Billy Rags by Ted Lewis Read Free Book Online Page A

way, nobly, everyone acknowledging the outlaw’s natural nobility, everyone sad at his passing.
    I hadn’t felt so unhappy since the day I’d finished Wuthering Heights .
    â€œHere, Billy,” Ray Crompton said to me. “Heard the latest?”
    I was squatting by my pit doing my stomach exercises.
    â€œNo,” I said, not moving. “What’s that, Ray?”
    â€œAbout the gear.”
    â€œWhat gear?”
    â€œOur gear. Listen. Prison shoes, shirts and trousers to be worn at all times. Overalls only to be worn to work.”
    I stood up.
    â€œOh, Christ,” I said. “What for? What the fuck’s that to do with security?”
    â€œMaybe Moffatt thinks he won’t hear us if we get on the roof in our baseball boots.”
    â€œAnd what about Creasey? What’s his answer?”
    Ray shrugged.
    â€œHas anybody put it to him?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    I swore. It wasn’t just the fact that the prison stuff was less comfortable than our own gear. It was the idea behind it; just one more method of reminding us of where we were and what we were. This was nothing to do with security. It was an attack on our identities.
    I walked to my door and looked out. Creasey was making his rounds, flanked by a couple of screws. I strolled out of my cell and stood in their path.
    â€œBack inside, Cracken,” said Bastin, the senior screw.
    â€œPermission to speak to Mr. Creasey,” I said, taking my fags from my overall pocket.
    â€œNo smoking when you address the assistant governor,” said the other screw. I lit up. The screws looked at Creasey but he ignored them and said:
    â€œWhat is it, Cracken?”
    â€œAbout these regulations, sir.”
    â€œWhich regulations are those?”
    â€œThe regulations relating to dress, sir.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œWell, I mean, do they stand?”
    â€œRegulations are usually meant to stand, yes. That is, in my experience.”
    I looked Creasey up and down. Considering what he was, he was quite a reasonable fellow. I didn’t dislike him, any more than I could dislike a brick in the prison wall. The fact that from time to time he allowed a certain dry humour into his conversations with the cons meant that at least he didn’t regard us as being entirely without any kind of humanity. But he was what he was, and that being so, he wasn’t going to get out of this one so easily.
    â€œWhat exactly is the purpose of the new rules, sir?”
    Creasey looked at me for a moment before answering. I knew what he was thinking; being reasonable, he knew that there was no purpose to the new regulations. They were just regulations. But that was something he could never admit to me. At the same time he knew that any of the dozen or so answers he could let me have wouldn’t go down at all well, either. So to avoid getting into a losing battle he attacked:
    â€œIs there something in the new dress regulations you disapprove of, Cracken?”
    â€œOnly that everybody’s happy enough with things as they stand at the moment, sir.”
    Of course, I shouldn’t have said that. That really let him in.
    â€œPerhaps that’s why they’re to be enforced. As a reminder to everyone that happiness is not the main aim of this establishment.”
    He began to walk by me. The two screws were grinning all over their faces. And that kind of thing I can do without.
    â€œSir,” I said.
    Creasey carried on walking away.
    â€œSir,” I said. This time my voice rang round the gallery.
    Creasey stopped and half-turned. I put on my innocent face.
    â€œHope Mr. Moffatt knows what he’s doing.”
    Creasey’s face went black. He strode back to where I was standing.
    â€œWhat did you say?”
    â€œI said I hope Mr. Moffatt knows what he’s about. I mean, happiness isn’t the main purpose of this establishment is it? On either side.”
    â€œMeaning precisely