A Disciplinarian

"A Disciplinarian" by W. W. Jacobs is a humorous short story that centers on a strict schoolmaster and his eccentric methods of enforcing discipline. Set in the backdrop of early 20th-century England, the narrative blends wit and irony as it explores themes of authority, rebellion, and the peculiarities of human nature. Jacobs' characteristic entertaining style brings to life the clash between traditional educational practices and the individuality of students, ultimately revealing the absurdities that can arise within the framework of discipline.

• Fiction

								
“There’s no doubt about it,” said the night watchman, “but what
dissipline’s a very good thing, but it don’t always act well. For
instance, I ain’t allowed to smoke on this wharf, so when I want a pipe
I either ’ave to go over to the ‘Queen’s ’ed,’ or sit in a lighter. If
I’m in the ‘Queen’s ’ed,’ I can look arter the wharf, an’ once when I
was sitting in a lighter smoking, the chap come aboard an’ cast off
afore I knew what he was doing, and took me all the way to Greenwich.
He said he’d often played that trick on watchmen.

“The worst man for dissipline I ever shipped with was Cap’n Tasker, of
the Lapwing. He’d got it on the brain bad. He was a prim,
clean-shaved man except for a little side whisker, an’ always used to
try an’ look as much like a naval officer as possible.

“I never ’ad no sort of idea what he was like when I jined the ship,
an’ he was quite quiet and peaceable until we was out on the open
water. Then the cloven hoof showed itself, an’ he kicked one o’ the men
for coming on deck with a dirty face, an’ though the man told him he
never did wash becos his skin was so delikit, he sent the bos’en to
turn the hose on him.

“The bos’en seemed to take a hand in everything. We used to do
everything by his whistle, it was never out of his mouth scarcely, and
I’ve known that man to dream of it o’ nights, and sit up in his sleep
an’ try an’ blow his thumb. He whistled us to swab decks, whistled us
to grub, whistled us to every blessed thing.

“Though we didn’t belong to any reg’ler line, we’d got a lot o’
passengers aboard, going to the Cape, an’ they thought a deal o’ the
skipper. There was one young leftenant aboard who said he reminded him
o’ Nelson, an’ him an’ the skipper was as thick as two thieves. Nice
larky young chap he was, an’ more than one o’ the crew tried to drop
things on him from aloft when he wasn’t looking.

“Every morning at ten we was inspected by the skipper, but that wasn’t
enough for the leftenant, and he persuaded the old man to drill us. He
said it would do us good an’ amuse the passengers, an’ we ’ad to do all
sorts o’ silly things with our arms an’ legs, an’ twice he walked the
skipper to the other end of the ship, leaving twenty-three sailormen
bending over touching their toes, an’ wondering whether they’d ever
stand straight again.

“The very worst thing o’ the lot was the boat-drill. A chap might be
sitting comfortably at his grub, or having a pipe in his bunk, when the
bos’en’s whistle would scream out to him that the ship was sinking, an’
the passengers drownding, and he was to come an’ git the boats out an’
save ’em. Nice sort o’ game it was, too. We had to run like mad with
kegs o’ water an’ bags o’ biscuit, an’ then run the boats out an’
launch ’em. All the men were told off to certain boats, an’ the
passengers too. The only difference was, if a passenger didn’t care
about taking a hand in the game, he didn’t, but we had to.

“One o’ the passengers who didn’t play was Major Miggens. He was very
much agin it, an’ called it tomfoolery; he never would go to his boat,
but used to sit and sneer all the time.

“‘It’s only teaching the men to cut an’ run,’ he said to the skipper
one day; ‘if there ever was any need they’d run to the boats an’ leave
us here. ‘Don’t tell me.’

“‘That’s not the way I should ha’ expected to hear you speak of British
sailors, major,’ ses the skipper rather huffy.

“‘British swearers? ses the major, sniffing. ‘You don’t hear their
remarks when that whistle is blown. It’s enough to bring a judgment on
the ship.’

“‘If you can point ’em out to me I’ll punish em,’ says the skipper very
warmly.

“‘I’m not going to point ’em out,’ ses the major. ‘I symperthise with
’em too much. They don’t get any of their beauty sleep, pore chaps, an’
they want it, every one of ’em.’

“I thought that was a very kind remark o’ the major to make, but o’
course some of the wimmin larfed. I s’pose they think men don’t want
beauty sleep, as it’s called.

“I heard the leftenant sympathising with the skipper arter that. He
said the major was simply jealous because the men drilled so
beautifully, an’ then they walked aft, the leftenant talking very
earnest an’ the skipper shaking his head at something he was saying.

“It was just two nights arter this. I’d gone below an’ turned in when I
began to dream that the major had borrowed the bosen’s whistle an’ was
practising on it. I remember thinking in my sleep what a comfort it was
it was only the major, when one of the chaps give me a dig in the back
an’ woke me.

“‘Tumble up,’ ses he, ‘the ship’s a-fire.’

“I rushed up on deck, an’ there was no mistake about who was blowing
the whistle. The bell was jangling horrible, smoke was rolling up from
the hatches, an’ some of the men was dragging out the hose an’ tripping
up the passengers with it as they came running up on deck. The noise
and confusion was fearful.

“‘Out with the boats,’ ses Tom Hall to me, ‘don’t you hear the
whistle?’

“‘What, ain’t we going to try an’ put the fire out?’ I ses.

“‘Obey orders,’ ses Tom, ‘that’s what we’ve got to do, an’ the sooner
we’re away the better. You know what’s in her.’

“We ran to the boats then, an’, I must say, we got ’em out well, and
the very fust person to git into mine was the major in his piejammers;
arter all the others was in we ’ad ’im out agin. He didn’t belong to
our boat, an’ dissipline is dissipline any day.

“Afore we could git clear o’ the ship, however, he came yelling to the
side an’ said his boat had gone, an’ though we prodded him with our
oars he lowered himself over the side and dropped in.

“Fortunately for us it was a lovely clear night; there was no moon, but
the stars were very bright. The engines had stopped, an’ the old ship
sat on the water scarcely moving. Another boat was bumping up against
ours, and two more came creeping round the bows from the port side an’
jined us.

“‘Who’s in command?’ calls out the major.

“‘I am,’ ses the first mate very sharp-like from one of the boats.

“‘Where’s the cap’n then?’ called out an old lady from my boat o’ the
name o’ Prendergast.

“‘He’s standing by the ship,’ ses the mate.

“‘Doing what?’, ses Mrs. Prendergast, looking at the water as though
she expected to see the skipper standing there.

“‘He’s going down with the ship,’ ses one o’ the chaps.

“Then Mrs. Prendergast asked somebody to be kind enough to lend her a
handkerchief, becos she had left her pocket behind aboard ship, and
began to sob very bitter.

“‘Just a simple British sailor,’ ses she, snivelling, ‘going down with
his ship. There he is. Look! On the bridge.’

“We all looked, an’ then some o’ the other wimmin wanted to borrer
handkerchiefs. I lent one of ’em a little cotton waste, but she was so
unpleasant about its being a trifle oily that she forgot all about
crying, and said she’d tell the mate about me as soon as ever we got
ashore.

“‘I’ll remember him in my prayers,’ ses one o’ the wimmin who was
crying comfortable in a big red bandana belonging to one o’ the men.

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