THE SIMPLE TOUCH

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 141, 17 June 1939, Page 17 (Supplement)

THE SIMPLE TOUCH

By. Michael Walshe

Short Short Story

I MAPI", a desperate sprint through the murky drizzle for my bus, and Ici tin' niiinil'cst inrli^rmiti<ni of an aged female panted out hii oath as I saw iho rriir number plate receding rapidly in the distance. It whs a dirty night, mid having a fill half-hour to" wait, fur Iho next one, 1 marched into an adjacent saloon bar with nil i lie determination of those who ■ire .-ihollt, to drink. The hrighl light* and liitler ale soon restored m\ opl inii-ui, and the consciousnr>" of il n\olope containing last month's salary did nothing to allay it. I gave my breast pocket an affectionatu lit t let pat, • . . A stringer sat down beside me; a breezy, friendly sort of a young man, with an lionesl grin and eyes set wide apart. W« entered into conversation. At the next t.ilile a rat-raced little euv was Iryin.ir to sell a watch for a price il obviously wasn't worth, to a red-faced sent, who had obviously more sense than bite. My companion conimorAod on the sad luck "I im initiation usually displayed by (hi* species <>f vendor. "Why do they wa-le their time on intelligent people';" he asked. "If I were iii llieir shoes, I'd concentrate solely on nitwit*; they're easy enough to find." "I hey nie,'' 1 agreed. "I reinemher one night last summer," he stiiii. "I was in a pub ..." From the. way he had handled his first gill this information caused me no surprise. ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ It was in Widdlecum-on-Sea, a fishing village on the south coast, where I was upending a fortnight's holiday, he went on. It wasn't a large pub. but was doing a brisk trade. The customers consisted chielly of local tradesmen, and everyone appeared to know each other, with the exception of a tall well-dressed stranger and myself. It wan nino-thirtyish when a short, thickset man clad in bedraggled fisher man's garb entered and called for the landlord. Ho did not order a drink; instead, he fumbled in his trouser pocket and produced a dirty-looking red handkerchief. This he unfolded with extreme rare and revealed to the company a large pearl. The size and beauty of the thing

took my brpath away. There were gasps of mingled astonishment and admiration from all present. '"Was it a genuine one?" they queried. "Where had he got it V" ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ The fisherman took a deep breath, at the same time glancing round to see if he had the requisite attention of the company. We were all ears. It appeared he had been oystering in a small finning smack off the Portuguese coast. He knew that pearls were not commonly found in the oyster* they were fishing; but, still, he never quite gave up hope of finding one or two and from time to time would quietly open a few oysters on the off-chance. Then one day he had been lucky. He had cracked open an extraordinary big one and there, sure enough, was the lovely specimen that now reposed in the folds of his grubby handkerchief. No other member of the small crew had witnessed the incident, and he kept his own counsel. Actually, he supposed, the jM-arl really belonged to the owner of the craft and he to <;ive it up. But he couldn't bear to part with it. And fate decided that he shouldn't. That same night they ran into a terrific gale which, after tossing them about like flotsam, finally capsized the tiny vessel. He was the sole survivor. The gale abated and, after drifting about in a lifebuoy for what seemed an eternity, he was eventually picked up by a homeward bound English trawler. It had docked at Widdlecurn-on-Sea about an hour ago. He supposed the gem was now legally his property, but though sure of getting a good price for it if he went up to London, he needed the money immediately and proposed to sell it for the best offer. The well-dressed stranger crossed over to him and inspected the pearl. He immediately offered twenty pounds. "0.K.," said the fisherman. The money and pearl changed hands. Both looked pleased at the transaction.

The -well-dressed man ordered drinks round. There was silence for a while after that. Then there was a murmur* in? at the bar. It developed into a roar of protest. The landlord and a few of his crnnie* wore violently asserting their disapproval of the maimer in which the sale had been conducted.* ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ After all, the fisherman had said he would take the be«-t offer, hadn't he? They demanded that the pearl be put up for auction again. The landlord and his friends ponied their resources and thus had the advantage of the etranger. The bidding was fast and soon reached eighty pounds. At ninety pounds the well-dressed man opened hw wallet and 1 reluctantly admitted that he had no ! more money with him. The landlord - triumphantly flourished ninety-five pounds and the pearl changed hands ! once more. The landlord ordered drinks I round. • The fisherman drank to hi* health and soon after bade the company good-night.

The well-dressed man slipped out quietly afterward*; he looked very sad. "Hard luck on him," I said. "It was indeed," grinned my companion. He was arrested along with the fisherman in a neighbouring town the very next night for working the same trick. They got twelve months apiece." He leaned dose to me and whispered. He was going now, he said, to date up that platinum blonde behind the bar. "Isn't «he a peach?" he asked. 1 cast an expert eye over the wench in question. "She is," I agreed, "a pearl." It was almost ten o'clock, so I finished my drink and rose. It had been a very pleasant evening, after all. I smugly patted my pay envelope . . . Or, to be more accurate, patted the place where it had been! I swore mightily . . . And rushed round the room, frantically searching tor that honest grin. I searched in vain .... And what was that he had ?aid about nitwits? They were easy enough to find? I'll say they are!