Subject: View Alcohol Rehab Options

From: "Alcohol Rehab" <[email-masked]>
Date: Wed, 31 Aug 2016 00:56:16 -0400

View Alcohol Rehab Options
It was nearly high-water, and the night-watchman, who had stepped aboard a lighter lying alongside the wharf to smoke a pipe, sat with half-closed eyes enjoying the summer evening. The bustle of the day was over, the wharves were deserted, and hardly a craft moved on the river. Perfumed clouds of shag, hovering for a time over the lighter, floated lazily towards the Surrey shore. " There' s one thing about my job," said the night-watchman, slowly, " it' s done all alone by yourself. There' s no foreman a-hollering at you and offering you a penny for your thoughts, and no mates to run into you from behind with a loaded truck and then ask you why you didn' t look where you' re going to. From six o' clock in the evening to six o' clock next morning I' m my own master." He rammed down the tobacco with an experienced forefinger and puffed contentedly. People like you ' ud find it lonely (he continued, after a pause); I did at fust. I used to let people come and sit ' ere with me of an evening talking, but I got tired of it arter a time, and when one chap fell overboard while ' e was showing me ' ow he put his wife' s mother in ' er place, I gave it up altogether. There was three foot o' mud in the dock at the time, and arter I ' ad got ' im out, he fainted in my arms. Arter that I kept myself to myself. Say wot you like, a man' s best friend is ' imself. There' s nobody else' ll do as much for ' im, or let ' im off easier when he makes a mistake. If I felt a bit lonely I used to open the wicket in the gate and sit there watching the road, and p' r' aps pass a word or two with the policeman. Then something ' appened one night that made me take quite a dislike to it for a time. I was sitting there with my feet outside, smoking a quiet pipe, when I ' eard a bit of a noise in the distance. Then I ' eard people running and shouts of " Stop, thief!" A man came along round the corner full pelt, and, just as I got up, dashed through the wicket and ran on to the wharf. I was arter ' im like a shot and got up to ' im just in time to see him throw something into the dock. And at the same moment I ' eard the other people run past the gate. " Wot' s up?" I ses, collaring ' im. " Nothing," he ses, breathing ' ard and struggling. " Let me go." He was a little wisp of a man, and I shook ' im like a dog shakes a rat. I remembered my own pocket being picked, and I nearly shook the breath out of ' im. " And now I' m going to give you in charge," I ses, pushing ' im along towards the gate. " Wot for?" he ses, purtending to be surprised. " Stealing," I ses. " You' ve made a mistake," he ses; " you can search me if you like." " More use to search the dock," I ses. " I see you throw it in. Now you keep quiet, else you' ll get ' urt. If you get five years I shall be all the more pleased." I don' t know ' ow he did it, but ' e did. He seemed to sink away between my legs, and afore I knew wot was ' appening, I was standing upside down with all the blood rushing to my ' ead. As I rolled over he bolted through the wicket, and was off like a flash of lightning. A couple o' minutes arterwards the people wot I ' ad ' eard run past came back agin. There was a big fat policeman with ' em--a man I' d seen afore on the beat--and, when they ' ad gorn on, he stopped to ' ave a word with me. " ' Ot work," he ses, taking off his ' elmet and wiping his bald ' ead with a large red handkerchief. " I' ve lost all my puff." " Been running?" I ses, very perlite. " Arter a pickpocket," he ses. " He snatched a lady' s purse just as she was stepping aboard the French boat with her ' usband. ' Twelve pounds in it in gold, two peppermint lozenges, and a postage stamp.' " He shook his ' ead, and put his ' elmet on agin. " Holding it in her little ' and as usual," he ses. " Asking for trouble, I call it. I believe if a woman ' ad one hand off and only a finger and thumb left on the other, she' d carry ' er purse in it." He knew a' most as much about wimmen as I do. When ' is fust wife died, she said ' er only wish was that she could take ' im with her, and she made ' im promise her faithful that ' e' d never marry agin. His second wife, arter a long illness, passed away while he was playing hymns on the concertina to her, and ' er mother, arter looking at ' er very hard, went to the doctor and said she wanted an inquest. He went on talking for a long time, but I was busy doing a bit of ' ead- work and didn' t pay much attention to ' im. I was thinking o' twelve pounds, two lozenges, and a postage stamp laying in the mud at the bottom of my dock, and arter a time ' e said ' e see as ' ow I was waiting to get back to my night' s rest, and went off--stamping. I locked the wicket when he ' ad gorn away, and then I went to the edge of the dock and stood looking down at the spot where the purse ' ad been chucked in. The tide was on the ebb, but there was still a foot or two of water atop of the mud. I walked up and down, thinking. I thought for a long time, and then I made up my mind. If I got the purse and took it to the police-station, the police would share the money out between ' em, and tell me they ' ad given it back to the lady. If I found it and put a notice in the newspaper--which would cost money--very likely a dozen or two ladies would come and see me and say it was theirs. Then if I gave it to the best-looking one and the one it belonged to turned up, there' d be trouble. My idea was to keep it--for a time--and then if the lady who lost it came to me and asked me for it I would give it to ' er. Once I had made up my mind to do wot was right I felt quite ' appy, and arter a look up and down, I stepped round to the Bear' s Head and ' ad a couple o' goes o' rum to keep the cold out. There was nobody in there but the landlord, and ' e started at once talking about the thief, and ' ow he ' ad run arter him in ' is shirt-sleeves. " My opinion is," he ses, " that ' e bolted on one of the wharves and ' id ' imself. He disappeared like magic. Was that little gate o' yours open?" " I was on the wharf," I ses, very cold. " You might ha' been on the wharf and yet not ' ave seen anybody come on," he ses, nodding. " Wot d' ye mean?" I ses, very sharp. " Nothing," he ses. " Nothing." " Are you trying to take my character away?" I ses, fixing ' im with my eye. " Lo' bless me, no!" he ses, staring at me. " It' s no good to me." He sat down in ' is chair behind the bar and went straight off to sleep with his eyes screwed up as tight as they would go. Then ' e opened his mouth and snored till the glasses shook. I suppose I' ve been one of the best customers he ever ' ad, and that' s the way he treated me. For two pins I' d ha' knocked ' is ugly ' ead off, but arter waking him up very sudden by dropping my glass on the floor I went off back to the wharf. I locked up agin, and ' ad another look at the dock. The water ' ad nearly gone and the mud was showing in patches. My mind went back to a sailorman wot had dropped ' is watch over-board two years before, and found it by walking about in the dock in ' is bare feet. He found it more easy because the glass broke when he trod on it. The evening was a trifle chilly for June, but I' ve been used to roughing it all my life, especially when I was afloat, and I went into the office and began to take my clothes off. I took off everything but my pants, and I made sure o' them by making braces for ' em out of a bit of string. Then I turned the gas low, and, arter slipping on my boots, went outside. It was so cold that at fust I thought I' d give up the idea. The longer I stood on the edge looking at the mud the colder it looked, but at last I turned round and went slowly down the ladder. I waited a moment at the bottom, and was just going to step off when I remembered that I ' ad got my boots on, and I ' ad to go up agin and take ' em off. I went down very slow the next time, and anybody who ' as been down an iron ladder with thin, cold rungs, in their bare feet, will know why, and I had just dipped my left foot in, when the wharf-bell rang. I ' oped at fust that it was a runaway-ring, but it kept on, and the longer it kept on, the worse it got. I went up that ladder agin and called out that I was coming, and then I went into the office and just slipped on my coat and trousers and went to the gate. " Wot d' you want?" I ses, opening the wicket three or four inches and looking out at a man wot was standing there. " Are you old Bill?" he ses. " I' m the watchman," I ses, sharp-like. " Wot d' you want?" " Don' t bite me!" he ses, purtending to draw back. " I ain' t done no ' arm. I' ve come round about that glass you smashed at the Bear' s Head." " Glass!" I ses, ' ardly able to speak. " Yes, glass," he ses--" thing wot yer drink out of. The landlord says it' ll cost you a tanner, and ' e wants it now in case you pass away in your sleep. He couldn' t come ' imself cos he' s got nobody to mind the bar, so ' e sent me. Why! Halloa! Where' s your boots? Ain' t you afraid o' ketching cold?" " You clear off," I ses, shouting at him. " D' ye ' ear me? Clear off while you' re safe, and you tell the landlord that next time ' e insults me I' ll smash every glass in ' is place and then sit ' im on top of ' cm! Tell ' im if ' e wants a tanner out o' me, to come round ' imself, and see wot he gets." It was a silly thing to say, and I saw it arterwards, but I was in such a temper I ' ardly knew wot I was saying. I slammed the wicket in ' is face and turned the key and then I took off my clothes and went down that ladder agin. It seemed colder than ever, and the mud when I got fairly into it was worse than I thought it could ha' been. It stuck to me like glue, and every step I took seemed colder than the one before. ' Owever, when I make up my mind to do a thing, I do it. I fixed my eyes on the place where I thought the purse was, and every time I felt anything under my foot I reached down and picked it up--and then chucked it away as far as I could so as not to pick it up agin. Dirty job it was, too, and in five minutes I was mud up to the neck, a' most. And I ' ad just got to wot I thought was the right place, and feeling about very careful, when the bell rang agin. I thought I should ha' gorn out o' my mind. It was just a little tinkle at first, then another tinkle, but, as I stood there all in the dark and cold trying to make up my mind to take no notice of it, it began to ring like mad. I ' ad to go--I' ve known men climb over the gate afore now--and I didn' t want to be caught in that dock. The mud seemed stickier than ever, but I got out at last, and, arter scraping some of it off with a bit o' stick, I put on my coat and trousers and boots just as I was and went to the gate, with the bell going its ' ardest all the time. When I opened the gate and see the landlord of the Bear' s Head standing there I turned quite dizzy, and there was a noise in my ears like the roaring of the sea. I should think I stood there for a couple o' minutes without being able to say a word. I could think of ' em. " Don' t be frightened, Bill," ses the landlord. " I' m not going to eat you." " He looks as if he' s walking in ' is sleep," ses the fat policeman, wot was standing near by. " Don' t startle ' im." " He always looks like that," ses the landlord. I stood looking at ' im. I could speak then, but I couldn' t think of any words good enough; not with a policeman standing by with a notebook in ' is pocket. " Wot was you ringing my bell for?" I ses, at last. " Why didn' t you answer it before?" ses the landlord. " D' you think I' ve got nothing better to do than to stand ringing your bell for three- quarters of an hour? Some people would report you."

Change your options by visiting here
2220 Meridian Blvd.,Suite #763, Minden, NV 89423