Self-Help Page #3

"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

								

walked down the middle of the road, keeping a bright lookout for old
Sam. A little way down they saw a couple o' chaps leaning up agin a
closed gate in the dock wall lighting their pipes, and Peter and Ginger
both nudged each other with their elbows at the same time. They 'ad just
got to the bottom of the Hill when Sam turned the corner.

Peter wouldn't believe at fust that the old man wasn't really the worse
for liquor, 'e was so lifelike. Many a drunken man would ha' been proud
to ha' done it 'arf so well, and it made 'im pleased to think that Sam
was a pal of 'is. Him and Ginger turned and crept up behind the old man
on tiptoe, and then all of a sudden he tilted Sam's cap over 'is eyes
and flung his arms round 'im, while Ginger felt in 'is coat-pockets and
took out a leather purse chock full o' money.

It was all done and over in a moment, and then, to Ginger's great
surprise, Sam suddenly lifted 'is foot and gave 'im a fearful kick on
the shin of 'is leg, and at the same time let drive with all his might
in 'is face. Ginger went down as if he 'ad been shot, and as Peter went
to 'elp him up he got a bang over the 'ead that put 'im alongside o'
Ginger, arter which Sam turned and trotted off down the Hill like a
dancing-bear.

'Let Drive With All his Might in 'is Face. '

For 'arf a minute Ginger didn't know where 'e was, and afore he found
out the two men they'd seen in the gateway came up, and one of 'em put
his knee in Ginger's back and 'eld him, while the other caught hold of
his 'and and dragged the purse out of it. Arter which they both made
off up the Hill as 'ard as they could go, while Peter Russet in a faint
voice called “Police!” arter them.

He got up presently and helped Ginger up, and they both stood there
pitying themselves, and 'elping each other to think of names to call
Sam.

“Well, the money's gorn, and it's 'is own silly fault,” ses Ginger. “But
wotever 'appens, he mustn't know that we had a 'and in it, mind that.”

“He can starve for all I care,” ses Peter, feeling his 'ead. “I won't
lend 'im a ha'penny—not a single, blessed ha'penny.”

“Who'd ha' thought 'e could ha' hit like that?” says Ginger. “That's
wot gets over me. I never 'ad such a bang in my life—never. I'm going to
'ave a little drop o' brandy—my 'ead is fair swimming.”

Peter 'ad one, too; but though they went into the private bar, it wasn't
private enough for them; and when the landlady asked Ginger who'd been
kissing 'im, he put 'is glass down with a bang and walked straight off
'ome.

Sam 'adn't turned up by the time they got there, and pore Ginger took
advantage of it to put a little warm candle-grease on 'is bad leg. Then
he bathed 'is face very careful and 'elped Peter bathe his 'ead. They
'ad just finished when they heard Sam coming upstairs, and Ginger sat
down on 'is bed and began to whistle, while Peter took up a bit o'
newspaper and stood by the candle reading it.

“Lor' lumme, Ginger!” ses Sam, staring at 'im. “What ha' you been
a-doing to your face?”

“Me?” ses Ginger, careless-like. “Oh, we 'ad a bit of a scrap down
Limehouse way with some Scotchies. Peter got a crack over the 'ead at
the same time.”

“Ah, I've 'ad a bit of a scrap, too,” ses Sam, smiling all over, “but I
didn't get marked.”

“Oh!” ses Peter, without looking up from 'is paper. “Was it a little
boy, then?” ses Ginger.

“No, it wasn't a little boy neither, Ginger,” ses Sam; “it was a couple
o' men twice the size of you and Peter here, and I licked 'em both. It
was the two men I spoke to you about last night.”

“Oh!” ses Peter agin, yawning.

“I did a bit o' thinking this morning,” ses Sam, nodding at 'em, “and I
don't mind owning up that it was owing to wot you said. You was right,
Ginger, arter all.”

“Fust thing I did arter breakfast,” ses Sam, “I took that di'mond ring
to a pawnshop and found out it wasn't a di'mond ring. Then I did a bit
more thinking, and I went round to a shop I know and bought a couple o'
knuckle-dusters.”

“Couple o' wot?” ses Ginger, in a choking voice.

“Knuckle-dusters,” ses Sam, “and I turned up to-night at Tower Hill
with one on each 'and just as the clock was striking nine. I see 'em
the moment I turned the corner—two enormous big chaps, a yard acrost
the shoulders, coming down the middle of the road—You've got a cold,
Ginger!”

“No, I ain't,” ses Ginger.

“I pretended to be drunk, same as the tec told me,” ses Sam, “and then
I felt 'em turn round and creep up behind me. One of 'em come up behind
and put 'is knee in my back and caught me by the throat, and the other
gave me a punch in the chest, and while I was gasping for breath took my
purse away. Then I started on 'em.”

“Lor'!” ses Ginger, very nasty.

“I fought like a lion,” ses Sam. “Twice they 'ad me down, and twice I
got up agin and hammered 'em. They both of 'em 'ad knives, but my blood
was up, and I didn't take no more notice of 'em than if they was made
of paper. I knocked 'em both out o' their hands, and if I hit 'em in the
face once I did a dozen times. I surprised myself.”

“You surprise me,” ses Ginger.

“All of a sudden,” ses Sam, “they see they 'ad got to do with a man wot
didn't know wot fear was, and they turned round and ran off as hard as
they could run. You ought to ha' been there, Ginger. You'd 'ave enjoyed
it.”

Ginger Dick didn't answer 'im. Having to sit still and listen to all
them lies without being able to say anything nearly choked 'im. He sat
there gasping for breath.

“O' course, you got your purse back in the fight, Sam?” ses Peter.

“No, mate,” ses Sam. “I ain't going to tell you no lies—I did not.”

“And 'ow are you going to live, then, till you get a ship, Sam?” ses
Ginger, in a nasty voice. “You won't get nothing out o' me, so you
needn't think it.”

“Wot on earth's the matter, Ginger?”

“Nor me,” ses Peter. “Not a brass farthing.”

“There's no call to be nasty about it, mates,” ses Sam. “I 'ad the best
fight I ever 'ad in my life, and I must put up with the loss. A man
can't 'ave it all his own way.”

“'Ow much was it?” ses Peter.

“Ten brace-buttons, three French ha'pennies, and a bit o' tin,” ses Sam.
“Wot on earth's the matter, Ginger?”

'Wot on Earth's the Matter, Ginger?''

Ginger didn't answer him.
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