A Love Passage Page #3

"A Love Passage" by W. W. Jacobs is a charming and witty novella that explores the themes of love, friendship, and the complexities of human relationships. Set against the backdrop of early 20th-century England, the story follows the misadventures of its characters as they navigate romantic entanglements and societal expectations. Jacobs’ signature humor and keen observations of human nature shine through as the characters grapple with misunderstandings and the often unpredictable nature of love, ultimately leading to a heartwarming resolution. The novella captures the essence of romance with a delightful blend of levity and insight.

• Fiction

								


“Jack!” said the girl again, in a lower whisper than before.

The mate went hot all over, and at once descended. He found Miss Alsen,
her eyes sparkling, with the mustard-pot in her left hand and the spoon
in her right, executing a war-dance in front of the second portrait.

“Don’t do it,” said the mate, in alarm.

“Why not?” she inquired, going within an inch of it.

“He’ll think it’s me,” said the mate.

“That’s why I called you down here,” said she; “you don’t think I
wanted you, do you?”

“You put that spoon down,” said the mate, who was by no means desirous
of another interview with the skipper.

“Shan’t!” said Miss Alsen.

The mate sprang at her, but she dodged round the table. He leaned over,
and, catching her by the left arm, drew her towards him; then, with her
flushed, laughing face close to his, he forgot everything else, and
kissed her.

“Oh!” said Hetty indignantly.

“Will you give it to me now?” said the mate, trembling at his boldness.

“Take it,” said she. She leaned across the table, and, as the mate
advanced, dabbed viciously at him with the spoon. Then she suddenly
dropped both articles on the table and moved away, as the mate,
startled by a footstep at the door, turned a flushed visage, ornamented
with three streaks of mustard, on to the dumbfounded skipper.

“Sakes alive!” said that astonished mariner, as soon as he could speak;
“if he ain’t a-mustarding his own face now—I never ’card of such a
thing in all my life. Don’t go near ’im, Hetty. Jack!”

“Well,” said the mate, wiping his smarting face with his handkerchief.

“You’ve never been took like this before?” queried the skipper
anxiously.

“O’course not,” said the mortified mate.

“Don’t you say o’course not to me,” said the other warmly, “after
behaving like this. A straight weskit’s what you want. I’ll go an’ see
old Ben about it. He’s got an uncle in a ’sylum. You come up too, my
girl.”

He went in search of Ben, oblivious of the fact that his daughter,
instead of following him, came no farther than the door, where she
stood and regarded her victim compassionately.

“I’m so sorry,” she said “Does it smart?”

“A little,” said the mate; “don’t you trouble about me.”

“You see what you get for behaving badly,” said Miss Alsen judicially.

“It’s worth it,” said the mate, brightening.

“I’m afraid it’ll blister,” said she. She crossed over to him, and
putting her head on one side, eyed the traces wisely. “Three marks,”
she said.

“I only had one,” suggested the mate.

“One what?” enquired Hetty.

“Those,” said the mate.

In full view of the horrified skipper, who was cautiously peeping at
the supposed lunatic through the skylight, he kissed her again.

“You can go away, Ben,” said the skipper huskily to the expert. “D’ye
hear, you can go away, and not a word about this, mind.”

The expert went away grumbling, and the father, after another glance,
which showed him his daughter nestling comfortably on the mate’s right
shoulder, stole away and brooded darkly over this crowning
complication. An ordinary man would have run down and interrupted them;
the master of the Jessica thought he could attain his ends more
certainly by diplomacy, and so careful was his demeanour that the
couple in the cabin had no idea that they had been observed—the mate
listening calmly to a lecture on incipient idiocy which the skipper
thought it advisable to bestow.

Until the mid-day meal on the day following he made no sign. If
anything he was even more affable than usual, though his wrath rose at
the glances which were being exchanged across the table.

“By the way, Jack,” he said at length, “what’s become of Kitty Loney?”

“Who?” inquired the mate. “Who’s Kitty Loney?”

It was now the skipper’s turn to stare, and he did it admirably.

“Kitty Loney,” he said in surprise, “the little girl you are going to
marry.”

“Who are you getting at?” said the mate, going scarlet as he met the
gaze opposite.

“I don’t know what you mean,” said the skipper with dignity. “I’m
allooding to Kitty Loney, the little girl in the red hat and white
feathers you introduced to me as your future.”

The mate sank back in his seat, and regarded him with open-mouthed,
horrified astonishment.

“You don’t mean to say you’ve chucked ’er,” pursued the heartless
skipper, “after getting an advance from me to buy the ring with, too?
Didn’t you buy the ring with the money?”

“No,” said the mate, “I—oh, no—of course—what on earth are you talking
about?”

The skipper rose from his seat and regarded him sorrowfully but
severely. “I’m sorry, Jack,” he said stiffly, “if I’ve said anything to
annoy you, or anyway hurt your feelings. O’ course it’s your business,
not mine. P’raps you’ll say you never heard o’ Kitty Loney?”

“I do say so,” said the bewildered mate; “I do say so.”

The skipper eyed him sternly, and without another word left the cabin.
“If she’s like her mother,” he said to himself, chuckling as he went up
the companion-ladder, “I think that’ll do.”

There was an awkward pause after his departure. “I’m sure I don’t know
what you must think of me,” said the mate at length, “but I don’t know
what your father’s talking about.”

“I don’t think anything,” said Hetty calmly. “Pass the potatoes,
please.”

“I suppose it’s a joke of his,” said the mate, complying.

“And the salt,” said she; “thank you.”

“But you don’t believe it?” said the mate pathetically.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” said the girl calmly. “What does it matter
whether I do or not?”

“It matters a great deal,” said the mate gloomily. “It’s life or death
to me.”

“Oh, nonsense,” said Hetty. “She won’t know of your foolishness. I
won’t tell her.”

“I tell you,” said the mate desperately, “there never was a Kitty
Loney. What do you think of that?”

“I think you are very mean,” said the girl scornfully; “don’t talk to
me any more, please.”

“Just as you like,” said the mate, beginning to lose his temper.

He pushed his plate from him and departed, while the girl, angry and
resentful, put the potatoes back as being too floury for consumption in
the circumstances.

For the remainder of the passage she treated him with a politeness and
good humour through which he strove in vain to break. To her surprise
her father made no objection, at the end of the voyage, when she
coaxingly suggested going back by train; and the mate, as they sat at
dummy-whist on the evening before her departure, tried in vain to
discuss the journey in an unconcerned fashion.

“It’ll be a long journey,” said Hetty, who still liked him well enough
to make him smart a bit, “What’s trumps?”

“You’ll be all right,” said her father. “Spades.”

He won for the third time that evening, and, feeling wonderfully well
satisfied with the way in which he had played his cards generally,
could not resist another gibe at the crestfallen mate.

“You’ll have to give up playing cards and all that sort o’ thing when
you’re married, Jack,” said he.

“Ay, ay,” said the mate recklessly, “Kitty don’t like cards.”

“I thought there was no Kitty,” said the girl, looking up, scornfully.
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