behind him, could not resist the inclination she felt to shake her fist
at her tyrant son-in-law. It was the gesture of an instant, but as she
did so and accompanied the action with a menacing look, she met his eye
in the glass, catching her in the very act. The same glance at the
mirror conveyed to her the reflection of a horribly grotesque and
distorted face with the tongue lolling out; and the next instant the
dwarf, turning about with a perfectly bland and placid look, inquired
in a tone of great affection.</p>
<p>'How are you now, my dear old darling?'</p>
<p>Slight and ridiculous as the incident was, it made him appear such a
little fiend, and withal such a keen and knowing one, that the old
woman felt too much afraid of him to utter a single word, and suffered
herself to be led with extraordinary politeness to the breakfast-table.
Here he by no means diminished the impression he had just produced, for
he ate hard eggs, shell and all, devoured gigantic prawns with the
heads and tails on, chewed tobacco and water-cresses at the same time
and with extraordinary greediness, drank boiling tea without winking,
bit his fork and spoon till they bent again, and in short performed so
many horrifying and uncommon acts that the women were nearly frightened
out of their wits, and began to doubt if he were really a human
creature. At last, having gone through these proceedings and many
others which were equally a part of his system, Mr Quilp left them,
reduced to a very obedient and humbled state, and betook himself to the
river-side, where he took boat for the wharf on which he had bestowed
his name.</p>
<p>It was flood tide when Daniel Quilp sat himself down in the ferry to
cross to the opposite shore. A fleet of barges were coming lazily on,
some sideways, some head first, some stern first; all in a
wrong-headed, dogged, obstinate way, bumping up against the larger
craft, running under the bows of steamboats, getting into every kind of
nook and corner where they had no business, and being crunched on all
sides like so many walnut-shells; while each with its pair of long
sweeps struggling and splashing in the water looked like some lumbering
fish in pain. In some of the vessels at anchor all hands were busily
engaged in coiling ropes, spreading out sails to dry, taking in or
discharging their cargoes; in others no life was visible but two or
three tarry boys, and perhaps a barking dog running to and fro upon the
deck or scrambling up to look over the side and bark the louder for the
view. Coming slowly on through the forests of masts was a great
steamship, beating the water in short impatient strokes with her heavy
paddles as though she wanted room to breathe, and advancing in her huge
bulk like a sea monster among the minnows of the Thames. On either hand
were long black tiers of colliers; between them vessels slowly working
out of harbour with sails glistening in the sun, and creaking noise on
board, re-echoed from a hundred quarters. The water and all upon it was
in active motion, dancing and buoyant and bubbling up; while the old
grey Tower and piles of building on the shore, with many a church-spire
shooting up between, looked coldly on, and seemed to disdain their
chafing, restless neighbour.</p>
<p>Daniel Quilp, who was not much affected by a bright morning save in so
far as it spared him the trouble of carrying an umbrella, caused
himself to be put ashore hard by the wharf, and proceeded thither
through a narrow lane which, partaking of the amphibious character of
its frequenters, had as much water as mud in its composition, and a
very liberal supply of both. Arrived at his destination, the first
object that presented itself to his view was a pair of very imperfectly
shod feet elevated in the air with the soles upwards, which remarkable
appearance was referable to the boy, who being of an eccentric spirit
and having a natural taste for tumbling, was now standing on his head
and contemplating the aspect of the river under these uncommon
circumstances. He was speedily brought on his heels by the sound of his
master's voice, and as soon as his head was in its right position, Mr
Quilp, to speak expressively in the absence of a better verb, 'punched
it' for him.</p>
<p>'Come, you let me alone,' said the boy, parrying Quilp's hand with both
his elbows alternatively. 'You'll get something you won't like if you
don't and so I tell you.'</p>
<p>'You dog,' snarled Quilp, 'I'll beat you with an iron rod, I'll scratch
you with a rusty nail, I'll pinch your eyes, if you talk to me—I will.'</p>
<p>With these threats he clenched his hand again, and dexterously diving
in between the elbows and catching the boy's head as it dodged from
side to side, gave it three or four good hard knocks. Having now
carried his point and insisted on it, he left off.</p>
<p>'You won't do it agin,' said the boy, nodding his head and drawing
back, with the elbows ready in case of the worst; 'now—'</p>
<p>'Stand still, you dog,' said Quilp. 'I won't do it again, because I've
done it as often as I want. Here. Take the key.'</p>
<p>'Why don't you hit one of your size?' said the boy approaching very
slowly.</p>
<p>'Where is there one of my size, you dog?' returned Quilp. 'Take the
key, or I'll brain you with it'—indeed he gave him a smart tap with
the handle as he spoke. 'Now, open the counting-house.'</p>
<p>The boy sulkily complied, muttering at first, but desisting when he
looked round and saw that Quilp was following him with a steady look.
And here it may be remarked, that between this boy and the dwarf there
existed a strange kind of mutual liking. How born or bred, and or
nourished upon blows and threats on one side, and retorts and defiances
on the other, is not to the purpose. Quilp would certainly suffer
nobody to contract him but the boy, and the boy would assuredly not
have submitted to be so knocked about by anybody but Quilp, when he had
the power to run away at any time he chose.</p>
<p>'Now,' said Quilp, passing into the wooden counting-house, 'you mind
the wharf. Stand upon your head agin, and I'll cut one of your feet
off.'</p>
<p>The boy made no answer, but directly Quilp had shut himself in, stood
on his head before the door, then walked on his hands to the back and
stood on his head there, and then to the opposite side and repeated the
performance. There were indeed four sides to the counting-house, but he
avoided that one where the window was, deeming it probable that Quilp
would be looking out of it. This was prudent, for in point of fact, the
dwarf, knowing his disposition, was lying in wait at a little distance
from the sash armed with a large piece of wood, which, being rough and
jagged and studded in many parts with broken nails, might possibly have
hurt him.</p>
<p>It was a dirty little box, this counting-house, with nothing in it but
an old ricketty desk and two stools, a hat-peg, an ancient almanack, an
inkstand with no ink, and the stump of one pen, and an eight-day clock
which hadn't gone for eighteen years at least, and of which the
minute-hand had been twisted off for a tooth-pick. Daniel Quilp pulled
his hat over his brows, climbed on to the desk (which had a flat top)
and stretching his short length upon it went to sleep with ease of an
old practitioner; intending, no doubt, to compensate himself for the
deprivation of last night's rest, by a long and sound nap.</p>
<p>Sound it might have been, but long it was not, for he had not been
asleep a quarter of an hour when the boy opened the door and thrust in
his head, which was like a bundle of badly-picked oakum. Quilp was a
light sleeper and started up directly.</p>
<p>'Here's somebody for you,' said the boy.</p>
<p>'Who?'</p>
<p>'I don't know.'</p>
<p>'Ask!' said Quilp, seizing the trifle of wood before mentioned and
throwing it at him with such dexterity that it was well the boy
disappeared before it reached the spot on which he had stood. 'Ask, you
dog.'</p>
<p>Not caring to venture within range of such missles again, the boy
discreetly sent in his stead the first cause of the interruption, who
now presented herself at the door.</p>
<p>'What, Nelly!' cried Quilp.</p>
<p>'Yes,' said the child, hesitating whether to enter or retreat, for the
dwarf just roused, with his dishevelled hair hanging all about him and
a yellow handkerchief over his head, was something fearful to behold;
it's only me, sir.'</p>
<p>'Come in,' said Quilp, without getting off the desk. 'Come in. Stay.
Just look out into the yard, and see whether there's a boy standing on
his head.'</p>
<p>'No, sir,' replied Nell. 'He's on his feet.'</p>
<p>'You're sure he is?' said Quilp. 'Well. Now, come in and shut the door.
What's your message, Nelly?'</p>
<p>The child handed him a letter. Mr Quilp, without changing his position
further than to turn over a little more on his side and rest his chin
on his hand, proceeded to make himself acquainted with its contents.</p>
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