Self-Help

"Self-Help" by W. W. Jacobs is a humorous novella that explores the misadventures of its protagonist, a well-meaning but hapless character who navigates various challenges in his quest for personal improvement. Through a series of comedic situations, Jacobs offers satirical insights into the self-help genre and the absurdities of societal expectations. With his trademark wit, the author illustrates the pitfalls of overzealous self-improvement efforts, capturing the essence of human folly in the pursuit of betterment. The story serves as both an entertaining read and a critique of the self-help movement, blending humor with thoughtful commentary on personal growth.

• Humour
• Short story

								
The night-watchman sat brooding darkly over life and its troubles. A
shooting corn on the little toe of his left foot, and a touch of liver,
due, he was convinced, to the unlawful cellar work of the landlord of
the Queen's Head, had induced in him a vein of profound depression. A
discarded boot stood by his side, and his gray-stockinged foot protruded
over the edge of the jetty until a passing waterman gave it a playful
rap with his oar. A subsequent inquiry as to the price of pigs' trotters
fell on ears rendered deaf by suffering.

“I might 'ave expected it,” said the watchman, at last. “I done that
man—if you can call him a man—a kindness once, and this is my reward for
it. Do a man a kindness, and years arterwards 'e comes along and hits
you over your tenderest corn with a oar.”

'E Comes Along and Hits You over Your Tenderest Corn With a Oar.''

He took up his boot, and, inserting his foot with loving care, stooped
down and fastened the laces.

Do a man a kindness, he continued, assuming a safer posture, and 'e
tries to borrow money off of you; do a woman a kindness and she thinks
you want to marry 'er; do an animal a kindness and it tries to bite
you—same as a horse bit a sailorman I knew once, when 'e sat on its head
to 'elp it get up. He sat too far for'ard, pore chap.

Kindness never gets any thanks. I remember a man whose pal broke 'is leg
while they was working together unloading a barge; and he went off to
break the news to 'is pal's wife. A kind-'earted man 'e was as ever you
see, and, knowing 'ow she would take on when she 'eard the news, he
told her fust of all that 'er husband was killed. She took on like a mad
thing, and at last, when she couldn't do anything more and 'ad quieted
down a bit, he told 'er that it was on'y a case of a broken leg,
thinking that 'er joy would be so great that she wouldn't think anything
of that. He 'ad to tell her three times afore she understood 'im, and
then, instead of being thankful to 'im for 'is thoughtfulness, she
chased him 'arf over Wapping with a chopper, screaming with temper.

I remember Ginger Dick and Peter Russet trying to do old Sam Small a
kindness one time when they was 'aving a rest ashore arter a v'y'ge.
They 'ad took a room together as usual, and for the fust two or three
days they was like brothers. That couldn't last, o' course, and Sam
was so annoyed one evening at Ginger's suspiciousness by biting a
'arf-dollar Sam owed 'im and finding it was a bad 'un, that 'e went off
to spend the evening all alone by himself.

He felt a bit dull at fust, but arter he had 'ad two or three 'arf-pints
'e began to take a brighter view of things. He found a very nice, cosey
little public-'ouse he hadn't been in before, and, arter getting two and
threepence and a pint for the 'arf-dollar with Ginger's tooth-marks on,
he began to think that the world wasn't 'arf as bad a place as people
tried to make out.

There was on'y one other man in the little bar Sam was in—a tall, dark
chap, with black side-whiskers and spectacles, wot kept peeping round
the partition and looking very 'ard at everybody that came in.

“I'm just keeping my eye on 'em, cap'n,” he ses to Sam, in a low voice.

“Ho!” ses Sam.

“They don't know me in this disguise,” ses the dark man, “but I see
as 'ow you spotted me at once. Anybody 'ud have a 'ard time of it to
deceive you; and then they wouldn't gain nothing by it.”

“Nobody ever 'as yet,” ses Sam, smiling at 'im.

“And nobody ever will,” ses the dark man, shaking his 'ead; “if they was
all as fly as you, I might as well put the shutters up. How did you twig
I was a detective officer, cap'n?”

Sam, wot was taking a drink, got some beer up 'is nose with surprise.

“That's my secret,” he ses, arter the tec 'ad patted 'im on the back and
brought 'im round.

“You're a marvel, that's wot you are,” ses the tec, shaking his 'ead.
“Have one with me.”

Sam said he didn't mind if 'e did, and arter drinking each other's
healths very perlite 'e ordered a couple o' twopenny smokes, and by way
of showing off paid for 'em with 'arf a quid.

“That's right, ain't it?” ses the barmaid, as he stood staring very 'ard
at the change. “I ain't sure about that 'arf-crown, now I come to look
at it; but it's the one you gave me.”

Pore Sam, with a tec standing alongside of 'im, said it was quite right,
and put it into 'is pocket in a hurry and began to talk to the tec as
fast as he could about a murder he 'ad been reading about in the paper
that morning. They went and sat down by a comfortable little fire that
was burning in the bar, and the tec told 'im about a lot o' murder cases
he 'ad been on himself.

“I'm down 'ere now on special work,” he ses, “looking arter sailormen.”

“Wot ha' they been doing?” ses Sam.

“When I say looking arter, I mean protecting 'em,” ses the tec. “Over
and over agin some pore feller, arter working 'ard for months at sea,
comes 'ome with a few pounds in 'is pocket and gets robbed of the lot.
There's a couple o' chaps down 'ere I'm told off to look arter special,
but it's no good unless I can catch 'em red-'anded.”

“Red-'anded?” ses Sam.

“With their hands in the chap's pockets, I mean,” ses the tec.

Sam gave a shiver. “Somebody had their 'ands in my pockets once,” he
ses. “Four pun ten and some coppers they got.”

“Wot was they like?” ses the tee, starting.

Sam shook his 'ead. “They seemed to me to be all hands, that's all I
know about 'em,” he ses. “Arter they 'ad finished they leaned me up agin
the dock wall an' went off.”

“It sounds like 'em,” ses the tec, thoughtfully. “It was Long Pete and
Fair Alf, for a quid; that's the two I'm arter.”

He put his finger in 'is weskit-pocket. “That's who I am,” he ses,
'anding Sam a card; “Detective-Sergeant Cubbins. If you ever get into
any trouble at any time, you come to me.”

Sam said 'e would, and arter they had 'ad another drink together the tec
shifted 'is seat alongside of 'im and talked in his ear.

“If I can nab them two chaps I shall get promotion,” he ses; “and it's a
fi'-pun note to anybody that helps me. I wish I could persuade you to.”

“'Ow's it to be done?” ses Sam, looking at 'im.

“I want a respectable-looking seafaring man,” ses the tec, speaking
very slow; “that's you. He goes up Tower Hill to-morrow night at nine
o'clock, walking very slow and very unsteady on 'is pins, and giving my
two beauties the idea that 'e is three sheets in the wind. They come up
and rob 'im, and I catch them red-'anded. I get promotion, and you get a
fiver.”

“But 'ow do you know they'll be there?” ses Sam, staring at 'im.

Mr. Cubbins winked at 'im and tapped 'is nose.

'Mr. Cubbins Winked at 'im and Tapped 'is Nose.'

“We 'ave to know a good deal in our line o' business,” he ses.

“Still,” ses Sam, “I don't see——”

“Narks,” says the tec; “coppers' narks. You've 'eard of them, cap'n?
Now, look 'ere. Have you got any money?”

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