Short Cruises. William Wymark Jacobs

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СКАЧАТЬ commander going ashore with his cook. The mate so far forgot himself as to whistle, but with great presence of mind cuffed the boy’s ear as the skipper turned.

      For some little distance the three walked along in silence. The skipper was building castles in the air, the cook was not quite at his ease, and the girl, gazing steadily in front of her, appeared slightly embarrassed.

      By the time they reached Aldgate and stood waiting for an omnibus Miss Jewell found herself assailed by doubts. She remembered that she did not want to go to a theatre, and warmly pressed the two men to go together and leave her to go home. The skipper remonstrated in vain, but the cook came to the rescue, and Miss Jewell, still protesting, was pushed on to a ‘bus and propelled upstairs. She took a vacant seat in front, and the skipper and Mr. Jewell shared one behind.

      The three hours at the theatre passed all too soon, although the girl was so interested in the performance that she paid but slight attention to her companions. During the waits she became interested in her surroundings, and several times called the skipper’s attention to smart-looking men in the stalls and boxes. At one man she stared so persistently that an opera-glass was at last levelled in return.

      “How rude of him,” she said, smiling sweetly at the skipper.

      She shook her head in disapproval, but the next moment he saw her gazing steadily at the opera-glasses again.

      “If you don’t look he’ll soon get tired of it,” he said, between his teeth.

      “Yes, perhaps he will,” said Miss Jewell, without lowering her eyes in the least.

      The skipper sat in torment until the lights were lowered and the curtain went up again. When it fell he began to discuss the play, but Miss Jewell returned such vague replies that it was evident her thoughts were far away.

      “I wonder who he is?” she whispered, gazing meditatingly at the box.

      “A waiter, I should think,” snapped the skipper.

      The girl shook her head. “No, he is much too distinguished-looking,” she said, seriously. “Well, I suppose he’ll know me again.”

      The shipper felt that he wanted to get up and smash things; beginning with the man in the box. It was his first love episode for nearly ten years, and he had forgotten the pains and penalties which attach to the condition. When the performance was over he darted a threatening glance at the box, and, keeping close to Miss Jewell, looked carefully about him to make sure that they were not followed.

      “It was ripping,” said the cook, as they emerged into the fresh air.

      “Lovely,” said the girl, in a voice of gentle melancholy. “I shall come and see it again, perhaps, when you are at sea.”

      “Not alone?” said the skipper, in a startled voice.

      “I don’t mind being alone,” said Miss Jewell, gently; “I’m used to it.”

      The other’s reply was lost in the rush for the ‘bus, and for the second time that evening the skipper had to find fault with the seating arrangements. And when a vacancy by the side of Miss Jewell did occur, he was promptly forestalled by a young man in a check suit smoking a large cigar.

      They got off at Aldgate, and the girl thanked him for a pleasant evening. A hesitating offer to see her home was at once negatived, and the skipper, watching her and the cook until they disappeared in the traffic, walked slowly and thoughtfully to his ship.

      The brig sailed the next evening at eight o’clock, and it was not until six that the cook remarked, in the most casual manner, that his sister was coming down to see him off. She arrived half an hour late, and, so far from wanting to see the cabin again, discovered an inconvenient love of fresh air. She came down at last, at the instance of the cook, and, once below, her mood changed, and she treated the skipper with a soft graciousness which raised him to the seventh heaven. “You’ll be good to Bert, won’t you?” she inquired, with a smile at that young man.

      “I’ll treat him like my own brother,” said the skipper, fervently. “No, better than that; I’ll treat him like your brother.”

      The cook sat erect and, the skipper being occupied with Miss Jewell, winked solemnly at the skylight.

      “I know you will,” said the girl, very softly; “but I don’t think the men—”

      “The men’ll do as I wish,” said the skipper, sternly. “I’m the master on this ship—she’s half mine, too—and anybody who interferes with him interferes with me. If there’s anything you don’t like, Bert, you tell me.”

      Mr. Jewell, his small, black eyes sparkling, promised, and then, muttering something about his work, exchanged glances with the girl and went up on deck.

      “It is a nice cabin,” said Miss Jewell, shifting an inch and a half nearer to the skipper. “I suppose poor Bert has to have his meals in that stuffy little place at the other end of the ship, doesn’t he?”

      “The fo’c’sle?” said the skipper, struggling between love and discipline. “Yes.”

      The girl sighed, and the mate, who was listening at the skylight above, held his breath with anxiety. Miss Jewell sighed again and in an absent-minded fashion increased the distance between herself and companion by six inches.

      “It’s usual,” faltered the skipper.

      “Yes, of course,” said the girl, coldly.

      “But if Bert likes to feed here, he’s welcome,” said the skipper, desperately, “and he can sleep aft, too. The mate can say what he likes.”

      The mate rose and, walking forward, raised his clenched fists to heaven and availed himself of the permission to the fullest extent of a somewhat extensive vocabulary.

      “Do you know what I think you are?” inquired Miss Jewell, bending towards him with a radiant face. “No,” said the other, trembling. “What?”

      The girl paused. “It wouldn’t do to tell you,” she said, in a low voice. “It might make you vain.”

      “Do you know what I think you are?” inquired the skipper in his turn.

      Miss Jewell eyed him composedly, albeit the corners of her mouth trembled. “Yes,” she said, unexpectedly.

      Steps sounded above and came heavily down the companion-ladder. “Tide’s almost on the turn,” said the mate, gruffly, from the door.

      The skipper hesitated, but the mate stood aside for the girl to pass, and he followed her up on deck and assisted her to the jetty. For hours afterwards he debated with himself whether she really had allowed her hand to stay in his a second or two longer than necessary, or whether unconscious muscular action on his part was responsible for the phenomenon.

      He became despondent as they left London behind, but the necessity of interfering between a goggle-eyed and obtuse mate and a pallid but no less obstinate cook helped to relieve him.

      “He says he is going to sleep aft,” choked the mate, pointing to the cook’s bedding.

      “Quite right,” said the skipper. “I told him to. He’s going to take his meals here, too. Anything to say against it?”

      The mate sat down on a locker and fought for breath. The cook, СКАЧАТЬ