Admiral Peters Page #3

"Admiral Peters" by W. W. Jacobs is a humorous nautical tale that follows the misadventures of the titular character, Admiral Peters, who navigates the challenges of naval life with wit and a dose of absurdity. The story captures the quirks and eccentricities of maritime culture, showcasing Jacobs's signature blend of comedy and keen observation of human nature. Through engaging characters and amusing situations, the narrative explores themes of camaraderie, adventure, and the unpredictability of life at sea.

• Humour

								


"A bit of a shell knocked my cap off, sir," persisted Mr. Burton, making
laudable efforts to keep his temper.

"That'll do, my man," said the other, sharply; "not another word.  You
forget yourself."

He turned to the widow and began to chat about "his people" again to
divert her attention from Mr. Burton, who seemed likely to cause
unpleasantness by either bursting a blood-vessel or falling into a fit.

"My people have heard of Burton," he said, with a slight glance to see
how that injured gentleman was progressing.  "He has often shared my
dangers.  We have been in many tight places together.  Do you remember
those two nights when we were hidden in the chimney at the palace of the
Sultan of Zanzibar, Burton?"

"I should think I do," said Mr. Burton, recovering somewhat.

"Stuck so tight we could hardly breathe," continued the other.

"I shall never forget it as long as I live," said Mr. Burton, who thought
that the other was trying to make amends for his recent indiscretion.

"Oh, do tell me about it, Admiral Peters," cried Mrs. Dutton.

"Surely Burton has told you that?"  said Mr. Stiles.

"Never breathed a word of it," said the widow, gazing somewhat
reproachfully at the discomfited Mr. Burton.

"Well, tell it now, Burton," said Mr. Stiles.

"You tell it better than I do, sir," said the other.

"No, no," said Mr. Stiles, whose powers of invention were not always to
be relied upon.  "You tell it; it's your story."

The widow looked from one to the other.  "It's your story, sir," said Mr.
Burton.

"No, I won't tell it," said Mr. Stiles.  "It wouldn't be fair to you,
Burton.  I'd forgotten that when I spoke.  Of course, you were young at
the time, still----"

"I done nothing that I'm ashamed of, sir," said Mr. Burton, trembling
with passion.

"I think it's very hard if I'm not to hear it," said Mrs. Dutton, with
her most fascinating air.

Mr. Stiles gave her a significant glance, and screwing up his lips nodded
in the direction of Mr. Burton.

"At any rate, you were in the chimney with me, sir," said that
unfortunate.

"Ah!" said the other, severely.  "But what was I there for, my man?"

Mr. Burton could not tell him; he could only stare at him in a frenzy of
passion and dismay.

"What were you there for, Admiral Peters?"  inquired Mrs. Dutton.

"I was there, ma'am," said the unspeakable Mr. Stiles, slowly--"I was
there to save the life of Burton.  I never deserted my men---never.
Whatever scrapes they got into I always did my best to get them out.
News was brought to me that Burton was suffocating in the chimney of the
Sultan's favourite wife, and I----"

"Sultan's favourite wife!"  gasped Mrs. Dutton, staring hard at Mr.
Burton, who had collapsed in his chair and was regarding the ingenious
Mr. Stiles with open-mouthed stupefaction.  "Good gracious!  I--I never
heard of such a thing.  I am surprised!"

"So am I," said Mr. Burton, thickly.  "I--I---"

"How did you escape, Admiral Peters?"  inquired the widow, turning from
the flighty Burton in indignation.

Mr. Stiles shook his head.  "To tell you that would be to bring the
French Consul into it," he said, gently.  "I oughtn't to have mentioned
the subject at all.  Burton had the good sense not to."

The widow murmured acquiescence, and stole a look at the prosaic figure
of the latter gentleman which was full of scornful curiosity.  With some
diffidence she invited the admiral to stay to supper, and was obviously
delighted when he accepted.

In the character of admiral Mr. Stiles enjoyed himself amazingly, his one
regret being that no discriminating theatrical manager was present to
witness his performance.  His dignity increased as the evening wore on,
and from good-natured patronage of the unfortunate Burton he progressed
gradually until he was shouting at him.  Once, when he had occasion to
ask Mr. Burton if he intended to contradict him, his appearance was so
terrible that his hostess turned pale and trembled with excitement.

Mr. Burton adopted the air for his own use as soon as they were clear of
Mrs. Dutton's doorstep, and in good round terms demanded of Mr. Stiles
what he meant by it.

"It was a difficult part to play, George," responded his friend.  "We
ought to have rehearsed it a bit.  I did the best I could."

"Best you could?"  stormed Mr. Burton.  "Telling lies and ordering me
about?"

"I had to play the part without any preparation, George," said the other,
firmly.  "You got yourself into the difficulty by saying that I was the
admiral in the first place.  I'll do better next time we go."

Mr. Burton, with a nasty scowl, said that there was not going to be any
next time, but Mr. Stiles smiled as one having superior information.
Deaf first to hints and then to requests to seek his pleasure elsewhere,
he stayed on, and Mr. Burton was soon brought to realise the difficulties
which beset the path of the untruthful.

The very next visit introduced a fresh complication, it being evident to
the most indifferent spectator that Mr. Stiles and the widow were getting
on very friendly terms.  Glances of unmistakable tenderness passed
between them, and on the occasion of the third visit Mr. Burton sat an
amazed and scandalised spectator of a flirtation of the most pronounced
description.  A despairing attempt on his part to lead the conversation
into safer and, to his mind, more becoming channels only increased his
discomfiture.  Neither of them took any notice of it, and a minute later
Mr. Stiles called the widow a "saucy little baggage," and said that she
reminded him of the Duchess of Marford.

"I used to think she was the most charming woman in England," he said,
meaningly.

Mrs. Dutton simpered and looked down; Mr. Stiles moved his chair a little
closer to her, and then glanced thoughtfully at his friend.

"Burton," he said.

"Sir," snapped the other.

"Run back and fetch my pipe for me," said Mr. Stiles.  "I left it on the
mantelpiece."

Mr. Burton hesitated, and, the widow happening to look away, shook his
fist at his superior officer.

"Look sharp," said Mr. Stiles, in a peremptory voice.

"I'm very sorry, sir," said Mr. Burton, whose wits were being sharpened
by misfortune, "but I broke it."

"Broke it?"  repeated the other.

"Yes, sir," said Mr. Burton.  "I knocked it on the floor and trod on it
by accident; smashed it to powder."

Mr. Stiles rated him roundly for his carelessness, and asked him whether
he knew that it was a present from the Italian Ambassador.

"Burton was always a clumsy man," he said, turning to the widow.  "He had
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes