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Updated: May 2, 2025
Louie was on his feet, poised for a leap. John threw the chair at the "basher" before him and dashed to the other side of the room. "I'll get him, Joe," Louie gasped, wiping the blood from his eyes and taking a firmer grip on the black-jack. As Louie rushed at him John seized the heavy water pitcher on a table near him and hurled it.
When I start on a man I like to make a good job of it." "Good job of it!" ses the other, starting. "Do you know who I am?" "No, I don't," ses Ginger, "and, wot's more, I don't care." "My name," ses the chap, speaking in a slow, careful voice, "is Bill Lumm." "Wot a 'orrid name!" ses Ginger. "Otherwise known as the Wapping Basher," ses Bill, shoving 'is face into Ginger's and glaring at 'im.
"What do you say," he drawled, "if we go and have a look at a dancing saloon one of these larrikin dancing saloons?" "I'd like it awfully," said one Englishman. "Most interesting" said the other. "I've heard such a lot about the Australian larrikin. What they call a basher in England, isn't it? eh, what? Sort of rough that lays for you with a pal and robs you, eh?"
As they drew back John was in the position of a boxer, standing lightly on his toes, his left hand extended with the shoulder drawn up to protect his chin, which rested against his collarbone, his right arm crooked back. The bed was between him and the door, where "Slim" stood. The "basher" swung up from the hip with his right arm, aiming for John's face.
Being entertained at Khaibar, a young Jewess, to try, as she afterward said, whether he were a prophet or not, poisoned a shoulder of mutton, a joint Mahomet was particularly fond of. One of those who partook of it at the table, named Basher, died upon the spot; but Mahomet, finding it taste disagreeable, spat it out, saying, "This mutton tells me it is poisoned."
With a warning shout Louie leaped on the bed and grasped his arm. He felt himself pulled to his feet and hurled to the floor. He shut his eyes. With a sweep of his arm the "basher" crashed a black-jack against his skull. A head splitting flash of blinding light and then darkness and insensibility.
John saw that his face was smeared crimson from the cut on his head. Realizing that the "basher" in front of him was "stalling" for time, waiting until Louie was on his feet again John darted to one side and seized a chair, swinging it up over his shoulder. His hand with its broken knuckle was puffed and painful and it hurt to bend the fingers to grasp the chair.
Besides them there was quite a lot o' sailormen, even skippers and mates, nearly all of 'em smoking big cigars, too, and looking at Ginger out of the corner of one eye and at the Wapping Basher out of the corner of the other. "Hit 'ard and hit straight," ses the landlord to Ginger in a low voice, as they got out of the train and walked up the road. "'Ow are you feeling?"
When I start on a man I like to make a good job of it." "Good job of it!" ses the other, starting. "Do you know who I am?" "No, I don't," ses Ginger, "and, wot's more, I don't care." "My name," ses the chap, speaking in a slow, careful voice, "is Bill Lumm." "Wot a 'orrid name!" ses Ginger. "Otherwise known as the Wapping Basher," ses Bill, shoving 'is face into Ginger's and glaring at 'im.
For the purpose of deceiving "Slim" he must keep a mask of servile fear on his face. "Let me get a shot of hooch, 'Slim, and I'll tell ya everything," he whimpered. He rose timidly from his chair. Louie and the other "basher" started toward him, but stopped at a gesture from "Slim." He went to the battered, flat-topped dresser a few feet from the bed and pulled open a drawer.
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